The Mercenaries
by John Harris
THE MERCENARIES
He signed to Sammy and put the Albatros into a climb, and after a moment's hesitation, he saw the Avro struggling after him. Over the rocker arms of the Mercedes, he saw the sun flash across the doped wings of the Fokker, catching the orange circle of Tsu's insignia as Fagan began a long dive, and he grinned as it occurred to him what a crazy air force it was. Here he was, an Englishman, flying a German scout armed only with a British Lewis attached to the top wing, while opposite him was a young jew and a Chinese flying a British machine, similarly ill-armed, their weapons like his charged with indifferent Japanese ammunition, their engines firing on American petrol.
He signed to Sammy and put the Albatros into a climb, and after a moment's hesitation, he saw the Avro struggling after him. Over the rocker arms of the Mercedes, he saw the sun flash across the doped wings of the Fokker, catching the orange circle of Tsu's insignia as Fagan began a long dive, and he grinned as it occurred to him what a crazy air force it was. Here he was, an Englishman, flying a German scout armed only with a British Lewis attached to the top wing, while opposite him was a young jew and a Chinese flying a British machine, similarly ill-armed, their weapons like his charged with indifferent Japanese ammunition, their engines firing on American petrol.