The year is 1944, the Second World War is in full swing- The United States has stormed Normandy and secured a foothold into the heart of France, and their current task:
[Establish Air Superiority]
The ground war below the flyers' wings was quickly turning in favor of the Allied Forces; lightweight semi-automatic rifles such as the M1 Garand and M1 Carbine were standard issue for the Allies in comparison to the common bolt-action Kar98k rifles that are being used by the Wehrmacht soldiers, however, the technology used by the Luftwaffe to improve the planes were superior to anything the Allies have so far.
A furious storm of bullets flies by the cockpit of a North American P-51D Mustang, soaring at speeds exceeding 400 miles per hour, the culprit being two Messerschmitt Bf-109 type fighters. The pilot relentlessly looks around, looking for a break in the Bf-109s' machine gun fire, but to no avail to him, they didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. The pilot takes a deep breath, pulls back on the flight stick, and kills the throttle, allowing the two pursuing aircraft to overpass him before sticking the nose on their tail and kicking the throttle back to full. Now, on the offensive, the pilot begins to fire his six machine guns, striking and virtually cutting the wing off of one of the Messerschmitt aircraft. Leaving one hostile german aircraft left, he pulls the two of them into a one-circle attack pattern-
'I got you now, kraut', the pilot shouts aloud at the enemy plane whose frightened pilot is rapidly twisting and turning his fighter, attempting to avoid the same fate that his wingman has just suffered. Unfortunately for him, the pissed-off American pilot wants to see the nazi burst into flames and send the earth flying as he crashes to his grave. The American, with his nose on the tail, fires his array of guns
in a burst pattern -
A single spark reflects off the engine bay of the Messerschmitt-
and the plane bursts into a flame brighter than the sun.
'That's two..' the pilot mutters under his breath, he grabs the journal at his side and adds two tally marks to his count, for a total of 10 confirmed kills, and scribbles a second spade signifying he has earned the title of 'Double Ace'.
He taps his fuel gauge and puts the book aside to head back to the airstrip.
The pilot glances out of the cockpit, looking at the fighting below his wings - and proud of his boys below he chuckles watching as the men bearing the gray uniforms of the Nazi Army flee from the frontline. The Germans keep losing ground; for every inch, they gain the allies to gain a yard in return.
The airstrip in which he'll land a mere three hundred yards away from the fighting below, with no one to guide his approach he lines up to the runway using his rudders and begins his descent to the dirt path. He lowers his throttle, his propeller spins slower, and he lowers his landing gear.
He says aloud to himself,
'50… 40… 30… 20… 10… touchdown…'
He kicks the throttle down to idle, kicks on the brakes, and allows the plane to slow. The Mustang rolls down the runway, hastily losing speed and kicking dust into the air as it makes its way to the exit, the wheel brakes disengage and the pilot navigates to his squadron's staging area before turning the aircraft off. The canopy slides back, allowing the pilot to get out safely. Once clear of the aircraft, he turns back and looks at the beast he controls. Just a few hours ago, he was shooting down enemy aircraft, and now they're home, making it safely with scratches and a singular hole in the right stabilizer. His eyes turn onto the paint markings, three different rows, one of swastikas and one with a singular spade. A log of a pilot's exploits rests proudly upon the fuselage for all to see, and soon the fuselage will have two more swastikas and another of the most important mission scar for a pilot- the Ace of Spades. Before the allied pilot can further examine his aircraft, a soldier yet unheard grabs his shoulder and pulls him into a hug.
"I'm glad you're back, brother"
The soldier, visually younger than the scarred pilot, pats the back of the lieutenant before letting him go.
"No salute? You're not any fun, are you?" He rests his hand upon the soldier's head and ruffles his hair, leaving it a mess.
"Come on, Tex, you can't treat me like a child anymore; after all, I am the one who does the maintenance on your Mustang.'
"And I killed two more nazis, what about you?'
"Been too busy fixing this shiny bitch."
Tex looks at him, removes his hand, and nods, satisfied with the response.
"You haven't changed a bit, have you, bud?'
"Same as you left me, as always'
"Good, I'm glad.' Tex would say, smile, and then make his way to the tent set up.
"Hey buddy, fix my stabilizer for me. I'll owe you one.' he waves and says without looking back. A shot of laughter reaches Tex's ears; moments later, the laughter turns to shouts of orders to the maintenance team. Tex keeps his path and enters the tent.
The tent is dark, with the only light emitting from a projector showing footage of a Luftwaffe air base. Tex is the only one basking in the light of the projector; the rest of the squadron must still be getting their aircraft serviced, he thought to himself. He looked around and found a seat in front of the black and white image, studying the markings drawn onto the projector board, in which some markings are accurate but most fall short of what they intended to point out. He looks away from the inaccuracies and notices a strange aircraft laying on the tarmac, a fighter plane designed without a propeller.
"Messerschmitt two hundred and sixty-two, a jet fighter without the need for a propeller, and if you blink you'll miss it," a voice says from behind.
Tex looks back and immediately jolts up and salutes the anonymous voice.
"Good day, Colonel'
"At ease, Lieutenant,' the voice would respond.
Tex would sit back down, and the colonel would stand where he could see everything the reel displayed.
"You've shot down Messerschmitts before, but none like this. This isn't your usual target; nowhere is close.' He paused, lit up a cigar, and took a long puff.
"A couple of pilots have already proven these can be destroyed, even in a dogfight, but don't let them get the upper hand, and you'll be fine." He continued and went to take a seat. "I'll go over more. I even have a copy of someone's gun camera footage for you boys to see. I just have to wait for the others."
Tex would nod, acknowledging what the colonel had said.
In a pouch by his side, Tex reached in and grabbed a stick of gum, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth. Although issued cigarettes more often than not, Tex knew he could swindle others into giving him their gum rations for his allocated smokes, and every chance he had, he would always swap it out. You can't smoke in your plane; that was the rule the squadron enforced strictly - after all, all that separated a pilot from fuel was an aluminum alloy shell. However, there was nothing against chewing gum while flying, and more often than not, Tex was seen chewing his gum before getting into the cockpit of his warbirds. The sound of forty feet marched in, and twenty pilots sat down in order of rank in the squadron. You were only worth as many nazis you killed, and Tex was now their first double ace since the squadron was assigned to the front.
"Alright gentlemen, today is the day you paint the sky crimson with the fires of burning jet aircraft. You will hunt down and slaughter a wild flock of Messerschmitt 262 aircraft searching for our bombers in the area.' The colonel proudly announces to his newfound audience. "I, as squadron commander, will be leading you boys into battle, and my second in command will be Major Arthur Jameson, you may better know him as First Lieutenant Tex. As the majority of you know, our previous second in command suffered severe burns after his plane ignited into flame, and as a result, he was sent stateside, and I had to find a replacement. Additionally, Tex is celebrating his tenth Luftwaffe kill, making him our current leader by three kills. Congratulations, Major. I am glad to serve with a pilot like you."
The tent fills with silence, and the colonel changes to footage of a P-51 shooting down a Me262, showing the pilots the seemingly impossible task is truly possible.
"They're heavy and cannot outrun you in a turning battle. They won't get behind you unless you're letting them… and if they get behind you- You will die."