Dogfight!

Dogfight!

Chapter One: The Suicide Club

"Weasley!"

Ronald Weasley had just returned from a much needed leave. He was just about to check the logbook to see if he was on, when his C.O. Captain Wade called his attention. Quickly, Ron ran a down list of possible things he might have done to get in trouble. Seeing as how he had just gotten to base an hour earlier, he deemed himself innocent, but he thought up a good excuse just in case. You never knew with Commanding Officers. Especially one like the 28 yr-old, ruff and cut Wade.

"Did you have a good leave, Weasley?" said Captain Wade in a tired voice as he walked across the hanger to greet Ron. Oh. Good, Ron thought I'm not in trouble. I'll just save that one for next week. I'm sure to need it.

"Yes sir, I saw most of my brothers, but I'm excited to be back." replied Ron with such a silly grin that it was quite obvious he meant it. Captain Wade smiled knowingly and put one of his big hands on Ron's shoulder.

"Son, I have a bit of bad news for you," he said with a doleful expression coming on to his face, "your regular pilot, Captain Banks, was shot down on the enemy side of the line." Ron's normally cheery, freckled face was tragic. Captain Banks had been an admiral man and a great flier, and not to mention a good friend of his. "I'm sorry for it," Captain Wade continued, "but he went in deeper behind the line and we couldn't reach him. We lost him the morning you left for leave. Don't blame yourself; he took an inexperienced observer with him who never saw the line before. Banks never had a chance. It's not your fault understand?"

Ron remembered how Banks singled him out to be his observer. The unreserved pilot had come into his tent, and sat down beside him. Weasley, Banks had said I put a claim on you the moment I got here. I spotted you clear across the apron and said "That kid knows what he's doing; he is flying with me." So don't get too chummy with anyone else! Ron had laughed at him and told him he was full of shit.

He missed Banks more just thinking about it.

Ron looked solemn, yet he replied resolutely. "Yes sir, I understand." "Good," said Captain Wade with a reassuring smile, "as senior observer I'm counting on you to pull through. We've got heavy work ahead of us, and as the sub leader's observer you will be in charge in case of any emergencies. Have you flown with Mr. Potter before?"

"No sir, but I've heard he's an excellent pilot, and I'd be glad to work with him." In fact, Ron had heard quite a few stories of the daring young pilot and his close escapes from certain death.

"Perfect. He seems to hold a high opinion of you himself. You both are logged on today for 11:55. That gives you forty minutes. Get going."

"Yes sir." said Ron. With that, Captain Wade went off to get himself ready.

Ron walked down to the apron where riggers and fitters were working hard on fixing battered planes and engines respectively. They did a surprisingly good job with what they had. All over France and Great Britain assembly was a problem. This brought about a couple burlesque situations, in which undercarriages meant for Morane Parasols were "bent a bit" and affixed to B.E. 8s or Farman engines were attached to R.E. 2's. Much to the surprise of quite a few people, they flew. The hum of the planes' engines played like music to Ron's saucer-like ears as he passed.

The August air was picking up slightly, but Ron knew that it was so light that it wouldn't be a problem for flying. It had been two whole weeks without being in the sky and he was so ready to get in the air that if he had to wait much longer he was sure he'd grow wings himself. Two whole weeks he had to bear hearing his mother rant about how dangerous flying was.

Molly Weasley read the papers to get news about her six sons. Each and every one of them joined the war at the start of hostilities, and she worried every minute for them. Bill and Charlie were pilots flying in Italy, Percy had displayed an unusual (if not recklessly stupid) amount of courage by joining the Dorsetshire Yeomanry, and the twins had gone off to fight as officers in the navy. Even his little sister Ginny had become a nurse. Ron, however, was an observer flying in France, right on the Western Front. If it wasn't for her husband Arthur, Molly might have been a casualty of the war herself.

Worries herself to death that woman does

, thought Ron with a smile.

A tall man with a face Ron had never seen before, brought him out of the thoughts of his mother by asking him if he had a light.

"When did you get here?" Ron asked after handing the fellow a match.

"Last week. I was a pilot with Number 22 Squadron, Royal Flying Corps. I only just got my license about three weeks ago. The name's Richard Leaves, good meeting you mate."

After lighting his cigarette he stretched out his hand, which Ron promptly shook.

"I'm Ron Weasley, Senior Observer, welcome to Number 9 Squadron, Royal Flying Corps. Good luck out there with the Huns."

"Thanks," said Leaves, "I'll need it."

With polite leave taking, Ron walked away from him, and reminisced about his first time up in a plane. About a year and a half ago, Ron joined up with the rest or his brothers to fight against the German threat. He was stuck digging trenches for one long week before he got fed up and went to his commander requesting a transfer into the Royal Flying Corps. His first flight in training hooked him. From the first time he stepped on to the rickety bi-plane, and the wind wiped his face, he knew he'd be flying for the rest of his war.

Ron reached a section of hanger that was cluttered with plane parts and linen. There he meet the short, skinny young man he was looking for, buried under a pile of ammunition drums.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Harry Potter lifted his head and beamed at Ron. "Weasley right? I've heard of you. Did you really try to go at a dirigible with a kitchen knife?"

Ron looked at the dirty faced pilot with glossy green eyes and a messy halo of black hair. He decided then and there that he was going to like flying with this man.

Ron laughed, "Yeah, but that was a long time ago, and it didn't help me much. Didn't get a single one. You didn't answer my question though. What. Are. You. Doing?" Ron said it slowly, because you never knew with pilots either.

It didn't take a lot of brains to be a pilot, and Ron knew this all too well. Ninety-eight percent of pilots had little formal education and very, very few could remember when a man says he doesn't like to be rolled around in mid-air for no reason at all, and with very little warning. Or maybe they did, but neither thought gave him much incentive to change his mind about pilots.

"I'm taking out the tracers on these Lewis barrels to fit in more bullets" explained Harry curtly.

"Err, why exactly?"

"Well you see," Harry stared slowly, because it was well known that you never knew with observers, "I'm going to fix it on my plane for you to shoot down enemy observers."

"Oh. Good idea Potter, much better than bringing up an old carbine. Where you going to put it?" asked Ron teasingly.

At this, Harry's eyes started to gloss over even more and he immediately went into an over excited fit of babbling. "I was thinking that if I put it between the propellers it would give you an excellent shot at them, and with any kind of decent mounting it'll only weight 18 pounds so when I -"

"Alright, alright enough about the gun," Ron hadn't expected Harry to actually know what he was talking about, so he was slightly taken aback at Harry's spew of information. "We're going up in forty minutes, clean this up and get your plane started." Ron smiled at him, and waited for the expected answer to come out of his pilot's mouth.

Harry fixed his face in an expression of mock outrage. "I, a pilot, don't take orders from, you, an observer. Besides, I haven't finished with my tinkering here yet, so if you'll excuse me..." Harry bent his head down over his munitions barrels to hide the fact he was trying very hard not to break out in a toothy grin.

There it is! Those pilots, all the same.

Ron laughed at Harry, and said, "You will take them from me or you'll face Wade. Now come on before we both get sent back to the trenches."

Harry could no longer conceal his mirth, and cracked a huge grin at Ron. Ron helped him get out from under the mountain of munitions drums, and sent him off to find their plane.

**********

Once Ron and Harry finally got into the air, and behind enemy lines, Ron busied himself by taking pictures of the far away ground. He took pictures of forests, bridges, or farms that could possibly be used to the advantage of either themselves or the enemy. Sometimes he even photographed enemy movement its' self.

While scouting a good picture, Ron found himself looking at the remains of a shot down two-seater. It had apparently gone down in flames, because it was a barely recognizable pile of ashes.

Ron dropped his camera to the floor of the fuselage. Though it was quite impossible to tell whether or not it was an enemy plane, looking at its miserable remains, the deaths of his pilot Banks, as well as the deaths of numerous other friends, had finally set in. They had all died young, and they had all died very violent deaths. He finally took the nickname for The Royal Flying Corps, "The Suicide Club", seriously.

The awfulness of the war had hit him like brick to the face. For the first time in his entire life, Ron was absolutely certain he was going to die. The war wasn't going well at all, and to many people it seemed that it would be over in a couple months without an Allied victory. He thought about his brothers, and parents, and his little sister Ginny. They had all been brought into the war.

My God, they're all going to die if we don't win this war. I'm going to die, and Harry's going to die, and all of my friends are going to die horrible deaths. I...I just...I can't...

Ron shut his eyes and issued a silent prayer to God.

God, please don't let anyone else I love die. Please God, give me the strength to fight this with all I have. I know I wouldn't be able to survive if one more person I loved died because of this dammed war...