Kate and Hector each went to the guns at the side. Kate immediately took aim and let off a few rounds. All of their earlier play suddenly had a purpose. She could see two propeller type planes, and a single jet she thought was called a Hawk.
‘Mine’s broken,’ said Hector, ‘it won’t work,’ and for the first time he felt a panic rising in his throat. Dad’s gun had not fired a round either.
‘You need this catch to be here,’ explained Kate pointing to the side of the gun. She then ran to the back of the aircraft to help Dad, just as a volley of bullets ripped a hole in the fuselage. Next, Kate ran to the front of the plane to tell Mum to fly in circles.
‘We can shoot them with the side and rear guns, but it is harder for them because they have to line us up.’ yelled Kate.
Hector could not help but feel a certain admiration for his sister. Kate was good in a crisis, even if she did always take the biggest slice of cake when allowed anything more than a nanosecond’s head start.
Soon there was a regular rattle of all three guns. Kate was careful and determined, while Hector was having the time of his life firing anywhere. He could not be sure what sort of planes the two propellor aircraft were, but as far as he was concerned they had to be Messerschmitts. He should have been starting his maths lesson at school, sitting next to pooty Collins, but instead he was in an aerial dog fight to the death with two Messerschmitts and a jet fighter. Their plane veered wildly, the guns rattled, there were explosions as bullets hit their aircraft, and a small fire had started near the cockpit. As far as Hector was concerned, this was as exciting as life could ever be.
Aiming was easier than Kate and Hector had expected, but the problem was that the plane kept changing direction. Sometimes there was a larger, deeper rattle, and it sounded as though Mum had found the forward guns. The lights kept going on and off, and Hector thought it was because the electrics had been hit. Kate guessed that it was because Mum did not know which buttons did what. Her suspicions were confirmed when the radio was turned on full and they were all blasted with hits from the sixties.
As the Beatles sang ‘All you need is love’ at full volume, Dad and Hector had their first real success, and the jet fighter exploded. Yet, even the deafening radio could not drown out the thuds and explosions as the rounds from the other two fighter aircraft hit. There was now a growing hole in the fuselage next to Kate, and as Hector glanced up and down he could see other holes. It was only a matter of time before the two fighters either hit them or something vital in the aircraft. Things were getting desperate. Either they were not hitting the remaining two fighters, or their bullets were not enough to do any real damage. The two fighters were having problems lining them up as Mum flew this way and that, but sooner or later they would succeed.
In addition to the endless chorus of ‘All you need is love,’ the thud and bang of bullets, the roar of the engines and the increasing wind noise as yet more holes appeared everywhere, there was now a regular deep thud that shook the whole aircraft. Either something was seriously wrong, or Mum was lowering and raising the wheels and other bits of undercarriage as she attempted to turn the radio off. Suddenly they turned sharply to port and started losing height and speed. Whatever criticisms they might make of Mum’s flying, they had to admit she was difficult to anticipate. Then Mum came running out of the cockpit.
‘Kate dear,’ she yelled, ‘would you like to have a go. I seem to have turned one of the engines off.’
Hector took his chance and dashed forward. He was going to fly the plane. This was his opportunity. He ran forward just as a hail of bullets tore fresh holes in the walls, floor and roof of the middle portion of the plane. Very soon, Hector thought, it will all be portions; small, chopped-up bits of plane falling from the sky.
Hector had just got himself into the seat and pulled back on the stick when bullets hit the cockpit sending a frightening spray of debris everywhere. He pushed the working engine to full throttle and compensated for the yaw with the rudder. Yet, they were still going down. Just then Kate arrived and began looking at the buttons. She turned the radio off, withdrew the undercarriage into the plane and was soon working on getting the port engine started again.
‘I’m going to weave about,’ yelled Hector, just as he pushed the stick forward and the plane lurched down.
‘Got it,’ yelled Kate, and the port engine roared back into life.
‘Brilliant Hector,’ Kate yelled as Hector pulled the plane sharply up, and they saw the bullets whistle underneath the aircraft, ‘I’m off to help Mum.'
Mum had found Dad knocked unconscious, and worse than that, they were running out of ammunition. Mum, it seemed, had fired both side guns madly until all the ammunition was spent. Only the rear gun had a few bullets left, and that was only because the gun had become too hot to use. The only good news was that one of the pursuing fighters had part of a wing missing, and seemed to be weaving, as if the pilot did not have full control.
Kate slipped into the rear gunner’s seat and was pleased to find that the gun had cooled down. She noticed the large hole in the very rear of the plane. Kate took aim at the undamaged fighter. She had a calm, steel-like determination as she fired, but the fighter pilot had seen it coming and pulled up sharply, taking him out of the line of fire, and moving him further back from them. The damaged fighter had disappeared, but the remaining pilot seemed determined.
Kate fired the smallest burst she could manage just as the fighter pulled to the right. She quickly aimed a fraction in front of the fighter and fired a longer burst, but the pilot had pushed the stick forward, in a manoeuvre that made Kate think he must have his stomach in his mouth. She waited until he brought his guns into line and then fired again. So close! So close!
Kate decided to wait. He had to line up again and she would get him eventually. Now she understood what she had to do; just wait until he was lining up, trying to keep his aircraft straight and level. He dodged and pulled left and then right. Finally, he lined them up. Kate fired a longer burst, but it was soon over. The long burst turned out to be a very short burst. The ammunition was spent. The fighter was still in the air.
‘That’s it! We’ve no more ammunition,’ Kate yelled to her mother, who was tending to Dad as he lay on the floor. She turned to see the remaining fighter moving closer in. Hector was still weaving about, but it was a big plane. Without the fire from the rear and side guns to keep the last fighter at bay there was nothing to stop it getting close and finishing them all in a hail of bullets.
‘The parachutes, the parachutes!’ yelled Mum.
Kate grabbed a parachute, pushed it into the hole at the very end of the plane and let it fall as she held onto the harness and pulled the rip cord. It billowed it out and was ripped from her hands, becoming a sudden frightening wall the pursuing fighter had to avoid. Kate rushed to get the next parachute. She pushed it into the hole again, held on to the harness and waited for the fighter to line them up once more. Just as the fighter swung into a direct line with them Kate pulled the rip cord and the parachute expanded, before being ripped from her hands once more. Again, it billowed out into a sudden flapping wall the fighter had to turn hard to miss.
It was a brilliant bit of innovative thinking; superb adaption; magnificent make do. Yet, Kate knew that it would work only as long as there was a ready supply of parachutes. Time was running out. Their last hope was fading. If only Hector could push the plane into a suicidal dive and yet pull out just in time to land safely then all would be well. Yet, the plane’s wings simply would not manage. They could not out-dive a fighter. The wings could not pull the plane out of a vertical dive when they had so many holes in them.
Kate felt a hot wave of panic. She had to do something different, but she also had to keep pushing the parachutes out of the hole at the end of the plane. What she needed was a smart bomb like the ones in the computer games, but they did not exist; they were fantasy. As Kate pushed the last parachute into the ragged hole at the end of the plane she felt a sense of hopelessness. They were not going to make it. The fighter pilot was too clever; he knew what he was doing; he knew they had run out