The Chase

 10:30 a.m., June 6th, 1944

English Channel

D-Day

It was terrifying. I could hear the rounds being fired one after another all around me. The glass cockpit of my Hurricane protected me from the intense, chilly winds of the English Channel but couldn’t defend against the sound of the loud machine guns of the opposing Messerschmitt fighters. I was racking my brain. How can I, Lieutenant Robert McRogan of the Royal Air Force of Great Britain, be afraid? I’m part of the ruling air force in the world! But it truly was scary. 

At any moment, bullets could be going straight through your plane and you would be diving towards the dark blue waters in an instant. Everybody was hoping for the best. This was the day where we would save Europe. We, the Allies, were pushing back the Germans out of France. I could make out the landscape of the Normandy beaches where our boys along with the Americans were storming the German turrets and defenses. I knew that I had to help them. 

As part of the No. 122 “Eagle” Squadron, we had to defend the British and American armies on the ground from incoming German fighters. Without any protection, Operation Overlord as it was called would go to waste. Beep, beep, beep! The one sound I dreaded had finally rung. It was the aircraft detector and I looked behind me. Sure enough, it was a German Messerschmitt fighter chasing after me. I took a deep breath, zipped my bomber jacket, put on my air mask, and dove down. 

I was the best pilot in my squadron. I had 10 recorded kills which I was proud of. Apparently, I was one of the best in all of England which I was amazed as I didn’t feel special. As I dove down with my heart still pounding, I waited until I heard the elevation alert screaming as it was urging me to increase altitude. I decided to pull up as quickly as I could until I was at a decent 10,000 feet. I frantically looked behind, checking if the German aircraft was still pursuing me. My heart started accelerating again once I saw the dark green wing. He’s good. I thought. I needed some expert maneuvers to outmatch this one.

10:45 a.m., June 6th, 1944

English Channel

Maneuver after maneuver ensued. I did a yaw spin, my opponent did a barrel roll. I unleashed a torrent of bullets, he sent a barrage of rockets. But not one weapon would hit each other’s plane. I knew that he also was trying his best to defeat me. But I would not go down without a fight. Just a few weeks back, I had created my own tactic. I called it the “Diving Eagle” and practiced it for hours on end in the free time that I had. I had never used it on the battlefield but I knew that I needed to use it now. I hoped that it wouldn’t fail, but in the air, you never know what could happen. I closed my eyes for a quick second, and dove straight up. As usual, the fighter followed me. But, I shifted the joystick and in a split second I was right behind him. I pressed the trigger as hard as I could and finally, the plane and its pilot dove down.

Rest in peace pilot. I thought to myself. He seemed like a good one and I did respect him. But sadly, he was the enemy. I looked around me and it seemed like my squadron was done with finishing off the opposition. Then, the radio rang.

*Kzzccchh* “Eagle Squadron, our boys on the beach are having a real tough time getting the turrets down. We need you to go to Omaha Beach and support the bombing planes so that the Army can cross the sandbar. Over.”

“Roger that Commander. We’re on our way. Over.” I said.

It was time to go to the center of it all. The beaches.