Should England Fall

by M L Maki

  “How are we going to move them all?’

  Swede, you know those folks are who our guys fight for. We can’t afford to lose our families again.”

  “Roger, Spike.”

  “Swede, the easy stuff, they give to the Air Force.”

  They make eye contact and smile, “Roger that, Spike,” and jumps down. The ground crew run clear waving the ordinance flags and a yellow shirt indicates she can start her engines.

  FIELD NEAR BRANCEPETH, WEST OF DURHAM, UK

  Howdy sits in the field waiting, then remembers his survival radio.

  “Howdy, Buck. Howdy, Buck.”

  “Go for Howdy.”

  “You got German infantry in the trees to your west. If you can, run south.”

  “Roger.” Drawing his 1911, he looks toward the trees and starts running south. He sees movement, “Damn, a pistol to a rifle fight.” The stabbing pain in his ankle slowing him down, he hobbles past his burning A-10, and hears bullets zipping by him, and changes direction. Then he hears the brrrt of an A-10 laying down suppressing fire. He feels a swat in his ass and tumbles forward.

  “Come on, Howdy. Come on.” His ass on fire and his ankle throbbing, he gets up and runs, firing a shot at the Germans. He can hear the whop, whop of a helicopter approaching. He keeps running, trying to get into the trees, then sees the outline of a German tank. As he turns east, a man steps out of the shadows.

  SS-Obersturmbannfurhrer Rolf Meier smiles at Howdy, and in English says, “You won’t be harmed, American.”

  Howdy freezes, looking at the German, then “Go to hell,” he fires and keeps running. He feels a burning pain as the he his hit, again and again.

  VALKYRIE 1 APPROACHING HOWDY

  Cargo Britches sees Howdy fall and swings the chopper around, “Yogi!”

  AW1 Paul ‘Yogi’ Chatman opens up with his mini-gun, “They got a tank!”

  The Germans scatter as Yogi calmly mows them down and Cargo Britches settles the chopper on the grass. “Keep shooting.” On radio, “Dog 1, we got a tank in the trees.”

  “Dog 1. Roger.”

  He copilot, LT Jim ‘Smooth’ Lowndowski climbs out of the chopper and runs to Howdy. He picks him up and gets him the helicopter as Yogi lays down a steady stream of 7.62 rounds. “Go, Boss.” Yogi keeps firing as they climb and transition to forward flight.

  TREES SOUTH OF THE FIELD

  Meier runs for his tank, then hears the brrrt of one of the attack jets and watches his tank go up in flames, his men trying to scramble free. “Shit! Shit! Fucking American whores! Jung, give me your tank.”

  LCAC, DEPARTING USS DANIEL J. DALY, 35 MILES WEST OF CAMP PENDLETON, CA

  1201, 24 September, 1942 (2001 GMT)

  SGT Tom Thompson stands with his platoon behind the ramp of the LCAC they are riding. The noise is palpable. This is their third practice landing, and it’s starting to get boring. Their three M-2A4 tanks are arranged behind them. The tank crews are required to stay out of the tanks until right before landing. His platoon officer, 2nd LT Ed Shay says, “These air cushion landing craft are killer diller.”

  Thompson nods, “It is nice to land dry, but I wonder how well they’ll survive under fire.” They get the signal to mount up and climb into their tanks. Another signal and they start engines.

  A sailor signals to hold the brakes as another pulls the chains. Moments later, they feel the LCAC hit the beach. The boat decelerates and tips up at the front. Then the ramp goes down and they pull forward out of the LCAC. His and SGT Porter’s tanks race up the beach. The LT’s breaks down behind them. He can see the other LCACs land. “Driver advance.” They pull up to their first AP and stop, waiting for the LT.

  Waiting, they see some brass approaching. They’re in a battle simulation, so he does not salute, “Sirs.”

  Admiral Klindt says, “Come on down, Marine.”

  Thompson un-asses his track and realizes that Major General Charles D. Barrett, his division commander, is behind the admiral, “Sorry, sir’s. We were simulating combat and…”

  Klindt waves his hand, “You were correct, Marine. Can you show me your tank?”

  “Yes, sir. The M2A4 is a 1920’s design, sir, with a 37mm main gun.”

  The admiral climbs into the gunner’s seat, “What’s it like at speed in here?”

  Thompson, “It jostles us around a good bit, but it’s a tank, sir, not a Cadillac.”

  Klindt nods, “My Marines deserve a Cadillac.”

  “Sir?”

  “Marine, if you had a stabilized gun, something over 100 millimeters, and a bit more consideration for ergonomics, I bet you could hit targets out to two miles.”

  “Does such a tank exist, sir?”

  “Not yet, but it will.”

  “Can I ask why you are here, sir?”

  “To evaluate the LCACs. My team is in charge of all the new technologies. We need to get you all decent tanks. Simple and relatively easy to maintain. It also ought to be water proof, with filtered air.”

  “That would be wonderful, sir, but what is an ergonomic?”

  Klindt smiles, “It’s the study of how people interact with technology. I want the tank to fit the man, not the other way around.” He climbs out, “General, I want to borrow one of your tanks. Also, a couple of your most experienced sergeants.”

  “Admiral Klindt, while you were in the tank, we got orders to ship out to Virginia.”

  “That will take some time. Your people and armor can meet you there.”

  Yes, sir.”

  ARTHUR 1, 40,000 FEET, SW OF NEWCASTLE ON THE TYNE

  2013, 24 September, 1942

  Spike, “Okay, Lizard, find out if Howdy made it.”

  Lizard makes the call.

  Cargo Britches, “Arthur 1, Valkyrie 1, he’s breathing, but critical. We dropped him off at Guys. Three in the chest. It isn’t hopeful.”

  Lizard, “Roger, Valkyrie 1.”

  Spike, “Fuck. Where’s Thud?”

  “18,000 feet, about 40 miles east of us. He just sent a couple of ‘262s home with their tails between their legs.”

  “Okay, we’ll stay high. Let’s head east and see who bites.”

  “Roger.” On radio, “Speedy, Lizard, we’ll stay on top. Let’s trawl east for German bottom fish.”

  “Lizard, Speedy, great to hear you. High, low, time to go. We’ve two sevens and two nines and we’re dark.”

  Lizard to Spike, “Does it feel good with Thud on your wing again?”

  “It does. Please don’t take this wrong, but I miss Puck.”

  “Sure you do, he was your left hand. Truth Spike, we all miss him. He was steady in an indispensable way.”

  “He…he’s a good friend.”

  “Boss, twelve bandits at angels 30 and 250 miles.”

  “Roger. Change course?”

  “Boss, if we fly straight, they won’t know we see them.”

  “Good call.”

  “Spike, were you and Puck…?”

  “Friends? Yes, very good friends. We were a good team in the air.”

  “I think he hated your friend, Hughes.”

  “I know, but I don’t understand why.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, Lizard. Do you?”

  Lizard, “Umm...we’re approaching time to play.”

  “Okay. Fire the four and guide Thud in.”

  “We got lock.”

  Spike, “Volley fox 3.” She selects the AIM-1 and holds down the trigger. All four missiles leave the rails and streak toward their targets.

  Lizard, “Duck your head, Speedy.”

  Speedy, “Si, Senor.”

  FU-279, 30,000 FEET, 100 MILES NORTH OF AMSTERDAM.

  Hauptmann Kurt Welter sweeps his instruments with relaxed urgency. On radio, “Keep eyes out.” Then he spots the exhaust of the missiles, “Incoming! Break! Break!”

  He pulls up to meet the missiles, fires counter measures and climbs. As he passes vertical, he spins to see his flight. Three planes are
tumbling into the sea. “The American will die. He will die. He is only one. He pulls onto his back and orients toward Spike.

  GAWAIN 1, 24,000 FEET, CLIMBING TO MEET THE GERMANS

  Thud, “Most jinxed up. Get me lock.”

  “On it. Tone two.”

  “Fox 1, Fox 1,” Two AIM-7s scream toward the ‘279s. One hits between the engines as it pulls to break over the top, breaking the fighter in two. The second missile hits a second plane near the radome, the blast pushing into the cockpit. The jet goes out of control and into the sea. Speedy, “Splash two.”

  ARTHUR 1, 100 MILES SOUTH EAST OF NEWCASTLE

  Spike, “Lock up two.”

  “Thud?”

  “Now, Lizard.”

  “Fox 1, Fox 1. He knows what we’re doing.” Two Aim-7s streak towards the Germans.

  Speedy, “Zooming, Spike.”

  As Spike fires at several FU-279s and rolls over the top, looking for Thud. She sees Thud racing vertical in full afterburner. He’s above the carnage caused by her missiles. Lizard, “Splash 2.” Then, “Oh my God!” He watches as the second stricken bird clips his wingman, taking out his vertical stabilizer, and sending them both to the sea. Lizard, “A twofer!”

  “Grunt.” Spike climbs violently, avoiding a missile. It explodes in her chaff, causing their ’14 to shake. She drops her nose and dives, meeting a ‘279, head to head.

  WELTER’S FU-279

  Hauptmann Welter meets the F-14, head to head. The closure is a blur, but in his lights, he sees the flags. “It’s the Drachendame. I’ve got her. She’s mine.” He pulls vertical, going to full afterburner.

  On radio, he hears one of his men, “Who is the other?”

  The American ace has matched his maneuver, “I don’t care.” He continues over the top and spins upright, yanking the stick back to bleed off speed in the climb. He realizes she is not there, and looking to his right he sees her five miles away, closing on one of his squadron. “Fuck!”

  Then he feels the thud of rounds hitting his fuselage, and rolls his bird on its back again, maneuvering to get away. Alarms go off in his cockpit. His left engine is on fire and he’s fighting to keep her straight. Then, he feels more rounds hitting his plane, and it tips up on its left side and slides down, out of controlled flight. The wingman sweeps past him. “Fuck, fuck. I’m in trouble.” Out of airspeed, his aircraft spins straight down.

  GAWAIN 1

  Instead of following the wounded bird down, he rolls out, “Where is she?”

  Speedy, “Looking.”

  Thud sees an explosion. He traces the missile to its source. “Found her. The Germans are bugging out.”

  Speedy asks, “How many?”

  Thud, “We got three. I think that last guy might nurse it home.”

  “He’s still down there somewhere if you want.”

  “Nah, let him go. He’s no threat.” Spike joins them on their right wing.

  Speedy, “The boss got at least five.”

  They see Lizard use a flashlight to show six fingers.”

  Speedy, “That would be six.”

  Thud, “When we get back, tell Lizard not to do that. If Spike sees it, it’ll piss her off.”

  “Thud, do you know her deal with that?”

  “Yeah. Compadre, how many people did we just kill?”

  “Three birds. I saw two chutes. One.”

  Thud, “No. We killed three. The other two will freeze to death or drown.”

  Speedy, “But, they would kill us.”

  “So, I hit Hans because Hans is going to hit me. Does that make it right?”

  “In war it does.”

  “Speedy, think. When we are at war, should we give up our humanity?”

  “Thud, we have to. It’s the gig. We kill the enemy until they give up or die. The more we kill, the sooner that day will come.”

  “Then you would preemptively bomb Berlin with the gadget?”

  “I’m not a monster, Thud.”

  “Speedy, who was the monster, Doctor Frankenstein, or the creature he made?”

  “Fuck, dude. This is getting deep.”

  Thud, “How do you reconcile the killing, compadre?”

  “I try not to think about it.”

  “For your mental health, for your sanity, you need to work through it.”

  On radio, “Gawain 1, Arthur 1, fuel check.”

  Speedy, “2 decimal 6, Arthur 1.”

  “Gawain 1, Arthur 1, come to 255. We’ll RTB and load up.”

  Speedy, “255 and 28, Arthur 1, Gawain 1, aye,” Intercom, “Thud, if I go down that hole, I’ll be a mess. Combat non-effective. I’ll take the hit when we’re done.”

  “Okay, amigo, but don’t go there alone. It’s a dark and painful path.”

  “Who helped you?’

  “My dad when I selected fighters. Swede and Spike when we were heading to Australia.”

  “Did your dad have kills?”

  “Three in Vietnam. All three died.”

  Speedy, “He would be proud of you, Frank.”

  Thud, “Yeah, but worried, too.”

  “Thud, I don’t get your question. The monster is the monster.”

  “No, my friend. The monster was a brand-new creature trying to survive in a world it did not understand. The doctor knew what he was doing and did it anyway. We have a job to do, but at the same time, we cannot lose our humanity.”

  “Is that why you let the wounded bird go?”

  “Yeah, Speedy. I hope he makes it, too.”

  SURGERY, GUYS HOSPITAL, LONDON, UK

  2116, 24 September, 1942

  The on-shift surgeon walks to the sink and washes his hands. “Time of death, 9:16 pm, 24 September, 1942. Cause of death, severe trauma from multiple gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen. We have a call to make.”

  The nurse says, “Yes, doctor.”

  CHAPTER 7

  4TH PLATOON, EASY CO, 2ND OF THE 509TH, WEST OF SUNDERLAND, UK

  2203, 24 September, 1942

  Dead on his feet, PFC Johnny Rodriguez slides his back down a stone wall next to a barn to sit. What’s left of the battalion is crashing as well. He pulls out his canteen for a drink, and it’s dry, “Fuck.” His sergeant motions for quiet.

  Johnny gets to his knees, looks around, and sees a pump well in the barnyard. He gets up and walks to it, drops his pack and rummages for his gun oil. A little squirt and he tests the pump. It’s quiet and he gets water on his first stroke. He fills his canteen, takes a long satisfying drink, and fills it again. The others have gathered with their canteens, so he steps away and looks over the barn.

  It’s an old, large stone barn. You could hide a tank platoon in it. He motions to his sergeant and walks up to it. A little more oil on the hinges of the man door and he gently opens it. He takes a couple of steps inside the dark interior and feels a knife against his ribs.

  A voice, in British English, asks, “What unit are you?”

  “509th Parachute Regiment. We’re just getting water.”

  The knife is removed, “Sergeant Tully, Home Guard. Do you have a doctor?”

  “We have a corpsman. It’s the best we have.”

  “Good, we’ve a wounded Yank pilot.”

  Johnny says, “I’ll get Doc.”

  CONTROL CENTER, RAF ALCONBURY

  2221, 24 September, 1942

  Spike walks in, “Report.”

  The watch officer says, “Lancelot 1 and 2 are over York. Trident is orbiting east of Scapa, processing a contact. The A-10s are at Kenley. Without forward air observers they can’t see anything at night. Whiskey 4 and 7 are orbiting over London and Edinburgh. Texas has a flight with each radar plane. Valkyrie 1 is fishing a couple of British pilots out of the drink east of Newcastle. The last German raid on Portsmouth is heading home. Three air fields north of London have been hit hard. The refinery west of Portsmouth was also hit and is still burning. Fighter Command reports eleven Griffins flight worthy. And ma’am, Guys Hospital called. LT Albert Henders
on didn’t make it. Sorry, ma’am.”

  “Okay. Thank you. Does Major Parks know?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He does.”

  “Where are the Germans.”

  “They are driving west from Newcastle and south past Durham. The southern push seems to be focusing to the east. They say that is a best guess.”

  “Okay, who is engaging them?”

  “British Army out of Penrith are engaging units near Haltwhistle. That is all I know.”

  “Very good. As soon as it’s light, send Dusty to support the units at Haltwhistle.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Moving forward, units in contact take precedence for A-10 air support. I’ll put in an urgent order for NOGs for our A-10 pilots.”

  “Yes, Commodore.”

  Two men in flight suits walk in, “Major Floyd Parks and Lieutenant Commander Leonard reporting.”

  Spike motions them over, “How many birds do you have that are flyable?”

  Parks, “Ten. We just lost Shit Howdy. My apologies, LT Albert Henderson. He died of his wounds.”

  “I’m so sorry, Major.”

  “Ma’am, the Germans murdered him. They just shot him dead.”

  “How is your squadron taking it?”

  Parks meets her gaze, “We want revenge.”

  Spike, “Winning is the best revenge. I’m going to try and get you NOGs. They’re night observation goggles. If I can get them, we need to train your guys on how to use them. We also need to make the sure the cockpit is NOG compatible.”

  Leonard looks at her in wonder, “We could fly at night. Those NOGs would be so helpful. Right, I have eleven birds. Also, we’re going through ammo and bombs at an insane rate.”

  Spike smiles, “When you’re out of everything except enemies, you’re in a combat zone. Have all your people moved to Kenley?”

  Parks smiles back, “Yes, ma’am. We both got the word.”

  “Good. My orders are simple. If you lose a plane or person, I want my staff to know soonest. They know when to wake me up. We’ll move heaven and earth to try to rescue a downed pilot. As a commander, take care of your people and they will take care of you. I can’t have a tyrant. If you need something or someone, let my staff know. Right now, you are the difference between success or failure. We don’t have to win every fight, but we must absolutely survive. Questions?”