by M L Maki
Cooper looks up, “Yes, Commodore. Staff meeting in 30, if you can make it. Do you want tea?”
“After, thank you.” She motions the major in and follows and closes the door. “You have 15. Start.”
“I understand you’ve met Lieutenant Torrey. We need to extract him from France for another mission.”
“That’s a low second priority for me. Meaning, we’ll get to it when we can.”
“Ma’am, it needs to happen soon.”
Weary, she sighs, “Explain to me why it is more important than the survival of Britain.”
“It’s necessary for the survival of Britain.”
“The clock is ticking, Major.” She sits down and steeples her fingers.
“Russia has a treaty with Germany and isn’t fighting. We’re training their pilots and sending them back to Russia with new jets, but our intel is telling us they will not be fighting the Germans. It’s the ceasefire with Russia that has freed up the German combat units and aircraft to focus on Britain. If Russia re-enters the war, then Germany must pull back.”
“Germany can’t pull back. Do you think we will just let them leave?”
“They would have to pull back the Luftwaffe. How long would the German Wehrmacht last if your control of the sky was unchallenged?”
“Point taken. Okay, explain your plan.”
WATERLOO, UK SW OF LEEDS
1750, 28 September, 1942
Sergeant Johnny Rodriguez motions for the driver to stop their truck. Ahead, an old stone building lays scattered across the road and the towns people are digging through the rubble. An old man approaches and Johnny asks, “Were you bombed, sir?”
“Bombed, eh? No. The bloody Krauts came through with their bloody tanks and shot us up. Destroyed our church. It stood for three hundred years, and now, it’s rubble.”
“Where are they?”
“I married my Catherine in that church. What, eh?”
“Where are the Germans?”
“They nicked the petrol from the station south of town and buggered off south. Do you all fancy a meal?”
“We have to catch up to the Germans, sir.”
“You’ll not be giving them a go with a dozen men and a truck. That lot was a full battalion of tanks. All you’ll do is get dead.”
“We’ve a wounded American pilot in the back who can call in the attack jets.”
“I see, then. Well, it is easier to kill Krauts with a full belly. When did you last have a hot meal?”
“Not since before they landed.”
“Then come. I’ve a pub around the corner. Let’s fill your bellies.”
Johnny asks, “Sir, how did you know it was a battalion?”
The old man straightens up and salutes, “Sergeant Cox, His Majesties Yorkshire Volunteers. I fought in the last war. Left the service after an injury in ’32.”
CONTROL CENTER, RAF KENLEY
0500, 29 September, 1942
Spike walks in, “Lancelot and Galahad are up. Galahad is engaged with a flight of six over the Channel east of York. Lancelot is out defending a cruiser group in the North Sea. We directed Robin, Little John, and Maid Mary south of Dover in anticipation. The American, Canadian, and British Armies are getting organized on the Humber Line. The Germans have already hit it at Selby. Dusty 1 and 2 are supporting them there. One of the wounded A-10 pilots, LT Peter ‘Loony’ Thun is acting as forward air observer. You have a TS message in the box and two letters.”
“Thank you.” She opens the top secret safe and pulls out the message:
FROM: YANKEE BRAVO
TO: TFYAN
REG: CROSSFIRE
Operation successful. Zero casualties. Commencing egress.
Yankee Bravo
She stares at it, the San Francisco did it. Good. But we could use them out there. She writes:
FROM: TFYAN
TO: YANKEE BRAVO
REG: EGRESS
Remain on station in deep water. Stand by to pick up additional SF via parachute. Op designated ‘Hail Mary’ in future comms. Maintain current communication schedule.
HUNT
TFYAN
She writes another:
TO: ETOUSA
FROM: TFYAN
REG: AIRBORNE DIVISION
I need the training status of the 82nd and the 101st Airborne Divisions. Also, it is desirous that they all be qualified and equipped for parachute insertion. The proposed operation is division strength airborne assault on German occupied RAF Ouston. I recognize this will necessitate a significant transport effort. This plan will be called Operation Sunset and is Top Secret.
Thank you,
Hunt
TFYAN
“That will get them moving. What else? Oh.”
TO: NAVAIR
FROM: TFYAN
REG: SPECIAL OPERATIONS UNIT
Admiral Lee,
I need a SEAL Team as soon as possible. They need to be equipped and trained for HALO and seaborne ingress and seaborne egress. They must be on station one week before the Russian pilots are released to report. The Russian pilots must travel through England en route to Russia. I have need of the team for a month or more. Operational directive is designated Operation Hail Mary. Top Secret.
Thank you,
Hunt
TFYAN
FISHING WHARF, YOKOSUKA, JAPAN
1513, 29 September, 1942 (0613 29 September GMT)
LT Chris Hisakawa is standing on the wharf sorting and repairing nets. His employer, Haru Satou, comes up, “Ginzo, could you please come?”
“Yes, Captain.”
They walk down the wharf, “You have proven yourself a competent mariner and a good fisherman. Seeing that you are unlikely to be making a living with your poetry any time soon, I have thought we would be more effective with another boat.” Haru points. The fishing boat is about forty feet long with an aft cabin and a single mast. She’s dirty and looks to not have been used for some time. Its black hull paint is peeling and the white cabin is barely there. He looks at Haru with genuine pleasure. “You trust me with your boat?”
“I do.”
“Does it have nets?”
“They need repair.”
“I will do it. I am honored.”
“Good. These are your papers. Make it ready soon.”
“May I, then, live aboard immediately?”
“You may wish to clean it first, but yes. Then, when you invite your girlfriend and her grandfather to join you, she will not turn up her nose.”
“Thank you, Captain. I though, will bring her now. If she will be fisherman’s wife, she will help me.”
“Well said. I will leave you to it.”
Chris steps aboard. Yes, it’s in poor condition, but he immediately sees the potential. Lieutenant Chris ‘Chaos’ Hisakawa, USN can see the possibilities for escaping Japan.
101 BATTALION, 1ST REGIMENT, 3RD PANZER DIVISION, HUDDERFIELD, ON THE RIVER COLNE, SW OF LEEDS, UK
0833, 29 September, 1942
SS-Obersturmbannfuhreer Rolf Meier orders his driver to stop. Ahead of him is another obstruction. They’ve had signs changed, bridges destroyed, and trees felled in attempt to stop their advance. In this village, there are overturned vehicles and collapsed buildings blocking the way. Wood burns in a bonfire in front of the carnage. As he studies the scene before him, he hears the thwack, buzz of a bullet ricocheting off his tank. He swings his machine gun and sprays the buildings to the left of the road. The other tanks follow suit. On radio, “Don’t waste ammunition.”
BEHIND THE BARRICADE
Jimmy Thatcher is fifteen years old. He and his class mates steal glances over their makeshift barricade. His grandpa says, “Keep your heads down, lads. Be patient.”
The lead tank fires. Rocks and dust engulf them. The noise is deafening and the concussion takes their breath. The wood fires, briefly go out. Andy Turner curls into a ball, shaking.
Jimmy puts his hand to his great grandfather’s saber. His great grandfather
earned the singe edged weapon with its cast and engraved bronze hilt and hand guard and leather wrapped wood grip in Egypt. It’s his only weapon beside the Molotov cocktail he holds. Only his grandpa and the police woman have a rifle. He hears his grandfather’s words in his mind, “Remember Jimmy, should I fall, get the rifle.”
He shakes his head, not wanting to think about what that means. Then, he sees the lead tank move forward, “Grandpa, they’re moving.”
“I see. Everyone, we wait until we can’t miss. Then hit ‘em.”
The huge German tank reaches the barricade. Grandpa Paul rises up and takes two shots. He’s cut down with machine gun fire. As ordered, Jimmy grabs the rifle and ammo belt. The police woman shoots, then turns and runs. He can hear the tank crunching up the other side, when he sees a three-inch pipe. “Andy, help me.”
Andy pushes himself up beside Jimmy, and the two boys pull the pipe from the rubble. When the tracks of the tank top the barricade, they stuff the pipe into the tracks. The pipe jerks out of their hands as it locks up the tracks and the tank stops moving.
Jimmy and Andy run to a brick garden wall and join the others.
MEIER’S TANK
The tank jerks to a stop, throwing the crew forward. Meier shouts into his head set, “Driver, move!”
“Sir, the right track. It won’t move.”
“Move!”
“The driver guns it and they hear the sound of breaking metal.”
“Damn, damn. Now, your commander will exit the tank to see what you broke.” He climbs out of the hatch and feels the burn of a bullet across his cheek. He shouts down the hatch, “Engage, damn you!” And hops off the tanks as another bullet whizzes by.
CHURCH STEEPLE SOUTH OF MEIER’S TANK
Lieutenant Urland reaches the top of the tower out of breath. He gets into position and looks out to the north. He has a clear view down the street and sees the tank stopped at the barricade with the others strung out behind. “Perfect.” On radio, “Any Warthog, this is Wingnut.”
“Wingnut, Dog flight 3, state location.”
Wingnut opens his map and reads off the coordinates, “…and we’re in a church west of the rail yard. Approach from the south east, exit west. Tiger tank disabled by local militia.”
“Roger, overhead in 6 mikes.”
Roger, Dog 3, Wingnut out.”
MEIER’S TANK
Meier, his entire crew is out of the tank, except the driver. His driver tries reversing the tank, as the men pull on the pipe. Crew from the next tank in line come over to help. His gunner stands to pull and is hit in the back by a rifle round, “Sorry, sir.” He crumples onto the barricade and rolls down. Meier yells at his loader, “Get on the machine gun and silence that rifle.”
“Yes, sir.” He jumps onto the tank and climbs into the commander’s hatch.
100 YARDS SOUTH OF THE TANK
Jimmy’s fired seven shots. His last shot hit a soldier and now another is climbing into the tank. He fires and sees his round hit near the machine gun. He forces his breath to slow and aims. He sees the German half out of the tank looking toward him. Jimmy squeezes the trigger, “Please, please, please.”
The rifle leaps in his hands, and the bullet flies true. He can see the shock on the man’s face, and then he hears, ‘Brrrrt.’ The tank just explodes. The turret flies off and falls beside the tank hull. On the barricade, the men closest to the tank are dead. The rest start shooting at him, then scramble away. He looks around and realizes he’s alone. He slips behind a building and runs, rifle in hand and sword slapping at his side.
GERMAN TANK FORMATION
Meier, covered in dust and blood, staggers down the line. The A-10 is certainly coming back. His men are running their tanks into houses and yards attempting to avoid the Devil’s Cross. He runs to a tank tucked between two houses, “Rolf, exit this tank, quickly.”
MERLIN, 100 FEET, 45 MILES SOUTHWEST OF OCCUPIED RAF OUSTON
0841, 29 September, 1942
Mike ‘Too Tall’ Mohr says, “Okay, Sweets, Keg, we know they have at least six radars besides the station radar. Let’s see if the station radar crew is talking to the defense operators. Turn us toward Ouston and climb to 800 feet.”
His copilot and navigator, LT Tabitha ‘Sweets’ Younger climbs the EA-6B Prowler, “We’ve been mapping for three days. When are we going to break these assholes?” The gradual climb pokes the antenna in the vertical stabilizer high enough to pick up radar.
Too Tall, “Spike is right. We hit them when we can destroy them completely.”
AC1 Greg ‘Keg’ Berman, “That would take the army. Um, the targeting radars have lit us up.”
Sweets, “Got it,” and puts them in a shallow sliding dive. The earth rushes at them and she pulls out at 100 feet, just above the trees.
CHAPTER 16
2ND PLATOON, A COMPANY, 1ST BATTALION, 15TH REGIMENT, 3RD INFANTRY DIVISION, IN THE HILL WEST OF LEEDS
0846, 29 September, 1942
Private Joshua Banner sits on his pack in the trench they’ve just finished digging. “What a complete waste of time. Ain’t any Germans out here.” He plucks a bit of grass and winds it around his fingers.
His sergeant says, “Keep a sharp eye out. We’re here because they could come here.”
PFC Andy McDonald, “Okay, Sergeant Crabtree, but how are we going to stop their tanks if they do come? All we got is 37mm guns.”
“Those guns are high velocity. They’ll fare better than you think.”
Andy moves and turns back to watch the road below and in front of him. Then he sees movement, and a camouflaged Panzer 4 heaves into view, “Sarge?”
“What, Mac?”
“They’re here.”
As they watch, one of their anti-tank guns opens fire. They can see the 37mm projectile bounce off the front armor. Crabtree, “Hold your fire until we see their infantry.” Two more anti-tank guns open up with identical results.
SAINT PATRICK’S CHURCH, HUDDERFIELD, ON THE RIVER COLNE, SOUTHWEST OF LEEDS, UK
0847, 29 September, 1942
Jimmy Thatcher stops running, his side aches and he’s gasping for breath. He sees a Yank army truck approaching. PFC Clyde Baker says, “Go away, kid. Yer not safe with us.”
Urland comes out of the church, “Time to go, guys. The Germans broke through the Humber line.” He sees Jimmy and recognizes the sword, “You okay, son?”
Jimmy looks up at the large man in flight suit and army jacket, spotting the two bars of a captain and salutes. “Jimmy Thatcher, private, Home Guard.”
Urland smiles, “If you promise to never salute me in the field again, you can come.”
Baker, “Why are we picking up strays, Lieutenant?”
Urland, “This stray disabled a Tiger tank and killed several Germans. They need us east of here. Let’s go.”
MERLIN, SOUTH OF RAF OUSTON
0851, 29 September, 1942
Too Tall, “Time to pop.”
Sweets flies the EA-6B just above the trees. “Popping.” She pops the plane up so the tail mounted sensors pick up the German AA radar.
Keg, “Down, got it. 025. Mapping it.”
Diving down, Sweets, “Can you take it?”
Too Tall, “Got it.” He adjusts his course and says, “Popping.”
Keg, “Good music, 028. They’re still transmitting.”
Sweets has her eyes outside the cockpit and sees a glint to the north, “Bogey 3 o’clock low.” On radio, “Merlin is west of Middlesbrough. We have a bogey to the north. Can we confirm friendly?”
Too Tall rolls left and settles on the deck and takes his throttles wide open. The EA-6B does not have afterburners and cannot exceed the speed of sound. They hear, ‘Merlin, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, contact is a ME-262 out of Ouston. Any allied aircraft, Merlin is in trouble.”
MAJOR HEINRICH GUNTER’S ME-262B, DEPARTING OCCUPIED RAF OUSTON
Gunter sees the American jet on his radar. It’s the one testing the radars. He slides into a turn o
n afterburner. The sun catches the gold of the cockpit, “Hmm, what is this thing?”
GALAHAD 1, 36,000 FEET, 45 MILES SOUTH EAST OF MERLIN
LT Kyle ‘Gandhi’ Jacobs, “Brother Swede, Too Tall is scrambling south with a ‘262 closing him. Fly 245 to intercept.” On radio, “Merlin, Galahad, we have our sword out and we are coming.”
On radio, “Gandhi, Sweets, could really use a back rub. We got someone all on us.”
Gandhi, “You’re doing good, Sweets. In a minute, we’ll give you a call to break so we can set up the shot.”
“Can’t you get missile lock?”
“We are sans missiles, Sweets. We’re coming.” The F-14’s dives at full afterburner, flying at nearly twice the speed of sound.
MERLIN, ON THE DECK, HEADING SOUTH, NEAR THE VILLAGE OF BARNARD CASTLE
Too Tall’s going flat out. He clears a hill and pulls a little right trying to screw up the targeting solution of the German. Then he goes left, passing between a church steeple and an old castle ruin. Back on the deck, he sees tracers pass over their canopy and feels the clunk of rounds hitting this vertical stabilizer. “Come on. Come on. Just get us over friendly lines.”
Keg, “I’m jamming his radar. Aren’t we far enough south?”
“No.”
Sweets, “Damn, he’s on us again.” Then their aircraft shakes as Galahad passes over them at high Mach. They manage to get into some hills and use terrain masking trying to work their way south.
The German gets back on their tail just as they pass out into a broad valley east of Skipton. He gets one more shot on them and hits their right engine just as Gandhi says, “Merlin, break left!”
Too Tall rolls left and Keg says, ‘Oh shit, man!”
Too Tall, “Hang on! We gotta be close!” Using his speed, he gains a little altitude and sees a line of German tanks winding out of the hills. The fire warnings sound on the right engine, then the jet yaws to the right. Tool Tall fights for control as his craft starts shaking. Out of altitude and airspeed, he shouts, “Eject! Eject!”
