
Lieutenant Tex Langdon, a brand-new pilot at the Sixteenth Pursuit Squadron's fog-shrouded field, arrives with a reputation already in ruins: in three days he has nosed over one ship, cracked up another in a forced landing, and taxied into the wing-tip of veteran Lieutenant Adams' Nieuport. After mess the night before, Adams dresses him down bitterly, telling Tex the first German who gets on his tail will send him "back to where he came from" — a jab at the Texan's origins that leaves Tex cold with anger. The next morning, heavy ground fog blankets the field while Adams and Tex fly the dawn patrol on separate sectors. Lieutenant Ben Chapin and the adjutant worry aloud that Tex, inexperienced and reckless, has no hope of finding the field through the fog without Adams' help — and wonder whether Adams, still smarting from the insult exchange, will actually give it. Over the lines, Tex is caught by a skilled German pilot in an Albatros and fights a desperate, losing battle: his wing fabric is shredded, a strut splinters, and his gun jams at the worst moment. Pride keeps him from retreating. Just as he seems finished, the enemy plane bursts into flame — shot down by Adams, who had been flying nearby and dove in unseen. Adams then turns and flies straight back toward the Squadron through the fog without acknowledging Tex at all, abandoning him over hostile skies with a damaged ship and low fuel. Tex's engine dies in the fog; he glides blind, clips treetops, and crashes, escaping injury only because the Nieuport stalled into the branches. He treks to a nearby battery and makes his way back to the Squadron on foot. Captain Louis Jones credits Tex's survival to Adams' kill but mildly rebukes Tex for poor judgment. Tex, bitter, confronts Adams directly, accusing him of abandoning a fellow pilot out of spite. Adams coldly denies any debt is owed and insists he never even noticed Tex needed help — a claim Tex refuses to believe, given Adams clearly watched the whole fight from above. The two part on hostile terms, each vowing the other will get no help from him in a future "sky jam." Fog keeps the squadron grounded for days until two replacement Nieuports arrive from Colombey; Tex draws one and proves himself slightly steadier in the air, though still landing roughly. When Lieutenant Connors falls ill, Captain Jones sends Tex up as a substitute defense pilot near Hill G.8, warning him the squadron can't always count on Adams bailing him out. Aloft, Tex spots two Fokkers diving on a crippled, wing-drooping Nieuport trying to limp back across the lines — and recognizes it, correctly, as Adams' plane. He dives to the rescue, shooting down one Fokker and driving off the second, though the dying German pilot rams Tex's tail assembly before going down, leaving Tex's own ship barely controllable. Badly damaged and flying over the same spreading ground fog, Tex sees Adams' Nieuport vanish into the mist ahead — and for a moment believes Adams is once again abandoning him. But Adams reappears, banking back through the fog to fly wingtip-to-wingtip with Tex's crippled plane, guiding him by hand signals to a clearer field. Tex's tail assembly fails on landing and he crashes, knocked unconscious. He wakes propped against the wreckage with bandaged injuries, Adams beside him. Adams admits he nearly abandoned Tex again out of old resentment but couldn't bring himself to, especially once he realized Tex had just saved his own life from the two Fokkers. The two men, both chastened, acknowledge they have each behaved badly — "thick," as Adams puts it, like the ground fog itself — and share cigarettes, reconciled, agreeing they've finally "cleared up," just in time.
By Raoul Whitfield · First published 1928 · Genre: War Fiction, Aviation Fiction, Action Fiction · 7,089 words
Zooming through a clinging, blinding fog, Lieutenant Adams flew straight into a death trap of flashing enemy planes and flaming, stuttering machine guns. This is an epic of the skies told by the ace of war writers.
There was plenty of it, this gray, clinging fog. Drifting slowly down the slope just west of the tiny pursuit squadron field, clinging to the branches of the gaunt trees, then sweeping out over the field itself, the fog moved. It hung within ten or fifteen feet of the soft earth, and it was thick. Thick and cold. Twenty minutes ago there hadn't been any sign of it; now the barracks could not be seen from the nearest camouflaged hangar.
aviation fiction · World War I · aerial combat · military fiction · fighter pilots · rivalry · redemption · reconciliation · honor · pride · courage · forgiveness
Rivals of the Clouds is listed on Textopian as a short story by Raoul Whitfield, dated 1928 CE.
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