Calypso's Mast

Chapter 19 - Dogfight

The sun was getting low in the western sky. Hatfield looked around at O'Leary sitting in the second row seat of the 690B. She had a headset on, was looking out of the window as they flew at five hundred feet and she was clearly enjoying herself.

"How are you travelling, Amy?"

"I'm doing great. I haven't had this much fun since... well, last night."

Harrington, the pilot, snorted, nearly spilling his coffee and he coughed violently. 

"You ok?" asked Hatfield looking across at him.

"...No questions." He wiped his face on the other sleeve of his shirt while precariously balancing his coffee cup. "I don't want to know."

O'Leary laughed. "It's ok. Winston took me on a date and we did some dancing. That was fun. All perfectly legitimate."

Harrington snorted again, then sniffed hard. 

"I'm sure it was," he said. "I think I've got coffee down the back of my nose. I hate that! Damn it!" He reached down and picked up the half-full coffee thermos that had fallen over on the floor and tucked it into the slot beside his leg alongside his logbook and maps.

They turned again and headed south, south-east away from the beach .

Hatfield laughed as well. "It wasn't really a date." He looked back at her again and her eyes twinkled.

The pilot was unconvinced. "... whatever!"

He looked at his watch. "We had better think about getting back. The light....Look out!" 

Harrington threw the aircraft hard left, slammed open the power and dove toward the ocean. Amy screamed and Hatfield nearly lost his stomach. On the right hand side of the plane something streaked past them just clear of the end of the wing tip."

"What the hell..." yelled Hatfield.

"It's a rocket!" shouted Harrington as he pulled back hard on the yoke and eased off on the power and the aircraft came out of the dive barely five metres off the water. Hatfield looked around and could see the water being disturbed behind the propellers, they were so close to the sea surface.

"Who's shooting at us?" Hatfield got down low in his seat and looked high out of the windscreen. There was a smoky white trail disappearing into the clouds at about 4000 ft, at one o'clock high. After a few seconds, it was behind them and he couldn't see it any longer. He twisted around and looked back at the beach. There was something there. Something in the water. That's where it came from.

"Winston, I'm scared." O'Leary's voice broke through his thoughts.

"I am too!" He turned to the pilot. 

"None of us are paid to put our lives in danger," he said. "Can you get us out of here?"

"Absolutely!" said Harrington. "That was probably an RPG. I'll stay low and we'll be harder to hit, especially as we get further away from them. Hopefully they don't have any heat seekers."

"A what?" said Hatfield. "What's an RPG?"

"A Rocket Propelled Grenade. They're shoulder launched"

"What happens if they have a heat seeker?"

"We'll be finished, said Harrington. "They rarely miss."

"How do you know all this stuff?" asked Hatfield.

"I flew a Hercules Transport in Vietnam when I was a younger man. I got to learn a little bit about anti-aircraft weapons."

Hatfield nodded knowingly.