Below the picture in a smaller but similar font, more printing appeared thus:
The illustration itself was something else entirely. From what Trumbull could make out, the main character was some kind of demon or devil garbed in the ragged, mid-eighteenth century uniform of the British Light Horse. It was brandishing a blood-drenched sabre over the bodies of numerous vanquished enemies, and Trumbull realised that those enemies were Wehrmacht infantry complete with field grey uniforms, Mauser rifles and stahlhelm ‘coal-scuttle’ helmets.
“What in God’s name is this supposed to represent?” The squadron leader was a number of decades too early to understand the ideology behind ‘rock concert’ tour promotions, or the humour of the parody involved in the design of the T-shirt he held.
“You probably won’t get the joke… the picture’s a reproduction of artwork from a musical group of the late Twentieth Century. It’s been modified a bit through artistic licence — not particularly legally, I might add — and it was put together by one of the guys as something Hindsight could wear that was unique. It was to be something like a ‘theatre of war’ medal in a weird kind of way — something worn only by people who’d be making the jump.”
The idea had been thought up early into the creation of Hindsight, and carried through by a British SBS officers assigned to the unit. One of the man’s favourite bands was the heavy metal group Iron Maiden, and he was also a great fan of the artwork of Derek Riggs, the artist who’d designed most of that group’s album covers and promotional posters. It was Riggs who’d created the character depicted on the T-shirt Trumbull held: the rather imposing-looking antihero, ‘Eddie’, who appeared in his various guises composed entirely of skinless sinew and muscle, exposed bones and skull with glowing, crazed eyes and a ubiquitously enraged and malevolent expression.
The picture chosen for parody was that from one of Iron Maiden’s earlier songs called The Trooper — the same song Thorne himself had been playing in the F-35E the day before — and took inspiration from the famous British Charge of the Light Brigade during the Crimean War. The picture had originally showed ‘Eddie’ as a Light Brigade trooper, sabre-in-hand and surrounded by dead Russian soldiers, and it ‘d been a reasonably simple exercise to produce a design that could be easily screen-printed in full-colour upon a clean, white T-shirt. Although certainly to the fine standard of Riggs’ original works, it’d been done well enough and had captured the hearts and minds of most of the Hindsight members.
“What kind of musical group would use a design like this?” Trumbull grimaced as he turned the shirt around and found further printing on the back:
Space had been left beneath the first two ‘tour’ listings for further entries if required, although Trumbull couldn’t have guessed at the logic behind that.
“The group…?” Thorne asked absent-mindedly, a little vague, “…the group was called Iron Maiden. They’re a heavy metal band.”
“‘Heavy metal’…?” Trumbull repeated dubiously. “Is that anything like that racy, ‘Glen Miller’ stuff?”
Thorne grinned widely — he almost laughed. “No…” he chuckled “…not really…”
7. Preparations & Developments
Orly Airfield
Paris, France
Tuesday
July 2, 1940
Carl Ritter walked alone near the taxiways of Orly Airfield that morning, tension mounting within him as he awaited the expected arrival of Reichsmarschall Reuters. As his path took him toward the planes and the main buildings, he took a moment to marvel belatedly at the new aircraft they were about to be trained in an attempt to divert his mind from his concerns. The aircraft were brand new, and ZG26 would be the first land-based geschwader to receive a complement of these new production models from Messerschmitt.
The Löwe (‘Lion’), known by military classification as the S-2, was the largest single-engined plane Reuters had ever seen. As large as the twin-engined J-110 it replaced, it could carry twice the offensive load of a Heinkel B-111, but for all that it was no bomber: this aircraft was known by a different name, and the ‘S-2’ designation was a shortened version of ‘Schlachtflugzeug Model Two’. The S-2D’s that ZG26 were about to be trained on were dedicated ground-attack and close support aircraft, and to that end the aircraft was also fast for its size. It was as fast as the RAF’s Hurricane fighter, and much faster than either the Heinkel B-111 or the Junkers B-88 that were the Luftwaffe’s main bombers. The S-2 was also much faster than the S-87 Stuka, Germany’s only Realtime close support aircraft of that period.
While fighting in the Spanish war four years ago, Ritter and his fellow pilots had been amazed at the new developments German science had given their fledgling air force, and they were now once more being amazed by new technology. Within the last six or seven months, six new types of aircraft had been introduced to the pilots of the Luftwaffe and although they’d only been tested in small-scale engagements and situations so far, their performance and capabilities foretold great things for the future.
His ears picked up the sound of distant engines, and glancing up he suddenly spied the unmistakeable bulk of an Arado transport circling in from the east on the distant skyline. As his path took him past the end of the runway, paralleling its course, he followed the aircraft’s progress with his eyes. For a while he walked carefully backward, watching as the plane turned on to a landing approach a kilometre or so west and came in low over the rooftops of Paris. Deciding he’d seen enough of the big airlifter, he turned to face forward once more, preferring to keep an eye on where he was going.
In a few moments the faint rumbling of the Arado’s powerful engines had grown to a clattering roar, and it passed above the runway as it drew level with him, the deafening sound accompanied by the buffeting backwash of the two engines’ propellers. Ritter was forced to hold on to his cap as the stench of exhaust filled the air about him for a few seconds. The aircraft’s main wheels reached gingerly for the runway surface, then touched down with the yelp of abused rubber and a puff of bluish smoke, and he instantly noted a change in the tone of the engines as the props altered pitch and they began forcing air forward to slow the Arado down. It taxied sedately to the far end of the strip, gliding between the rows of fighter-bombers to come to a halt on a large concrete hardstand outside an iron-sided hangar.
The Arado T-1A Gigant (Giant) was another of the new aircraft that had only begun to appear within the last year or so, and had only begun to frequent the front lines during the last few months. A wonderfully capable aircraft, its cargo carrying abilities far outstripped those of the venerable old Junkers tri-motor it had replaced. Not only could they carry far in excess of the ‘Aunty Ju’ over far greater distance and at much higher speed; they could also easily load and unload items as large as small vehicles or field pieces via the broad, flat loading ramp in their tail. The Arado could also carry up to forty fully equipped parachute troops, although that particular aircraft carried just a few men that morning: this was the same Arado transport that normally sat parked in the field by the Wehrmacht’s forward HQ near Amiens.