Title: Knights of the Air, Book 1: Rage! by IAIN STEWART

Author:IAIN STEWART [STEWART, IAIN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atmosphere Press
Published: 2022-03-30T22:00:00+00:00

~

“Come in!”

The sheer volume of Boom Trenchard’s voice rattled the door, and Arthur entered the room with trepidation.

“Ah! Wolsey!” The general scowled at Arthur. “Baring has recommended you replace Hawker as commander of 100 Wing to hunt down and kill Richthofen. What do you think of that?”

Before Arthur could reply, Baring interceded: “How much did Hawker tell you before he died?”

“Not much, nothing more than the general has just mentioned.”

Baring tapped a folder in his right hand. “100 Wing must ensure that Richthofen’s pilots are not allowed to gain supremacy over their sector. We need to regain control of the air. Firstly, we must prevent the Huns’ reconnaissance and gunnery aircraft from getting behind our lines. Secondly, we need control of the air for ten thousand yards behind their lines to aid our artillery efforts. Thirdly, we have to protect our own reconnaissance and bombing patrols deep behind Hun territory.”

“For God’s sake, Baring!” Boom snapped. “Stop repeating what I have just said. We have to kill the Richthofen buggers. Wolsey, what do you say?”

“I would be honoured to command 100 Wing, sir, if I were appointed.”

“Humph.” Boom lurched out of his chair and marched to the window where he gazed at the grey curtain of drizzle. “Hawker’s death made us look bad. Their first choice shooting down our first choice before he even got his feet under the table.”

Anger flooded Arthur. Not half as bad as it made Hawker look. He’s in the mud now. He kept his mouth shut with an effort.

“The point is,” Boom continued, still looking out the window, “we cannot afford another debacle. So, if you command this outfit, you won’t be allowed to fly over the front lines.”

The anger surged again. Hawker had been a fine man, and his death was a tragedy, not a debacle. “Then I cannot command 100 Wing, sir.”

Boom pivoted, and his bushy eyebrows came together. “You would refuse an order?”

“Why, Major?” Baring intervened. “There are plenty of majors in charge of squadrons who never fly over the lines, some who never fly at all. And you would be commanding a wing, not just a squadron.”

“Because you cannot lead the best pilots by sitting behind a desk. They need a leader who knows what they are going through, who knows the enemy. Richthofen does not sit behind a desk. Boelcke did not, and the best of our leaders do not—like Hawker. And if I pay the price for that, like Boelcke, like Hawker, then so be it.”

“You could say,” Baring countered, “that the same logic applies to infantry, and yet all infantry generals lead from the rear.”

“Indeed they do, and how does their record stack up against Richthofen’s?”

“You think you know better than the British army, young man?” Boom growled.

“No, sir. But fliers are not infantry, and I am not a general. As far as I know majors operate in the front line. If you want this idea to work, whoever leads it will have to lead in the air. And if you want the CO kept alive, give him a better plane than a DH2 or a Pup.

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