by M. L. Maki
“We all know you’ve done an exceptional job. We look up to you, Sam, and it will be us who write our own histories.”
“Look, Swede. I’m done whining. How did the raid go?”
“It was a good call to hold a few planes back with long range missiles. We got jumped. In the Low Countries, there’s no terrain to hide in.”
“Any casualties?”
“My pride. I left a ventral fin in the Netherlands.”
“What happened?”
“I misjudged a power line. They’re hard to see at 600 knots.”
“It’s okay. We all make mistakes.”
“I’m not fucked up about it. Can we talk boyfriends, girlfriends, and weddings?”
“Sure.”
“Gloria and I are getting married during our leave. It’s the only time we’ll have together. We’re still figuring out where and when.”
“We fly out soon. Do you want to do it soonest or latest?”
“Latest. We’re not telling big Navy. I want her orders in her hands before the Navy can decide the little woman should stay home.”
“A good plan. Her folks are in Connecticut. Yours still in Michigan?”
“Yes. It’s not important that either of them are there. What’s important is that you, Gandhi, GQ, Thud, and Speedy are there.”
“Do I need to scare up a dress?”
“Gloria will talk with you about that. By the way, she’s coming home with me, and not visiting her family. Her grandmother is okay, but her grandfather is a complete ass. I don’t want to end up charged with assault.”
Sam smiles, “Get that.”
“What about your guy?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see. Coordinating leaves and travel, it’s all a bit much.”
Swede nods, “Yeah. Transportation is the next thing on the agenda. Gloria and I thought about getting a biplane, but fuel is rationed. So, can we ship her car?”
“Yes, but find out how many cars the guys bought here and if they want to take them home. We have a weight limit per person, but I could approve it on the average if there aren’t too many.”
Swede, “So, how is it going with you and froggy?”
She meets her friends gaze, “Good. Very good. The rank thing is going to be a problem.”
“Yeah, I see that. I’m happy for you, even if he was a boy toy. Just how serious are you two?”
“Thanks Swede. That was weird. We are serious. It’s brand new and fragile as hell, but, yes, we’re serious.”
His face lights with a big smile, “I’m happy for you. So, is he stationed in San Dog?”
“Yes, and it sounds like we’ll be at Patuxent River.”
“The carriers are stationed in San Diego and Hawaii, but they’re never there. During the war they parked them at atolls.”
“I don’t know if any of the new carriers are ready. Three have launched, but it takes months to fit out new ships. After your leave, you’ll probably report to the Vinson.”
“Yep, and you’ll get a second star and take over from Halsey.”
“No. No.” She looks at him, “You really think so.”
“I do.”
“I have my doubts. At best, I might get an air wing.”
“I guess time will tell. Any ideas what we should bomb next?”
US ARMY AIRFORCE HQ, WASHINGTON, DC
0700 (1200 GMT), 12 October, 1942
Colonel Donald Blakeslee is ushered into General Hap Arnold’s office. Arnold, “Good to see you. You’ve qualified on the Tomcat. I need your thoughts.”
“It’s an amazing aircraft. For something so large, it’s pretty agile and the weapons it carries are very good. It carries seven tons of ordinance under its wings. That’s nearly twice the normal load for a B-17. That, and it can fight its way in without escort or with minimal escort. It is, however, a difficult aircraft to learn.”
“How so?”
“The controls are handled by one pilot and they’re quite complex. That, and everything happens much faster in a Tomcat.”
“But you mastered it.”
“I know how to fly it. How to fight with it, is another matter. I’ve picked up some, but it’s hard. Are any of the Navy pilots transferring over to continue with the training on the bird?”
“No. I’m sending you to Britain to stand up the 4th Fighter Group. The War Eagle squadrons in country will transfer to you. As you build up your group, the Navy will shift to one squadron of ‘14s, four squadrons of sub hunters, and two squadrons of helicopters. They’re standing up most of those squadrons now.”
“Who’s in overall command?”
“For now, the commodore. She’ll turn over soon, but her relief will retain her authority. In time, that will change.”
“Yes, sir.”
MAINTENANCE HANGER, RAF KENLEY, UK
1200, 13 October, 1942
Rain pours down on the hanger where the veteran squadrons of Task Force Yankee are formed up in their full-dress blues. A Bentley pulls up and at a signal from Fluffy, side boys man the line and a boatswain pipes aboard King George, Queen Elizabeth, and Princess Elizabeth. A second car arrives with Prime Minister Churchill and Air Marshal Dowding. Lights flash as the event is recorded by photographers and film crews.
All present salute as the King, Queen, Princess, Churchill, and Dowding walk into the hanger. King George stops in front of Commodore Hunt and she salutes. He returns it, “Good afternoon, Commodore. I wish to personally thank you and your courageous men and women for their exceptional service to Britain and her people.”
“It was our honor, Your Majesty.”
“It is my honor to convey our appreciation. Please take a knee.” He turns to a herald and nods.
The herald reads, “Now before you, Your Majesty, is Commodore Samantha Hunt, Commander of Air Forces Great Britain, Commander US Navy Forces Great Britain, and Task Force Yankee. The ace of aces with 110 aircraft shot down in your service.”
King George, “I grant thee Dame Grand Cross of the Most Honorable Order of the Bath.” He lightly taps his sword on each of her shoulders. He then puts a ribbon holding a medal over her head. “Arise Dame Hunt. I also grant thee the Distinguished Service Order and Distinguished Flying Cross.” He pins them on her uniform jacket.
Stunned, she stands, “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She stands back.
The herald then calls, “Commander Stephan Swedenborg, Commanding Officer of the Black Knight squadron, and an ace with 81 aircraft shot down.” The king grants Swede the Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the Bath, the DSO, and the DFC. Next, Thud receives the same honors. The herald calls up every ace aircrew to receive an appropriate order and the DFC. Lt. Gus “Cuddles’ Grant receives an honorary majority in the Highland Guards for leading them in battle.
AOCM Bruce ‘Fluffy’ Bond, who rescued a Lancaster crew and took down a German jet with a wrench, while under fire, is the only enlisted personnel given an order, the Knight Companion of the Bath. Lt. Oscar Hammond, for his services developing the jet aircraft for Britain, also receives the KCB.
When the honors and awards are all bestowed, King George says, “With the permission of President Roosevelt and the military and Congress, I shall honor each squadron here a royal distinction. Thank you for all that you have done for my kingdom.”
They all render a crisp salute.
As the Royals get into their vehicle, an aid comes up to Hunt, salutes, and hands her a letter. She returns the salute, “Thank you.”
“It is an invitation to tea with his Majesty.”
“Please tell him that I accept and would be honored.”
“Very good.” The aid snaps his heels and departs.
Then Churchill steps forward, “Mere words cannot possibly convey the debt of gratitude the United Kingdom has to each and every one of you. Your pure and unwavering commitment to the defense of each and all of us is without parallel in our history. It is beyond any possibility to measure. It is such that the Spartans of Thermopylae woul
d hold you in awe, for they numbered three hundred and held for only three days. Whereas, you, near the end, had only two aircraft and six air crew. You held the line for seven crucial months. You held unwavering against incredible odds until reinforcements could arrive. It was our most desperate moment, and you held. Truly, these two words are inadequate in the extreme, but I say thank you. Thank you all.”
For a moment all is silent, then a loud cheer erupts from the ranks. Hunt, “Attention.” They snap to. “Hand salute.” As one, they salute, and hold it as Churchill returns it. “Two.” And they return to attention. “At ease.”
Churchill turns to Hunt, “Thank you.”
Hunt smiles, “Thank you, sir. May I ask a question?”
“Please.”
“Practically, what does the royal designation mean?”
“His Majesty has authorized you to add ‘royal’ to your squadron’s names. We are issuing a crown pin until a unique pin can be designed to be worn on your uniforms. As I understand it, all here will receive the honor and be authorized to wear them in perpetuity. Any member of the squadrons coming in later will be authorized to wear it while in the unit.”
“When I have tea with their majesties, what devices of the grand cross should I wear?”
“Your crimson sash and star with your medals.”
“I’ll clank so much; they’ll easily hear me coming.”
“Indeed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Churchill offers his hand and they shake. He and Dowding leave.
She turns to her command, “Fall out. Carry out the plan of the day.”
Fluffy shuffles through the stack of boxes left by the king’s staff, “Spike, over here. Guys, your other stuff is over here.”
She walks over and takes a wood box. It has Commodore, Dame Samantha Hunt, GCB, DSO, DFC engraved on the lid. She opens it to find a sash, star, medal bar device, ribbons, and a crown pin. “Thank you…” She grins, “Sir Fluffy.”
There’s a box with additional pins and a flag for each squadron. Swede and Gandhi pull out the Black Knight flag. It’s royal blue with a gold fringe. In the center is a coat of arms surrounded by gold laurel with a crown on the top. The coat of arms is divided into four with the bottom left having red and white vertical stripes and the upper right having a blue background with a circle of thirteen stars. The bottom right quadrant is black with a gold anchor and the top left is black with a gold dragon.
Each squadron has a variation of colors with the same devices. The White Knights have white quadrants; the Iron Angels, silver; the Devil Dogs, green, with the eagle globe and anchor; Lightning, light blue, and the Valkyries, red.
Hunt looks around at her people, then picks up her box and walk out the back of the hanger. Lt. Grant, carrying his duffle and box, catches up to her, “Spike?”
“I’m sorry, Cuddles, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I get it. I needed to tell you that Urland is still trucking along. God knows how. I saw him this morning.”
“Is he awake?”
“Off and on. Boss, what happened to him?”
They get to her jeep and Spike motions him to get in. Spike pulls out, “A company strength SS Panzer battalion circled around to our rear. They got to Epsom and nothing stood in their way to Kenley except Urland and his little scouting detachment. We scrambled everything available, including the ground crews, to defend the base. I asked him to delay them. It was a suicide mission.” She looks over at Cuddles.
“What did he do?”
“He taped a sword to his back and walked out in front of four tiger tanks. I found out later, they had managed to disable the rest of them. It was amazing what he and his men did. Lord knows what he said to the SS commander, but it bought us the time. We were able to stack a dozen aircraft and start the strafing run. Tommy pulled out the sword and killed the bastard. The Germans shot Tommy. His guys returned fire and managed to pull him to cover. Then we wiped them out. The A-10 guys were sniping individual Germans. It was a blood bath.”
Cuddles is silent, then, “Will he ever fly again?”
They pull up to the control center, “I don’t know. Again, how are you?”
“My head and arm are better. I can fly.”
“I’m glad, Gus. I am. I’ll go to see Wingnut tomorrow.”
“Am I allowed to be an honorary major?”
“It’s honorary. Yes.”
“Can I wear this uniform they gave me?”
“Not when you’re on duty. A kilt would suck during an ejection.” She grins.
Grant chuckles, “Another thing. I borrowed a dirk from a woman in Lockerby. I want to see her before we go home.”
“Who is she?”
“She owns a tavern. I walked into her bar an absolute mess and she let me…well, she bathed me in her own tub and cleaned my clothes.”
“Are you two an item?”
“She’s like fifteen years older than me, but yeah, I think we are. She said that when I return the dirk, she’d see to it I’d never leave again. I’ll be back, but I need to know, and so does she.”
“Arrange it with Swede and go. No problem. If you do decide to get married, make sure you bring her down here, or up to Holy Loch, and get her ID and set her up financially.”
“Am I nuts?”
“No, Cuddles. Thank you for what you did. I don’t know if you realize it, but your unit had the first victories on the ground. In a way, your actions swung the momentum of the whole battle. Could you give Andrews a full after action as to what you did?”
“He asked me already, and I did.”
“Good. I have to get back to work. I would love to meet your lady some time.”
“Thank you, Spike.”
She walks into her office and discovers a navy captain, “Hi, Duke.” She offers her hand.
Captain Earl ‘Duke’ Carpenter takes it. “It’s good to see you, Spike.”
“And you. Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee.”
Cooper asks, “How do you like it?” He pours Duke a cup.
“Like I like my reports, straight up. Spike, I’m your relief.”
She sits down, “When.”
“Eight days. The Tomcatters and Redcocks will stay for now. Four Army Airforce Tomcat squadrons will be flying in in the next few days.”
“Understood. The Army wouldn’t want a woman here.”
“I don’t think it’s that. You need a break.” He hands her his, and her orders.
She nods, reading them. “Okay, turn over and report to Patuxent River. Cooper, please get Andrews.”
She looks up and he’s already gone. She hears a faint, “Yes, Spike.”
She takes a deep breath, “I’ve a lot to do in eight days. I don’t see…” She shuffles the papers, “There are no follow-on orders. What gives?”
“I don’t know, Spike. It says to report to NAVAIR. I assume an air wing.”
Andrews walks in. Spike, “Duke, meet your chief of staff, Peter Andrews. Peter, Earl ‘Duke’ Carpenter, my relief. Give him everything you give me. Duke, will the BOQ work, or do you want in here immediately?”
“I’m not firing you, Spike. The BOQ is fine.”
“Of course, you aren’t. Right. We have three bases. Alconbury is being rebuilt, but won’t be available for a month or two. If you need more basing, ask Eisenhower or Air Marshall Dowding. Have you reported to Eisenhower yet?”
“No. I wanted to tell you first.”
“Thank you. Cooper, please drive him over. Tomorrow, we’ll start command and base inspections. In a few days, I have to go to Buckingham. Andrews, I need to see Chatman.”
“Yes, Spike.”
She looks back at Carpenter, “Are you briefed into Rose Bud?”
“I am. I brought Chatman’s replacement.”
“Okay, we’ll conduct that turn over on the last day. Is that acceptable?”
Duke, “It is. Are you alright?”
�
��That’s an irrelevant question right now. Let’s stay on task.”
“Yes, Spike.”
“Go check in with Eisenhower. We’ll talk later.”
Duke salutes and leaves with Cooper.
Andrews studies her, “No word on your next assignment?”
She avoids his gaze, “Can you give me a minute?” She walks into her room and into her bathroom. “I fucked up something. I must have. What the fuck did I do to get fired?” She washes her face with cold water, dries, and walks back to her office. “Tell Chatman to prepare to turn over. I’ll see him in the morning. I’m going to Guys to see our wounded.”
“Yes, Spike.” His worried gaze follows her as she walks out.
She gets into her sedan and drives to London. A heavy rain is falling, washing down the piles of debris and the black skeletons of buildings burned out by the air raids. “No orders mean no duty assignment. It has to be Buford. What else could I have done?”
TOKYO BAY, JAPAN
0515 (1815, 12 October, GMT), 13 October, 1942
USN Lieutenant Chris ‘Chaos’ Hisakawa adjusts the tiller on his fishing boat. Well clear of Yokosuka, the headlands swirl the winds. Shot down in January, he’s been hiding as a simple fisherman. He studies the waters, picking a spot to cast out their nets. Then miles away down bay, he sees a huge submarine with a surface ship near it. “Grandfather, please, take the tiller.”
Asahi Koizumi was a college professor when he and his granddaughter were thrown back in time to World War II Japan. He moves over and takes the tiller, “Son, is there a squall coming?”
“Yes. I will hurry.” He drops the sail and sets the drift nets with practiced efficiency. He ties the tiller and lets the boat drift. They go below. The small boat is hit by a gust of wind, then the rain comes.
Fukue, Asahi’s granddaughter gives them each a cup of tea.
Chris, “Thank you, love.”
Fukue, “It’s a cold day.”
“That should be good for the fish.” He looks out a port at the submarine. Asahi and Fukue follow his gaze.
Asahi, “What do you think they do?”
“I don’t know. The new subs are very large. As I recall, the Japanese built submarines that could launch aircraft. That might be it.”
