Strike Witches:Afrika Chapter7
The next morning, September 1st, we headed off to watch as Oberleutnant Marseille flew a sortie. I spotted her putting on her favorite Striker, the Bf109F4/TrOP, next to some trucks at the side of the airstrip cutting through the desert.
The F4/TrOP, with a higher maximum speed and better dogfighting capabilities compared to the E model, could undertake particularly challenging acrobatic maneuvers. It was also equipped with an air filter for use in the tropics.
Marseille had told me earlier that it was precisely because of the extreme maneuverability of this Striker that she liked it. Other Strikers would always move in small but unexpected ways, but the F4/TrOP would move exactly the way she wanted.
There was little change in the weather here in northern Africa as the first signs of autumn crept up on summer. It was just as clear today as it was yesterday.
Even though it was still so early in the morning, the sun was already blazing hot, hot enough to feel my skin burning. A comfortingly cool breeze blew over from the seaside.
Marseille drained a large bottle of milk as if it were just another day, and handed the empty bottle down to Matilda. Then, she took off the sunglasses she typically wore to protect her eyes from the intense sunlight.
Milk and sunglasses, two things that one could not do without in Africa. I've even heard that they raise good milk cows near the base specifically for their milk.
Finished with her preparations, Marseille slung a large ammunition case behind her back and picked up her MG34. Supposedly, the gun was specially modified with improved cooling for use in desert climates, but I couldn't see much of a difference from the appearance.
Nearby, mechanics bustled all over, making last minute preparations for the flight. Marseille, gestured with her left hand, and a mechanic started the air pump for the magic engine. The engine revved up into life, and a piercing whine flooded the area.
As the tachometer reading increased, a technician displayed the count on his fingers for Marseille to see. The air cut indicator flashed at 3000 RPM. The technicians immediately detached the electric supply cable and air hose, and pushed away the frame supporting Marseille at the waist.
A white flag was waved at the far end of the airstrip - permission to take off.
Marseille began slowly approaching the runway.
"Why don't you come visit me when I get back?"
I stared at Marseille as I tried to think of what she could want from me. However, with one last smile in my direction, she roared down the runway and into the sky.
Following right behind her was of course Leutnant Raisa. She took off waving happily in our direction.
It sure is a lot of effort just to go on a sortie here in Africa, where lift-off propulsion systems weren't used.
Marseille's long hair trailed out behind her like a airplane vapor trail, and even like a powerful eagle, flying upward higher and higher into the sky.
Long ago, I also aspired to fly through the skies like Marseille. Equipping a Striker unit, and heading to a different world, higher than anyone, faster than anyone. But, that world is closed to me now. I could no longer had what it took to fly through those strife-filled skies.
"Are you alright?"
Matilda asked from beside me. I must have been crying. Marseille's flying form was just too beautiful, and could also be so fleeting, as I only knew too well. As I told Matilda this, she unexpectedly nodded gravely.
"The envoy of the Eagle is loved by God, and flies by God's side. And you fear that someday she will also return to God forever."
Yes, we witches are always in the gods' territory. The sky was the world of birds and the gods. And Marseille was the image of both.
"Altitude 3500, enemy sighted!"
Marseille's voice came out from a nearby receiver.
"Now, let's do this!"
"This is Raisa, enemy formation consists of small flyers, Hierax class, 10 units."
Lt. Raisa reported the details of the encounter for us back at base. The Hierax class's air combat worthiness was far below that of a Witch.
They could be an annoyance if they came all at once in large numbers, but they were slow and awkward in flight, and even I used to treat them as sitting ducks. With only those as enemies, it would be an easy victory.
"Element leader is circling to the left behind and below enemy formation, ah, direct hit!"
"0820, one enemy craft down, 8 klicks south-south-east of El Imad."
A huge cheer erupted among the crew at the announcement. Once again, their much respected leader had increased her victory count.
"Continuing, 0830, same location, another enemy down."
"0833, 1 klick south-east of Imad, yet another down!"
The next moment, Lt. Raisa's voice came from the radio again, this time with a tone of urgency.
"Six enemy craft, Chelidon class high-speed light flyers, coming in from 6 o'clock!"
The Chelidon class, with a streamlined design giving it a high maximum speed and excellent maneuverability, was a formidable enemy. With six of them heading towards them from the rear in a surprise attack, would they be alright?
"Raisa, get away from my rear."
Marseille's voice.
I was immediately reminded of what I had heard last night.
