Easily downing an I-16, Frank maneuvered his fighter plane to climb, preparing to ascend to a higher attack position.
"Frank, you've got two tails behind you!" Bach loudly warned his wingman over the radio.
Frank, disinterested in checking due to the poor rear visibility of the Bf 109, was prompted to alertness by Bach's words. Only two chasing him? They had ambushed four planes, he shot down one, where did the remaining one go? "Bach, be careful, there might be another one tailing you!"
The G-forces during the climb pressed his body firmly against the pilot seat, but he could still control the aircraft's control stick with flexibility, giving him immense confidence.
"Then I'll dive to take down the one behind you and get rid of the one behind me!" Bach replied enthusiastically.
"No problem." Before the words were finished, Frank saw Bach diving down from not far above, but he didn't see the other I-16 that should have been tailing Bach.
"What's going on?" Before figuring out what was happening, his headphones exploded with noise. "Wahaha, I hit him!" Bach's tone conveyed both excitement and surprise. His first combat resulted in a victory, which was truly happy news for him.
Listening to Bach's excited shouts over the radio, Frank looked around to find the missing I-16. "Climb, Bach! I can't see the other I-16; maybe it's hiding somewhere ready to ambush. Ascend to 5,500 meters. I-16 has an open cockpit; it's challenging to climb too high."
"Roger. Another I-16 is trying to escape."
Trying to escape? Frank couldn't help but sneer. This guy seemed to have some self-awareness, realizing that 2 vs. 2 was not a match, so he chose to run away? "I'll take care of him; you stay on high alert."
After a brief reminder, he turned his aircraft's nose to pursue the fleeing I-16.
Soon, he spotted his prey. This guy seemed to have lost his nerve, not making even the most basic evasive maneuvers and rushing forward headlong.
Unfortunately, the Bf 109's flying speed far exceeded that of the I-16; how could it escape?
Frank chased until the maximum distance, then pulled the trigger on the machine gun lever. Bullets from the four guns sprayed toward the I-16, and Frank even saw fresh blood spurting from the cockpit. Judging by the blood, the pilot was dead beyond any doubt.
Immediately afterward, the I-16 exploded into a burst of fireworks, and the aircraft's debris scattered in the sky.
Frank was instantly frightened, abruptly tilting the control stick to the side, narrowly avoiding a wing wreckage that was flying towards him.
Breathing a sigh of relief with lingering fear, he looked at the dwindling fuel gauge. It seemed it was time to return. "Old Bird Five calling command tower." After reuniting with Bach and circling the battlefield sky once more to confirm no trace of the enemy plane, he contacted the rear command. "The enemy aircraft here has been completely cleared. Another ambush; warn other squadrons to be vigilant against these traps. We shot down three I-16s, and one escaped." As for the two old-fashioned biplanes that served as bait, they had fled long ago.
"Old Bird Five, you can return now." After granting permission to return, the tower asked again, "Frank, did you shoot down two more? That makes it nine, right? Just one more to become an ace; impressive."
On August 31, 1915, French pilot Adolphe Pégoud died after shooting down his fifth German aircraft. French newspapers mourned him, referring to him as "our ace pilot" (many considered Roland Garros as the first ace, but in reality, Garros had only three air-to-air victories out of his five, with the other two being forced landings). The term "ace pilot" originated from this event, and subsequently, other countries followed this standard for designating "ace pilots" (seems like the standards varied between five and ten victories for English and German pilots, can't remember exactly).
However, Wilhelm specified that German pilots needed to shoot down ten enemy aircraft to be designated as an "ace pilot", which was purely his quirky taste, thinking it added more prestige.
The Aviation Flying Academy was called the "Bird's Nest", its students were referred to as "Bird Eggs", graduates as "Chicks", those who shot down one or more aircraft as "Rookies", five or more as "Old Birds", and ten or more as "Ace Pilots". Twenty or more were "Double Ace Pilots", and fifty or more were "Super Ace Pilots." As for monster aces like Hartmann, Wilhelm hadn't yet thought of a cool and bombastic title to name them.
Frank flashed a smile, but dismissed it verbally, "It depends on luck." Indeed, it depended on luck, like the I-16 that just escaped; if that guy hadn't escaped, there was a good chance Frank would have become an ace pilot today.
However, it was just a tiny regret, not enough to make him furious or lose his temper. After all, in intense aerial combat, such negative emotions could become fatal weaknesses. Moreover, the health courses they attended had instructors mentioning that negative emotions, after undergoing information integration and transmission in the brain, could cause neuroendocrine changes, leading to neurological disorders and hormonal imbalances, potentially affecting various systems in the body. Years of training had already taught him how to regulate his emotions.
Frank and Bach returned to the airfield, landing on the runway. Ground crew members rushed up with ladders to inspect the engines, refuel, and reload ammunition for the aircraft.
Now with few planes and plenty of pilots, this makeshift airfield had only ten Bf 109s but thirty pilots. Considering the limited fuel capacity, each pilot's flight wouldn't exceed two hours, so these planes needed swift efforts from aircraft technicians for repairs, refueling, and rearming to complete an average of four to five flights per day.
After getting off the plane, and exchanging greetings with the ground crew, Frank saw a few unfamiliar planes not far away.
Not only were they unfamiliar, but they were also ugly. Frank saw such an ugly plane for the first time. Huge, thick seagull-shaped wings, equally massive fixed landing gear and wheel fairings, towering cockpit, and a tall vertical tail. Especially the enormous engine radiator that looked like a bathtub. He wouldn't even think about flying such an ugly monster!
"What are those ugly ones?" He grabbed a ground crew member and pointed at those ugly planes.
"Those are Ju87 dive bombers.", the ground crew casually replied. "They arrived about an hour ago and seem to be stationed here now. Don't worry; they belong to the Luftwaffe and are only responsible for ground attacks, won't compete with you for action."
"Then I can rest easy." Frank smiled, returned to the dormitory, and fell into a deep sleep on his bed.