It was a colbolt blue sky over the ruins of Verbun. At Number 9 SQ RFC's base Major Disaster smiled at Sparks his Erk, who had serviced his Curtiss Dork and recombulated the Crickenator valve to add that ounce more wizz.
"Cheers Sparkey, The old girls running a Treat"
"NP Sir NP, just make sure you look after her and yourself, and give Von Blockenspeil a jolly good hiding for all the Chaps he's potted"
Disaster frowned " Did you just speak to me! Without asking for permission? By gad young man, I'll have y'flogged when I get back…I'm a Officer-not one of your lower class guttersnipes..be gone!"
With a roar of the 115 asspower Gnome-rogue engine, the Dork trundeled down the grass strip and leaped into the sky.
10 miles away at Jasta 15's Airen-basen Von Blockenspeil waxed his tache to lower the air resistance. Snapping his heels, the impeccably dressed wiley Tuton saluted Kommandent Der Luftkopft.
"Jawhol mein Kommandant..Das Britischer Disaster has accepted mein challenge, unt now I fly to bring der imperialisch swchweinhunt down to size, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
" Sehr gut!" Snapped the old Prussian fox " This ist a dark day fur der Englanders. LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL"
The Hawker Phtooy, captured by the Germans and now acting as Von Blockenspeils personal kite, resplendent in the Pink Livery of the Jasta, snarled down the strip and struggled it's way airborne.
12:00 hours Verbun:
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Disaster spotted the Phtooy at his 11o Clock and throwing the throttle forward his cutting edge Curtiss Dork accellerated up to 90 MPH. Von Blockenspeil spotted the Major and began a gentle left turn hoping to conserve his speed. At height 4(thousand) in front of Disaster a fluffy cloud drifted, It would provide scant cover for the Hun, but mabey he could use it to sheild his approach. Flying level ahead, he began his attack run.
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The Dork was 50 MPH faster than the Phtooy and nearly 8 years younger, Von Blockenspeil knew to try tight turns without having the speed to carry them out would have him stalling in short order, as the Dork approached the Cloud, he nursed the Biplane round and charged his twin machinenblastens. He reckoned on being able to get one or two good head on bursts in if he maintained the turn.
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Fortified by a good swig of guinness, Disaster entered the cloud , The Phtooy still droning round, barely clinging to the thin air. the dork had speed and energy in A Bun Dance.
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the dork tightleft turned, thumbing the firing switch, the twin .404 Peacemakers in the Dork Hammered. Tracers lashed past the German. "HIMMEL!" cried Von Blockenspeil "Das Schweine ist gut! sehr Gut!"
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Hauling into a tightleft, the Phtooy gambeled all on a head on pass. But the Dorks speed was terrific and Von Blockenspeil found that he still couldnt draw a bead.
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But Disaster could! Chattering guns and glowing tracers smashed into the Hawkers engine. Brrrp Brrp..Brrrp. Von blockenspeil was losing powa!
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"Die old bean!" Cried Disaster stitching a line of slugs up the Phtooys fuselage. The control stick shook in the Jerrys hands, clawing for energy..if…he…could …only….
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But as he was about to sideslip into line for a snapshot, a heavy caliber slug took off his cranium, Spitting fire from a dozen holes, the Phtooy tumbled to earth
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A worthy fight then by Von Blockenspeil, but next time when he had had his head glued back together..things would be different.
opens a box of dirt roads with shellholes and tread marks on them.
