Aces High

by Piggy

Title

Aces High

Artist

Piggy

Medium

Photograph

Description

The siren blared across the airfield at R.A.F. Porkington as my chum Chip "Chipper" Rabbitingly-Lepus & I were enjoying a breakfast of tea & freshly baked scones. In a trice we had sprinted across the runway to our trusty biplane, the chocks were away & we were orff!
Ascending to 20,000 feet we scanned the clear blue sky for the source of the alarm &, owing to a diet of splendid British carrots, Chipper swiftly spotted the culprit. "Crikey Piggles, it's our arch enemy the Red Baron!" he exclaimed from below his magnificently stiff upper lip. Following his pointing paw I saw the familiar shape of Von Richtporken's MutterFokker triplane silhouetted against the sun!
"I haff you now Pigglesvorth, you britisher schwein!" the dastardly kraut yelled triumphantly as he dived towards us, the MF69's machine guns spitting flame. "Not on your nelly you jerry blighter!" I replied as I deftly flicked my Sopwith Aardvark aside, avoiding his beastly attack & bringing him neatly within the traverse of Chipper's Lewis gun, which reduced his plane to tatters with a stream of hot British lead. "Hurrah! They don't like it up 'em Sir!" quipped my rabbit chum, but our triumph was short lived.
"Bandits at 6 o'clock skipper!" Chipper warned &, sure enough, there were 5 more of the cowardly sauerkraut munchers, all bent on revenge for the bloody noses we had inflicted in previous bouts of aerial fisticuffs. There was the Beige Duke, the Mauve Marquis, the Unpleasant Greeny-Brown, You Know, Like A Cowpat Prince, the Paisley Milkman & the Stripy Bloke From The Fishmonger's, all bearing down on us with impolite beastliness in their sausage sucking jerry hearts.
Without hesitation I performed a spiffingly skilful half loop that brought us around to face them, head on like proper square shouldered English chaps. "Time for biffo, you ghastly bosche blaggards!" I roared, & the battle was on!
Within minutes it was over, 3 jerries shot down & the other 2 scuttling home with their weak schnapps guzzling tails between their legs. "Bravo! We gave fritz what for sir!" chortled Chipper...but our problems were not at an end, as some german lead, although of a frightfully inferior quality, had severed a fuel line.
Grimly fighting the controls of the crippled Aardvark I set her down in the channel as softly as I could, as parachutes are terribly unsporting and are, as any right thinking manly Englishman knows, for sissies & Frenchmen. Chipper burst to the surface of the water, "I say, wizard prang, what?" he chortled gleefully.
I judged that we were about 2 miles from the French coast, but having no desire to join in the frog national pastimes of eating cheese & surrendering we struck out for home. The water was freezing but presented no hardship to manly chaps hardened by boarding school, rugger & regular beatings by prefects & soon we found ourselves back in blighty sitting by the fire in the officers mess drinking gin & tonics & entertaining our chums Bovine, Squiffy & Strangely-Brown with ripping yarns of derring-do.
Hurrah & god save the King!

From the diary of Captain James Pigglesworth, D.F.C. & bar, 1916.

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May 21st, 2015

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