Churchill's Ace (Epic War Series Book 1)

by Greg M. Sheehan

  “Notify all the fighter bases. I will do the same. Hurry.”

  Calais-Marck Airfield

  It had been over a week since the Luftwaffe had performed a daytime raid on London. The loses in airplanes and pilots had been severe enough, that Hitler decided to keep the pressure up. but only under the cover of darkness. For this reason, JAG 23 found themselves in the unusual position of being grounded for over four days.

  This gave Colonel Dunkel time to integrate his new pilots into the squadron. That all changed when he received an urgent call from General Ahrent. The conversation was swift and precise. “Major Kruger has stolen the Luftwaffe’s experimental jet; you are to launch every fighter you have and patrol the French coast. If our calculations are correct, you should make contact in less than a half hour.”

  Colonel Dunkel replied, “Are you sure Major Kruger has done this?”

  “I don’t have time for an academic discussion. Just do it. You are to shoot him down. If you do spot Major Kruger, your squadron is to radio Captain Bockler, who is in the second jet. He will destroy Major Kruger’s jet if all else fails.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Amsterdam

  When Wolf reached the outskirts of Amsterdam, he had one final decision to make. He could fly due west and reach the English coast in no time, and look for an airfield in which to land. That wouldn’t be too difficult to do. The mission would be over and the Me 262 would be in the hands of Winston Churchill and the RAF. The other choice was to keep on his southwest heading and make for Biggin Hill. But that wasn’t all of it...not even close.

  He knew that Zigfried Bockler was out there and more than likely on his own course toward the London capital. If Wolf hightailed it to northern England and landed, Zigfried would not pay for what he had done to Wolf’s mother and father.

  Wolf thought of Madeline and their life together. It was more than a miracle that he had found her. And now, was he willing to risk that to settle a score with a Nazi murderer? He had only a few seconds to decide. One can’t move toward the future with the past gnawing at you. No matter what you did the thought would be there. Wolf stayed on his course for London and slowed his jet down to 450 mph. That would conserve fuel and give Zigfried a chance to find him. It will end today. It will be me or him.

  JAG 23

  12 Me 109 fighter planes were scrambled and sent out in a northeast heading. They hugged the French coast at 13000 ft. and looked for Wolf Kruger and his Me 262. Another squadron from the Luftwaffe fighter base at Nieuwpoort, Belgium were already on station just to the north of JAG 23.

  Together the squadron formed a picket line that was waiting for Major Kruger. They didn’t have to wait long. Wolf saw the familiar dots on the horizon as the cloud and fog banks were now far behind him. The dots, of course, were planes. No doubt fighters from the Luftwaffe fighter bases near the French coast. They were the only planes besides the jet flown by Zigfried that had any chance of stopping him.

  Soon the dots grew larger and more were appearing by the minute. There were more than he could count. Wolf soon realized that there were three full Luftwaffe squadrons out there. At least 36 planes were buzzing around in front of him. Any time now they would see him streaking toward them. His Me 262 was over 100 mph hour fast than the Me 109, but that as he saw it didn’t settle the situation. Not at all.

  He thought what he would do if he was in charge of the Luftwaffe picket line. Wolf decided the key to stopping him was to get out in front of his plane and make him turn and maneuver. He knew from his first flight in the experimental jet that its turning radius was wider than the prop fighter planes. In essence, the jet was a good machine, but it wasn’t invincible. He also knew that what Winston and the RAF wanted was to deconstruct the Me 262 and see if that could leapfrog their own jet engine technology.

  As the Me 109s came into view, Wolf kept the Me 262 on a straight course toward London. He wasn’t going to turn right, left or any other direction. Wolf slowly accelerated and brought the jet’s speed up to 510 mph. At that speed, the Me 109s would have but a few seconds to shoot at him. As for a full engagement, Wolf wasn’t going to be sucked into that, unless it involved Zigfried.

  As the seconds counted down and his jet moved ever closer to the picket line, Wolf pointed his aircraft to an area that was slightly to the left of the oncoming planes. At 200 yards he fired a burst from his four 20 mm nose cannons. One Me 109 was clipped and it rolled over. But now he ran the gauntlet of a dozen or more fighter planes streaking in from both sides of him. They fired at him as he flew by. At the last moment, Wolf nosed the jet toward the ground and avoided the stream of bullets.

  That was it he thought for JAG 23 and the other squadrons. By the time they were able to turn around, he would be halfway across the Channel and on his way to Biggin Hill. It was then he saw four cannon shell tracers whiz by the top of the pilot’s canopy. There was no doubt those potentially deadly shells belonged to Zigfried and his own Me 262. Finally, it begins.

  Wolf poured on the throttle and took the jet on a steep dive toward the choppy waters of the English Channel.

  10 Downing Street

  Winston was in the middle of a cabinet meeting when a phone was brought to the conference table. The other ministers were used to this. The Prime Minister was in demand, now that England was at war. They knew without his leadership they might have already been defeated. He took the call. It was General Barnsfield of the RAF, from Fighter Command at Bentley Priory. General Barnsfield said, “We have a situation here, Prime Minister.”

  “An unexpected daylight raid?”

  “No Prime Minister, something most unusual, which I find out you had posted the duty officer about, within the last fortnight.”

  Winston's eyes lit up. “How many planes?”

  “Two and they’re moving very fast. Faster than anything we’ve seen before. The coast watchers have been alerted to be on the lookout. To see what the bloody hell is going on. Should I scramble a squadron?”

  “General that won’t be necessary.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “One of those is ours, or soon will be. Thank you.” Winston hung up and the operator for 10 Downing Street came on the line. “Yes Mildred, get me flight operations at Biggin Hill.” Winston put down the phone and turned his attention back to the cabinet ministers. “I must take a short recess.”

  A cabinet minister said, “What’s the problem?”

  “We are on the cusp of getting our first jet.”

  “What’s a jet?”

  Biggin Hill

  Lieutenant Marsh rustled Captain Ashton from the new hangar which was under construction at Biggin Hill. Randolph could see the urgency in Lieutenant Marsh’s eyes. “Captain, you must get airborne at once.”

  “Just me? Why?”

  “The Prime Minister called. It seems Captain Kruger is coming in.”

  Randolph exclaimed, “Is that bloody true!”

  “And that’s not all, sir. Another jet is after him. He needs your help.”

  “How do I know which is which?”

  “Sir, I assume Wolf will be the one… being chased.”

  “But of course. Get my Spitfire revved up.”

  * * *

  Wolf kept his Me 262 at barely fifty feet above the English Channel, as the Me 262 was now full out. It was flying at over 540 mph and Zigfried was trying to close up on Wolf to get a kill shot. A single burst from a 20 mm heavy shell from the Nazi’s plane was all that it would take to send Wolf into the Channel, where he would be swallowed up like so many planes before him.

  Zigfried fired a long burst from his cannons as Wolf crossed the Channel, but he was too far away to have any chance of striking Wolf’s plane. Seconds later Wolf pulled up to just over 1200 ft. as he flew over Dartford, a quaint town which was on the edge of London proper.

  The drop tanks to Wolf’s Me 262 had been jettisoned long ago, and he now was flying on the fuel from the internal fuel tanks. He knew Zigfried couldn’
t risk fighting more than five to ten minutes over London. Otherwise, he would run out of fuel.

  The clock on Big Ben struck noon as Wolf banked low and flew by the House of Commons, with Zigfried behind him vying for a clean shot. The midmorning activity of the streets of London stopped and everyone looked to the sky. The two jets made a tremendous amount of noise as Wolf banked hard in front of St. Paul’s Cathedral and headed toward the Tower Bridge.

  He was pushing the Me 262 to its outer limits and was pressed tight against the side of the cockpit.

  Winston, James and Madeline were now on the roof of 10 Downing Street. They saw the sleek Me 262s fly by and streak toward St. Paul’s Cathedral. The sight was surreal and Madeline knew that the man she loved was in the first jet. He was flying for all he was worth. Winston yelled above the deafening noise. “My God!”

  Randolph’s Spitfire seemingly came out of nowhere and flew toward Zigfried’s plane. Captain Ashton fired his guns and tracers filled Zigfried’s cockpit. Zigfried’s concentration was broken for a split second. When he looked out in front, Wolf was gone.

  Winston saw it all from the roof of 10 Downing Street. Wolf was looping skyward and around. It was a difficult and dangerous maneuver. Winston took out a cigar from his suit and held it in his hand and squeezed. “That’s it. Keep pushing.”

  Before Zigfried realized what had happened, Wolf Kruger was now on his tail. Zigfried banked left and tried to shake Wolf. They came back around and were flying in the middle of the River Thames. At barely 100 yards Wolf fired a long burst from his nose cannons. The shells impacted the back of Zigfried Bockler’s pilot seat. The Me 262 was damaged but still flying.

  Wolf emptied his guns on Zigfried’s jet and it erupted in flames. Inside the stricken Me 262, Zigfried was screaming in pain as the fire was all around him. Zigfried pulled up on the stick, but it didn’t matter as he smashed into the upper battlement of the Tower Bridge. His wonder jet shattered into a thousand pieces and rained down onto the River Thames.

  Wolf did a victory roll over the Tower Bridge and gained altitude. Hans saw the victory roll from the grounds of the RAF Annex at Dulwich Village. He whispered, “Wolf... it’s Wolf.”

  As fast as the dogfight had started, it was over. Wolf turned south and headed for the runway at Biggin Hill. Zigfried was dead and the past seemingly now could be put away. Not forgotten, too much had happened for that to be true. There would be more work, more battles, and more killing before the Nazis would be wiped off the face of the earth. But it has started.

  At 10 Downing Street, Winston looked toward the Tower Bridge with satisfaction. Madeline calmed down and got control of her emotions. She said, “At least the Tower Bridge is still standing.”

  Winston chomped down on his Cuban cigar. “Can’t say the same thing about the second jet, or its Nazi pilot. Wolf is on his way to Biggin Hill. I believe he may want to see you.”

  Madeline smiled, “And you may want to see that jet.”

  James walked onto the roof, from a covered entrance. He had missed some of the dogfight, as he was outside with Winston’s Rolls Royce. He saw the relief and smiles on the faces of Madeline and Winston. James sighed, “That was rather... smashing.”

  Winston turned to James. “James would you be so kind to take us to Biggin Hill.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Captain Ashton buzzed by 10 Downing Street in his Supermarine Spitfire and waved his wings at them. He disappeared and flew on to Biggin Hill. Madeline shook her head. “Pilots. Why do they feel the need to show off whenever it suits them?”

  Winston said, “I shouldn’t be too hard on Wolf or Randolph. After the tremendous spectacle they afforded the fine people of London, I believe a curtain call was most appropriate. As for the Nazi-smashing into the historic battlement, that was more than deserving.”

  Biggin Hill

  The landing conditions at Biggin Hill were perfect for a late afternoon. A light breeze from the southwest gently curled the windsocks which were at both ends of the runway. Wolf circled Biggin Hill once as Randolph landed his Spitfire and taxied off the runway.

  Lieutenant Marsh, the pilots, and ground personnel double-timed out of the hangar as Wolf lined up the wonder jet for the landing. As Wolf brought in the Me 262, he couldn’t help but think back to the first time he landed a glider by himself. He was barely 15 years old then and with little idea as to what life had in store for him. Now it seemed he had a good idea where he would be and what his future held.

  Wolf wound down the twin jet engines of the Me 262 and the wheels of the jet touched down on the runway. He taxied the jet to the hangar. When he opened the canopy, Wolf was engulfed by everyone at the airbase. They pressed against the futuristic plane, and Lieutenant Marsh raised his voice. “Give the lad some room.”

  Wolf stepped off the jet and onto the tarmac. He saluted Lieutenant Marsh. “Lieutenant, it’s all yours.”

  Lieutenant Marsh was beaming from ear to ear. “Congratulations sir.” He ran his hand over the fuselage of the Me 262. “It’s a sight to behold, even if he doesn’t have a blasted propeller.”

  The pilots looked at Wolf, expecting him to say something. He said loudly, “It flies like a dream. And now we have it!”

  Randolph emerged from the throng and said, “Three cheers for Captain Kruger of the Royal Air Force!”

  The pilots yelled and hoisted up Wolf. Lieutenant Marsh said, “That’s a good lad.”

  Winston’s Rolls Royce rolled down the runway and came to a stop by the Me 262. James got out and opened the rear door of the Rolls Royce. Madeline and Winston stepped onto the tarmac. Madeline hurried over to Wolf. The pilots lowered him to the ground, and Madeline embraced him. The catcalls started, and Winston took off his top hat. He said to James and Randolph, “Being an ace does have its perks.”

  James gave the Me 262 a thorough going over. “So this is what the fuss was all about.”

  Winston said dryly, “More than you can imagine.” Winston shook Randolph’s hand. “Did you see him?”

  “The Nazi bastard. Yes, I did. Only for a second, soon Wolf got on his tail, and then he was done. And about time... especially for Wolf. Kind of clears up things for him.”

  “Well, he’s done it and under very trying circumstances. But this doesn’t mean he’s begging off next year’s Regatta on the River Thames.”

  James thought for a second and then said, “Winston, shouldn’t that be postponed, with the present circumstances.”

  Winston resumed chomping down on his Cuban cigar. “Really James, are we to change anything because of Herr Hitler and his minions?”

  “Of course not... forgive me.”

  Lieutenant Marsh put his hands on his hips. He motioned to the Biggin Hill ground crew, “Let’s get it inside. And don’t scratch it.”

  Dulwich Village

  Word spread throughout the RAF Annex about the dogfight, of the wonder jets. The German pilots who saw the battle in the air were more than amazed. They were in a state of shock. The flaming hulk of Zigfried’s Me 262 hurling through the air and then smashing into the battlement tower of the Tower Bridge was the grand finale to the scene.

  As the sun set on the historic day, the pilots settled down and prepared for their journey across the Atlantic, to Canada and their new prisoner of war complex. Hans finished packing, and that wasn’t too difficult... there wasn’t much to bring along. He was resting on his cot when a guard entered the upstairs barracks. The guard walked over to him and said, “You’re wanted downstairs.”

  “By whom?”

  The guard laughed, “The bloody Prime Minister, how should I know.” Hans reluctantly rolled out of bed. “A little stiff, you should get some more exercise.”

  “Thanks, Billy, how about you leave the gate open and I go for a run.”

  “I shouldn’t think my exec would go for that. Hurry up now.”

  Hans went down the stairs and was led outside. He saw Wolf, who was wearing an RAF uniform, standing under a tre
e. He was taken aback and saw Madeline next to his friend. Just as surprising, he saw Winston Churchill, who stuck out his hand, “Lieutenant Meyer, very glad to meet you. I have learned much about you from Wolf. I only hope the circumstances that you find yourself in were different.”

  Han’s face turned sad when he saw Wolf. “I see you changed uniforms. Not that I can blame you, the gray flannels of the Luftwaffe itches like crazy during summertime.”

  Wolf said softly, “I haven’t made it to summertime in these yet... so who knows.”

  “Wolf, did you shoot off my tail?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  A single tear rolled down Hans’ eye. “Don’t be, at least, you didn’t kill me. I don’t think Helga would appreciate that.” Hans now smiled. “And is this the girl who started the whole thing?”

  “I’m Madeline.” Madeline beamed when she smiled. Hans seemed to melt in front of her. “I can see why Wolf loves you. I hope he has told you that. But us Germans have a hard time expressing our feelings. Oh, we can drop bombs without feeling or remorse, but ask us to explain why we do it, that’s a different matter.”

  Madeline whispered above the chirping birds in the tree. “That is rather sad, but I do understand.”

  “I do have a question for you, Wolf. Are you an ace in the RAF?”

  Winston answered for Wolf, “Almost ten planes shot down.”

  Hans complained, “What happened, Wolf? You only got five when you flew for the Luftwaffe.” Wolf shrugged. “I get it. No wonder we are losing the Battle of Britain.”

  Wolf said, “Hans, I never intended for this to happen.”

  “It’s not like you had much choice,” said Hans with a hint of reassurance in his voice. “The Nazi bastards killed your parents. But in the end, you got them. You got Zigfried. I saw it, clear as day.”