The first rule of all air combat is to see the opponent first. Like the hunter who stalks his prey and maneuvers himself unnoticed into the most favorable position for the kill, the fighter in the opening of a dogfight must detect the opponent as early as possible in order to attain a superior position for the attack.
— General Adolf Galland, Luftwaffe.
Fifty Miles North of Trottingham
The sun was just rising over the peak of the mountaintops, its light gracefully illuminating the forest and tranquil scene of nature. High above the forest floor, four metallic birds zoomed overhead, garnishing the sky with their sleek grey appearance.
“What a beautiful morning,” a voice spoke, the original sound distorted by the use of a recently acquired technology.
“You got that right Copper,” another voice spoke, this one coming from the flight leader. A few peaceful moments went by before the flight leader reactivated his radio.
“Hey Muffin, you awake over there?” The flight leader asked, not receiving a response from the other side of the radio. Pulling back on the throttle, the flight leader’s FR-87 slowly came next to Muffin’s fighter before he looked towards the cockpit of the aircraft.
“Yeah, yeah, I'm awake Captain,” the disgruntled voice spoke from the radio. Satisfied with the answer, the flight leader resumed his position in the front of the pack.
“So where is H.Q. sending us now Soarin?” Muffin asked, followed by a loud and audible yawn.
“They have us on first patrol today. Just towards the border and back. I don’t expect to encounter anything this early in the morning but stay alert. With these Griffin bastards, you never know what they will pull.”
“Amen to that,” another voice echoed through the radio, this one sounding more feminine.
“Misty, finally got your damn radio working?” Copper asked with a small bit of teasing prevalent in his voice. A small laugh soon elicited from the other side of the radio.
“Yeah. All it took were a few hits with my hoof to get it to work.”
“Just like Muffin,” Copper retorted, Misty and Copper laughing through the radio.
“What the hay is that suppose to mean?” Muffin chimed in.
“Alright, enough chatter. Clear communications until we get closer to base. We are nearing enemy territory so be alert,” Soarin said, scanning the horizon of any enemy threats. The others did the same as the flight continued on for another ten minutes or so.
“Hey Captain. I think I see something,” Copper voiced from his headset.
“What do you see?” Soarin asked, scanning the surrounding area more intently.
“It looks like a scout plane. Ten o-clock, about two thousand feet up.” Soarin looked in the direction that was specified before noticing a small green blur in the distance.
“Yep. That is definitely a scout plane. Probably heading home right now,” Soarin thought aloud, his radio responding a few seconds later.
“Come on Soarin, let’s go get it. It’s an easy kill,” Copper begged. Soarin thought for a moment before responding to his team.
“Alright. We will go after him. Copper, since you saw him you take point. Muffin will be your wingman while Misty and I will cover your six.”
“Roger Captain,” Copper excitedly agreed, pulling back on his flight stick and allowing the aircraft to begin to climb. Muffin followed suit, staying with Copper as they continued to gain altitude. Misty and Soarin followed a few seconds later, the distance between the two friendly parties around fifteen hundred feet or so. Once Copper was at a slightly higher altitude than the scout plane, he tipped his nose down at a fifteen-degree angle and began to close the distance between him and his target, Muffin slightly behind him the entire time. Copper was only about five hundred feet before he fired off a burst of lead into the enemy patrol plane. A few seconds later, another burst was fired, but this burst wasn’t aimed at the enemy patrol plane. Soarin quickly looked around as he heard the distinguished sound of bullets hitting metal. He quickly looked to his left to see Misty’s plane engulfed in flames and two FE-26’s closing in at his seven o’clock high. Instinctively responding, he pulled his plane into an upward left turn, minimizing the time he was in the crosshairs of the enemy planes. The two FE-26’s quickly overshot Soarin and pulled into a steep climb, knowing that their airplanes had a far better climb rate than the FR-87.
“Two fighters on your four o’clock low, move!” Soarin shouted into his headset. He continued to climb to a higher altitude where he would have an advantage, but also prayed that he wouldn’t have to fight these two enemies. He knew good and well the capabilities of each aircraft, and the FE-26 had a better climb rate, top speed, and dive rate. The only advantage the FR-87 had over the FE-26 was the fact that the FR-87 had a better turn radius than the FE-26. Meaning that the FR-87 could out maneuver the FE-26 in a tight turn, allowing the pilot to get a shot off and kill the other.
Soarin quickly scanned the area for his two teammates. He leveled off his aircraft and opened his throttle to it’s full potential in an attempt to locate his only allies in the sky. About a thousand feet below him, he saw both Copper and Muffin chasing one of the FE-26’s with the other pilot nowhere in sight.
“Come on, just slip up for one second,” Copper said, firing a few bursts of his quad mounted .50 caliber machine guns. The bullets missed their mark as the pilot continued to skillfully evade the crosshairs of Copper.
“Copper, Muffin, get out of there. I have no visual on the other pilot,” Soarin ordered. Copper was too focused on the enemy in front of him, licking his lips, as he could practically taste the kill in front of him.
“Almost, there,” he said, completely unaware the tables were about to turn. The FE-26 in front of Copper quickly dropped his throttle before he slammed the flight stick towards himself and applied hard right on the rudder. This pulled the plane into a g-intensive spin to the upward right, stalling the aircraft and whipping it around in a full circle before the pilot applied full throttle and let out a quick burst of his weapons. Due to how fast Copper and Muffin were flying, the FE-26 was now on their backside.
“Holy shit, where did he go?” Copper yelled, only to be pelted with six .50 caliber machine guns and a 20mm nose mounted cannon. Copper let out an agonizing scream as his plane burst into a cloud of flaming shrapnel, killing him a few moments later. Soarin could only watch in horror as another one of his teammates erupted into a fiery blaze before dying.
Soarin quickly pulled himself together as he saw the second FE-26 reemerge onto the field. He watched as Muffin desperately tried to evade the pursuing fighters. Noticing that he had little options left, Soarin pitched his aircraft downwards and began a steep dive towards the two pursuing fighters. Surprisingly enough, the enemy flight leader pulled back on his throttle and allowed his wingman to take the lead. It was at that moment Soarin knew what he was doing. He was training this new recruit. He told him to hide when the fighting escalated, but now that the prey had been crippled, he is allowing him to take the lead and gain experience. It was at that moment Soarin noticed Muffin going into a sharp left turn. Since the FR-87 had a better turn radius than the FE-26, Muffin could turn away from the enemy fighters and possibly have them overshoot, which would make them an easy target for Muffin and Soarin. Unfortunately, the two FE-26’s engaged in a maneuver Soarin had never seen before. They both pointed their noses upward and to the left. It was a crucial moment for Soarin, as the two fighters were about to pass right in front of his line of sight. Hastily responding, the Pegasus fired a three second burst, hitting the recruit’s left wing, but leaving the airplane intact and functional. Soarin continued to dive away from the two fighters, knowing that if he pulled up he would be an easy target for the two enemies. He waited a few more seconds before leveling off and then pulling up, hoping that he was far enough away that one of the FE-26’s wasn’t on the prowl after him.
Looking back towards the fight, he saw the two FE-26’s were pulling out of their maneuver, positioning themselves right behind Muffin again, though the recruit’s airplane was leaving a small, black trail of smoke from where Soarin had landed a few hits. The flight leader throttled back on his power again and allowed the damaged FE-26 to take the lead. After gaining more altitude, Soarin pushed his nose over the horizontal and dove at the enemy fighters; his nose now pointed fifteen degrees downward. What quickly caught Soarin off guard was the fact that the enemy flight leader had pulled a reversed Split S maneuver in the time he was looking away, allowing both aircraft to be pointed at each other. Soarin quickly let loose his barrage of .50 caliber machine guns. The enemy flight leader responded by pulling vertical into a straight climb. Soarin quickly rotated his aircraft and latched onto his enemy’s tail, all the while his machine guns still blazing towards his enemy. But a few seconds into his climb, Soarin realized his mistake. Not landing a successful hit on the enemy aircraft, Soarin’s FR-87 began to stall, forcing him into an uncontrollable stall, followed by a downward spiral a few moments later. The enemy FE-26 completed his vertical half loop and was now ready for an easy kill. Knowing that he was as good as dead, Soarin popped the canopy of his aircraft and bailed out. He swiftly flew away, knowing that he could no longer fight. To his amazement, the FE-26 that was chasing him veered away and changed course. To his relief, both FE-26’s were headed in the other direction. No doubt they were done with the battle.
Soarin quickly surveyed the area before locating a large black smoke cloud, coming from a badly damaged FR-87. Soarin quickly flew up towards Muffin and surveyed his aircraft. It was leaking fuel and the flight stabilizer had been all but destroyed, causing the aircraft to dive towards the ground if the flight stick wasn’t fully pulled back. Cautiously, Soarin landed on the wing of the aircraft and banged on the canopy. He could see small trails of blood and a few bullet holes from where rounds entered the cockpit.
“Muffin, you have to open the canopy and bail. The plane can catch fire at any minute,” Soarin yelled, loud enough for Muffin to hear. Muffin slowly moved his right hoof towards the canopy ejection handle; all the while fuel and blood were mixing inside the cockpit and madding Muffin’s fur.
“It’s jammed. It’s not working,” Muffin faintly voiced, coughing up a slight amount of blood as he did so.
“Come on Muffin, I know you can do this. You have to get that canopy open. It’s the difference between life and death,” Soarin yelled, Muffin weakly pulling on the handle of the canopy latch, but to no avail. Suddenly without warning, a random spark from inside the control panel of the aircraft ignited the mixture of gasoline and blood that coated the inside of the cockpit and the pilot’s fur. Within a second, the entire cockpit was blazing while Soarin helplessly watched as Muffin desperately tried to pull the latch to open the canopy. The plane soon began to pitch downward, accelerating as Soarin tried to save his friend. Demoralizing screams could be heard as Muffin desperately pawed at the glass canopy. Knowing full well that his friend was not going to make it, Soarin did one of the hardest things he ever had to do. With the spread of his wings and a tear in his eye, Soarin abandoned the burning inferno of a plane as he watched his friend burn alive before colliding with the ground, a shower of metal debris and gasoline fueled flames littering the forest floor.
Soarin sadly averted his eyes, as he could no longer stare at the wreckage of the plane. Soarin then took off at full speed towards H.Q., knowing that the debriefing was the least of his worries. He would have to find a way to break it to Muffin’s wife that her husband was dead, an experience no mare or stallion should ever have to face.
Wilds Air Force Base
The sight of two FE-26’s graced the airway strip as both aircraft successfully landed and powered down. The canopy to the first FE-26 opened to reveal a large Griffon stepping out of the cockpit of his aircraft and falling to his knees in shock. The other canopy opened to reveal a particularly strange presence adorned in a leather jacket, aviator sunglasses, blue jeans, and dark black boots. As every Griffon soon came to realize though, David was considered to be that odd presence. Being the only known human in the world, everyone looked at him with a sort of curiosity, albeit with a bit of fear as well.
David slowly stepped down from his aircraft and proceeded towards the griffon that was now standing on wobbly knees.
“Congratulations recruit. You have had your first taste of combat experience and you made it out alive. Not to mention you scored critical hits on your first enemy fighter,” he complimented, the griffon smiling at him before they shook hands (talons).
“Alright recruit, you did pretty well in your first dogfight. Get your ass to pub and have a drink on me. Tell them to put it on my tab,” David ordered, the Griffon saluting me in return.
“Yes sir,” he said, walking towards a large pub they had on the base. David soon turned his attention to the damaged fighter before glancing over the damages.
“Not too bad. Seems they just clipped the middle of the wing and damaged a few hydraulic hoses. Nothing that a day’s worth of work can't fix,” he stated, the head mechanic agreeing with him as he walked up to the damaged aircraft. The other mechanics responded by taking the aircraft into the hangar to begin repairs.
“So how many you down today?” the mechanic asked. David looked at him with a coy smile on his face.
“Depends. Only one kill right off the start. Poor bastard didn’t even see me coming. I pulled a fancy maneuver on another as I got on his tail. Then I managed to get a Pegasus to bail out of his aircraft. Suckered him into a climbing battle with me. He had no idea what I did to him until it was too late. He bailed out at around three thousand feet before booking his ass away,” the human stated nonchalantly. The griffon let out a hearty laugh as a response.
“So I assume you let him go, judging by the fact you don’t have said Pegasus all over your airplane like last time.” David flinched slightly at the remark.
“I told you that was his fault. He bailed out and flew right into me. There was nothing I could do about that. Nearly cost me my airplane too. How many weeks did it take to fix that thing?” he asked, the griffon slapping the human on the back and laughing.
“About three weeks to replace everything and make it brand new,” the Griffon responded.
“Yeah, three weeks of using a damn outdated plane. Almost died the last time I took one of those relics out.” There was a moment of silence before he continued.
“Alright, I will let your team get to work. If you need any help come wake me. Until then, I will be in my room, being as lazy as possible,” David stated, the Griffon laughing at his response.
“I will add three new insignias to your fighter. One more and you will become the first pilot to have twenty kills.”
“I look forward to that,” he voiced, walking away at a calm stride.
David slowly continued to walk through the large barracks that housed his private quarters. Being the only one of your species does have it perks sometimes. Along the way, David would pass by a few recruits who would instantly salute him as he walked by. The human would return the salute casually, while offering them a small smile. As he finally made it to his section of the barracks, he opened the door to his room before stepping in and closing it. He quickly locked the door before bolting into the private bathroom and hurling the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl.
After what seemed like an hour of lying with his head over the toilet, he slowly reached up and flushed the contents of his breakfast. Sausage and eggs might taste good going down, but not when coming back up.
Weakly standing, David walked over to his sink before filling it with water and splashing a few handfuls of the cool and refreshing liquid over his face. He then grabbed a nearby towel before wiping his face clean and staring at the reflection in front of him.
He had changed in his time he had forcibly spent here. Physically, he had remained the same. Same short black hair, size, with a bit of an extra build thanks in part to physical training he was required to do. His eyes however, that were full of youth and eagerness back then, now wore expressions of wisdom and fatigue.
“I need to get out of here. This place is going to be the death of me,” He quietly thought, slowly walking over to his bed and dropping like a dead leaf to the ground. His thoughts consumed him for a few more minutes before sleep slowly embraced the human.
Author's Note
Hi guys. This was something that was on my computer and I felt like getting it out there. I don't plan on continuing this, unless it gets a surge of likes and whatnot. As before, it's just something I wanted to get out there. Anyways, that's about it. I hope you all enjoy!
