The Legend of King Kong 1998
A King Kong fanfiction
By H.R.C. Stanley
Based on the 1996 King Kong Screenplay by Peter Jackson and Fran Walsh
From an idea conceived by Merian C. Cooper and Edgar Wallace
Chapter Zero - France 1917
Up above the countryside of France, large puffy clouds float adrift about six thousand feet high in the sky. The silence was ceased by the clanking roar of engines, sounding like angry buzzing bees, and three Sopwith Camel fighter planes, then another three, and three more, all emerged from the clouds, flying in tight formation. These were frail looking, but deadly single seat biplanes, each armed with twin Vickers machine guns. The height of early 20th century aircraft design, built for the sole purpose of blasting German planes out of the skies.
Jack Driscoll and his buddy, Matt Hamon were flying two of the Camels at the rear of the formation. An uptight Brit, McKechnie, was flying along side them. He was as jumpy as hell, scanning the skies for enemy planes.
Matt looked around furtively. None of the other pilots were looking in their direction. With practised skill, Matt reached down for something in his tiny cockpit. He stood up, wedging the control column between his knees and turned back towards Jack's Camel, a cricket ball in his hand. With equal proficiency, Jack jammed his control column between his knees and stood as well, brandishing a cricket bat. Both pranksters had to fight against the fierce slipstream as Matt chucked the ball across fifty feet of sky towards Jack. He prepared to swing, but the ball fell short, getting minced in his propeller. A quick look around to make sure no one is looking, and Matt reached down again, grabbing another cricket ball out of the bag of balls he carried in his cockpit.
Matt pitched it back towards Jack then he swung and smashed the ball into the side of McKechnie's plane. He leapt with fright, his Camel wobbling in the sky as he frantically spins around, thinking he's been hit by enemy fire!
Jack and Matt sat on tight in their cockpits, innocently looking the other way. Their ears caught the sound of sudden machine gun fire. The Squadron Leader had fired his guns to attract the attention of all his pilots and gestured down.
Jack looked down and spotted three large German bombers, escorted by six sleek Albatross fighters were heading towards Allied lines, about at least a thousand feet below.
With a wave of the squadron leaders arm, the nine camels peeled away towards the German planes. The fun was over for Jack and Matt as they grimly steered their planes into the steep dive, and into battle.
Wood started to creak, wires whistled as the Camels shuddered against the wind resistance. The wings slowly crumpled like matchwood in dived as steep as this. Jack squinted as he lined up an albatross in his gun-sights. The Germans didn't spot the fast approaching Camels.
The Camel pilots opened fire virtually simultaneously; eighteen machine guns sent yellow tracer bullets ripping into the German planes. Within seconds, 3 albatrosses were destroyed. One was spinning away in flames, another literally collapsed under a hail of bullets and the third collided with one of the bombers, causing both planes to tumble out of the sky.
It was a turkey shoot as the camels soared through the German formation, turning sharply to attack again before the enemy pilots can recover.
McKechnie blasted at the nose gunner of a German bomber, pumping so many bullets into his plane, the nose section disintegrated and the German fell out. This was in the days before parachutes.
With a hard clunk, the German gunner landed on Jack's wing. He desperately hung on, spread eagle, fingers gripping onto the wing edges. Jack stared at him, amazed.
This was one of those defining moments in life, and with a flick of his control stick, Jack could send this guy sailing into space. It was a moment he would remember till the end of his days. Afterwards, he made quick eye contact; the German was terrified and helpless.
Jack reached out to him. "Here!" he managed to yell above the intense noise of battle.
He struggled to keep his plane flying as smooth as possible; all around the swirling and relentless dogfight continued. The German reached out for Jack's hand just as a sudden burst of gunfire hit the German. He looked at Jack with a kind of confusion to face, almost a hint of sorrow, and then rolled OFF THE WING.
"No!" Jack howled in shock.
Another Camel was flying just a few feet off Jack's tail before diving away into the distance. Tracer fire ripped into Jack's plane and he spun around, confronted with a terrifying sight.
The 24 gaudily painted Fokker Tri-planes of Von Richtofen's Flying Circus were diving down towards them. The hunters had just become the hunted. Before Jack could react, the tri-planes swooped into the dogfight.
The sky was suddenly filled with nearly 50 planes wheeling around in a desperate life and death struggle. From a distance they looked like a swarm of angry bees against a spectacular backdrop of cumulous cloud rising in towering columns.
Close in, its stomach churning, noisy and violent as terrified pilots threw their planes around the sky in a desperate attempt to blast bullets into each other. You may have seen movie dogfights before, but you haven't seen one like this!
Jack wrenched the control stick, sending his Camel through a series of tight turns and wincing as boiling castor oil from the rotary engine slapped into his face there were so many planes that collision was as threatening as the deadly tracer fire that zipped in all directions.
Matt fired at an enemy tri-plane, the blast of his guns causing his plane to tremble violently. The tri-plane's top wing broke away, sending the German into a fatal spin.
Jack stared in paralysing terror as McKechnie's Camel ignited into a blazing fireball before flying straight towards him. He frantically tried to steer his plane away, but with a crump, Jack's plane clipped McKechnie's and went into an immediate spin. Jack tried to regain control, only to find his right hand wing tip in complete tatters.
Matt saw his buddy going down and dived after him, blasting at a couple of triplanes that were closing in on the crippled Camel.
Jack used all his strength to haul the control stick back and pulled out of the dive. He was dangerously close to the ground; the shell torn landscape of No Man's Land. Matt levelled out along side as Jack lost his last few feet of height and smashed into the ground. His undercarriage broke away and the Camel slid to a stop in the mud.
The sunlight managed to pierce through the clouds and down on the no man's land. Jack leant back in the cockpit, his nose bloody from the crash, but otherwise unharmed.
Machine gun bullets suddenly ripped into his plane as German soldiers were firing at him from the trenches. The Camel burst into flames as bullets punctured the gas tank. Jack quickly rolled out of the cockpit and crawled away just as Matt roared low overhead, strafing the machine gun nest with a withering stream of tracer fire.
Jack's plane suddenly exploded and he slid safely into a muddy shell hole, pulling his service revolver out of the holster. Jack ripped off his dirty goggles and helmet; it turned out that he was just a 17-year-old kid.
From out of the thick black plume of smoke emitting from the burning plane, Matt's Sopwith Camel suddenly appeared, gliding very low, with hands tight on pedals and handles.
Matt carefully guided his own plane between shell holes and just almost got away with the landing, just as the jet slowed to a stop, it hit a coil of barbed wire and flipped on its back. Swiftly, he released his seat belt, fell hard to the ground and pulled off his own helmet, revealing his short-cut hair. Matt was only about 20 years old.
"Jack!" Matt called out for his comrade.
Matt raced towards the burnt wreckage as gunfire from the German trenches kicked up the mud all around his feet and he dived straight forward into a large shell hole.
"Matt!" Jack managed to reply back.
Matt was only a few yards away from Jack, as they attempted to stay in their respective shell holes as a volley of artillery fire thundered and shook the ground all around them.
"What the hell are you doing?" Jack asked loudly.
"Saving your lousy arse!" Matt answered back, just as loud.
"You're not saving anybody! You're in the shit like me!"
Matt and Jack both suddenly started to chuckle. However, Matt ceased his own laughter as he heard a low noise, turned his head quick and spotted a burly German soldier aiming his rifle towards the two of them. Just then, he pushed the unsuspecting Jack out and away from the line of fire as he left himself take the shot.
Having realised what just happened, Jack's eyes widened and he screamed in shock.
Jack staggered over the top of the shell hole and he immediately noticed three more soldiers as they descended onto him and his killed comrade. He then swiftly grabbed hold of his revolver and fired away, killing each of the soldiers. he sank to his knees, burying his head in his hands.
To be continued...?