They were all in awe of Bersbee, because the man was more than just a genius -- he was a veritable sorcerer in the clouds. And no one dared to ask him how he did it, until one day...
e gritty stuff. The side of his jaw was very loose. He bounced away from the wall, and Illvers rushed him again. Illvers came in close and pushed a short right, then a left to the belly, and Meader doubled up. He knew that Illvers was going to uppercut him. He knew that he was going to be knocked unconscious, unless he quickly found a way to get the better of his man.
THE uppercut came, and it straightened him, and once more he went back against the wall. He sagged, rolled down, and he was flat on the floor. He was hurt, and he was weak, but not as much as he pretended to be. He got up very slowly. Illvers walked in again, and the right fist was drawn back for the finishing punch. He knew then that Illvers didn't really want to hurt him. This was Illvers' way of impressing the idea into him. And he told himself that he really didn't want to hurt Illvers. He didn't want to hurt anybody. He merely wanted to impress them with the idea that they couldn't impress their ideas into him.
A WWII Battle of Britain dogfight story. One pilot of the squadron is lucky--or gifted. He's pampered by the men whose lives he'd saved, but one blundering novice pilot wants to learn his technique.
Several of the characters are pretty well drawn. The plot is okay, and the dogfight is a little hard to visualize, but overall it's just average.
I'm not sure why this qualifies as pulp; it's WWII, includes one fight between the main and view characters, and little else. I'd say it's not worth the effort. It is a snapshot of one skilled British pilot whose skill is mathematical, and the challenger who ruins it all for him. No heroes, no villains, no plot.