Fighting Back (Innocents No More Book 4) by Andrew Wareham

Author:Andrew Wareham [Wareham, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Speculative
Publisher: PublishNation
Published: 2021-02-14T00:00:00+00:00

Karol took off, leaving dust behind him and the other thirteen settled into their cockpits, the canopies open for the while, preferring fresh air, even dusty, to building heat.

“Digger Leader. Make sure canopies are locked if you fly with them open. Over.”

They would not want to grab at a sliding canopy in the middle of a manoeuvre.

Thomas flew closed, a little warmer but with no great winds to blow his chart away.

They followed, concentrating on holding their level in the turbulence and waiting for the word.

“Red Leader, target in sight. Circling. You are ten miles out.”

“Digger Leader. Roger. Squadron increase to two fifty knots. Over.”

The sight of Red Flight over the fort might trigger the alarm, if the Ities even noticed them as high as they were.

“Yellow Leader. Red Flight in sight, twelve o’clock high. Over.”

“Digger Leader. Roger, Yellow Leader. Over.”

Important to maintain radio discipline, even when it took extra seconds.

Thomas stared ahead, picked out a set of buildings, a parade ground full of soldiers, vehicles parked. No perimeter walls but some sign of gun pits. Nothing firing.

“Digger Leader. Green Flight and Blue Flight, target soldiers. Yellow on buildings. Tally-ho! Over.”

No need to acknowledge after the tally-ho. The Flights diverged slightly, entering their dives.

The main buildings grew bigger and Thomas dropped his bombs and then opened fire with machine guns and cannon together – he was close enough to need no aim. He banked as he crossed over the battered fort, managed a squirt at the transport, saw flames before pulling heavily to port and setting course due south.

His guns were empty. He hoped that Karol could keep his tail clear if necessary.

Ten minutes and he climbed to five thousand feet and began to circle.

“Digger Leader. Digger aircraft formate on me if you can see me. Over.”

Not the clearest of orders. They should get the idea.

There had been no flak. Possibly the gun crews had all been on parade.

Two minutes and he had picked up half a dozen and turned to the course home – fuel meant they could not delay further in safety. They spotted a column of tanks and soft transport heading west and hoped that indicated they were over their own territory.

“Digger Leader. Did those look like Matildas? Over?”

“Yellow One. Didn’t see them waltzing. Over.”

He supposed that was funny, made no reply.

At about the right time he spotted a field and made a hopeful call, received confirmation from the ground.

“Walkabout Control. Clear to pancake. Wind gusting from south west. Over.”

That was unusual, there was rarely much of a wind at all. He led the half squadron with him round to the north east and landed across the field – it was all much the same. They taxyed in and parked up next to the planes who had returned before them and saw the ground crews waiting with canvas sheets, flapping in the wind.

“Might be a sandstorm coming in, sir. Need to cover engines, cockpits and guns, sir.”

There were extra hands to each machine, working to hold the sheets in place while they were tied in with strops.

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