The Markings

"Break right Hans, break right!!" Willy screamed into his oxygen mask using his flight leader's name because there was no time for codes. Hans laid his Messerschmitt 109G hard over to escape the American's fifty calibers. Out of the corner of his eye Hans saw the Ami's tracers fly harmlessly by on his left. "Thanks Willy," Hans mumbled; he had no time to radio his wingman. I'll pull this circle in tight, he said to himself. I can't outdive the Mustang, my wings will come off, but the Gustav's wing slots will keep me inside the Ami and he won't be able to get the angle. Hans looked around trying to find the Ami but he couldn't see him. He saw more tracers and felt some hits on the fuselage. He turned as tight as he dared because he might snap roll, or worse, black out, if he pulled in too tight. He wished he were turning left because all right handed fighter pilots preferred a left turn. Too late now. "Where the hell is Willy," he growled. "He should be here now to chase this Ami away!" With his left hand, Hans adjusted his rear view mirror trying to spot the Ami. It was a fatal mistake. While concentrating on his mirror Hans eased up ever so slightly on the stick. The always ready American pulled his Mustang inside Hans' tight circle for only five seconds. It was enough. The American brought the pip of his optical gunsight up ahead of the German and pressed the firing button on top of his stick. All six fifty-caliber machine guns fired, their recoil noticeably slowing the P-51D. Collectively they spewed out 60 rounds a second for a five second burst. Three hundred rounds, racing at 3000 feet per second, each a half inch in diameter, every fifth one an incendiary, hurtled at a point in the sky one hundred and fifty feet in front of the German. The ME-109G flew squarely into the American's array of lead. Han's aircraft instantly lost power as oil and coolant spilled into the frigid air and 100 octane gasoline poured out onto hot metal. Hans was hit in the right leg. "That hurts like hell!"" he yelled, although there was nobody to hear him. But he hurt more from the surprise and shock of the Ami's skillful flying and shooting. Smoke rapidly filled the cockpit and Hans, in a frenzy, slid the canopy back and was blasted by the rush of bitter cold air. He released his shoulder and seat harness as flames licked through the instrument panel. He saw more tracers fly by.