by M L Maki
Cooper walks in with a plate of food. “Fluffy’s right, but eat first. I’ll brief you on our personnel casualties. That, and I have a message.”
She reads the message, hands it back, takes the plate, and sits back down. “Go ahead.”
Cooper says, “In the entire detachment, we have 23 fatalities and 51 injured. Most fatalities and wounds are from fire and falling debris. Because of our overmanning, we are still fully functional. Fuel farm was protected. We lost four barracks, two ammo bunkers, and six hangers. Most were for the A-10s. All the hard shelters survived. As you no doubt know, London is burning. Something to note, Old Coulsdon, Whyteleafe, and Warlingham all sent their fire brigades to protect the base, instead of taking care of their own towns. We have to do something for them.”
Spike nods, “We will. I need some ideas, so please write it up.”
Fluffy, “Any orders for when you are asleep?”
Spike gives him a wan smile, “Fluffy, my notification orders stand.” She takes the last bit of a sandwich and looks down. She doesn’t remember eating both sandwiches, but they’re gone. “You’re right, guys. Good night.”
EASTERN FRONT, NORTH EASTERN POLAND
0708, 6 October, 1942 (0608 GMT)
The sky is slowly turning grey as Hauptman Schwartz lies on the roof beam of a damaged barn, scanning the Russian positions to his east. All night he’s been hearing engines in the distance. Then he sees a tank, then the vague outline of another, then another. They’re hidden, but his position allows him to see their movement. He keys his radio, “Battalion, Watch Post 3, the Russian armor have closed the frontier in regimental strength. It’s the big gun tanks.”
“Are you certain?”
“I see over eighty tanks, but many are hidden. They’re moving very carefully.”
“Understood.”
COMMODORE’S BEDROOM, RAF KENLEY
1146, 6 October, 1942
Sam wakes up. She stretches and rubs her face. Light is streaming in from the window. She hears two F/A-14s land. Climbing out of bed, she sees her flight suit and gear laid out. She hears two more ‘14s land. She heads for the shower.
Clean, brushed, dressed, and finally awake, she walks into her office. She stops abruptly, sitting with Andrews and drinking coffee are CDRs Osterman and Dillon. They’re both in flight gear. “Oyster? Marshal? It’s really good to see you, but why? I thought the Vinson was in the Pacific.” She hears more aircraft landing and Radar hands her a cup of joe.
Oyster grins, “It is. We flew to Bethpage, picked up new Tomcats, and came out here to lend a hand.”
Marshall laughs, “We heard there was a short mustached son-of-a-bitch making a fuss.”
Spike smiles in return, “God, it’s good to see you guys. How many aircraft?” She hears a turboprop coming in.
Oyster, “We’re both fully manned with twelve. I have the Tomcatters and Marshal has the Redcocks.”
Marshal, “We also escorted twelve replacement A-10s, twelve more turkeys with new crews that are slated for you and four replacement birds.”
Spike takes a deep breath, “Thank you. We’re on the raggedy edge. I got the message last night. They want to split the squadron. Radar, if they’re on the ground, I need Swede and Thud. Oh, and get me Too Tall.”
“Yes, Spike,” and walks out.
She looks back to Oyster and Marshal, “Guys, we need everyone sorted out. We lost barracks last night. We were firebombed. Master Chief Bond will help you with that. I’ll brief you in when you’ve had a chance to get settled.” She stands and they do too, “Oh, and guys, pass it around to your people, I don’t need or want the pomp and bullshit that comes with a star. I’m Spike, okay? And guys, thank you so much for coming.”
Oyster, “Yes, Spike. We get it. And, you’re welcome.” As they walk out, Cooper comes in with Swede and Thud. Cooper pours coffee for everyone, “Too Tall is in Portsmouth.”
“What’s he doing?”
“I’m not sure. AC1 Berman helped him load a bunch of radar equipment onto a truck. Said it had to do with the V-1s.”
Spike nods, “Okay,” then turns to Swede and Thud. “They want to split the squadron into two. Swede, you’ll keep the Black Knights. Thud, you’ll command the new squadron. Who do you guys want for XO?’
Thud, “Shouldn’t Packs get the top job? He was XO before me?”
Spike, “I’ve chosen you two. He’ll get his own squadron soon.”
Swede, “If I ask for Packs, do I get Mossberg, too?”
“Yes.”
Swede, “Packs is a great XO and the two of them are a great flight team.”
Thud, “I thought you would choose Hot Pants.”
Swede looks at him, “I take it you know?”
Thud laughs, “If I know, everybody knows.”
Swede, “If I choose her, it’s a conflict. With her and GQ in your squadron, we can go public.”
Thud turns to Spike, “Do you think Hot Pants is ready for XO?”
“I do.”
“I do, too. So, I want Hot Pants and GQ. It feels like we’re choosing teams for after church softball.”
Spike laughs, “Okay, Boyington and Alcott have been flying with you, Swede, so keep them. You can also keep Gunner and NOB. Thud, I want you to get Trollop and Mouse. I know you’ve been flying with Degraaff and Ulhe, but Degraaff is in the hospital and GQ is injured. Do you think Ulhe can fly with Gloria?”
Thud, “I’ll try it out. I’ll also keep GQ and Degraaff on the books. Maybe they can make it back.”
Spike, “Okay, of the original crew, that leaves Bug and Joker along with Wingnut and Cuddles.”
Swede, “Thud, you have walking wounded, to I’ll take Wingnut and Cuddles. They’ve been trooping around with the green machine, so they might be healed up.”
Thud, “Then, I have Bug and Joker.”
Spike, “Okay for our old new people, Swede, can you take Cochran and a wounded Everling?”
Swede, “Yeah, but Everling is going home, four broken ribs.”
Thud, “I’ll take No-No and Robot and you can have Landes and Carnegie. That give me six and you six.”
Swede, “Good.”
Spike hands them each a paper, “Here are your new aircrew and ground crew to sort out. We need a name for Thud’s squadron.”
Thud grins, “That’s easy, the White Knights. Do we have a number?”
Spike, “No, that didn’t give us one, so we’ll choose. You’ll be VFA-155. Sister squadrons.”
Swede, “That leaves call signs.”
Spike smiles, “Yeah, the Monty Python names don’t stretch to two squadrons. Any ideas?”
Thud, “How about we keep Galahad and Gawain?”
Spike, “The only issue I had with Gawain is it’s hard to make out sometimes. Lancelot is clearer.” She pauses, “You know, we don’t need Monty Python any more. Our encryption is good. So, let’s change everything. I’m thinking the Black Knights go back to Knight and the White Knights go with Rook. I’ll continue as Arthur, unless I’m in control, then I’m Yankee actual. That way we’re not confused about whether I’m in the air or on the ground.”
The two CO’s look at each other and smile. Thud says, “Perfect.”
EMBASSY DISTRICT, STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN
1433, 6 October, 1942 (1333 GMT)
Joachim von Ribbentrop, the German Foreign Minister rides with the German Ambassador to Sweden in the back of an embassy car racing from the airport to the Russian Embassy. Ribbentrop says, “The message I deliver is urgent. The Russians are massing at our border and our intelligence suggests they believe it is us who are preparing to attack.”
“Why would they believe such a thing? Surely, they understand that England must fall first?”
“We don’t know. What we do know, it must be stopped.”
Their car speeds around a corner and plows into a truck pulling out of an alley. A man runs from a doorway and looks into the back of the embassy car. He checks the bodies, the driver a
nd both passengers are dead. He takes Ribbentrop’s briefcase and walks away.
The driver of the truck climbs out and waits for the police, not looking at the British man walking away. He smiles. The Brit paid him very well.
CONTROL TOWER, RAF KENLEY
1510, 6 October, 1942
Spike is on the outside walkway of the tower. She can see the entire base. Already, heavy equipment is clearing debris and construction is underway. Thank God, the medical clinic was spared. It’s packed and they’re using the gym for the overflow. All the medical facilities in London are overwhelmed, so she opened the base clinic for injured civilians. The hard shelters survived, and the fuel storage yard.
She looks out north. London is still burning, a dark, ugly haze rising from the city. Another thing to be thankful for, it’s raining.
The flight line is packed. There are forty F/A-14s, thirty A-10s, and cargo plane after cargo plane bringing in people and equipment. They had to park the Merry Men at RAF Biggin Hill about five miles away. She watches two ‘14s take off in a beautiful roar. They’re Tomcatters, “I’ve no idea who’s flying those planes. I need to meet the new people.”
Then, another C-130 lands and drops its ramp. Marines come out, hauling their equipment and are met by a line of buses ready to take them to the front. Andrews joins her, “Spike, the commander of the 82nd Airborne, Major General Ridgeway, would like to see you.”
She takes one last look and turns to the door. As she’s walking down the stairs, Fluffy bounds up, three at a time, “What were you doing?”
“Fluffy, I was looking at the damage.”
“A sniper could have shot you.”
She sighs, “I’m sorry, Fluffy. It didn’t cross my mind.”
“Boss, there are times when you terrify me.”
“Well, right now, I have to talk to a general, okay?”
“Roger, Spike.”
She walks into her office, “General Ridgeway, good morning. Welcome to Kenley,” and she offers her hand.
Ridgeway takes it, “You’re taller than I imagined.”
Spike smiles, “I get that a lot. I’m so glad you came.”
Ridgeway, “This is my chief of staff, Colonel Douglas.”
Douglas shakes her hand, “A pleasure, ma’am.”
Cooper pours coffee for her and Andrews and refills Ridgeway’s and Douglas’.”
Spike, “Well, let’s get to it. How many transports do you have?”
Ridgeway, “Twenty-four. The division is scattered across three airfields. I know you asked for us, specifically, and I’ve been assured that you know what we can do. But what is it you have in mind?”
She nods, “I need you to make an opposed landing on an airfield. With twenty-four transports, how many battalions can you drop into a hot LZ at once?”
“A hot LZ?”
“Sorry, a landing zone. A hot LZ is an opposed landing.”
“What’s the enemy troop strength?”
Spike, “According to the Brits, it’s about two battalions. These guys are Germany’s best.”
“Twenty-four isn’t enough. I need at least another twenty for the first wave to have a chance.”
“How many transports for your whole division?”
“It’s never been done. Seventy more transports to drop the whole division. Almost one hundred planes.”
Spike nods in satisfaction, “I’ll get them. This is the plan, gentlemen…”
SLIPWAY 2, NAVY YARD PUGET SOUND, BREMERTON, WASHINGTON
0838, 6 October, 1942 (1638 GMT)
Admiral King is at a podium near the immense bow of the new supercarrier Enterprise. “I am extremely proud of our ship yard team; the engineers, the craftsmen and women, the thousands of people who worked extremely long hours in incredibly difficult situations to produce this first in class aircraft carrier. I would also like to recognize the hard work and extreme diligence given to this project by the Defense Special Projects office represented by Admiral Klindt, the director, and Commodore Warren, the carrier projects officer. Captain Warren has logged thousands of flight hours between three shipyards and his exceptional attention to detail is now bearing fruit.
“I would like to recognize Captain Winters. Captain Winters came back in time as the commanding officer of the VFA-22, Fighting Redcocks. He was promoted to Captain and given command of Carrier Air Wing 9. Most recently, he commanded the heavy cruiser, San Francisco. I have full confidence in his ability to navigate this vessel into harm’s way. Before I invite him up, I would also like to acknowledge the crew. A shipyard builds a warship, making it strong and powerful, but only the sailors who man her can give the vessel it’s heart and soul. Although, it will be some time before she is ready for sea, the crew assembled here is working alongside the shipyard. They’re learning their ship, by helping to build her. Captain Winters, please address your crew.”
Captain Jeremy ‘Frosty’ Winters walks to the podium. “I would first like to thank Mrs. Roosevelt, The First Lady of the United States, for honoring us with her presence and agreeing to christen this vessel. Thank you, Admiral King, Admiral Klindt, Rear Admiral Freeman, Rear Admiral Taffinder, Commodore Warren. Thank you for coming and thank you for bringing this warship to life. Rear Admiral Taffinder, your engineers, architects, and superb craftsmen have taken an enormous leap forward in what is even possible to be built. Commodore Warren, your encyclopedic knowledge of ship design and modular construction methods have made this day possible. Rear Admiral Freeman, this project required coordination of subcontractors, water access, rail and motor access throughout this region. Naval District 13 moved mountains to make it all work. Admiral Klindt, your steadfast leadership brought all of this together into a complete whole. Admiral King, thank you for trusting a group of officers not yet born to contribute to the battle we all now face.
“My crew, each of you will contribute to the soul and spirit of this vessel. Fifty years from now, you may have grandchildren serving where you now stand. The war fighting spirit, positive attitude, and gumption, you build into the very grains of her metal will be a guiding light for them. On the eve of battle Admiral Horatio Nelson famously wrote out in signal flags, ‘England expects that every man will do his duty.’ When the battle then ensued, the combined French and Spanish fleets were destroyed at Trafalgar. America expects we of the USS Enterprise CV-14 to do our duty and steam across war torn waters to deal decisively with the forces of tyranny arrayed before us. Thank you. Madam First Lady, do you wish to say anything before we proceed?”
Eleanor Roosevelt walks to the microphone, “Thank you, Captain Winters. Gentlemen, your words are inspiring. This incredible feat of American industry is amazing. It is also, very, very important. The forces of Imperial Japan, the forces of Nazi Germany, the forces of fascist Italy, must never prevail. My only wish is that the President could have excused himself from his duties and been here to see this. Thank you so much for inviting me to participate in the birth of a new navy.”
She steps from the microphone and takes her position just off the stem. There is a banging as the final holding blocks are released. The ship sits motionless. They can hear the hydraulic jacks pushing the huge vessel. She swings the bottle of champagne, and just as it shatters against the stem, the Enterprise begins to move.
The great ship picks up speed and there’s an enormous rattle of slowdown chains and the whir of the slow down cables. The stern meets the water, creating an immense wave. The spectators on Bay Street in Port Orchard scramble out of the way of the incoming wave. As the stern lifts in the water, the ship groans and the blocks tumble. Then, she’s fully in the waters of Sinclair Inlet and gliding toward Port Orchard. Tug boats pull on their lines and the big ship slows and stops. Never before has so large a ship been launched on ways. Then, the tugs maneuver her to pier 3 where she’ll be fitted out.
BRIXTON ROAD, SOUTH LONDON
1640, 6 October, 1942
It’s Sergeant Thompson’s first ride on a double decker bu
s. The view is incredible, but the sights are tragic. They’re surrounded by burned out and still burning buildings. The stench of smoke, burning fuel, and burned bodies is pervasive. His bile rises and he fights it down. He realizes that these people need him. They need the US Marines.
Lieutenant Maki climbs the stairs and sits down with Thompson, “You know, sir, when the admiral finds out you’re here, he’s going to be pissed.”
Maki grins, “He told me to come. I’m supposed to brief some people tomorrow. I told him today I needed to see what the Germans have.”
“He’s allowing you on the front lines?”
“That’s where the German tanks are.”
“When the shooting starts, stay in the rear, and stay down.”
“I know how to shoot.”
“Yes, sir, but you don’t know how to be a Marine. You’d just get in the way.”
“Fair enough.”
YANKEE CONTROL CENTER, RAF KENLEY
1656, 6 October, 1942
LCDR Michael ‘Too Tall’ Mohr skids his jeep to a stop and jumps out. He grabs a rolled-up map and nods to the security guard as he goes into the building. He goes to the Commodore’s office, knocks, and walks in. He stops when he sees a general shaking Spike’s hand, “I’m sorry, ma’am, um, sir.”
Spike, “General Ridgeway, this is Commander Mohr. What he doesn’t know about electronic warfare has not been invented. He’s the officer I told you would eliminate the German anti-air.”
Ridgeway shakes Mohr’s hand, “A pleasure, Commander.”
“Thank you, sir.” He turns to Spike, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I got it.”
Spike sees his suppressed excitement, “I see.” She turns to Ridgeway, “I’m sorry, but we have a great deal to prepare. Could you excuse us, please?”
Ridgeway smiles, “Of course. Your plan is good. Hopefully, we can get the pieces together.” He and his chief of staff walk out.
As the door closes, she turns to Cooper and hands him a note, “Take this to the tower. Thank you.” Turning back to Too Tall, “You figured out what?”
Mike smiles, “How the Germans are targeting the V-1s.” He lays out his map. “I identified discrete radar frequencies transmitting here, here, and here. I found them again over London. The three beams are aimed to converge over the southern part of the city. They pass right over Kenley. That gives the V-1s a vector, but not a range. That’s when I discovered another radar beam transmitting from Brittany. It intercepts the other three beams over London.”
