Einsamkeit ; A Germany/Italy Story

Chapter Four

October 16th, 1946
Ardea, Italy

He heard it before he saw anything. It was a sound that was utterly unmistakable and would be ingrained into his mind until the day he died. The unequivocal whistle of an American p-51 Mustang pulling up from a steep dive, it was a sound that recognized, and had learned to fear.

" Come in Shwartz leader! This is Schwartz Two, we've been surrounded! It's the Americans, looks like a damn fighter sweep!"

Ludwig cursed under his breath, this was the last thing they needed.

"I copy, A and C- stand withhold defensive position, B-stand provide cover fire! Watch your six, these Americans are fast. We've got to gain altitude, hold positions and evade."

"Copy that."

Ludwig drew in a deep breath, he needed to think. The Mustangs were fast, well equipped, but they couldn't handle high altitude fights. If he could get his team up high enough they would have the avantage. Kicking his rudder to the right he pulled into a tight turn, he needed to get the enemy within sight. From his current position he could see about five of the enemy aircraft but he knew better. Americian's never traveled that light. Something was off, this was different. All the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end and his muscles were all locked, he had to force himself to breath, to try to keep his thoughts straight however, gunfire broke his concentration. The crackling of the browning machine guns created a storm around him. He gripped the plane controls and jerked sharply upwards, trying to stay out of the line of fire.

"Shwartz leader, p-38 coming in at four o'clock, they're trying to take down our bomber!"

Ludwig glanced to his right, he was right. Out of seemingly no-where a p-38 lightning had dropped from the clouds, flanked by three more Mustangs. This was not good, they were outnumbered by at least four planes and to make matters worse the majority of his crew had never even fought against the American's before, he had to do something and fast, otherwise things were going to get much worse. "Gain height! and keep moving Don't let them get a lock on you. C-stand break off and provide defence! Do not let them land a hit!"

Steadily, they gained altitude. Ludwig tried to swallow the lump in his throat. There were too many of them, his team was too inexperienced. He needed to get on the mustangs tail, if he could pick off a few of the defence they could take down that damn 38. Breaking formation, Ludwig made a hard left turn and dipped downwards, performing a sharp speed decrease in order to get a lock on the enemy aircraft. He held his breath and fired a myriad of shots, but the mustang dipped sharply and avoided his attack. From his right, a barrage of shots flew past him just barley missing his propeller making him turn sharply to avoid being fired at a second time. He turned his head sharply, damn these bastards were everywhere he couldn't land a hit on one while evading the fire of the others. He jerked upwards and fell back. His hands began to shake and his blood was roaring in his ears. He couldn't seem to get his breath under control and it was making him feel lightheaded. They were overwhelmed, he'd never been so hopelessly cut off like this before. They had to get out of here.

"Take evasive Maneuvers! disengage and get them off your tail!"

The deafening crack of gunfire meeting metal split through the air and without warning the back end of the Condor they were escorting burst into a plume of flame and smoke. Ludwig was helpless to watch as the plane spun out of control towards the ground miles below them.

"The condor's been hit! I repeat, The condor's been hit!"

"Break! It's too late now to try to salvage, Focus on your own tail." Ludwig shouted into the coms, he needed to save the rest of his team and right now the only way that was going to happen is if they were able to shake off the remaining mustangs. He hoped that, even if this meant defeat, that the Americans would fall back now that their mission had been accomplished, however that didn't seem to be the case. Ludwig's heart leapt into his throat as a mustang dropped in on his tail, he forced his shaking hands to maneuver down into a steep dive. He had to keep moving, he couldn't let them get a lock. Mustangs may be fast, but Ludwig was cleaver. He hadn't reached his rank for no reason. He pulled out of the dive just as the American dropped down to meet him. This gave Ludwig the opportunity to roll and jerk upwards, the sudden motion made a sharp pain shoot through his shoulders and neck but the didn't have time to focus on that now, instead he forced his eyes to focus as he gained a lock on the Mustang and fired. A direct hit. Smoke sputtered out of the right side of the mustangs cockpit and the plane drew back, a small victory, but enough to refocus him.