/Neil Airbase, Central Osea/
/Captain Lee Nagase/
/December 22, 1940/
Lee watched the skies with a sharp eye, catching the twinkling light of every star as they made their way across the sky. It was a beauty that always fascinated him, the tranquility of space. The only thing he loved more were the white birds of his home town, the albatrosses that passed through on their yearly migrations. One of his favorite past times had been to sit on his porch and draw them as they passed.
When he was younger, he was a solitary child. He'd rather read, write or draw then wrestle and fight. In those days, he had always longed to fly like the beautiful white birds.
But now he was all grown up, and he wasn't basking in the warm trade winds of his old town. Instead, he shivered through the bitter wind of winter, far from home, on a dirt airfield south of the Black River. The only benefit of the wind was that it blew away the industrial smog that usually enveloped the valley around the river, which was framed with factories and mills. However, his sensitive nose still found the musk of smoke and soot. Nothing could blow away something that had been saturating the air for so long.
His pencil carefully scratched along paper, even as he stared up into the sky. Faint lines became birds, and small dots, stars. As he drew, his thoughts became projected onto the page. Soon, the enchanting scene he was gazing upon appeared over the once blank page of the sketch pad. The midnight sky meeting the low hills, and the silvery, moon-lit waters of the river snaking below. The view from the airfield control tower was breathtaking.
"What are you doing up here? It's freezing, you'll catch a cold."
Kris had came up from behind. Lee didn't hear him climb the ladders into the tower, and he briefly thought about what could have happened if he was on watch. He shook his head and cleared his thoughts.
"Just enjoying the tranquility, you know?" he responded softly. It was true, he had come here for the silence. All the other pilots and ground crew in the barracks, drinking and gambling, it wasn't a productive place for any kind of artistic traits. He didn't hate the other pilots per say, but he didn't like spending too long in their company. The only three people he could actually stand for any amount of time were the members of his wing. Anyone else, he merely tolerated.
Kris smiled and took a seat next to Lee. "I don't blame you. I've got a headache already. Davenport's betting all his pay again, as usual."
Lee chuckled. "What an idiot. He knows he never wins. You should probably go back and drag him out of that damn game before he ends up gambling away his soul."
Kris laughed in response, before letting it die down to a small chuckle, and then sighing. He turned to Lee and looked him in the eye. Lee wanted to look away, to cower, but Kris' gaze wouldn't allow it.
"Lee, I know something is up. What's wrong." He finally said softly, but sternly, demanding a response in his own persuasive way. Lee knew his attempt to change the subject had been in vain. Kris could always read people as if they were open books, he had the ability to sense when something wasn't right in a person. Lee knew that lying would be useless, he had to tell the truth.
"I'm a coward, alright. I'm not cut out to be a soldier." He admitted, before dropping his head into his hands. He continued to mumble. "I can't do this. When my father took me hunting, I couldn't even find it in me to shoot a rabbit. A goddamn rabbit! How the hell can I kill a person?"
Kris didn't say anything, instead letting Lee continue on.
"He was so disappointed in me… When he first taught me to shoot, I was incredible at it. I could hit any target, any size. He said I had an eagle's eyes." Lee looked to the dark, clear sky, taking in once more the stars that shone so brilliantly overhead.
"The instructor at flight school told me the same thing. He said I had hands of gold, that I was the best pilot he'd ever seen. For my whole life everyone has commended me on my potential, but I always let them down, without fail. It's in my nature. I'm nothing but a fool. A fool and a failure."
Only now did Kris speak.
"Lee. I need you to listen to every word I'm about to say. Some of them will be harsh, but I'd rather you hear it from me, opposed to learning it the hard way." Kris gestured to the east. "Across that border is the Belkan Luftwaffe. They're tough, experienced, and they're skilled. Now, tell me, what makes you different than them?"
Lee was about to start listing ways, until he realized the question was rhetorical.
"There are only two differences between you and them. You're skilled and you're tough, you can't deny it. You took those road marches back in training as if they were a Sunday stroll through the park! The only things that make you different then them is your level of experience, and your motivation, or rather, lack there of."
Lee wanted to argue about how they were killers, how most of them had all fought before. But once more, Kris left him no room to speak.
"You need motivation Lee. You are capable of being a great soldier. I know it, you know it, the squadron knows it. You wouldn't be wing leader if you didn't have talent." Kris' finger poked Lee in the chest as he made each point.
"They have motives Lee. Reasons to fight. Whether it's for glory, or for pay, or for survival, they all fight for something. They are people just like you, people with morals and fears. But no matter what, in the end, either they die or you die. It's your choice who sees the pearly gates." Kris' speech was over now, and he merely watched Lee, waiting for a reaction.
Lee remained silent and pensive. He knew full well that Kris was right on every account. There was no question that war was about to break out, and regardless of what Lee believed, he'd have to fight. He'd have to find a way to stomach it.
Thunder rolled in the distance, and Lee turned toward it. Back at his home, thunderstorms rolled in every day. He loved to watch them, just as much as he loved watching the stars and the birds. Lighting was a beautiful phenomenon, a marvel of nature. Beautiful and destructive, the way the light danced across the sky always captivated Lee's imagination.
But this was no thunderstorm.
The first roll of thunder was quickly followed by another, and another. The flashes that Lee saw over the horizon was not lighting, it was artillery. Big guns thumping away. Lee's breath caught in his throat.
"No… no… it can't..." he muttered, horrified.
The sirens began to blair not more than a moment later.
Kris didn't waste any time. He grabbed Lee by the collar and pulled him up from his chair. "No time to have a fucking panic attack Lee! Get up, this is the real deal!"
Search lights joined the flashes of the guns. The shafts of light waved across the sky, illuminating the sparse clouds. Soon, the twin trails of tracers from anti-aircraft guns joined them. The once clear night was now alight with shell bursts, and the quiet was shattered by the rolling explosions of bombs. Kris was already down the ladder, having left the frozen Lee behind.
Kris turned back around and screamed back up at the younger man. "Do you want to die down here, or do you want to die in the clouds! It's your choice!" Kris turned away and was now sprinting across the grass field toward the revetments were the squadron's fighters were parked. The sound of aircraft was now audible over the rattle of cannon fire. McNash Air Force Base, which was situated on the other side of the river, was alight with flame. The search lights and anti-air batteries that framed her perimeter were still searching the sky for the planes that had all but razed the base.
That was enough to get Lee moving. He slid down the ladder of the tower, and began to sprint across the field, following Kris, who was now standing by a shed, retrieving the flightgear stored there. Lee was able to catch up to him now, panting after running nearly half a mile across the base. Kris was already wearing his fighter jacket and and his flight helmet, with the oxygen mask hanging off of it. He wasn't wearing a parachute.
"Hurry up. The rest of the squadron will be getting ready as well, we need to get in the air before the enemy does to us what they did to them..." He pointed to McNash, before shaking his head. Lee didn't need any more encouragement.
He followed Kris toward the four planes that belonged to Wardog, all of them bearing a stylized beagle on their tails. Three P-36's and a P-40. Neither Kris nor Lee were even sure they had fuel or ammunition, but they didn't have time to worry about that. They had to get into the air. If not, they'd simply be sitting ducks for bombers. At least in the air they had a better chance of running away.
Kris scrambled to his own fighter, pulling himself unto the wing. He opened up the ammo box and looked inside before grinning. "They're still armed from our sortie this morning! We can fight!" He unlocked the canopy on his craft and slid into the cockpit, leaving it open as he began start up procedures. Soon, the radial engine in the P-36 began to stutter and pop, before roaring into full life. The tri-bladed prop spun into invisibility. At this point, ground crew and other pilots had finally left the barracks, and were scrambling around the base, trying to get fighters fueled and ready to intercept.
Kris was mouthing from his cockpit to Lee. It could be presumed that he was speaking, but the growling engine of the fighter kept any voice from being heard. The message remained clear, however. Get into the air before it was too late.
Lee needed no further prompting. He sprinted to his P-40 and lept onto the wing, nearly slipping off the ice slick, aluminum skin before grabbing ahold of the glass and steel canopy that encased the cockpit. The latch was already open, and it slid back on it's rails with a little effort, allowing Lee to vault into the cockpit. He strapped himself to the leather seat, before flipping the switches on the control panel responsible for the batteries. The few electrical components in the cockpit hummed to life, including the starter button. His thumb jammed it, and the electric starter coughed as it attempted to jump start the engine. The well kept engine caught on the first try, sputtering and then thundering to life, vibration coursing through the fighters steel frame.
Engine noise from starting fighters was echoing from every corner of the base now, but most of the other pilots were not ready for battle. Only Kris and Lee could fight for now, and they were running out of time.
"All pilots, this is Base Commander Mason. As of 00:00, we are now at war with the Belkan Federation. Radar has a large formation of aircraft coming in from the north east, and they ain't friendly. ETA is eleven minutes. Get in the air and save this base! Godspeed." The base speaker system mirrored what Lee's radio had just transmitted. It was war, and it was coming directly at them.
"Don't waste your time Lee, we have to get into the air." Kris had found the same channel as Lee, and the two could speak. It was a standard frequency though, everyone could hear them. The truth was the same in reverse, they could hear everyone else using the same frequency.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Lee finally stuttered out. He pushed the throttle and left the earthen revetment, his fighter rattling as it crossed the grass field toward the unpaved stretch of frozen dirt that was the bases landing strip. Kris was already waiting on it, his fighter idling.
"Should we wait for the others?" Lee asked, looking out of his cockpit toward the other planes as they started up and began to move.
"Negative. We need to get in the air and cover their take off. We simply can't be caught on the ground." Lee nodded, and watched as Kris did the same from his own cockpit. The both of them pushed the throttle and started to roll down the strip, their fighters quaking and shaking as they hit rocks and cracks. Soon enough, they both were in the air, gaining speed and altitude.
"We have to use as much time as possible to climb. We both know Belkan fighters have a better climb rate, we don't want them to bounce us from above." Lee was finally starting to shake off his shock and move back into a position where he could give orders. Kris acknowledged his order and pulled higher into the clouds. Lee followed, pushing the watercooled engine of his warhawk to it's limit. All the tactics and information he had learned at fighter school was rushing through his mind.
"Alright Kris, stay low. I'll pull high and watch from above. My fighter has better high altitude performance than yours." In this case, better didn't necessarily mean good. The P-40 only had a single stage supercharger and lost performance above 10,000 feet. The P-36's air cooled engine would fare no better. However, the air cooled engine on the P-36 was more rugged and could survive more punishment, meaning Kris would do better on the offensive.
"Try and take the bombers from below. I'll watch for escorts." Lee ordered, before glancing to his fuel gage. Nearly empty. The fighter may have been armed, but he only had about a few hours worth of fuel.
"Sure you can handle that Lee?" Kris asked, concern heavy in his voice. He was vulnerable to being jumped by Belkan escorts at his altitude.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm sure." Lee stuttered. He was lying and he knew it, and he was sure that Kris knew it too. But neither of them had time to worry about it. The bombers were approaching.
"This is Captain Nagase to Neil AFB. What's the status on the other squadrons?" Lee needed to know, desperately. He and Kris couldn't take out every bomber, and if the other fighters failed to get in the air they would all be done for.
"Both Halo and Rapier squadrons aren't ready. The rest of Wardog and all of Wolf squadron are all ready to roll, ETA is three minutes. Just try to keep them occupied." That was both good and bad news. They would have a fighting chance with two wings airborne, but they would not have the support of Halo and Rapier, the strongest squadrons they had.
"Lee! I have visual contact with the enemy! Junkers, I think they're dive bombers. Permission to engage?" Kris reported. Lee looked down toward Kris' position. Four gull winged, fix landing gear warplanes were coming in at his 12, and below him. Lee could only assume they carried bombs.
"Take them out Kris! We can't let them hit the base! Permission granted!"
Kris needed no further prompting. He dove down on the dive bombers, his machine guns ripping. The lead stuka erupted in flame as it's wing was struck, before it began a death spin into the river. Kris' high speed pass caught the others by surprise and they scattered, dropping toward the deck. Golden tracers illuminated the night sky as rear gunners tried to blow the offending Osean from the sky.
"Got one, got one! Enemy plane shot down!" Kris cheered, circling to confirm the kill. Lee cheered with him. "That'll keep them away!"
Lee was about to congratulate Kris on his kill when he caught a crimson flash along the mountain side. He followed it with his eyes, trying to identify it. It was a fighter alright, painted in brilliant blood red. It was sleek and shark like, and simply looked eons ahead of the P-36 and P-40. It was joined by four more of the same model, all of them bearing the same color.
"This is Rot leader to all enemy combatants. Flee or fall from the skies in flame. All Rot aircraft, split off and engage any and all enemy fighters. Leave none alive."
The five plane formation split apart with precision, each pilot moving off on his own. Lee was up high enough that he had not been noticed, but for Kris, it was another story. One of the 109'sapproached him from his seven, directly below and in front of Lee.
"Kris! You got a bandit on your tail!" Lee warned frantically, watching in near helplessness as the predatory warbird stalked Kris.
"What, where?! I can't see him, I can't see him!" The usually composed man was near panic now. He threw the fighter into a roll, trying to escape into ground clutter. The 109 trailed him, bearing ever closer.
"He's still on you Kris! You have to try and shake him!" Lee's hands began to sweat, and he felt his stomach knotting up. His shoulders shook like a rickety post in the wind, and his vision was darkening around the edges. He was falling apart! He had to get it together.
"I can't get him off me! Kill him!" Kris was begging now, his voice sounded strained. His P-36 was weaving only a hundred feet above the snowy tree tops, and no matter what that fighter remained on him.
"I'm engaging, I'm engaging!" Lee promised. He threw the stick and rolled inverted, before pulling into a split S maneuver, gaining speed at the cost of altitude. He leveled out at about 300 hundred feet, with enough speed from his dive to catch up to the two other warplanes.
Things were getting worse. The 109 had approached to gun range, and he was firing. Heavy cannon rounds and lighter machine gun rounds stitched across the sky, arching over Kris' fighter in an attempt to lead it. If Lee didn't do something soon, Kris would be hit.
He hit the throttle even harder. Lee watched as the speck that was the 109 grew larger and larger in his gunsight. He was approaching fast. Soon, the crimson fighter was within gun range, and was nearly perfectly in his crosshairs.
Kris threw his fighter towards the left once more, trying to throw the Belkan off of him. It was futile, the enemy was not going anywhere. The cannon rounds continued to edge closer and closer to his fighter.
"Get this fucker off me Lee! He's got me locked up!" Kris had little semblance of composure. He was terrified and helpless. He couldn't outrun his enemy and he couldn't out maneuver him. It was all up to Lee. Lee had his shot, all he would have to do is pull the trigger for a mere three seconds…
"Take the goddamn shot Lee! I won't last much-" Kris would never get to his complete his sentence. A high explosive round caught his engine, lighting it into flames. The radio did catch his screams though. Tortured and feral, piercing into the ears of every single person who happened to be listening. His stricken craft fell to the earth in a steep arc, before erupting into an even larger fireball when it hit the deck. The screams fell into an oppressive silence. The Belkan pilot circled to confirm the kill.
"..." Lee was stuck in a stunned silence, his mouth hung open. Everything seemed to slow for him, and suddenly grow more and more surreal. The night sky seemed clearer. The sensation of motion as he shot through the sky became stronger. He felt the bottom of his gut dropout, and he became thoroughly sick. It was like breaking free of a nightmare, only to realize that the nightmare had been real from beginning to end. Except it still wasn't over.
Kris was dead. There was no question. This was no longer simply a bad dream. Now, Lee recognized that everything he feared had came to pass in a matter of minutes. War, death, loss... everything In that moment, something broke inside of him. His vision grew blurred around the edges. He wiped at his face, expecting tears. He found none. His vision then became perfectly clear, and his heart ceased to skip beats.
"I'm going to kill you, bastard."
He threw his fighter to the left, growling as the g-forces shoved him into his seat. The crimson 109 was circling around, having noticed him. The shark like fighter was quick and agile, and the enemy pilot was clearly no amatuer. Lee leveled his wings and went for a head on pass, his trigger finger jerking the trigger back. His fighter's machine guns chattered, and red tracers illuminated the sky between him and his prey.
The 109 pilot barrel rolled, avoiding the thumb sized rounds with flippant ease. The two warplanes were still closing on one another. Lee ceased his fire, realizing that he was simply wasting ammunition. The gap between his target and his own aircraft was closing rapidly as they approached the merge. It was a game of chicken now… the distance closed, the 109 was growing larger and larger in Lee's sight.
The Belkan pilot blinked first, rolling inverted and passing Lee from above. As the two adversaries passed, Lee gazed into the Belkans cockpit. Obsidian eyes met icy blue ones. The scene only lasted a moment, but to Lee, it felt like an agonizing eternity. He was so close, yet still out of reach.
The merge ended, and the two pilots continued on divergent paths. Lee looked back and caught the sight of a black eagle on the 109's nose. Lee's hand tightened on his stick… he would hunt for that black eagle, and he would kill him, even if it meant joining Kris.
"I'm coming for you. One day, I'll send you back to hell in an inferno." Lee broke away from the engagement, climbing back into the clouds. He shook his head and struggled to regain his composure. There was still a war going on, battle raging all around him, and he was in the thick of it.
Lee pulled his fighter away from the deck, and away from the smoldering crater Kris had become. The cloud cover hung low, and he took refuge inside of it. Other Belkan fighters would still be active in order to escort the large flight of bombers en route to level Neil. Lee knew that no matter what had just happened, he couldn't simply drop everything. The base was still in danger, and he still had to cover the other pilots as they took off. Even when so much had changed, so much else remained the same.
Lee spoke into his radio. "This is Captain Nagase, what is the status on Wolf and Wardog squadrons?" After he asked, he began to scan the sky again. Flak was still bursting wildly, and he began to grow concerned. Those anti-air gunners could just as easily kill him as they could kill the enemy. He was about to radio his concerns back to Base Command when he got his response.
"Wolf and Wardog are both in the air and are nearly at your position. The bombers are still approaching." Lee took a deep breath. The time had come to face the Belkans head on. He pulled free of the cloud cover and began searching for the other fighters. He found them on his six, approaching in a large formation. P-36's, P-26's, and the occasional P-40 made up the fighter wing.
"Hey Cap! Hope you and Kris didn't have too much fun without us!" Dean laughed over the radio… he was completely oblivious to what had happened to Kris.
"Speaking of which, where is he anyways?" Dean continued. From his cockpit, Dean was scanning ahead but could only find the one P-40 of his Captain.
Lee wasn't about to skirt around the issue. "Kris is dead. A Belkan fighter got him." Lee's tone was flat and cold. He didn't feel like talking about it, especially not now.
"Wha.. what?" Dean typically had a lot to say… but not now. Now, he was trapped in a loop of disbelief and horror.
"No. He can't be dead.." Dean hadn't known Kris as well as Lee had, but as members of the same wing, and as bunk mates, the two were still close. "He's somewhere, I know it.. this has to be some sort of cruel joke.."
"This is no joke Lieutenant." Inferno spoke up. "Lee wouldn't joke about something like that, not at a time like this. This is war, if you don't wise up, they'll eat you alive." Inferno's words were enough to push him free of his denial.
"Yeah…" Dean muttered quietly to himself. "You're right."
Lee was practically ignoring his two wingmates at this point. He had to remain alert. The Luftwaffe pilots were living up to their reputation. They were professional and deadly, and even a moment of inattentiveness could be fatal. He also had to be ready to effectively lead the two squadrons he had suddenly been entrusted with. Thinking tactically, he began to formulate a plan of attack.
He knew that his P-40's had the best chance in a dogfight with the enemy. The P-36's could hold their own against older Belkan He 112's, but were outclassed by the newer 109's. If he gathered his P-40's he could use them to engage the Belkan escorts. The P-36's were more or less suited to combat the Belkan Heinkel and Dornier bombers.
His P-26's, however, would be useless. They were obsolete in every sense of the word, little more than trainers. He'd send them to low altitude, to pick off any wounded Belkans as they attempted to flee.
"Alright. Captain Richards, Captain Donahue, and Captain Ivanov, form on me. We'll engage any escorts we come across. Lieutenant Davenport, Lieutenant Cross, and Lieutenant Abrams, form the remaining P-36's into bomber strike groups. Go low into the clouds and tear at them. All remaining aircraft, hit the deck and stay out of the fight."
A chorus of affirmatives cackled over the radio, and the formation dissolved into chaos as the wing's broke away, before reforming in Lee's new formation. The three P-40's of the other Captains dropped around Lee, and the P-36's formed three aircraft units, small V formations. The P-26 pilots dived away, into the ground cover, much to Lee's relief. He didn't want to have to worry about them.
Without radar, Lee had no idea where his flight was in relation to the enemy. The thick cloud cover also limited visibility. He was flying into battle blind.
"Where the hell are the-" Lee never got to finish his sentence.
Breaking through the clouds came the mighty Belkan bomber command, in all of its glory. Ju 88's, He-111's, and Do-17 bombers in tight formation, coming fast from Lee's 12.
"Fuck! Break left, break left!" Lee and his wingman rolled away, avoiding a mid-air collision. The bomber crews seemed as surprised as Lee did, several bombers breaking formation and gunners shooting wildly towards him.
"Attack flight, engage at will!" Lee growled, pulling in a climbing turn to return to the position above the enemy.
The P-36 formation broke through the low hanging clouds, guns chattering. Terrified radio calls from Belkan crews criss crossed the air waves.
"Oseans! Where did they come from?" One Belkan called, panicked.
"Where's our fighter cover!" Another demanded, his voice shaky.
The Belkan formation was alight with gunfire, as the nimble fighters dove in and around the tightly packed bombers, pouring tracers into wings and engines.
The Belkan escorts had woken up though. A pair of Bf-110's peeled away from their squad leader, diving on a pair of P-36s. The unsuspecting rookies were swatted from the sky before they could so much as scream.
Lee snarled silently to himself. "We gotta get in there!" He pushed his Warhawk around, screaming into the bomber formation. He weaved around the fat Heinkels and slim Dorniers, dodging golden streams of tracer fire.
A pair of He-112-V models were embedded in the formation, covering what was most likely the bomber lead. Lee pulled his fighter's nose around toward the closest 112, lining up a shot. He pulled the trigger with zero hesitation, shredding the light fighters fuselage, leaving the stricken bird to fall from the sky.
"Good kill." Reported another Osean. Lee didn't pay attention. He wasn't the type to gloat, especially over something like that.
The Osean pilots took advantage of the lack of cover over the Belkans flight lead. A P-36 with a stylized wolf on its tail dove on the Ju-88, igniting its bomb load. It detonated, motor oil, body parts, and shattered aluminum pelting nearby aircraft.
"Yeehaaa!" The victorious Osean pulled away from the fire ball, wagging his wings in celebration.
The Belkan flight was descending into chaos, but the stubborn and well trained pilots and crews refused to break. The surviving bombers remained in stiff formation, and the escorts grew more determined. A 109 made a quick pass on a P-36, cannon rounds tearing the Osean's wing off. The pilot bailed out, opening his parachute. At least he was still over friendly territory.
Another bomber fell from the sky, tumbling in flames, the work of another interceptor. Lee felt small amounts of pride swell within him. His plan was working... but he didn't dare grow complacent. So much could still go wrong.
Lee returned to scanning, looking for another target. He found it in the form of a Bf-109, with a demon's fearsome visage on its nose. An ace pilot... a dangerous pilot.
"I'm engaging." Lee reported to his wingman, before pulling inverted and diving on his target. The g-forces tore against him, threatening to knock him unconscious. He refused, fighting away the black around the edges of his vision.
The enemy pilot had seen him though. He snapped around, pulling into an attack position. Lee predicted the move, and barrel rolled, avoiding the 109's counter fire. He needed to gain speed now, and drew the fight down lower. His P-40 was more maneuverable at high speed, and the lower altitude would level the playing field with the higher powered engine on the 109.
To Lee's amazement, the Belkan pilot followed him, rolling down and diving with him. Lee's fighter was gaining more speed, having more weight. Once he hit 1,000 feet, Lee drew back on the stick, breaking his dive. The more nimble 109 broke its quicker, but the damage was done. Lee banked left and used his greater inertia to climb above and around his adversary, who had clearly lost sight of him. Lee lined up his gun sight and pulled the trigger, sending his foe to earth in flames.
Lee circled and confirmed the kill, before climbing back into the air-born brawl.
The bomber formation was in complete disarray now. The remaining bombers scattered, breaking their thick cage of defensive fire. However, Osean forces still could not shoot them down with impunity. Belkan escort fighters buzzed in the fur ball like vengeful hornets, knocking down the inexperienced Osean nuggets with relative ease. Lee watched as a P-40 attempted to swoop on a 112, only to be knocked from the sky by a 110. He had to get into the dogfight and even the odds. The battle hadn't been won yet.
"Wolf 2-3 and Wardog 3-4, form on me." He ordered, calling two nearby pilots. They formed on his wings.
The first pilot, Wolf 2-3, was the same pilot who had shot down the Belkan bomber lead, and Wardog 3-4 was one of the more accomplished rookies. Lee hoped they could both hold their own as they engaged.
"Wolf 2-3 reporting, call sign King of Hearts." The first pilot reported, his husky voice growling over the radio receiver.
"Wardog 3-1 reporting, call sign Samurai." The second one reported. His voice was shaky, laden with fear, but his flying didn't show it.
"Roger that. Stick close and cover my six. We're going to play with those escorts." Lee half rolled and dove into the fur ball, dodging streams of gunfire and flak bursts, cutting holes through the thick contrails of oily smoke. Fighters weaved this way and that, a chaotic dance of angels and demons.
"King, requesting permission to engage!" The wolf pilot declared.
"Granted!' Lee permitted, before rolling to avoid a Belkan heavy fighter.
The wolf pilot dove around, his twin 50 caliber machine guns shredding a Belkan fighter. He whooped and swooped around to pursue another target.
Lee found a new target of his own. A Belkan 112, who was sitting on the tail of an Osean P-36. He climbed to intercept, sending a quick burst into the foreign pilot. His engine sputtered and died, leaving him to glide back home. Lee didn't pursue.
The remaining bombers had jettisoned their bombs, and were turning for home. Many of them sported horrendous wounds; such as torn fuselages and dead, flaming engines. The escorts strained to cover their withdrawal.
"We got them on the run!" One Osean cheered. The others joined him. They all broke formation to pursue the wounded bombers. Lee cursed.
"Stay back! Don't pursue!" Lee dodged a Belkan attacker, before returning his attention to his men. Most of them did listen, but several continued on, only to have their wings melt in the proverbial sun. Belkan fighters tore into the disorganized Oseans, sending them back to earth in smoking wrecks.
"Fuck… Lee cursed, watching from above. There was nothing he could do. He was running low on fuel and ammunition.
"All pilots, return to base. We've done all we can." Lee sighed, before noticing that King was still on his wing. "Wolf 2-3, you can return to your flight lead." Lee informed him.
"Negative Captain. He's dead. Along with the rest of my flight. I'll hang with you."
Lee sighed and didn't argue. His wing was a man short, after all..
"Well then, your new designation is Wardog 1-2. Welcome aboard…?" Lee deadpanned.
"My name is Bartlett. Hank Bartlett."
Lee nodded to himself. "Welcome to Wardog Squadron."
The surviving Oseans were forming up once more. The impressive squadron had been reduced by half, and a somber mood persisted despite the victory. Only the strong and the cunning had survived. Too Lee's relief, both Dean and Inferno had survived the battle, both pilots joining the formation.
"Who's the new guy?" Of course, Dean always had something to say. Lee merely chuckled softly. Something had definitely not changed. "I'll tell you later, when we get back to Neil."
"What ever man." Dean responded.
The formation banked south, the rising sun to their east.
"Let's go home."