The White Knight Read Online Free

stupid Huns. The White Knight must be bolder.”
    â€œThere’ll be more of them than there are of us. That’s theone thing we can be sure of. What we need to do is come out of the sun together in close formation, then fire together. We knock down a plane and then run like the devil.”
    â€œThat’s no way to fight a war,” Varga protested. “We need to attack when we see them.”
    â€œNo!” Nicolai said. “We can only get four that way.”
    â€œWe can always get four more.” Luke lowered his voice, letting them know he was serious. “I don’t want any dead heroes, do you hear me? I want some live cowards who will kill the enemy, run away, and live to fight another day.”
    Streak shrugged his beefy shoulders and said in a sour tone, “If we just had some better airplanes than these little flies, we wouldn’t have lost so many men.” The Spanish liked to call the I-16 the mosca, or little fly, while the Nationalists called it the rata, or rat.
    The Germans flew the Messerschmitt Bf-109, which was, in all likelihood, the finest fighter plane in the world, and Hitler had sent a large number of them to fight in the Spanish war. Luke had learned to respect the airplane and the men who flew it. He despised their politics, but the German pilots were probably the best trained in the world. Germany had been forbidden to have an air force after the Great War, but in secret they had taught young men to fly by using gliders and had later managed to build a formidable air force despite the limitations imposed. Now Hitler had no fear at all and was building an air force in exactly the same way he had built a magnificent army.
    â€œThey’ve got better planes, but we’re better men,” Luke said. “Now, remember. We get above them. You stay on me, and no flying off to become heroes. When we sight the enemy, we go down, hit them, and run.”
    â€œIs crazy.” The Russian shook his bushy head, and Luke knew that Nick would disregard everything he’d been told and do exactly as he wanted once the madness of battle had seized him.
    â€œAll right. It’s time to go,” Luke said with grim finality. “Good hunting.”
    Luke watched as the three pilots jogged to their planes, then climbed into his own, patting the side affectionately as he did. He loved his white plane with the knight on the side. He had argued about it with Streak many times. “They’ll pick you out and come for you first, Luke,” Streak had argued. “They know you’ve shot down more planes than any of us, and you’ll be their number one target.”
    â€œExactly what I want. I want them to know who’s killing them,” Luke had replied. He climbed into the mosca, a low-wing monoplane with retractable landing gear and an enclosed cockpit, and went through the procedure of getting the engine started. When it caught and roared, he eased the machine forward with a touch on the throttle. The cockpit was as narrow and uncomfortable as a designer could possibly make it. There were few instruments. Those that did exist were poorly arranged. The controls, however, were sensitive, and the featherlight ailerons gave a high rate of roll.
    Taxiing out into position, Luke felt the thrill he always did just before a takeoff. The mosca was responsive to his touch, and he gave it full power. He knew the plane well. It was an agile airplane and had an outstanding climb capability. It was faster than most fighters, except for the Messerschmitt, and at ten thousand feet it could go as fast as three hundred miles an hour. Unfortunately, there were flaws. The acceleration was surprisingly poor in a dive, and its rigidly mounted engine caused the whole airplane to vibrate and rattle, which made it a poor gun platform. It was all a pilot could do to hold the plane steady when firing at the enemy.
    Despite these aspects, the I-16 did well against German