Morning Patrol

By Zach Neal

A German pilot accidentally lands on Rick’s aerodrome, and there are only two ways he can play it. He can stick a gun in the idiot’s face and take him prisoner—earning a mention in dispatches for his trouble. Or, he can go hog-wild and pull the prank of a lifetime on good old Fritzie. The spanking-new Halberstadt two-seater the Hun is flying is too beautiful. With a little help from his friends, he’s dying to try it out. Zach Neal’s Morning Patrol is a tall tale of World War One aviation at a time when aerial warfare was a little kinder, a little gentler—a little more innocent perhaps.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zach Neal
• Release date: Aug 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781927957806

Zach Neal

Zach Neal has been writing ever since he can remember. A forestry management professional, he prefers the outdoors to the office. He lives in the Halton Hills overlooking the Greater Toronto Area. He studied at the University of Toronto. Zach’s a single father of two healthy and energetic children. Zach’s boys, Aaron and Jason, mean everything to him.

Book preview

Morning Patrol

Zach Neal

Copyright 2014 Zach Neal and Long Cool One Books

Design: J. Thornton

ISBN 978-1-927957-80-6

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or deceased, or to any places or events, is purely coincidental. Names, places, settings, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. The author’s moral right to the proceeds of this work have been asserted.

Table of Contents

Act One

Act Two

Act Three

About Zach Neal

Morning Patrol

Act One

The early morning contact patrols had just gone out. The ‘Long Patrol’ was thundering off into the distance. Soon there would be nothing left to disturb the sunny silence but the returning birds or a buzzing fly awakening from a deep sleep.

I wasn’t flying that day. Although I had a bit of an earache and a bad cold, the promise of spring was in the air. I had been on the squadron for about two months and already had a few missions, maybe a couple of dozen. Before this I was an observer, having transferred in from an infantry unit. After some of my experiences in the infantry, life on an RFC aerodrome, even over that harsh, cold winter, was quite civilized.

And I was relaxed, confident, having been accepted into the company and camaraderie of the mess. Life felt good even though I couldn’t go with my mates on this mission. It wasn’t that I felt that bad, it’s just that at fifteen thousand feet or so, an earache can be a serious problem.

From a previous bout of some kind of flux, I knew that only