Chita flashed across the waves, which slipped past as if they were watching passing shrubbery, from a truck. They were like that – they were near enough that the waves had texture. One could concentrate on an individual wave, and see how it rolled, crested, fell… But only for a moment, because then it was past, replaced by another, and another, in quick succession. Almost hypnotic. He blinked. Looked away. Stared ahead.
If there were a ship, anywhere near, they would not be able to see it. But their bombs were for later.
He had been this low before… Ari had a momentary flashback to a scene – an untrue one, as it turned out, but one he had experienced as if it were real – where he imagined cannon fire rocking his plane as they fled from an enemy destroyer, and a few dozen feet of altitude translated to only mere seconds before they hit the punishing waves….
He shuddered…
He snapped out of it. That memory had been so real, and yet he knew it had not happened, because Chita was still here. He was still here. But how close… How easy… It could happen, he knew. And that made it more real.
“Do you really think they’ll have radar?” Aaran asked from behind them, startling both pilots. “Seems like they would keep that at home to protect against German raids.”
Ari peered over at his first officer, one eye still carefully measuring their separation from the waves, then jerked his chin to indicate his attention to their young navigator. “It’s a pretty important base. If it were me…” What would he do? In all those years of flying airliners for Spain, he’d been there only twice. Spaniards didn’t normally want to talk to the British, and when they did the absolute last place to have a civil conversation on any topic was the stolen peninsula of Gibraltar. But the times he’d been there, he’d been vastly impressed by its importance as a Mediterranean naval centre. “If it were me, I’d have radar, an air fleet, and as many troops as would fit!” His blood chilled, again, at the idea of what they were about to do.
Suddenly, Ari glimpsed something… It was like a mirage of land, but gradually it resolved itself into what was clearly land. Then… There were two spots of land on the horizon. Of all the…
Frowning, Ari carefully edged the plane’s nose over toward the righthand spot of land, using only the rudder controls, as a full aileron turn would probably dip them into the drink. He was not all that familiar with Gibraltar, but the features – the abrupt and angular height – of the rightmost promontory seemed best to fit what he remembered of Gibraltar. He tried to put himself into the mind of a hypothetical lookout on the top of that mountain. When would they be able to notice the wave-skimming plane, and then realize that it was a plane closing in on their peninsula, and not a ship?
“Heads up,” Ari called out over the intercom. “We’re almost there, lads! Keep on your toes. Not going to be around long, but they’ll probably put some shots up our way.”
Beside him, Paulo called for a soundoff, and began taking roll of the plane’s crewmembers to ensure they had heard the announcement, and hadn’t dozed off. Ari checked his instruments again, the manifold pressure gauges, temperature, proper RPMs on all four engines… He listened to the familiar thrum of his beloved Chita. Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, he relaxed. A peace settled over him. He said a short prayer, without closing his eyes.
Suddenly, he pulled back gradually on the control yoke, and the sea opened up before them. It was like the sensation of takeoff, except that there was nothing nearby them but ocean. “The Rock,” ahead of them, loomed, and took on dimension. There wasn’t another place in the world that looked quite like it.
As they approached, they could see ships and a miniature collection of buildings at the very base of the massive outcropping which must be buildings, though it looked just like indistinct clutter from extreme range. Everyone kept an eye out for other aircraft, but no one shouted out. Paulo grabbed a pair of binoculars and began scanning the area.
Their mission was to identify what ships and what air defenses were present, as well as what ground forces might be, and where they were stationed. Such a mission to find army troops might be impossible, except since Gibraltar was crowded as it was, any additional reinforcing brigades would have to be camped out in the open where they would be visible. This is what they sought. Manoel, like Paulo, would also be scanning.
In order to be sure, they would have to fly close to the mountain, and near the buildings of the harbour. Ari aimed for them, hoping that the miniscule edge-on profile of his plane, from that angle, would keep them masked from searching eyes below. The Rock grew, as if to envelop them. Ari’s slight climb would allow them to skim over the top. He hoped, desperately, that there were no anti-aircraft guns along their exact flight path up there.
As if to break the tension, or to punctuate the almost boredom they were experiencing, Pascoal announced over the intercom, “No planes in sight, Captain.” That confirmed what Ari was seeing… Or not seeing. They were nearing the path over the mountain, now, the shoreline now partially obscured by the curve of Chita’s nose.
A black burst appeared below and to the left. Hopelessly off on the range, Ari thought, but it signaled they had been seen. Gradually, other guns, their attention drawn by the first, began to pepper the sky. Some began to get their altitude correct. Paulo refused to be distracted, as his magnified vision captured more detail from the island’s limited habitable flatlands.
“I see a small encampment of tents, north of the base,” he said. “There’s just not much there.”
From below them – the voice sounded on the intercom, but those on the flight deck still thought of Manoel as sitting beneath them – a deeper voice said, “There’s a little plane coming up after us. A biplane of some sort. Gladiator? About one o’clock.”
Ari craned his neck to see. Paulo saw it first. “It’s… It’s climbing okay, but that thing doesn’t have any speed. There’s no way he could catch us.” Ironically, Gibraltar was defended by planes so obsolete that a later-model German-made bomber had more horsepower and swiftness than the biplane fighter. As if to emphasize the point, Paulo added, “And I think there’s a Fairy Battle out there, too.” The Fairy Battle was a peculiar fighter plane, turned bomber, whose guns were mounted to face the rear instead of to front. A rear gunner operated the guns, while the pilot was forced to maneuver alongside its target. The Battle, too, was too far away to have any hope of reaching them.
But these older aircraft didn’t need to reach them. The anti-aircraft fire was becoming more intense. The plane rocked from time to time, with a concussion signaling a close call. The AA fire would cease if the fighters got close to them, but since that wasn’t happening… Ari chuckled to himself as he absurdly considered flying closer to the fighters, but he only earned an odd cast glance from Paulo.
A crash off their port wing caused Ari to flinch away involuntarily. “Everybody okay?” Paulo’s soundoff again confirmed they were. “You ready to drop, Manoel?”
“Any moment now, Captain… I’ll take control.” Ari took his hands off the control yoke, but Chita continued ahead just as before. Then, ever so subtly, the yoke began to turn and move a little. Manoel was lining up on a target, using his bombardier’s controls. It didn’t really matter much what the target was – some building, whatever – just so long as they were able to inflict some damage on the “impenetrable” Fortress Gibraltar. The plane lurched slightly upward as the weight of the bombs let loose, and Ari grabbed the control again. “Back to you,” Manoel confirmed. There was no hope of Ari seeing what they were bombing, but his bombardier soon shouted, “Hit! I got a complex of buildings, and they’re blasting to pieces!” Ari smiled.
And then they crossed over the saddle between the mountain’s promontories. The rocks and greenery flashed past close underneath, and then dropped away suddenly as they cruised over the inner harbour. More anti-aircraft fire began to open up – these new gunners were alert from the ruckus on the other side, but it took them a few moments to realize it was their turn now.
“I saw two encampments,” Paulo said. “Not very large, either of them.” He continued to peer over his side of the aircraft, focusing his binoculars on more shoreline. They would compare notes later, and hand the information over to experts who would be better able to estimate the total numbers of troops indicated by what they had seen. Sleek-looking ships lay scattered around the water beneath them, some of them opening up at the invading plane with their own guns, to little effect.
“Manoel, Paulo, have you seen all you need?” Ari asked. Answers to the affirmative allowed him to turn Chita south, to exit in the direction of the Straits of Gibraltar. From there, they would land in Lisbon before long. A few final bangs of potentially lethal shells spent themselves uselessly as they fled. They never saw the pursuing airplanes again.
All in all, what an anti-climax!