Woe is me for I have sinned
Forgive me fellow Cameliers I was tempted by
The Dark Side and found wanting. One of the best Dr1 drivers was up there, waiting. We both knew what he was waiting for.... my inevitable demise. Yet again. My eyes strayed to the ugly little triplane recently captured and now beckoning to me from it's place on the end of the flight line. I have to confess I weakened brethren, I lost my faith and gave in to temptation
I was already having second thoughts as I climbed into the cockpit, which stank of Hun beer, vomit and terror-pee. There was a small photograph of a sheep pinned next to the airspeed indicator and a bag of stale bread and wurst sausage I ever smelled under the seat. After starting the engine there was a short ground roll and the strange little contraption lifted off the grass. I would have to stand up to see over the wings. Having flown it a few times before I already knew this wasn't my natural ride. Once in combat I would likely find myself in a worse predicament than usual, an unfamiliar aircraft with (for me) poor views and peculiar control response characteristics. Up against one of the Top Gun Huns. Oh dear. Too late to turn back now, here he comes.....
To my suprise I find myself turning, diving, swooping and zooming all over the sky in concert with my opponent. But this is no dance of passion, no Camel here making love to the soft liquid air of the sky..... more a brutal rape with no mercy, no compassion, nothing but the end result in mind...... disgusting.
We were down to tree level at last, and now it would come. My opponent's experience on type would finally tell and I'd be dead. Determined to fight to the bitter end I haul the little pigpen into a hard flat right hand turn, very unimaginative but he does the same, we both know that the first to break out will probably die. I watch for his usual 'creep', where he slowly reels me in and climbs onto my six. But once again I am suprised, four turns, five, six.... we're still exactly opposite each other, both right on the edge and desperate not to make a mistake
Now he's trying something, what's this....? He straightens a little, picks up speed, climbs a little and hauls extra hard back into the turn. Hmmmm it seems to have given him an edge so I reciprocate and now we're looking at each other from opposite sides again. He tries another, I counter. This goes on for a little while, no gains to either of us. Then someone shows up and starts buzzing us.... phew a friendly. My opponent ignores the first two firing passes then his nerve goes and he breaks left. My aim is not good in this beast, I'm standing up above the sightline but he's very close and I gun him down easily with a three second burst.
I dropped the triplane back into the field with no finesse, I was just glad to get back alive and climb out of the thing. If this was the price of victory I decided they could keep it. I looked the thing over as I rolled a cigarette and stood there smoking it quietly, deep in thought and totally disgusted with myself. At the end of the day it's not whether you live or die, but
how you live and die. I flicked the stub of my cigarette into the cockpit and walked away, the crackling of burning fabric fading as I put more distance between myself and that ugly stain on the history of aviation.
