Beyond the Horizon by Peter Watt

Matthew asked, changing the subject.
    â€˜I’m going north with a small detachment of my men to carry out an independent recon of the Ottoman positions,’ Saul replied. ‘The desert wind told me you were here and I thought I would pay you a visit on the way.’
    â€˜I’m glad you did, old friend. Now, how about a drink?’ Matthew was about to break into his precious stock of whisky when one of his ground crew put his head around the tent entrance.
    â€˜Er, ah, sir,’ the lance corporal said, eyeing Saul nervously. ‘The boss is calling all pilots for a briefing on a mission you have to fly before sunset.’
    Matthew thanked the man and rose from his chair. ‘Looks like we’ll have to have that drink another time,’ he said, gripping Saul’s hand in his own. ‘It’s been so good to see you again, old cobber. Take care.’
    â€˜You, too,’ Saul said. ‘My Arab friends have a saying I like – Inshallah , if it is God’s will. I pray that it’s His will to keep you safe.’
    Matthew nodded, then strode over to the operations briefing tent. He could see the other pilots making their way towards the briefing and he wondered if they were feeling the same dread as he was. It seemed even worse to know that if he died James and Olivia would never know their father. He had so much to live for and yet he knew the odds were not good that he would get out of this war alive.
    As his fighter plane rose into the shimmering afternoon sky Matthew looked over to his right. A younger, new pilot was flying on his right flank; off to his left was an experienced pilot who had been transferred from another squadron. He was glad to have two other aircraft under his command on this mission. They were all flying Nieuports and had been briefed to reconnoitre an area where Turkish troops were mustering. The area they were flying over was an endless sea of craggy hills and deep sandy ravines devoid of any sign of human habitation. It was not a good region to be shot down over and Matthew had to work to keep down the bile that wanted to rise into his throat.
    With any luck they would not encounter enemy aircraft and the patrol would prove to be uneventful. The experienced pilot had been tasked with taking photographs of anything of interest while Matthew and the new pilot were flying protection.
    Matthew tried not to think about Joanne, but his thoughts kept returning to her. What was she doing in Cairo? In whose care had she left James and Olivia? What did they look like? The rapid tap tap of something hitting his right wing snapped Matthew from his thoughts when he realised that his aircraft was being hit by bullets fired from behind. He jerked his head as far around as he could, only to be blinded by the fiery ball of the sun. He caught a fleeting glimpse of an Albatros fighter on his tail. Yanking on his controls Matthew flung his little fighter plane into a dive to get out of the gun sights of his enemy. As he did so he was horrified to see that the new pilot had taken a full blast of machine-gun bullets through the fuselage of his plane, which was already trailing smoke and going into a spin. Jesus, the pilot wasn’t much more than a kid.
    Matthew cursed himself for allowing the flight he was leading to fall into an ambush. There was no time for regrets, though; the pursuing enemy fighter was even now coming back at him. Matthew levelled off and started climbing to five thousand feet. When he glanced around he could see that there only seemed to be two enemy aircraft attacking them and the experienced pilot had already engaged one of them in a snarling dogfight. Below, a black pillar of smoke rose from the side of one of the desert hills where the new pilot had crashed in a ball of fire.
    The pilot’s fate distracted Matthew for only a moment, but already the enemy pilot had manoeuvred into a position on his six o’clock rear and its twin