by M. L. Maki
“I’ve been good. Do you have to go?”
“Early tomorrow morning, before you wake up, I will fly my plane up to where the stars live.”
“Really?”
“Really. I will fly so high nothing can get me, and then, I will fly back home to you.”
“Daddy, will you bring me a star?”
“My liebchen, the stars stay in the sky. That is where they live. But, maybe, if I ask nicely a star will come down for you.”
“Yes, Daddy. Yes.”
He holds her, his eyes closed, then kisses her and puts her in her bed, “Goodnight, Liebchen. I love you.”
“Daddy, if the stars want to stay home in the sky, that is good.”
“Yes, Heidi, that is good.” He bends down and kisses her on the forehead. “Sleep, my little one.” He turns to his wife and smiles as she walks in. He puts his arm around her and walks her out. Stopping, he turns around, smiling at his darling Heidi, turns off the light and shuts the door.
Sonja asks, “My love, do you know where you are going? I know you are worried. It is painted all over your face.”
He kisses her, walking her to their living room. “Tomorrow, I fly to New York and bomb it.”
She stiffens in his arms, “Can it be done?”
“Yes. It can.”
“But the Americans with their fast fighters?”
“They can’t fly or shoot as high as we will be. It will be fine, my darling.”
Her eyes fill with tears, “Give me another baby, love. Please.”
LEE’S HOME, ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
0724, 28 December, 1942
Jere finishes putting his bags into the already stuffed Packard. He goes to Sam and wraps her up, “I’m already missing you, my love.”
Sam kisses him, “I’m missing you, too. Drive careful, please?”
“I will. I’m the very soul of caution.”
On the other side of the car, Chris is holding Fukue and kissing away her tears, “I love you, my sweet. I’ve no doubt Sam’s folks are good people. You’ll be safe there.”
Fukue, “We’ll be safe, dear one. But, you…you…please be careful.”
“I will. I’m flying with the best.”
Lee, “We need to catch our plane, folks.”
Asahi, Fukue, and Jere climb into the Packard. As Jere drives away, they all wave until they cannot see each other. Hunt, Lee, and Hisakawa get into Lee’s Ford and Ashley drives them to Washington National Airport.
ALBATROSS 1
1055, 28 December, 1942
Oberst Grubber manages his wing of bombers, letting his copilot fly the big bomber. On radio he hears, “Albatross leader, Albatross 9. I have engine trouble with number 3 and 4.”
Grubber keys the mic, “9, 1. Return to base. We’re at full altitude. Is anyone else having trouble?”
“1, 16. I also have engine problems.”
“1, 34. My engines keep rolling back and 6 is surging.”
Grubber, “All planes with problems, return to base. We have a long way to go.” In all, twenty-two bombers need to return to base. To his copilot, “Most are fucking cowards. I will need to replace them.”
“Could some have legitimate issues, sir?”
“Yes, but not twenty-two. It is too many.”
WI7, BRITISH RADAR PLANE, 35,000 FEET, EAST OF EDINBURGH
Sergeant Guiles, on radar, “Sir, I’m picking up a group of high-altitude planes over Norway. 054 at 300 miles, sir.”
Flight Lieutenant Thomas, “Can you identify the number?”
“At least a dozen, sir. Best I can do at this range. Sir, they have to be above 60,000 feet.”
“Thank you, Guiles. Keep me informed.” He keys the radio, “Yankee, Whiskey India Seven, we have identified a group of high-altitude German aircraft over Norway flying north.”
Guiles, “Sir, some of them are turning back south.”
“Whiskey India Seven, Yankee. It might be a training flight. Observe and keep us posted.”
TREASURY DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, DC
0912, 28 December, 1942
Major Pettigrew stands at attention as Brigadier General Lincoln reads his FITREP out loud. “You deliberately undercut the commander multiple times. You disregarded the safety of your charges. You encouraged a stranger to enter her room while she was gone from it, to ambush her. You fool, she could have been raped, or worse. What do you have to say?”
“I was instructed by Quincy Diggs, Senator Russell’s chief of staff to do all those things. I was following orders, sir.”
Lincoln shouts, “I GIVE ORDERS! You do not follow orders from Congress, and certainly not from some chief of staff.” Lincoln picks up the phone, “Put me through to Senator Russell’s office. I need to speak to his chief of staff. Thank you. I’ll wait.” His gaze drills into Pettigrew. “Is this Mr. Diggs?”
Quincy Diggs frowns, “It is, General.”
“Could you please share the meat of your discussions with Major Pettigrew?”
“Major who?”
“Pettigrew. He recently mismanaged the Hunt bond tour.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever met him.”
“I see. Thank you.” Lincoln hangs up. “Well, your friend in congress has amnesia. That’s the problem with trusting politicians. Now, you’re the fall guy.”
Pale and sweating, Pettigrew stammers, “Yes…yes, sir.”
Lincoln observes Pettigrew’s demeanor and softens his tone, “I’ve no doubt it happened as you said. You were a fool not to bring this to my attention. I can’t have a fool in uniform. Major Pettigrew, effective immediately, you are dismissed from military service. Give me your identification.” He watches Pettigrew put his ID on the desk, “You may go.”
GRUMMAN FACTORY, LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK
1010, 28 December, 1942
Commander Hunt walks around her new jet, bureau number 322. The ’14 is already painted in Black Knights livery. She sees they’ve painted on all of her 115 kills. Her name and Chris’s are under the canopy. She’s brand new, and she’s all hers. Sam smiles.
Too Tall walks up, “Hey, Sam. Pretty, isn’t she? I’m about to lift for a test flight of the EA-14D. We still haven’t named it.” They turn and look at his jet.
Spike, “Your old bird was the Prowler. Do you suppose Grumman would go with Growler?”
Keg walks up, “Morning, ma’am. Already suggested and already shot down.”
Chris walks out from around Spike’s jet, “It’s a wild weasel. Call it the Weasel.”
Too Tall, “Chaos? Holy shit! Chaos, dude, I thought you were a goner.”
“The rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated. I stayed alive and I escaped.”
“You flying with Spike?”
“I am.”
Too Tall, “Good for you. Hell man, you need to shake the rust off fast. She’s the best pilot I know.”
Spike, “Thanks, Mike. What’s your call sign?”
Too Tall, “For the Lightning? Our call sign is ‘Sparky.’
Spike grins, “Royal Lightning.”
“That’s right.”
Leroy Grumman joins them, “Ma’am, is your bird satisfactory?”
Spike, “So far. The proof is in the flying. My RIO, Chaos, suggested we name the EA-14D the Weasel. A weasel is a kind of cat, right?”
Grumman does a double take when he looks over at Chris, “Japanese?”
Spike, “Born and raised in the States. Time traveler. What do you think of the name?”
Grumman, “Why weasel?”
Chris, “In aviation circles, the mission is called wild weaseling.”
Grumman, “A weasel is not a cat, but I like Wild Weasel. Work for you Commander Mohr?”
“I like it. Keg, let’s mount up.”
Lee joins them, “Can we push her bird out?”
They all salute and Spike asks, “What’s up, Admiral?”
Lee, “You’re supposed to do a fam flight. I want to mount a couple of Phoenix missiles
for testing.”
“Okay.” She and Chris climb into their bird, and the crew pushes them out of the hanger. She calls down to Lee, “I didn’t know they were finished.”
“They are, but they’re not real world tested yet. I’ll fly the chase plane.”
They watch as Commander Mohr’s plane roars down the runway and takes off.
As the techs load the ordinance, Spike and Chaos run through the preflight, “…and radio on. Testing intercom. Can you hear me, Chaos?”
“I hear you five by five, Spike.”
SPARKY 1, 20,000 FEET, EAST OF GRUMMAN FIELD
Keg on intercom, “Hey, Too Tall, come ten right.”
“What’s up?”
“I picked up a radio broadcast. It’s a German frequency. Looking with the camera. Oh, fuck.” He keys the microphone, “Any available unit, Sparky 1. Raid warning. Say again, raid warning. Forty plus unknown aircraft at 023. Altitude is extreme. Higher than angels 70.”
GRUMMAN FIELD
Spike hears Keg on the radio, “Shit. Damn.” She leans out of the bird, “Admiral, load them all. I need the John Wayne load out. The Germans are attacking.”
Lee, “What? Load all of them? They’re untested.”
“Dad, German planes at seventy plus thousand feet. An AIM-1 can’t get to them. A Phoenix can.”
Lee pales, “Right. Load all of them. Four in the tunnel and two on the gloves. Grumman, I need my jet loaded, too. And, I need a RIO.”
Sandra McRae runs up and salutes, “Sir, I’m a pilot, but I know the systems.”
Grumman runs to the chase plane, directing his people.
Lee, “Thanks, Ensign. Thank you. Let’s go.”
When they get to the plane, Grumman says, “It’s fueled and has had a test hop. We’ll need to load twenty mic and the missiles.”
Lee, “Understood. Once Spike is rolling, we’re number one aircraft for take-off.”
Spike, “Chaos, call Too Tall. Tell him we’ll be rolling soon. Use the call sign Arthur 1.”
Chaos, “Sparky 1, Arthur 1. We’ll be rolling in a bit with the full John Wayne.”
Keg, “Roger that, Arthur. They’re continuing south at about two hundred knots and angels 80. Repeat, angels 80. They look like an U-2 fucked a B-52.”
A ground crewman motions with his right hand to start the engines. Spike, “Starting 1.” She flips through the sequence, speaking each step aloud, “One is up. Cross over open. Starting 2.”
Chaos, “Grumman tower, Arthur 1. Request to taxi for immediate take off and unlimited climb.”
“Arthur 1, Grumman tower. You are cleared to taxi to the runway of your choice. You are cleared for takeoff and unlimited climb.”
Chaos, “Cleared, taxi, takeoff, climb out. Arthur 1.”
Spike, “Tripping the brakes. Rolling. Take off check list.”
80,000 FEET, 200 MILES NORTH EASET OF LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK
Oberstleutnant Oscar Mentz studies his instruments. His copilot, Hauptmann Gant is flying this leg. He can see Gant in the rear seat with a mounted mirror. When he looks out, he can see the curve of the earth and the ink black sky. So far, he isn’t tired of the view. He checks fuel consumption again. They have enough to fly back to Germany. “Gant, how are you doing?”
“Well, Oberstleutnant. She’s a big slow cow, but loves it up here.”
Mentz sees a bit land in the break in the clouds. They’re almost there.
GRUMMAN FIELD, LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK
Spike hears on radio, “Arthur, Sparky. Vector is 032. Altitude is angels 80.”
Chaos, “Sparky, Arthur. Thanks for the steer.”
Approaching the runway, Spike, “Clear right and left. Let’s go.” She turns onto the runway and lines up. Then she pushes the throttle forward to full military and the jet accelerates. In seconds, they’re airborne. “Wheels up. 032. Zone 5. Grunt.” As she accelerates, she rolls her bird into a seventy-degree climb, keeping the jet subsonic. “Chaos, illuminate as soon as you can.”
“Roger. Just a sec. Illuminating. We’re looking at sky. Ease the climb.” Spike flattens the climb to forty-five degrees. “Okay, got ‘em. 034 to intercept. There are more than thirty. Spinning up the missiles.”
Spike, “Call Sparky. Ask him to land and swap…here I have it.” Spike on radio, “Sparky 1, do you have the frequency of the bandits?”
“A-firm. 1720 decimal 6. You going to tell them ‘Hi’?”
“I am. RTB and swap to a Tomcat. Grumman tower, Arthur 1, set up a third Tomcat with the same load out. Dixie, what’s your status?”
McRae comes on, “Arthur 1, Arthur 324, still loading.”
Spike, “Arthur 324, there are thirty plus planes. Try to hit them where they won’t fall on the city. Sparky 1, you hit them as soon as you’re back in the air. After my first sortie, I’ll land, reload, and hit them again. They’re so slow, we’ll get multiple bites of the apple.”
“Arthur 1, Arthur 324, wilco.”
Arthur 1, Sparky 1, wilco.”
Arthur 1, Grumman, wilco.”
Spike on intercom, “Range?”
Chaos, “Fifty. They’re in the envelope.”
“Chaos, hit the jets in front. You take the shot.”
“On it. Volley Fox 3.” One missile fails to fire and tumbles. One fires its engine, but falls out of control. The remaining four climb after the German bombers.
Spike puts her radio on the German frequency, “Hey Hans. Today is your lucky day. You get to fly with the Dragon Lady. I hope you kissed your girls goodbye, because they are widows now.”
Four bombers explode. On the secure radio, Chaos, “Splash 4. No, splash 7.”
“What?”
“Three behind got caught in the debris cloud.”
ALBATROSS 2, 80,000 FEET, 150 MILES EAST OF LONG ISLAND
Oberstleutnant Oscar Mentz, on radio, “Albatross flight, Albatross 1. Stay calm. We are too many for one jet.” He looks out at the tight formation. On intercom, “Seven planes. We still have 31.”
His copilot, Hauptmann Gant, “Sir, we are Albatross 2.”
“No. The Oberst is dead. We are the flight lead.”
“Yes, sir. Is it the Drachendame?”
“We know she left England. It could be.”
“I wish we could kill her. We would be heroes.”
“Gant, we have our mission. Focus on that.”
“But if there is more than one?”
Six more bombers declare engine trouble and turn back.
ALBATROSS 19
Sweat pours down the face of Hauptmann Geer in Albatross 19, “It’s no good.” On radio, “Albatross 19 has engine trouble.” Geer, a fighter pilot, pushes the stick hard over for the turn. The strain on the wing root struts is enormous. The brittle piece cracks, then folds.
His copilot, Lieutenant Gunn, “You fool. You killed us.” He checks his parachute straps as the cockpit noses down and the plane disintegrates. “Please let the pressure system hold. Please.”
ARTHUR 1
Spike idles her engines and turns back to Grumman Field. Chaos, “Shit, we got one more. Can you swing so I can get it on camera?” She turns the plane and Chaos videos the bomber falling, shedding parts. “I have one chute. Let’s go.”
They hear on radio, “Arthur 1, Arthur 324, can you give us a steer?”
Chaos, “Arthur 324, come to 080. Angels 80. Say again, angels 8. 0.”
“Roger.”
As they fly to Grumman at Mach 1.4, Dixie flashes by in a steep climb.
ARTHUR 324
Sandy McCrae, “Got them on radar. It looks like twenty-five bandits, still over the ocean, and in tight formation.”
Dixie, “Tell me when we’re at 30 miles and you have 6 birds locked up. Hit the front ones.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dixie.”
“Okay, Dixie. Um, good lock. We’re at 30.”
Dixie, “Volley Fox 3.” The missiles drop and four acquire their targets. Two of the missiles fire thei
r engines, then tumble, breaking up.
McRae on radio, “Volley Fox 3.” Seconds later, “Splash 4. Correction, splash 6.”
ALBATROSS 1
Oberstleutnant Mentz flies the huge bomber as Hauptmann Gant works the bomb sight. Gant announces on radio, “Drop. Drop now.” Nineteen bombers release their cargo from their open bomb bays.
Tons of bombs fall on the city below. But, no one has ever dropped bombs from eighty thousand feet. The bombs scatter widely. Still, at twenty-four bombs per plane, four hundred and fifty-six bombs fall. Off shore winds blow most out to sea. Some land in the Hudson. Sixty bombs fall on New York City. Thirty on New Jersey.
Mentz slowly turns his jet and looks down on the city below. It takes a long time for the bombs to drop. The explosions look small so far away. He turns his formation for home. On radio, “Spread out the formation. They will strike us again.
CHAPTER 36
GRUMMAN FIELD
1105, 28 December, 1942
Spike leaves her plane to pee while it’s refueled and rearmed. Against regulations, they’re happening at the same time. Grumman catches up to her as she walks back to her plane, “We’ve the last four missiles loaded on your bird. How are they working?”
“We’re getting hits, but the malfunction rate is too high. Order missiles. Also…” She pulls out her notebook and writes a message, “Send this out. Put my name on it.”
“Roger that, Commander.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grumman.”
As she starts her preflight, he runs back to his office with the message.
SPARKY 1
Too Tall on intercom, “Keg, do you know what you’re doing back there?”
“Yes. I paid attention in class and did a couple of hops in these. Just a sec. Okay, straight ahead, angels 83. Course is 045. Speed is 220. I have lock on the rear of the formation. Do you want me to fire?”
“Yeah. Go ahead.”
Keg on radio, “Volley Fox 3.” Six AIM-54 Phoenix missiles drop. Again, one fails to fire. The rest, fire and track. Five more bombers are blotted out of existence.
ALBATROSS 1
Gant cries out, “Five. They got five more. Only fourteen remain.”
Mentz keys the mic, “Calm. We can do nothing except fly. Stupidity ends lives. Scatter the formation. It will make it more difficult for the enemy.”
ARTHUR 1
Spike smoothly climbs for altitude. “Do you have them?”
