by M L Maki
Lee finally turns to Connery, “Have you flown it?’
“Yes, sir.”
“Supersonic?”
“Twice.”
“Okay, then. I’ve gone over the flight manual. Let’s mount up.”
Thirty minutes later, Lee levels the B-46. They’re flying at 300 knots when he slows her down, “First test, stall behavior.”
Major Connery grins, “Yes, sir.”
They continue to slow and at 220 knots, the plane shudders and the nose drops violently. The wings, however, stay level and he’s able to recover smoothly. Lee nods, “A bit violent, but controllable.” He then accelerates, “Asymmetric thrust.” They pass 600 knots and he idles back engines four and three. “Applying rudder and aileron.” The plane crabs, but is controllable. “Have you tried this at high Mach?”
“No, sir. We waited for you to test the Mach envelope.”
“Okay,” He accelerates to Mach 1.5 and repeats the asymmetric thrust maneuver. The aircraft shudders and rolls right, “Okay,” and he quickly applies rudder and ailerons. They drop at 1,000 feet per minute as the plane slows. He gets it back under control and climbs her to test altitude. “Let’s try this wide open.”
“You think that’s a good idea, sir?”
Lee looks at the major, “It’s necessary. We have to test its flight envelope. What we learn will determine if it’s even viable. We don’t do this, we’re killing aircrew.”
“Yes, sir.”
He idles engines 3 and 4 at Mach 2, and the aircraft yaws and flips on its back. He idles the other two engines and using his rudder and variable engine power he manages to avoid a flat spin. “Okay, it didn’t like that. Let’s try again, but we take 1 and 2 off afterburner at the same time.”
He repeats the test with the new variable and the plane is more controllable. “We need an interlock for the afterburners. Right now, if two idle back, the other two go to full military.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, high Mach turns.”
VALKYRIE 1 OVER THE ENGLISH CHANNEL NEAR THE HAGUE
0113, 2 October, 1942
Cargo Britches hovers for the twelfth time as she lowers the sonar probe, searching for submarines. This time, the SEALs jump out into the cold water with their inflatable electric boats. As soon as they clear, she pulls up and away. In the dark, she sees a bright line of tracers rise up from the north. The shooter is aiming at the sound of her chopper, so she descends and accelerates.
Keg, in the back, “Commander, we need to do something about that patrol boat.”
“They might have moved on by the time we need to be back.”
Keg, “What if they’re sitting on our LZ?”
“Then, we’ll sink it. For now, don’t borrow trouble.”
The SEALs silently work their way onto the beach. Once clear of the water, they take turns putting on NOGs. That done, they move out, using cover. They see pill boxes on either side of them and a patrol stopped up the beach north of them. Silently, they ghost into the dunes and bury their boats.
They study the dunes and Triage sees foot prints going over the dune, but none taking the easy way between them. Using touch signals, they carefully go over the top of the dunes and Mac, at the end, brushes out their tracks.
A few minutes later, they’re tucked against the wall of a house. Triage checks his map and they move, using the buildings of the town as cover. They arrive at their target and Buford takes two minutes to pick the lock and they slip in. Just as they last man gets inside, a German truck passes.
They move into the house, slowly and carefully. In the kitchen two people are waiting, their hands flat on the table. Mac says in German, “The sausage is done.”
Spooky, still motionless, replies in German, “Did you remember the ketchup?”
Mac, in English, “Good, Boss.”
Triage, “One person.”
Spooky, “She comes or I stay. A patrol will be along in a quarter of an hour. After that we move.”
Triage shrugs his shoulder. “We only brought one wet suit. If you’re important enough for us to come and get you, you’re wearing it.”
Lisa Anderson says, “MI-6. I can handle the cold. I’ve been cold before.”
Triage, “You’re Brit?”
“Yes. I’ll not be a problem.”
BOEING FIELD, SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
1906, 1 October, 1942 (0306 2 October GMT)
Lee allows his co-pilot/bombardier to land the jet after their second flight. He likes the side by side seating. It makes communication easier. The wheels chirp and the nose comes down, then the parachute deploys, helping to slow them down. When they slow to taxiing speed, they release the chute. Lee shakes his head, “The chute is going to be a pain in the ass in England.” He jots down another note.
BEACH NEAR THE HAGUE
0316, 2 October, 1942
The SEALs and their cargo lay waiting on a dune as a German patrol walks by. They’ve already recovered their boats, but haven’t inflated them yet. Two miles out in the water they watch a patrol boat idle by.
When the foot patrol is clear, they silently and swiftly move down onto the beach, watching the patrol carefully. In the water, Buford grabs Anderson and wraps her up for a rescue swim. She doesn’t resist and despite the cold is still and silent.
Clear of the surf line, they inflate the boats and turn on the battery powered motors. They all lay down in the boats, minimizing their profile. The patrol idling along is smack in their way. Triage stops the boats and touches Mac and Buford. They roll over the side and disappear.
COMMODORE’S OFFICE, RAF KENLEY
0320, 2 October, 1942
Spike, in her flight suit, sits writing letters. Cooper comes in, “Spike, you’re killing me. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“We have boys down range, Radar. I can’t sleep.”
“Then, why aren’t you in Control?”
“I don’t want them to know I’m worried.”
“If you went to bed, then they would know you weren’t worried.”
“If you went to bed, I wouldn’t know if they’re alright.” She stops and looks at her yeoman, “Wait a minute, Radar, why are you up?”
“If you must know, I’m sneaking back to bed after visiting my girlfriend and I saw your light on.”
“Who?”
He turns red, “Sergeant Valentine at the control center.”
“She’s cute, but I thought she was married.”
“She was, and she wears her ring. Her husband never made it off Dunkirk.”
“I’m just asking. Could he be a POW?”
“No. His sergeant reported him dead. Gunshot. Am I an ass for dating her?”
“No, Radar. She’s no doubt as lonely as you are. I’m happy for you.”
SEALS, TWO MILES OFF THE HAGUE
0330, 2 October, 1942
Buford and Mac slither back into the boat with Triage. Buford, “How are we for time?”
Triage, “We’re okay. How long?”
“Twelve seconds.”
A search light from the patrol boat passes over them. They are a black blob on a black ocean.
VALKYRIE 1, 50 FEET, 15 MILES NW OF THE HAGUE
Cargo Britches, “Damn, the patrol boat is back.”
Keg, “Cargo, if we strike it, we could hurt the SEALs in the water with the concussion.”
“I know. We also have to worry if they’re on board.” Then the horizon lights up as the boat explodes. “Well, we know they’re not onboard now.”
Keg, “Got them. Ready for pick up. God, I love SEALs.”
Britches chuckles, “Yep, me too.” She brings the helo into a hover right above the waves. The first boat comes in wide open and she times the waves. They leap off a crest right into the helicopter. She climbs a bit so they can sort out the back and lowers for the second go.
This one hits the helicopter a little high and it comes down hard on the floor of the helo. The coxswain waits too long to secure the engine and
the prop digs into the aluminum of the door.
Cargo Britches, “Are we all aboard?”
Keg, ‘Head count plus one.”
“Shut the doors.”
Keg, “Right door won’t secure.”
“Damn. See what you can do. Anyone hurt?”
Triage, “My pride, Commander. We came in a little hot.”
“It happens. Thanks for blowing the patrol boat.” She swings the helo around and accelerates out of the area at high speed.
Triage, “Thanks for coming back.”
Cargo Britches grins, “Always, frogman. Always.”
COMMODORE’S OFFICE, RAF KENLEY
0414, 2 October, 1942
Cooper is pouring tea when they hear the sound of a helicopter. They look at each other and Spike grabs her jacket and runs out the door. When she gets to it, the rotors are spinning down and the SEALs are getting themselves and their gear off. She counts them, “Who’s the extra?”
Spooky walks up to her, “Good to see you, Spike. Call her Sally. She’s MI-6.”
“Spooky, are you all right?”
He looks starved and his eyes are sunk in a bit, but they are clear. “Fine, ma’am. Thank you.”
“Go get some sleep. Sally, Cooper can arrange transport to wherever you need to go. Spooky, guys, I’ll brief you at twelve hundred. Get some sleep.”
Sally asks, “Ma’am, do you have a pilot called Shotgun?”
Spike does a double take, “I do.”
“May I speak with him?”
“Of course. He’s flying right now, but Cooper can arrange it after he’s had some sleep.”
35,000 FEET OVER THE IRISH SEA
1013, 2 October, 1942
Thud and Speedy are orbiting, watching a dog fight between Boyington and a Griffin. The British pilot is experienced in jet fighters. Pappy gets in trouble in a horizontal fight, but goes vertical before his opponent can take advantage. Pappy has more energy and gets on the Griffin’s six. Alcott, Pappy’s RIO, says, “Guns. Guns.”
They British pilot in Phoenix 16 says, “Good kill.”
Speedy, “Knock it off. Knock it off. Orbit north of the training area at point Lima. Squire 131 and Phoenix 17 meet at 600 knots in the merge at angels 28. Call go for fight.”
ENS Kohlman says, “Gawain 1, Squire 131, go fight.”
“Gawain 1, Phoenix 17, go fight.”
Speedy, “Fights on.”
MAJOR MOSSBERG’S QUARTERS, RAF KENLEY
1025, 2 October, 1942
Shotgun sits on his bed and gives the one chair to Lisa Anderson. “What do you want to know?”
“I was told that during the time travel event you were in Germany at Brendenmeyer Airfield as part of an organization called NATO.”
Shotgun rocks back. “Who told you this?”
“US Army Sergeant First Class Henry Holmes and US Airforce Master Sergeant Kelly O’Brien. Is what they told me accurate?”
“Where are they? Are they still alive?”
“Major, your answering my questions with more questions. Yes, they’re still alive. An answer, please.”
“Yes. As I shared with your people, I ditched somewhere off Sweden. I told Holmes to get the others out. We were under attack by Germans. Thank God, they’re alive. Where are they? We need to get them out.”
“You see, that’s the problem. They’re in Andorra.”
“What the fuck is Andorra? A town?”
“It’s an independent principality. It’s in the Pyrenees on the boarder of France and Spain. The Pope brokered a deal to keep the Germans out of there. If we barge in, that will disrupt the whole thing and endanger thousands.”
“The Commodore needs to know where they are.”
“So, they really are American servicemen and they are important?”
“Yes, they are American service men, and yes, they are important. Can your people get them out?”
“It would be extremely difficult. Why are they important?”
Mossberg stops, “This again. What did they say?”
“They told me to talk to you. Why are they important?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You can’t say because you don’t know, or you can’t say because it’s classified. We’re supposed to work closely together, as allies.” She leans toward him, smiling, and lets her blouse open, exposing her cleavage.
He sits back and smirks. “You’re acting like I could get laid for that information. No deal. I wouldn’t tell your intelligence people when they had me, and I won’t tell you now. If you would excuse me, I need to talk to the Commodore.” He gets up and opens the door, “Ma’am?”
TARMAC, RAF KENLEY
1102, 2 October, 1942
Spike walks with Swede, “With the Griffins patrolling over the channel, we’re short for protecting the Warthogs. They’ve been stretching us out with two and four element flights hitting us where we are weak. We need the initiative.”
Swede, grim, “Any ideas?”
“One, but it is too all or nothing for my liking.”
“If I think of something, I’ll let you know when I get back.”
“I’m glad you have Gloria, Swede.”
“Thank you. By the way, do you know who GQ is dating?”
“No one, I know of. Why?”
“Because Gloria is evasive about only that one thing. It’s like she’s protecting him.”
“Maybe she is. No doubt, you and Gandhi have your secrets. GQ gets it done. That’s all we need to know.”
Swede brightens up, “Okay. You’re absolutely right. He does.”
“Get up there and kick some ass, Swede.” She turns and walks back to the hanger. Fluffy steps out of the shadows, “Spike, can we talk?”
“Sure, Fluffy. I have a few minutes. What’s up?”
They walk through the hanger to her jeep. “Spike, we have enough people now to let a few at a time get some time off, even with our op tempo.”
“Clear it with the individual skippers, but it’s okay with me. What’s our manning level now?”
“The Black Knights and the legacy detachments are at 150 to 200 percent manning.”
“You think they’re using us for training?”
“It makes sense.”
“Okay. Give them liberty, but keep them close, the ground crews. We don’t have the new aircrew up to speed yet.”
Fluffy, “You ever read about Pappy Boyington?”
“Of course, he’s a gambler, a drunk, and a womanizer, but he’s also one hell of a pilot and leader.”
“Then why did you give him a female RIO?”
“They pick their own. Ah, I see. I’m too high up the chain. Have Mouse, Trollop, or Hot Pants talk to her.”
“Will do.”
Spike, “We have two more squadrons of A-10s coming in soon. We need to accommodate them.”
“Already done. All the bomb damage to the field is repaired and we’re building new barracks. We’re hiding them now. I pointed out that destroying a barracks is an easy way to disable our unit. Beirut, 1983.”
“Yeah. Thank you, Fluffy.”
“Oh, by the way, the O-club is done.”
“Already?”
“Yeah, we had some help from a local pub. You should check it out.”
“I will.”
SQUIRE 132, 20,000 FEET OVER THE IRISH SEA
1114, 2 October, 1942
LT Cochran says, “What do you know about how Thud fights?”
ENS Julian Everling, “I asked LT Standley. All he said was, we’re going to lose and we need to learn from the experience.”
“Bull shit. Any pilot can be beat. So, he’s over confident?”
“Cochran, he has 87 kills. How many of them thought he was overconfident?”
On radio, they hear Speedy, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today the hard deck is angels ten. Guns only. We will merge at angels 20. Report ready.”
Julian, “Gawain 1, Squire 132, angels 20, ready.”
Cochran, “On the merge, we’re going to climb and cross.”
Julian, “Okay. He’s at 350.”
“I see him.”
Speedy, “Merging. Fight’s on.”
Julian, “Fights on.”
The two jets merge at a combined speed of 1300 knots. Cochran has her jet cocked right, then immediately after the merge, she rolls left and climbs at an angle. Julian, “He’s staying in the horizontal, turning left.”
Cochran cranks on the ‘Gs’ going over the top. Julian, unprepared, passes out. The jets merge again.
Julian comes too, “Fuck man, warn me!”
Cochran, “Where is he?” She pulls up again and spins the jet looking for Thud.
GAWAIN 1
Thud manually pushes the wings forward and deploys his air brake as he pulls over the top. Reoriented, he rolls on zone 5 and closes the now vertical jet. He sees them spinning, “Gs,” and cranks his jet onto Cochran’s six.
SQUIRE 132
Cochran stays in the climb and spins, searching for Gawain 1.
Julian, “He’s on our six.”
Cochran, “Fuck.” She pours on the ‘Gs’, trying to shake him.
Julian, “Fucking warn me!”
“Sorry, ‘Gs.’” She rolls right into a horizontal turn.
Then, they hear Speedy, “Guns. Guns. Knock it off.”
On radio, “Gawain 1, Yankee. We have multiple raid warnings. Come to new course 085. Squire RTB.
Speedy, “Yankee, Gawain 1, wilco. Squire, return to base.”
Julian, “Gawain 1, Squire 132, wilco.”
Cochran, “Fuck. Just fuck. We’re armed. We’re ready. I want to fight.”
Everling, “Yeah, me too. But, if we disobey, we’re done. The base is at 105.”
“Roger.”
CHAPTER 21
EISENHOWER’S HQ, BUSHY PARK, LONDON, UK
0700, 3 October, 1942
Spike sits in a conference with Lieutenant General Dwight Eisenhower, Air Chief Marshal Hugh Dowding, Field Marshal Alan Brooke, Lieutenant General Kenneth Anderson, Lieutenant General James Doolittle, and General Guy Simonds, commander of I Canadian Corps. Eisenhower says, “George tells me your attack planes are indispensable.”
