The White Knight

by Gilbert, Morris

  He pulled the trigger and felt his plane buck as the four machine guns spat out lead. The tracers revealed his fire was slightly behind his target, so he inched the plane up, holding it firmly while his bullets struck the Messerschmitt, doing a dance from the tail to the cockpit. He saw the pilot’s head explode as one or more of the slugs hit him, and the plane veered away and headed for the ground.

  As he banked around in a steep curve, he saw that Streak had downed his plane and was following, and that Nicolai and Joaquin had made hits but had not downed their targets. They had both disobeyed his instructions, and Luke watched them whirl around and fly at the remaining four planes.

  Having no choice, Luke motioned to Streak, and the two of them joined in the fray.

  A dogfight in the air is one of the most disorganized activities on the face of the earth. No one knows what moves to make in an aerial battle. It’s a hellish confusion, with planes exploding so violently they seem to shake the skies in their fury.

  Luke went straight for Erich Ritter’s black Messerschmitt while Ritter was pouring his lead into Varga’s plane. Despite Luke’s attempts to get in range to shoot at Ritter, the Black Knight had already performed his deadly work. His fire struck Varga’s plane in the nose, and at once a white plume of smoke began to pour out. Varga tried to lose Ritter, but there was no losing the best pilot in the entire Condor Legion. Varga would be a dead man if he didn’t get out of his plane.

  Even at a distance too far for true shooting, Luke began to fire at Ritter’s plane. He must have made some hits and startled Ritter, for the black plane suddenly broke off, bearing left, leaving Varga’s plane headed for earth. For one instant, even as he flashed by, Luke saw that Varga was slumped over and knew that the young man was dead. A fierce anger raged in him and he stayed after Ritter, firing in short bursts. The one thing the rat could do that was superior to the Messerschmitt was turn more sharply. This had been the secret of Luke’s kills. Once he got on the tail of a 109, he could not be shaken off. The only hope the enemy had was to outrun him, for the 109s were faster.

  Ritter made one turn, and Luke caught a clear image of the German’s face. Ritter was staring at him, and in that brief instant, the two men’s eyes clashed.

  And then the 109 straightened out, and with his engine fully open, he simply ran away from Luke. Desperately Luke fired all of his ammunition, but the attempt was futile as the Black Knight moved out of sight. Then he saw that the rest of the German squadron had been shot down by Nicolai and Streak, so the fighters came together and Luke led them home.

  When the three landed and got out, Streak and Nicolai came right over to Luke. “That Ritter!” Nicolai shouted, his face pale with anger and his eyes filled with a killing light. “I will kill him! You will see me kill him!”

  “No. I will kill him if it’s the last thing I do,” Luke Winslow said between clenched teeth.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A Picnic to Remember

  “I’m so sorry to have to bring you this terrible news about your son.”

  Whenever Luke had to visit the family of one of his downed pilots, he felt utterly inept. What could one say to parents who had put their hopes in a promising son, a son who was now gone forever? As Luke stumbled over his words, he saw the pain and anguish in the eyes of Señor and Señora Varga. He wanted desperately to get away, but he forced himself to accept their teary invitation into their home. Varga had been a favorite of his, and his own heart was heavy with the loss.

  “He was a favorite in the squadron,” Luke said in a husky voice as he sat in an easy chair. “Always cheerful, taking extra duty, never complaining. A fine pilot and everyone’s friend. It is a personal tragedy for me and for the men in our squadron.”

  Señora Varga leaned forward, drinking in his words as though listening to a eulogy of her son would return him to her in some way.

  Señor Varga was obviously trying hard not to show his emotion. Still, underneath the sadness in his eyes there lurked a seething hatred. His words burned as he looked upward as if to see the battle that had killed his son. “This accursed war!” he raged. “It kills the best of our young men.”

  “It seems the most valiant are taken while lesser men sometimes survive,” Luke agreed.

  “We have lost the best of our family.”

  “I know it’s of little comfort, but he died bravely.”

  The man sank back into his chair and sighed. “It was kind of you to come, sir.”

  “I wish I had come with better news.”

  As the trio walked toward the door, Joaquin’s mother asked Luke a question that surprised him.

  “Our son was a Christian, Señor Winslow. May I assume that you are a believer as well?”

  Everything went blank for Luke. He wanted to lie, but somehow the words stuck in his throat. He knew he was not a believer, yet he did not want to tell the grieving woman the truth. He hesitated, then said, “My family have been believers for many generations.” There it was. The lie was out. True enough, many members of the Winslow family had been exemplary Christians, but Luke was not among this group.

  He left the house quickly and drove his car to Melosa’s home, but the woman’s question continued to haunt him. “May I assume that you are a believer as well?”

  Actually Luke Winslow did not know why he was not a Christian. He had been brought up by his parents, Peter and Jolie Winslow, in a Christian home. He knew his only sibling, Tim, had accepted Christ. Luke had always thought he would consider Christianity when he was older. It wasn’t something a young person needed to be concerned with.

  Even as he drove toward Melosa’s house, he thought of his family, including his uncles, aunts, and grandparents on both sides of his family. Some of them had been ministers. Practically all of them had been followers of Jesus Christ. What have I got in place of their faith? he wondered. I’ve missed my way and don’t know how it happened.

  When he reached the Chavez house, Luke managed to put the troublesome thoughts aside. He knocked on the door harder than usual, and Isadora opened it, her face lighting up when she saw him.

  “Lucio!” she cried. “Come in. Melosa says we’re all going on a picnic!”

  “That’s right. Are you all ready?”

  Victor came running in, his eyes bright. “I’m taking my baseball and glove. You will teach me how to pitch like Joe DiMaggio, yes?”

  “Yes, I will. I’m not quite as good as DiMaggio, but I’ll do my very best.”

  “Have you ever seen him play?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “When I go to America, I want to see him!”

  “I’d like to take you to a game.”

  Melosa and her parents came into the room, arms loaded.

  Luke greeted Melosa with a kiss on the cheek, and in a short time the entire Chavez family was crowded into the car, along with plenty of food and drink. “Where shall we go?” Luke asked. His heart was light, and for the first time in many days he was thinking about other things besides airplanes and killing.

  “Let’s go down by the river, Lucio,” Alfredo Chavez said from his seat in the front. Melosa sat between him and Luke. “We will eat and drink and play ball and perhaps catch a big fish.”

  “I haven’t been fishing in a long time. I might not remember how. Maybe you’ll show me, Victor.” Luke flashed a grin at the boy in the back seat.

  “Yes. I am a great fisherman, aren’t I, Papa?”

  “Very good, but you had a good teacher.”

  “Yes, you are the best fisherman in Spain!”

  “Well, one of the best, son.”

  Luke followed Señor Chavez’s directions and a half hour later pulled up beside a small river. It was shaded with trees on both sides and meandered across the green fields of the countryside. “This is a beautiful place.” He turned to Melosa. “Is this where all your sweethearts bring you?”

  She laughed, her eyebrows arching and her lips pursing delightfully. “That is for you to find out.”<
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  “Let’s eat! I’m hungry,” Isadora exclaimed as she jumped out of the car.

  “I think you have a tapeworm,” Luke said.

  “A tapeworm? What’s that?”

  “It’s a disease people get that makes them eat all the time.”

  “I have no such thing!” Isadora said as she helped her mother unload the food. The group was soon seated on a blanket in the shade of a massive tree, devouring their picnic lunch.

  When he’d had his fill, Luke stood up, patting his stomach. “If I keep on eating I might burst. Come on, kids. Let’s go catch some fish.”

  Alfredo dug the tackle out of the car, and soon Isadora and Victor were fishing with Luke while Alfredo and his wife sat under a nearby tree. After a while Melosa got tired of watching and convinced Luke to take a little walk with her. He took her by the hand and they walked a short distance down the riverbank. When he put his arm around her, she whispered, “Be careful. Mama is watching.”

  “Well, I’m her future son-in-law. I’ve got my rights.”

  “You’re not to hug me—not in public.”

  “Then we’ll have to go off and find someplace private,” he said with a wink.

  She wriggled out of his grasp and hit at him playfully. “You are an awful man! A true gringo!”

  “I must be if you say so.”

  “I want to know if you’ve had many sweethearts.”

  “Hundreds!”

  “You’re boasting!” she protested.

  “The truth is always best.”

  The two sat down and continued teasing each other, enjoying the perfect day, watching the children as they fished. “You know,” Luke told Melosa after a short silence, “I’ve promised to take the kids to America someday.”

  “Yes, they told me. Isadora said you would take them up into the Statue of Liberty.”

  “Yes, I did. I promised a lot of other things too. It’ll take a lot of doing to keep all those promises.”

  After a while Isadora and Victor grew frustrated that they weren’t catching any fish and went off exploring. Luke noted that Mr. and Mrs. Chavez were dozing. He got up and whispered, “Come on. Let’s find that private place.”

  Melosa smiled at him and shook her head. “You are the most terrible man.”

  “No, I’m a wonderful man.”

  “You are spoiled,” she said as she stood up.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, all Americans are spoiled.”

  “I suppose that’s true. My mother spoiled me, and I hope my wife will spoil me even more.”

  Melosa’s eyes flashed. “Maybe you will learn to spoil your wife. A good Spanish husband spoils his wife, you know.”

  The two wandered downstream, following the bends of the river. They finally stopped and sat down on the edge. Melosa took off her shoes and waded into the shallow water. “I’ve always liked wading in the river, ever since I was a little girl.”

  “A turtle may bite your toes.”

  “No. That’s never happened to me.”

  “If I were a turtle, I’d bite your toes. I may anyway.”

  Melosa shook her head. “No biting is allowed between an engaged couple.” She sat down next to Luke and said in a far more sober tone, “I still worry, Luke.”

  “About what?”

  “About your family.”

  “Why are you worried about them?”

  “They may not like me. My English isn’t very good, and they may think I’m too different since I’m Spanish.”

  “You don’t have to worry about them. Why, one of the most prominent Winslows, a man named Mark Winslow, became vice-president of one of the biggest railway companies in the world. He married a woman named Lola Montez. You can guess what nationality she was.”

  “She was Spanish?”

  “Yes. A beautiful woman. I’ve seen her portrait. Everybody loved her, from all accounts.”

  “Tell me more about your family.”

  Luke leaned back onto his elbows. “I have to tell you that I’m probably the black sheep of the family.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Most of the other Winslows are far better people than I am.”

  “I don’t believe that.” She leaned over and put her hand on his cheek. “You’re a good man.”

  “I’m not as good as I should be.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She suddenly pulled his head toward her and kissed him. Her lips were soft and he detected the faint odor of her favorite perfume. He sat up and put his arm around her, holding her close, and finally, when she drew back, he whispered huskily, “I do love you, Melosa. I never thought I’d get married.”

  “Why not?” she asked. “Doesn’t every man want to get married?”

  “I’ve been kind of a rolling stone, wandering everywhere but never finding a place to settle down. My brother and most of my cousins know where their place is. Many of them are successful and making a mark in the world.”

  “You’re making a mark too. You’ve come over to fight for liberty for a people not your own. That’s a wonderful thing—you are a hero, Luke.”

  He grinned. “Keep bragging on me,” he said. “I’ll take all the compliments I can get. My self-esteem is very low at the moment. I need to be reassured that I’m a fine fellow.”

  She pushed him away teasingly and the two fell silent again, watching the water flow by.

  “How long do you think the war will last?” she asked after a time.

  “Not long, and I’m afraid we’re not going to win it either. I’d really like to go back to the States when it’s over.”

  “Shall we marry as soon as the war is over?”

  “Yes, I think that would be best, and then I’ll take you home with me. After we get settled, we’ll send for the rest of your family.”

  The thought pleased Melosa. She leaned against him, and the two sat there, enjoying the quiet of the woods and the sibilant murmur of the river at their feet. For once there was no drone of war planes overhead or the sight of their contrails across the sky.

  ****

  The afternoon passed much too quickly for Luke, and at the invitation of Señora Chavez, he gladly went back to their home for supper. After they had eaten, he and Melosa went outside to talk. Darkness had now enveloped the earth, and they sat shoulder to shoulder on the back stoop. He turned toward her and said to her sadly, “I’ve got to get back.” She leaned against him, and he bent toward her and kissed her. She clung to him desperately, whispering, “I wish we were already married. I hate to think about waiting for such a long time.”

  “I don’t want to wait either, but I really don’t think it’s right for me to marry while I’m on active duty.”

  “You’re right, of course. I love you, Luke. I always will.”

  “I’m glad, Melosa.”

  “Tell me you love me!”

  “You know I do.”

  “Yes, but a woman likes to hear a man say it.”

  Luke spoke the words, holding her tightly. “I’ve got to go,” he said huskily. At that moment a shudder of fear ran through him. He thought he had left fear back in the cockpit of his plane, but here it was, and he could not understand it. He was afraid for his future. Now he had something to dream of and to hope for . . . which meant he had something to lose.

  “Oh, be careful, sweetheart!” Melosa whispered desperately. She kissed him one more time, and they walked to his car. “Don’t let anything happen to you,” she said, her eyes fixed on him. “I would die if anything did.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.” He smiled at her and climbed into the car. As he pulled away he glanced back, watching her wave good-bye. He waved back, even though she could not see him in the darkness. There was no moon, and the fear that had come to him rose again. He shook his shoulders as if to rid himself of something irritating. “What’s wrong with you, Winslow?” he muttered. “Don’t tell me you’re becoming a sissy in your old age!”
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  ****

  The squadron was not called out for the next two days, which was highly unusual. They were all on standby alert, however, and could not leave the airfield. Luke was getting edgy and nervous and was unable to shake off his fear.

  Finally, almost in desperation, he said, “Streak, I’m going to go up and take a look around. Something’s wrong.”

  “I’ll go with you, Luke.”

  “No. You stay here.”

  “You need a backup.”

  “I won’t be doing any fighting. If I see any 109s, I’ll tuck my tail and run. I just feel that something’s wrong.”

  “I feel that most of the time!”

  “You keep your eye on things around here, Streak.”

  “Watch your back.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Luke climbed into the I-16 and started the engine, and fifteen minutes later was looking down on the earth. He searched for enemy formations but saw nothing unusual. It saddened him to see the beautiful countryside below him so scarred by war.

  He flew until he was running low on fuel, and then at two o’clock he turned back toward the field. He had not gone far when he spotted a large formation of enemy bombers headed west. They were escorted by numerous 109s. There must have been at least thirty of them. Even if Luke had had the remains of his squadron with him, it would have been suicide to attack those formations. He suddenly realized they were not headed on a mission; they were returning from one. He carefully stayed in the clouds until they disappeared, then increasing his air speed, he headed for the airfield, planning the battle that was coming.

  Just before they disappeared he caught a glimmer of black. “That’s Ritter’s plane,” he said bitterly. “One day it’ll be just me and him, one on one.”

  He arrived back at the field and taxied up to the hangars. As he jumped to the ground, he saw Streak running toward him. “I didn’t see anything up there except a big formation of bombers,” Luke told his friend. “They’ve been on a raid, I think.”