Just Ordinary Men

Chapter 19

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. All original characters are my own invention and any similarity to actual persons living or dead is coincidental. Where actual historical figures are mentioned any dialogue or actions attributed to them is to be similarly viewed, unless the incident concerned is a matter of historical record. 

 Suddenly a flame licked at Alfelt's feet.  He swore viciously, and within seconds had unlatched the canopy.  'Ach well I always did like English food!'  Without another thought he unclipped his harness and rolled the 109 onto its back allowing gravity to take hold as he parted company with it, counting 'Eine.. zwei.. drei.. vier..'  He pulled the ripcord and was gratified to feel the bite of the straps as the silk blossomed above him.  He now had time to look below him and he swore as the fight had taken them over the sea.  Tugging on the straps above him he was gratified to feel a strong wind at that height blowing him in towards land.  He judged he would come to ground in a field a few hundred yards from the coastline.

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Ashton meanwhile was having problems of his own.  Having avoided a mid air collision with Alfelt's Messerschmitt he could have been forgiven for thinking he'd got away with it; not so as the silence from the engine was deafening.  It appeared a lucky - not so from his point of view - 20mm cannon shell had slammed into the engine and hit something vital.  He glared sourly at the propeller which had decided to halt upright.  'I wonder what els..'  He stopped himself - wondering what else could go wrong was what his mother would have referred to as 'tempting fate.'  Instead he looked around the cockpit assessing the situation.  Having already gleaned that the canopy was jammed, he set about ensuring that all controls were set to the Off position, especially the fuel cocks.  With that task done he set the flaps to full and began looking for somewhere to try and land; 'Preferably in one piece' he muttered.

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Alfelt meanwhile was engrossed with the unusual - for a pilot - spectacle of observing a dogfight while not actually actively participating; had he put any thought to it he may have found the idea of being in the vicinity of several dozen aircraft firing a mixture of 13mm, 20mm and .303 inch ordnance at each other, with no more protection than a few thousand feet of fresh air, slightly unnerving.  As it was he was more concerned with landing in one piece - his experience of parachuting to date being precisely nil; he knew the theory; relax as you approach the ground, feet together and roll, gather the parachute and remove the harness.  All fine in theory but, he noticed as he came closer to the ground, nobody had mentioned farmers with pitchforks or a lightly armed but enthusiastic volunteer force awaiting them on the ground 'Johann, I believe your life is about to become most interesting..'

The latter of the two groups he could see were several hundred metres away from where he could now see his parachute was taking him, a lucky happenstance which may avail him of the chance to evade capture - at least temporarily.  This was made up of members of the Local Defence Volunteers, an extension of the regular army consisting of men who for reasons of age - both young and old - or reserved occupation were ineligible for active military service, but wished to do their bit for King and Country.  As a cohesive force they had existed since only a few months - since the radio broadcast by the Secretary of State for War, Anthony Eden on the 14th of May.  The broadcast had been a literal call to arms, and many men had answered its cry.  That they were currently ill-equipped and merely had LDV armbands with no proper uniform was small comfort to Alfelt who - with some justification - would have preferred his capture, if it was going to happen at all, to be by a uniformed army operating under the Geneva Convention.  He was as yet unconvinced this was the case with either of the groups below.