Damn it! Jimmie sucked in air, clearing the fog from his brain.
Benny’s aircraft shot by Jimmie.
Jimmie straightened his Hurricane. He accelerated and followed Benny in pursuit of their section leader.
Cobber flew an Immelmann combat maneuver—making a 180-degree change in direction by performing a half loop and, when completely inverted, rolling to the upright position. His aircraft banked hard to the left and pitched upward.
Benny struggled to follow Cobber’s maneuver, and his plane lost speed.
Cobber’s Hurricane gained distance from his pursuers and disappeared into a cloud.
Jimmie caught up with Benny and, in tandem, they turned over the top of the cloud bank. Seconds passed as they waited for Cobber’s plane to appear.
Jimmie turned his head from side to side, scanning the area. The cloud began to dissipate, revealing glimpses of the rolling French landscape, fifteen thousand feet below his Hurricane. He strained his neck to look behind him and discovered the nose of Cobber’s aircraft rising from the mist. His adrenaline surged.
“Six o’clock low!” Jimmie shouted into his microphone. He dived to the left, and Benny dived to the right.
Cobber chased after Jimmie. He rolled and banked his plane to close the distance between them, as if he could anticipate each of Jimmie’s maneuvers. In less than a minute, he narrowed in on his target, while Benny struggled to get his Hurricane within range.
“I’m on your tail, Green Three,” Cobber said. “Make your move.”
Jimmie shot his plane into a high-g barrel roll—a combination of a loop and a snap roll. It was a last-ditch defensive maneuver to shake Cobber from his tail, or at least disrupt his aim. But as he came out of the snap roll, Cobber’s voice boomed inside Jimmie’s helmet.
“You bought it, Green Three!”
Damn it. He strained his neck to find Cobber close behind him, as if the nose of his plane was magnetic and Jimmie’s Hurricane was made of iron.
“Land your aircraft,” Cobber said. “We’ll go over what you did wrong when I’m on the ground.”
“Wilco,” Jimmie said, feeling defeated.
“All right, Green Two,” Cobber said. “Let me see what you got.”
“Roger that,” Benny said.
Jimmie landed his plane and taxied to a grass clearing with a line of parked Hurricanes and a group of pilots, all of whom were observing the mock fight in the sky. He unbuckled his harness, removed his helmet, and climbed out of his Hurricane.
“How did it go up there?” Horace asked, approaching him.
“It could have gone better. I only lasted a few minutes longer than my last dogfight with Cobber.”
“If I’m not mistaken,” Horace said, “none of the pilots have gotten the best of Cobber.”
He nodded, hiding his disappointment. “How is the new base?”
“Splendid,” Horace said. “It’s much nicer than the other airfields; we have an indoor loo.”
Jimmie chuckled. “You’ll need to write to Daisy and tell her about your luxury accommodations.”
“Already did.” Horace pointed at Jimmie’s Hurricane. “The aircraft appeared to drag a bit on your altitude climbs. I’ll work on tuning the exhaust system to see if we can increase the engine power.”
“Thanks,” Jimmie said. “It’s comforting to know that the best fitter in France is working on this kite.” He glanced at the pilots. “Time for me to go and receive my medicine.”
“Good luck,” Horace said.
Jimmie joined his fellow pilots, congregated on the grass, watching the aerial combat between Cobber and Benny.
“That was a ropey maneuver,” Gord said.
Tension spread through Jimmie’s chest. “I was running out of options, and I thought it might work to shake him from me.”
“It didn’t,” Gord said. “Your choice to pull a high-g barrel roll was a cock-up.”
Anger flared inside Jimmie but he held his composure. Through the corner of his eye, he saw the squadron leader—ten meters away—and wondered if he would tell him the same.
Fanny approached Jimmie and patted his shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up too badly. You were up against one of the best.”
“And the most dangerous.” Gord slipped a pipe from his pocket. “Cobber takes far too much risk. He sets a bad example for inexperienced recruits, like Jimmie.”
“Cobber’s willingness to take a chance is what makes him a superb pilot,” Fanny said.
Gord packed tobacco into his pipe and lit it.
“The more daring we are, the more likely we are to outmaneuver the enemy,” Jimmie said.
“Precisely,” Fanny said.
Gord inhaled on his pipe and blew smoke through his nose. “There’s a fine line between daring and reckless, and Cobber often crosses it.”
