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HE WESTERN FRONT, 1918. IN THE FINAL DAYS OF THE FIRST WORLD WAR, A FRENCH-BUILT SALMSON OF THE AMERICAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE’S “LUCKY HORSESHOE” OBSERVATION GROUP WAS BEING ESCORTED FOR A PHOTOGRAPHIC RECONNAISSANCE OF GERMAN LINES WHEN FOUR OF SIX SPAD XIIIS FROM A U.S. PURSUIT SQUADRON, LEFT TO INTERCEPT THE ENEMY.

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BAD NEWS, JEFF! WE NOW HAVE ONLY TWO SPADS FLYING SHOTGUN.

PFALZ FIGHTERS! THE NEW VERSION. OUR BOYS WILL BE KEPT BUSY, SAM.

STORY NORMAN ADAMS ART MORAHIN COVER IAN KENNEDY

4 THE FOUR SPADS GREW FAINTER AS THEY CLOSED ON THE GERMAN FIGHTERS. SALMSON PILOT LIEUTENANT SAM SAWYER AND HIS OBSERVER, LIEUTENANT JEFF HART, WERE UNEASY HAVING CROSSED THE ENEMY LINES WITH ONLY TWO ESCORTS. EVEN AT THIS STAGE OF THE CONFLICT GERMAN SQUADRONS COULD MOUNT CRIPPLING ATTACKS.

JOB DONE, SAM!

OKAY, JEFF! SIGNAL OUR ESCORT. WE’RE TURNING BACK.

ENEMY PLANES! NOW FOR SOME ACTION.

REMEMBER THE GOLDEN RULE, MAX. NEVER FLY LEVEL FOR MORE THAN THIRTY SECONDS IN A COMBAT ZONE.

A RED FLARE SIGNALLED THE RETURN TO BASE. BUT EVEN AS THE THREE AIRCRAFT STARTED TOWARDS THE LINES THEY WERE AMBUSHED BY FOKKER D.VIIs LURKING IN THE DARK CLOUDS. FOR LEUTNANTS MAX HOLTZ AND HANS RITTER IT WAS THEIR FIRST PATROL WITH THE CRACK DEATH’S HEAD SQUADRON, LED BY AIR ACE COUNT LOTHAR VON GERING.

5 TRACER BULLETS FILLED THE AIR. A SPAD TOOK A DIRECT HIT IN ITS FUEL TANK AND EXPLODED IN A BLINDING BALL OF FIRE WHILE THE SECOND SPAD PILOT FOUGHT TO PROTECT THE OUTGUNNED SALMSON AND ITS CREW.

ARGGHH!

HIGH ABOVE THE PITTED LANDSCAPE A FOKKER DROPPED FROM THE SKY IN A BLACK GUSH OF OILY SMOKE – A VICTIM OF THE SURVIVING SPAD – AS SAM AND JEFF MADE THEIR DO-OR-DIE DASH FOR HOME WITH THE PRECIOUS AERIAL PHOTOGRAPHS.

NOW IT’S FIVE AGAINST TWO! THAT SHOULD EVEN THE ODDS.

6 BUT THE FATE OF THE SALMSON’S CREW LOOKED BLEAK WHEN THE SPAD SPUN OUT OF CONTROL IN A BLIZZARD OF BULLETS FROM THE COUNT’S TWO 7.92mm GUNS. IT’S MY TURN NOW, AMERICAN FLIER!

HANS POURED A STREAM OF FIRE INTO THE SALMSON AS THE TWO ROOKIE PILOTS NARROWED THE GAP ON THE FLEEING PLANE. UNFORTUNATELY, JEFF COULD NOT GET OUT OF HARM’S WAY.

MY FIRST VICTORY, FOR SURE!

ARGH! I’M WINGED.

7 BUT HANS’ GUNS MISFIRED AT A CRUCIAL MOMENT AND MAX MOVED IN FOR THE “KILL”. BUT IN AN INSTANT THE SKY WAS A TANGLED CONFUSION OF SWERVING AND TWISTING PLANES AND SPITTING LEAD. THE SPADS HAD RETURNED AFTER BEATING OFF THE PFALZ FIGHTERS. THE ATTACK ON THE SALMSON WAS BROKEN OFF. MUST WATCH MY BACK OR I’LL BE CANNON FODDER!

SAVE A PIECE OF THE ACTION FOR ME, GUYS!

MEANWHILE EVERY FLYING INSTINCT WAS ALIVE AS SAM MANAGED TO CONTROL THE SPIRALLING PLANE. HE SHOUTED WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT TO JEFF AS THE SCARRED LANDSCAPE RUSHED TOWARDS THEM.

STICK WITH ME, BUDDY, AND YOU’LL LIVE FOREVER! DESPITE SAM’S BRAVE WORDS, BOTH THEIR FAMILIES WOULD RECEIVE TELEGRAMS BEARING GRIM NEWS...

8 NIGHT, PERU 1935. ON A GALE-SWEPT AIRSTRIP AT THE FOOT OF THE ANDES MOUNTAINS A BOEING P-12 BIPLANE, CRIPPLED BY A BIRD STRIKE, MADE A HIGH-RISK APPROACH.

PULL UP, TEX! PULL UP!

HE ISN’T GOING TO MAKE IT, SLIM!

AT THE CONTROLS WAS TEX BARRY, CO-OWNER OF THE SMALL AIRLINE WITH FLIER CHUCK MORROW AND SLIM SUMMERS, WHO WAS THEIR GROUND CHIEF DURING THE FIRST WORLD WAR. TEX HAD FACED DEATH MANY TIMES OVER THE WESTERN FRONT. NOW, THOUGH, BLINDED BY SMOKE AND FLAMES, HIS FIRST ACTION WAS TO SAVE HIS CARGO.

TOO LATE TO SAVE MY SKIN BUT THE MAIL MUST GET THROUGH.

9 AS A HANGAR AT THE EDGE OF THE FIELD LOOMED TEX FLIPPED HIS PLANE IN A DESPERATE BID TO AVOID A COLLISION. BUT IT WAS TOO LATE. HE DIDN’T MAKE IT! GET MOVING, GUYS! TEX IS BEYOND OUR HELP BUT WE MUST SAVE THE OTHER PLANES.

SURE THING, SENOR CHUCK.

AMONGST THE MEN RUSHING TO HELP WAS ED, THE SON OF SAM SAWYER, RECRUITED FROM A BARNSTORMING SHOW THAT HAD GONE BROKE IN SOUTH AMERICA. HE JOINED IN THE SCRAMBLE TO PREVENT THE DESTRUCTION OF THE HANGAR AND ITS CONTENTS – THE AIRLINE’S TWO SURVIVING PLANES. C’MON, PEDRO! GET YOUR GUYS TO PUT THEIR BACKS INTO IT.

THEY ARE NOT BURROS, SENOR. BUT THEY WILL HELP.

10 THE HUNGRY FLAMES CONSUMED A SECOND BOEING P-12. THIS LEFT THE PRIDE OF THEIR SMALL FLEET, A FORD TRIMOTOR 4-AT, NICKNAMED THE “TIN GOOSE” BY FLIERS, BECAUSE IT WADDLED LIKE A GOOSE WHEN TAXYING.

THE TIN GOOSE IS UNTOUCHED, SO FAR!

IT’LL BE A ROASTED GOOSE IF I DON’T DO SOMETHING.

AS THE INFERNO THREATENED TO ENGULF THE ALL-METAL PLANE CHUCK TOOK A DESPERATE GAMBLE. HE WAS HOSED DOWN FOR PROTECTION AS HE DASHED FOR THE TIN GOOSE.

THE GAS TANKS COULD GO UP ANY MINUTE.