Chapter 2

Chris Broad, born in November 1910 in London, had joined the war right at the beginning and had faced many adversaries in the sky. To be honest, he preferred to be in the sky more then on the ground. His father was a soldier during the first the Great War and the gruelling reality of the trenches is what made Chris decide to take to the skies instead. He was one of the best, able to fly along enemy ships whilst they were firing on him with anti-aircraft cannons, or take five fighters all on his own. He hated the fighting part, but the thrill of flying through the air at high speeds is what he lived for. There was only one reason that brough Chris back to the ground, other than the fact that his plane would eventually run out of fuel. That reason was Emma Schödder, who he met one year before the war started.

His Supermarine Spitfire Mk 1 flew towards the runway of the airbase. The plane’s body now had a couple of bullet holes in it from the battle and the fuel was running low. The left wing was almost covered in holes after his dogfight with the Messerschmitt, a few more shots and he would have fallen out of the sky. The plane gracefully lowered towards the ground, the landing gear opening. Gentilly, the wheels touched down on the tarmac of the runway and the plane’s engine began to slow. The plane wheeled towards the hanger before finally coming to a halt.

Chris opened the cockpit and climbed out as the maintenance teams arrived to get to work. He wore the standard brown flight suit with a brown leather jacket, designed to keep the pilots warm whilst flying at high altitudes. He stood about 1,73 meters tall, had brown eyes and dark brown hair which was cut very short. There was a hint of a growing moustache forming on his upper lip. He left the hanger and headed towards the main base. The area was a simple base, two hangers, one main base, a runway and at least six barge balloons, that were currently lowered to the ground. This was only whilst the pilots landed or took off, they did not want any of their planes accidentally getting shredded by their cables.

As Chris entered the base, he was met by his commanding officer, Captain Tom Clark. Captain Clark stood roughly 1,75 meters tall, had light brown eyes and black hair. He wore a grey commander’s uniform, with several badges.

“Chris, I believe you single handedly took down a destroyer out there. I never thought a light weight Spitfire like yours could do that.” He said.

“Sir, there is something I need to speak to you about, regarding the destroyer.” Chris said, standing at attention. “I believe it could be important.”

“Alright, go ahead.”

“I did not take it down, something else did.”

“That is not possible, according to what I heard from one of the other pilots the torpedo bomber was destroyed before it could attack.”

“That is true, yet I never fired a shot and I saw something in the water.”

“You could not have; no submarines had been dispatched to the battle.”

“I know that sir, if it was a submarine, I do not think it was ours, and it would not have been German either.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I do not know, maybe there is another nation getting involved in this war, who has not let us know, or worse is against them and us. I do not have a definite answer but I think we should be careful, just in case.”

Captain Clark sighed. “I think the stress of the battlefield is getting to you.”

“Maybe.” Chris lied. He knew something else was going on, but what, he did not know.

Hidden somewhere off the Eastern coast of Britain was a small German airbase. A group of LCT Mark 2’s had arrived along with a few rescue vessels from the previous ocean battle. The LCT’s had dropped off a platoon of Panzer III’s which had made their way to the hidden German airbase. It was one of three hidden German bases in Britain. The survivors of the oceanic battle and the Panzers arrived at the base. Despite the heavy losses, their mission was a success; draw the British away whilst their tanks arrived on their shores.

Heinrich Schödder was not very happy though. One minute he was locked in a dogfight with a Supermarine Spitfire Mk 1, the next his Messerschmitt’s tail was blown off by a sinking German Destroyer and he had to eject. Heinrich took his job as a pilot seriously. Not because he was another ‘mindless soldier’, but because he was afraid that if Germany lost the war, the country would fall to absolute ruins. He remembered what it was like after the Great War as a child, he did not want that to happen again.

Heinrich stood about 1,75 meters tall, had brown eyes and light brown, almost blond hair. A stern look was always painted across his face and his eyes seemed to always stare into your soul, and not in a good way. It was more like he was constantly staring you down, or intimidating you, but that was barely the case. He entered the small main base, quite angry. No opponent had ever made such a fool out of him before.

“Mister Schödder." A voice called from behind him. It was the captain of the base, Captain Otto Hoffmann.

“Captain Hoffmann." He replied, standing at attention, raising his hand to his forehead in salute. He refused to do the other salute, he thought it looked dumb, like you were trying to flag down a car without knowing how to do so.

“At ease. What happened out there today?" Captain Hoffmann asked.

“There was this one pilot, I almost had him. He kept flying close to the anti-aircraft cannons and when the Destroyer went down, it took out my tail."

“Listen, if they want to get themselves killed, by all means let them. Just do not be stupid and follow them."

“Yes sir."

They entered the main operations room of the base. There were large tables scattered all over the room. On the centre table was a large map, showing Poland, Germany, France and Britain. Red markers had been placed on the map where other secret bases had been established as well as convoy routes. On another table was a large radio set up, which was used for long range communication with the other two bases on the Eastern shoreline. Officers were either strategizing at the map, or receiving calls off the radio. Heinrich preferred to be in the sky than this crowded place. He and the other pilots gathered around a table with a smaller map, only displaying France and Britain.

“We have an artillery train travelling through France towards our pick-up point, carrying reinforcement artillery. It will arrive at the point tomorrow afternoon. We had ships sent in to get ready for its arrival. All of them were sunk on the way there. We fear the British know of this operation. Tomorrow, you all will fly out and provide cover for them, in case the British show up. Do you understand?” Captain Hoffmann explained.

“Yes sir." They replied.

“At the same time, we will send our tank squadron into London. We will march through the city and capture it, at any cost. You all set out at first light tomorrow."

The pilots dispersed and Heinrich left the base. Before any of what was to happen the next day could happen, he had something to do.

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