The belief in progress, in the embrace of happiness and perfection by future humanity, appears now as nothing but an illusion, useful perhaps for the maintenance of the status quo, if it is true that man deploys a greater effort in the hope of an indeterminate happiness than he would for the preservation of a state which he often declares himself dissatisfied with.
~ Jules de Gaultier,
A Critique of the Idea of Progress
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The tyres of the Polikarpov biplane made contact with the runway, causing Johann to shudder for a moment whilst his aircraft bounced back into the air momentarily before returning to earth much more calmly.
Slowly rolling to a halt, he still felt high up in the clouds. The Soviet ground crew approaching him continued on regardless of the dazed look in his eyes, before finally asking if everything had worked.
“Congratulations Comrades, best thing I’ve ever flown!” Johann chirped before hoisting himself out of the cockpit. The Russians could speak German but focused on hauling the craft away for refueling. Johann didn’t mind, his dreams of returning to the air were being realised at last and nothing could spoil this moment for him.
The events in Austria had won him plaudits amongst the People’s Guard but also from the new Chancellor.
Adolf Hitler had promised him before the civil war that the Red Front would soon have need for an air force and he had delivered. Part of this had been Johann’s own experiences in Austria, where Italian control of the sky had left the People’s Guard and their Austrian brethren at a perilous disadvantage. It hadn’t been enough to allow the fascists through the well defended heights of the Brenner pass but it had left an impression on all those involved. Johann had subsequently lobbied for a German air force and, with the Austrian Bundesheer having been incorporated into the People’s Guard, he had new colleagues with experience in setting one up illicitly.
At the same time international disarmament talks were being pursued the old Reichswehr relationship with the Red Army was being rekindled by the People’s Guard in the same clandestine fashion as their reactionary predecessors. A new generation of German combat aircraft and pilots would be needed in case the talks were to fail and by the time they had, the Treaty of Versailles had become increasingly redundant in the People’s Guard’s calculations.
The French and Italians had made it clear that nothing would ever remove them as a threat to the German people and so rearmament became essential, particularly now Germany shared a border with both countries.
It was as good an excuse as any to get him flying again
German biplanes were in development alongside the Soviet models they were helping to test. The new Heinkel dive bomber was a source of particular pride, being faster and more maneuverable than anything Johann had flown in the days of the Ruhr uprising. He had been rusty after having gone without flying for so long but after having become comfortable with the training craft it was a rush to fly something so powerful. The knowledge that even better planes were in development left him full of anticipation for the future.
It was a future that Johann was certain would be secured by his fellow German pilots, who now came out to greet him. So far there was no specific uniform for the air wing of the People’s Guard but they were still better put together than Johann in his worn flight suit. All the same he was senior to most of them, many had been toddlers during the World War.
“How was she?” Asked Heinrich, one of the younger pilots, with an eager grin.
“Flies like a dream, machine guns work perfectly as well.” Johann responded with similar enthusiasm. The circumstances of why they were here were intoxicating to those with dreams of flying and Johann was reluctant to get out of his flight suit.
“Glad to know, it’s my turn next.” Heinrich said proudly, as if to dissuade from Johann from trying to have another go at the aircraft that was already refueling. Heinrich had a look of anticipation that many had amongst the German group, Johann knew it well. Some of those in the German mission had flown reconnaissance missions for the People’s Guard, or even dropped leaflets on Reichswehr troops in the closing stages of the war but he doubted any of them would have strafed Freikorps like he had. Flying with live ammunition had that extra sense of adventure to it.
Johann was ready to head back to his quarters to change and was about to ask Heinrich if he was coming to get his flight suit on whilst the ground crew finished preparing the Polikarpov to go up again. This was before he was distracted by the familiar buzzing sound of another aircraft approaching the airfield.
“I don’t remember anyone else being scheduled to land.” Johann commented neutrally, transfixed by the large aircraft that wasn’t coming into land. Instead it was now circling above the airfield.
“I don’t recognise the make. Is it Soviet?” The sound of gunfire seemed to answer Heinrich’s question.
Soviet flak cannons surrounding the airfield opened up on the aircraft which now ceased circling and began to head back west, the direction it had arrived from. The presence of the anti-aircraft guns had always seemed odd to Johann, the airfield was deep inside the Soviet interior for a reason after all. What enemy nation would be flying this far into Soviet airspace? It seemed someone had considered it worthwhile and now Johann felt he had an opportunity to prove his own worth.
With an apologetic glance at his young comrade, Johann darted back over to the Polikarpov. The ground crew stood around the biplane, transfixed at the aircraft departing amidst the puffs of smoke caused by the flak.
“Get me back up there as quickly as possible.” Johann shouted above the din.
“We don’t take orders from you.” The head of the group refueling the craft replied in heavily accented German.
“And if you think that you can take-off when there’s flak cannons firing-” The Ukrainian went on to continue before Johann cut him off.
“The flak cannons have missed, it’s getting away. I’m ready to fly, I can catch it. If you allow me to do so then I take responsibility for the consequences. However, if you prevent me from doing so, that will be your responsibility. And what happens if it becomes clear we just allowed an enemy aircraft to fly away unmolested, no doubt they had cameras. Think about it!”
The ground crew seemed to make quick calculations of their own whilst the alien aircraft disappeared into the distance, soon it would be unreachable. In the meantime they were now hauling Johann back into his seat with final checks being ignored in favour of clearing the airstrip.
Johann took off, his fellow pilots cheering in anticipation.
The Luftstreitkrafte was back.
Up in the air again he had a chance to recollect his thoughts and wonder whether this was a good idea. He had just apprehended a Soviet plane to go off and pursue an aircraft of unidentified origin. He wasn’t exactly being furtive.
The aircraft in question came back into view amidst the cloudy blue sky, the small Polikarpov doing its job of outpacing larger opponents. The mystery aircraft was far larger than his own, appearing to be of French design albeit not one he could recognise. It had one wing with four large engines whilst machine gun turrets protruded from the body of the craft Johann swung wide, trying to keep his distance in the hopes he could go unspotted for as long as possible.
He was still debating on what to do, before the aircraft made its decision for him by trying to dart away.
Believing he had been spotted, Johann accelerated in order to catch up again, moving in closer. The French markings on the aircraft were clearly visible now although that didn’t necessarily explain where they had come from. It seemed unlikely for it to have come from Syria even with so many engines, at any rate it was still headed west.
The French plane veered away from him again but it was clear that they remained on that course. Johann was able to exploit the maneuverability and speed of his biplane to outdo the pilot trying to lose him. In response the French went to a higher altitude and warily he followed again. The Polikarpov could purportedly go higher than almost anything flying but he didn’t want to find out it couldn’t when the engine cut out several thousand feet up in the air. It ascended again and he followed above.Johann wondered if the pilot was also unsure of his new aircraft for there was no third attempt.
They were high above the clouds all the same. Johann kept his eye on the plane’s turrets and moved in once more. He could see they were manned now but as he flew to the left of the aircraft it no longer attempted to evade him. Perhaps their impressive range was limited to only a certain amount of aerobatics or perhaps the pilot had just grown tired of it. Either way he was now able to go wing to wing with him, close enough to see each other.
They stared at each other momentarily through goggles before Johann raised his hand and pointed downward with his index finger. He repeated the motion with greater emphasis to make sure the French pilot acknowledged his request for him to land. In response he raised his middle finger to the canopy before pulling away again.
Johann grunted and nervously eyed his fuel gauge. He was enjoying the cat and mouse game but he would not be able to keep it up for much longer if he was to return back to base in one piece. He had no doubt the French aircraft had been able to outlast him in this regard, without further interruption they would make it back to Poland, Romania or wherever else they had come from. Once back they would report on what they had seen, alongside any photos they might have taken or film they might have shot. For them to return back safely would put the defence of the German worker at risk, alongside his own dreams of flight. The time had come to make a decision.
He wrenched his elevator towards himself in the hope it would convince the French he had given up. Instead he gained height and hovered over the enemy aircraft, before diving into attack. He tried to imagine it was just another test of the weaponry, soaring down before opening fire with his machine guns, scoring a hit on the left side of the French wing.
Swooping past, Johann noticed one of their engines was now in flames. He thought about trying to threaten the aircraft down but was wary of getting near the enemy turrets. It was unlikely they would remain silent now. The only thing left to do was to make sure the French could not get back at all and that required disabling their engines enough to force them to land.
Johann soared up once more, taking advantage of the sun becoming more dominant in the sky. The French plane sat glimmering below him and he hoped the crew would be too dazzled to respond. Diving down he prepared to open fire again only for bullets to rattle all around him. The French turret was active and in his surprise the Polikarpov nearly collided with its target.
The shock was hard for him to process and Johann breathed in and out heavily before coming to his senses. Wasting oxygen was an indulgence he couldn’t afford at this altitude. He had taken the Polikarpov out of immediate danger but his wings were covered with bullet holes, another attempt to bring down the French plane might not allow him such a lucky escape.
All the same they were getting away and would the Soviets really be happier that he had damaged their aircraft if he had done so only to fail? Would his young comrades have been impressed?
Johann brought the plane up into the glare of the bright sun once more, even higher this time, before closing his eyes and turning the craft downwards The French aircraft was a much smaller object from this height but it was growing rapidly in size. Johann realised his breath was held in anticipation and suddenly he found himself emitting a defiant roar. The French turret opened up and he responded with his own machine guns. For a moment he was back in Ruhr.
He soared past the craft only for a different object to fly by him. It was part of the French wing. A very large part. Johann hollered in victory before regaining his breath. The rest of the French aircraft was sent careering down into the clouds, spinning in increasingly violent circles.
Watching the wild pattern of descent he hovered in vain waiting to see the crew bail out before the craft began to come apart amidst the turbulent descent. The scattered wreckage soon disappeared underneath the clouds.
Johann made his way back to base in a troubled mood. He had taken off in excitement without entirely thinking his actions through but now he had a story to tell.
His French counterparts had had theirs taken from them.
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The painting is
Aeropittura 2 by Tulio Cralli.