The following story was inspired by some stick time with BoB and the upcoming version 097.
Rays of Hope
The heavily weathered Spitfires were parked in pens at the far end of the field. The remnants of 65 squadron was nothing similar to the sparkling new aircraft and fresh faced young pilots of March 1940. There were far fewer of them and those remaining looked old and haggard from the stress of more than a month of daily combat. The replacements which were sent in were usually highly motivated but green. They would try to make up in bravery and brash flying what they lacked in experience.
The Rain fell thickly and had persistently pelted Southern England for more than two days. The field was soaked and muddy and several arriving and departing aircraft spun in circles a few even ending up on their noses. The dark clouds covered the sky interrupted only by the occasional flash from the flak batteries. The downpour would continue through the night and into the next morning. The phones began to ring in the communications house. A captain knew what the call meant and dashed out to alert the others. The pilots of 65 squadron were already headed to their kites as the skipper hung up the phone. Once buckled into their seats most of them closed their cockpit to stave off the rain. Once sealed in the interior the cockpits were full of sound as the rain loudly bounced along the planes skin and tapped on the windscreen. One by one the six aircraft fired their merlins and streaked across the field, slogging across the soaked earth and through large puddles until airborne. The aircraft stayed lower than usual as they formed up for the journey toward the incoming German raid.
Once they were on course the six Spitfires climbed into the horrid weather above disappearing from sight long before the sound of their engines could no longer be heard by those standing about the field. The squadron continued to climb into the dark blackened sky. Not long after they reached altitude the call came from a unit just in front of 65 squadron. Jerry was five miles out and coming in head on. A Hurricane squadron was already heavily engaged with the bombers while another unit, in Spitfires joined with the escorts. The fellow�s from 65 squadron rolled onto several ME�s that were on a heading to bring themselves over the hurricanes menacing the slower bombers. The lead Spit, flown by pilot officer James Johnson cut into the tail section of the closest German fighter. Parts of the place splintered in several directions as Johnson poured it on. The other Spitfires followed Johnson�s lead and lit into the other ME�s. In less than a few seconds two of the German�s were trailing thick black smoke. Another fluttered widely as the left wing ripped off and fell away. Sadly, one of the Spitfires was caught from the port side by the cannon burst of a passing 109. The pane and it's unfortunate pilot disappeared in smoke and flame. Another dove toward the ground with fire rushing from the engine cowling drifting back beyond the cockpit on either side. The pilot made a jump for it soon enough and floated slowly down. The bombers and some of the remaining escort passed into the darkness of the stormy sky becoming virtually invisible to attackers and defenders alike. Five of the HE111�s were on fire and fell back from the rest of their formation. Lacking the natural cover offered by the accommodating sky they became easy prey for the patient Hurricanes. The leftover bomber�s dropped their loads far short of the target, a factory complex which lay just beyond the limits of London. It was unclear if the weather or the determined resistance forced them to dump the bombs prematurely and scurry for home. The fight over, the four remaining planes from 65 squadron made for home. As they regained sight of the field, in the distance a bright orange sky opened up as if to welcome the surviving men home again. The sun tinted the still lingering clouds a lovely orange and red shade that grew more vibrant as the unit grew closer. For the waiting men below, the approaching planes with the colorful sky as a backdrop, was a sign that there was still a ray of hope.
