by M L Maki
The farm yard is full of tanks and other vehicles. Wingnut walks up to the house and is stopped by a British private, “Name, unit, and ID, sir.”
“Lieutenant Urland, Black Knights,” and presents his ID.
The private salutes.
Wingnut grabs him by the collar with is good hand, “Are you trying to get us killed? You don’t salute on a battlefield.”
“Sir, we’re in England.”
“Yep, and the Germans are entering Darlington right now.” He lets the soldier go and walks through the door.
Inside, LT. Colonel Middleton, says, “Captain, you do not manhandle the men.”
“Lieutenant Urland, VF-154 squadron, sir. Tell your men not to salute in a combat zone, sir. If I get shot, I get shot. I just don’t want to die a stupid death when we have so much on the line.”
You’re one of those Yank fliers, then. The Hun is nowhere near. Right now, the thing is to evacuate the citizens and prepare a proper reception.”
“Sir, we took small arms fire outside of Darlington. Unless you have a defensive line there, they’ll be here inside of an hour.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, absolutely, incontrovertibly, beyond doubt, certain. They’re coming. The only question is whether you’ll hold or get crushed. I’ll do what I can, but you need to get ready.”
“It’ll be several hours before the civilians are withdrawn. We must hold.”
“Yes, sir. Find yourself a defensive line, and dig like mad.”
The Colonel turns to a map, “Captain Smith, put all units out to form a circle that covers the town and both bridges. Tell the men to dig in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wingnut, “Sir, I need a church steeple or other high vantage point. I have to see to guide in the A-10s and other aircraft.”
“I’ll see what can be done.”
FLIGHTLINE, RAF ALCONBURY
1520, 25 September, 1942
Spike and Lee walk out to their ‘14s in their flight gear. Lee, “I promise. Just one mission.”
“Okay. Stay on my wing. I get it, Dad.” Lizard and Packs are pre-flighting the birds. A few minutes later, they’re taking off in formation into the setting sun. Then they curve north, flying in uncharacteristic clear skies.
Then Einstein lifts off in Thud’s bird and slowly climbs to 5000 feet as Spike and Dixie orbit above him. Then, on radio, “Arthur flight, Whiskey Bravo Bravo, raid warning south. Designate raid 27. Ten bandits climbing through angels 25 at 500 knots at your 175 and 200 miles.”
Lizard on radio, “Roger, Whiskey Bravo Bravo. Arthur is inbound. Packs, dark.” On intercom, “You want a dark approach, right?”
“Yes, Lizard. Good call.”
“Boss, is Admiral Lee your father?”
“He’s sort of adopted me.”
“Cool. He’s an awesome guy. You know he and Papa were close.”
“Yeah, Lizard, I know.”
“Did Dixie, like, just ask to be your Dad?”
“Lizard, I’ve known Dixie since my first deployment in Hawkeyes. We’re legitimately close.”
“I know you are. Now, I kinda know why. Sorry for prying.”
Spike smiles, “It’s okay, Lizard. You know Audrey is in the States?”
“I didn’t. Where? If she needs, I can set her up at my grandparents place in Milwaukee.”
“She flew over to launch a new destroyer. Now, she’s staying at Dixie’s with Donna Bond.
“What destroyer?”
“The USS James Holtz, DDG-1. Dixie just told me.”
“Oh my God! Papa is getting a boat. Cool.”
On radio, “Arthur 1, raid 27 is 100 miles out at your front.”
Lizard, “Roger, Whiskey. Packs, illuminate.” On intercom, “Boss, ten at 32. I have lock.”
“Volley.” She fires off all four AIM-1s. One fails to track and tumbles ahead of them and she pulls up to avoid it, “Grunt.”
The other three find their targets and one ‘262 goes up in a fire ball and other is hit in the tail and pitches nose down and spins into the sea. Lizard, “Splash 2.”
Packs, “Splash 3.”
Lizard, “They’re boring in.”
Spike, “Okay. Vertical thatch weave.”
Lizard on radio, “Thatch, go down.”
“Grunt.” And Spike climbs and Dixie inverts in a dive. They both roll so they can see the enemy. Four are diving and one is climbing to meet her. Air brakes out, wings forward, she inverts and pulls her nose over. As her nose crosses the enemy jet, she fires her gun. She misses and the German rolls away. She puts on her afterburners and dives after him.
HAUPTMANN (CAPTAIN) HEINRICH GUNTER’S ME-262B
He has to roll out of position to avoid the gun fire and the big navy jet passes before he can regain his line. They pass so close he sees her flags, “It’s the Drachendame!”
Arthur 1
Spike maneuvers in the dive, trying to get lead on another jet. Dixie passes her, “Sidewinder. Tone. Fox 2.” The missiles twists toward the German.
GUNTER’S ‘262
Gunter, “Red 6, flares, break, break!” The sidewinder changes lock to a flare and misses. “Stay on your game.” He dodges machine gun fire from the Lee’s ’14. He quickly pulls back in and the two nearly collide. “Fuck.” He rolls away and pulls back toward the Drachendame, watching as another of his precious planes spirals into the sea.
ARTHUR 1
Her second AIM-9 finds a target. Lizard, “Dixie is playing with the leader. One V One, five up.”
“He’s got it.” She rolls into a tight turn, “Grunt.” And she’s in a one circle fight with a ‘262. There is no way the German jet can win this. The issue is the other jets, “Where are they?”
“We’ve got one on our six!”
Packs on radio, “Spike, break left!”
She snap rolls left and climbs, “Grunt.” She sees Dixie diving on the bird behind her and switches to the leader. He’s trying to get onto Dixie’s six. She lines up and takes the shot, the rounds hit the fuselage and the German breaks off.
They hear, “Splash 1.”
The three remaining jets break off and bug out south. She climbs back to 35,000 feet, “Lizard, when he’s back on my wing, let’s do a damage check.”
“Roger that, Boss.” That last one, did we get it?”
“I don’t know.”
Lizard on radio, “Arthur 2, Arthur 1, damage check.”
They circle each other and find no damage.
AUCKLAND CASTLE, BISHOP AUCKLAND, DURHAM, UK
1526, 25 September, 1942
The Rommel’s Headquarters unit pulls to a stop in front of the 12th century castle. Troops run from the vehicles and run in to secure the castle. An Anglican priest in a black suit and clerical collar steps from the main door and finds the muzzle of a rifle in his face. The soldier butt strokes him to the ground and runs into the building.
Field Marshal Rommel climbs from his tank and walks to the four-wheeled reconnaissance vehicle that is his communications track. He can hear General Weber shouting on the radio, “Tell command it is imperative that the American attack planes be given priority. If we lose our armor it’s all for naught!”
The reply from Germany is faint. “We understand. The Fuhrer wants the Drachendame and her fighters destroyed.”
Rommel picks up the microphone, “This is 4th Corp speaking. The attack planes disrupt and delay our operations. When you kill them, the navy fighters must come and also be destroyed.”
There is a pause, then, “The 4th Corps will be supported.”
Rommel says, “Good. We hold RAF Ouston, near Newcastle. If you fly out of there, less fuel is needed and the Americans must defend in two directions. Would Herr Goering be acceptable with this?”
He hears Weber, “Yes, Herr Field Marshal. I’m told he suggested much the same.”
“Make the arrangements.”
“Yes, Herr Field Marshal.”
“Thank you,
General Weber.”
“Heil Hitler.”
CUDDLES NEAR BARDON MILL
1541, 25 September, 1942
The British are being pushed back by the closing German tanks. The air is saturated with the smell of burning metal and gasoline and human flesh. The British leave over a dozen destroyed tanks on the field and fall back, hemmed in by the river to their south and rugged terrain to their north. The real enemy is the precise fire of the German artillery. Out gunned and under-manned, the Brits fight on, managing to take out a few more German Panzers, but unable to destroy their artillery.
Cuddles hears on radio, “Cuddles, Dog flight, 1 is inbound your location.”
Cuddles, “Dog flight 1, best approach from the southwest. No observable surface to air. Battle line is north to south just east of the town.”
“Roger, Cuddles. Three mikes out.”
Cuddles, “Sir, the Warthogs are three minutes out.”
“Good, very good.” They watch another Churchill tank blow up. Then another. Brigadier Tetley says, “What the bloody hell? The Hun tanks are falling back?”
Another Churchill explodes. Cuddles picks up his binoculars. Scanning the area, he spots movement in the distance. Then he sees the flash of a gun and another Churchill is gone. “Sir, they’re bringing in a new tank.” He points out their position. On radio, “Dog 1, Cuddles, there’s a group of tanks on the rise east of town. They are your target.”
“Wilco, Cuddles. Have you identified their type?”
“Negative, but they’re chewing us up.”
FINAL APPROACH, RAF KENLEY, SOUTH OF LONDON, UK
1722, 25 September, 1942
Spike breaks through the overcast and into the rain on the brief flight from Alconbury. She flies over suburbs and villages on the approach to RAF Kenley, passes over a road and is over the base. Her tires chirp on the tarmac and she lays on the brakes. Following directions to a small taxiway, she comes to a stop as armed Marines surround her bird and ammo handlers push out a cart. “Okay, Lizard, sorry, time to get wet.” She opens the canopy and climbs down.
LCDR Chatman salutes, “Commodore, do you want to see the new digs?”
“Please.” The weapons shelter was hastily put together. Inside are exposed brick walls and steel columns and beams. She looks around, “Does it leak?”
“So far, no. They sealed the outside with concrete.” They watch the device being wheeled in.
“Okay, if there’s a problem let me know soonest.”
“Will do. Are you doing all right, Commodore?”
“Yes, thank you for asking, Chatman.”
“No problem. By the way, after your dog fight carrying the gadget we gave it a full inspection and tested all the circuits. No damage.”
“Good, thank you. By the way, when is your engineers board?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Spike smiles, “We have the fight of our lives ahead of us, but we can’t forget, there will be a tomorrow.”
CUDDLES NEAR BARDON MILL
Cuddles and Tetley watch as the A-10s take out tank after tank on the eastern ridge, but it’s not enough. The A-10s, out of fuel and ammo, have to leave, and still the Germans advance.
Cuddles, “I’ve got Spitfires, Hurricanes, and Mosquitoes coming in, but I don’t know what they can do against these tanks. We have to try.”
“Agreed. We have to plan our retreat. I’ve just received word that the Germans are redeploying their artillery.”
SPIKE’S F-14, IN FRONT OF HER NEW HANGER, RAF KENLEY
The ground crew pushes her jet into a large wooden hanger where Admiral Lee is waiting with his flight bag. Seeing him, Spike smiles, and she and Lizard complete the shutdown. She climbs down and grins, “Are they letting you fly the transport?”
“Nope, it seems I’m to be a passenger. In fact, me and Einstein are the only passengers.”
“How many people can that thing hold?”
“With seats, over a hundred.”
“Could you talk them into a couple of flights out of Alconbury to get the civilians out? I need to evacuate the families who our people have grown attached to. These guys fight for the people they love. It would kill them to lose girlfriends and wives, again. Fluffy and Hamm are setting up the evacuation.”
“Will do, darlin. Three stars ought to get it done.”
“Thanks, Dad,” and hugs him. “Fly careful.”
“Always, darlin. I’ll be back tomorrow with two more. I’m the gift that just keeps on giving,” he laughs. “I love you, Sam. Be careful.” He turns and walks to the waiting C-56.
She watches him until he’s inside the plane. As she turns, Cooper appears at her elbow, “Shower or Control Center?”
“Control Center.”
He walks her out the back door of the hanger and along a cobble path. They climb into a jeep, “Where are we going?”
“Under the tower.”
“What tower?”
“See the water tower over there? That’s the field tower. It’s British camouflaging. You’ll see.”
“Okay, Does the barracks look like a stack of hay?”
“Nope, it’s too late in the season for that. It looks like a grove of trees.”
“I’m in Oz.” The water tower appears to be on a hill, but the hill is really camouflage netting and canvas hiding a building and a car park. They go under the netting and Radar parks the jeep in a spot marked ‘Commodore.’ “And I have my own parking spot. Wait, Radar, where did you get the jeep?”
“I requisitioned it from Eisenhower’s staff. They said I could have what I wanted, so I got twenty jeeps, five trucks, and I’m waiting on a bus.”
“A bus?”
“This field is more spread out than Alconbury. We need the transport.”
“Okay, Cooper. So, you got the transport. The jeeps are for getting pilots from the quarters to the field?”
“Yes, and the bus is for getting them from the ready room to the field in one go. Also, I thought a base bus would help the enlisted guys get around the place. We’re spread out.”
“Is there a gym?”
“Yes, and a ball field that can double as a parade ground. The Brits have an ‘O’ club and an ‘E’ club right on the base. Whyteleafe is just off base and it has several pubs. Are we going to be here long enough to do construction projects?”
“I don’t know. It depends on the Germans. Get the base commander and we’ll plan what we want.”
“Spike, you are the base commander.”
“What? How did that happen?”
“You’re the senior officer. This was a Spitfire and Hurricane field. Most of those squadrons are refitting to the Griffin west of here. We have the A-10s and one squadron of Griffins that are now under your command. I haven’t met the CO yet because he’s in the air. I’ll introduce him when he gets back.”
“Okay, I need to meet the base operations officer. We need hard shelters.”
The walk into the Control Center, a one-story wood building with the tower rising from one end. As she walks into the control room, a watch officer from Alconbury stands up, “Lancelot 1 and 2 are engaged with a raid twenty miles south of Newcastle. Galahad 1 and 2 are returning from an engagement east of London sans ordinance. We are cycling your flight around to launch. Texas flight 2 is engaging a raid of 16 east of Scapa. Miami flight 1, 2, and 3 are supporting a bombing raid against Bremerhaven. Chicago flight 2…”
“Wait. What are we doing bombing Bremerhaven?”
“I don’t know, Commodore. The orders came from 8th Air Force and British Bomber Command.”
“Who’s covering the A-10s?
“No one, Commodore, except, we can redirect our flights if we need to.”
“Continue.”
“A-10s are supporting troops near Brandon Mill, just west of Newcastle. The British Army there is falling back to the west and north. We just got word that troops are in contact at Hurworth-On-Tees. It’s west of Middlesbrough. We dispatched Dog fli
ght 2.”
“Do we know how big the invasion is yet?”
“Intel has it at five divisions. We know of the 1st, 8th, and 10th Panzer divisions. The other two are unknown.”
“How many tanks in a Panzer division?”
“I don’t know, Commodore.”
Thud, from the door, “Three to five hundred tanks, depending on their configuration. Because of the focus of the invasion, I would assume the higher number.”
Spike nods, “Thud, how many tanks per sortie can an A-10 kill?”
“About five or six. They’ve a lot of ammo, but the gun fires insanely fast.”
“Okay, five divisions of five hundred tanks. That’s twenty-five hundred tanks. We have twenty-one aircraft. Even in ideal conditions, it would take five days to reduce the invasion by air power alone. In five days, London will be gone if the army can’t stop them. We need a strategy that will work. I need a helicopter and an appointment to see Eisenhower.”
The Asst. Section Officer says, “Commodore, the headquarters is only twelve miles away.”
“Oh,” she turns to one of the communications sergeants, “Please patch me through to Eisenhower’s office.”
“Yes, Commodore.”
A moment later, she picks up the phone, “Commodore Hunt.”
“Commodore, this is General Smith. How may I help you?”
“I need to talk numbers with General Eisenhower and his staff. Thus far, we’ve been scrambling, protecting units as they call for it. If we don’t create a more focused and effective air campaign, we are likely lose.”
“Eisenhower has a meeting with the British Army and Airforce in 25 minutes. I’ll set up a meeting afterwards for a few minutes.”
“Can I attend that meeting?”
“I assumed you couldn’t get here. You certainly can.”
“I’ll be there. Thank you.” She hangs up, “Cooper, jeep, now. Thud, you got it,” and starts for the door.
Cooper, running after her, “Shouldn’t you change?”
“No time. Can you find Eisenhower’s HQ?”
“Only been there once, but I’ve someone who can.” He pokes his head back through the door, “Sergeant Valentine, we need you to drive us to Bushy Park.” A pretty young brunette in the British WAAF uniform leaves her station and follows them out.
