"Harry," Erin explained, "we can't! If 'Mad Man' Reid catches us, we'll be in big trouble!Forget about it! Let's go do something else."
Determined to get the kites back, Harry said nothing. Undaunted, he hopped the fence and started for the old shed. As he marched across the field, he could hear clucking from the startled chickens. Fearful the hens might make even more noise, Harry cautiously approached the rundown chicken coop.
As luck would have it, some old crates were lying next to the small shed, offering Harry a way to climb onto the rickety roof. He piled the crates one on top of the other. Then, steadying himself against the side of the shack, he stepped on top of the wobbly pile and carefully pulled himself up to the roof.
Happy to see the wayward kites, Harry quickly reached across the rotten wood shingles. Just as he was about to grab them, he heard the flimsy peak beneath him make a creaking sound. At that instant, the shed gave way, collapsing to the ground under Harry's weight.
Feathers spewed into the air! An explosion of terrified chickens scattered in all directions from the splintered wreck of the coop. Stunned, Harry stood up in the middle of the mess, and gazed at his friends.
Back across the field, Stuart and Erin looked in amazement at the calamity. Then, they frantically started jumping up and down and urgently began pointing at something. Standing in a rain of feathers, rubbing his bruised arm, Harry turned to look in the direction they were pointing. He panicked at the sight of old Mr. Reid hurrying toward him and the demolished shed.
Still dazed, Harry looked back to his friends for support. But their small frames were already shrinking into the distance as they bolted away across the field.
Not knowing what to do, Harry scrambled from the broken bits of shed and scattering chickens. He ran after his disappearing companions, but they were already out of sight. Never stopping to look back, Harry could hear the angry voice of Mr. Reid calling out.
Sprinting away from the disaster, Harry anxiously searched his mind for a solution.
"Surely old man Reid saw us," he thought.
"He'll tell Mother and I'll spend the next ten weeks in my room!"
Frightened and confused, Harry ran to the one place where he felt safe. He quickly scurried to the gap in the hedgerow fence that opened onto Hampton Airfield. Concealed from all around him, hopefully, there, he would figure out what to do.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THREE ALONE
Their mission complete, Captain Ross radioed to the entire formation of B-24s. "All right, boys, we got the job done. Let's head back to the barn! Climb to fifteen thousand feet, into the clouds for cover, and head due west."
At Captain Ross' command, the bombers began their ascent to the relative safety of the storm clouds gathering overhead.
Noticing the rest of the formation slowly climbing away from them, the co-pilot of the Texas Buckaroo looked over at Captain Ross and said in a quiet voice, "Chief, we can't keep up with only two engines. We'll be sitting ducks for those Me 109s."
Captain Ross looked knowingly at the co-pilot, and then keyed his radio to speak to the rest of his crew.
"Men," he announced, "facts is facts. With only two engines, we're falling behind the other boys. Once the rest of the formation has made it to the cloud cover, we're gonna stick out like a sore thumb. So watch for those fighters when they come, and let's take a couple of 'em down with us!"
After a brief moment of silence, the rest of the crew called back to the captain of their damaged plane, "Roger, Chief, we're with ya."
Captain Ross watched the last of the B-24s in the formation disappear into the clouds above, leaving the swarming Me 109s to take their revenge on the remaining Americans. Peering through the cracked glass windows of his cockpit, he noticed that two other badly damaged Liberators were struggling to stay in the air along with the Texas Buckaroo. Ross felt relieved to know the plane he saw attacked earlier, the "Sledge Hammer", was still flying. The third plane, the "Tall Order", slowly caught up to the other war-weary bombers.
Ross radioed the crews and ordered them to tighten up their three-plane formation on his lead. While the damaged B-24s turned west for home, the German fighters regrouped and began to dive at the abandoned bombers.
"While the damaged B-24s turned west for home, the German fighters regrouped..."
"Here they come, mad as bulls!" Captain Ross radioed to everyone in the three remaining planes.
The waist and top turret gunners in the B-24s began defending their ships from the eight Messerschmitts screaming toward them. The roaring guns of the German fighters ripped through the crippled Liberators. In return, a hail of bullets from the Americans hurled through the sky in a bold attempt to stop the Me 109s from coming closer. Spent shells piled up on the floor of the Texas Buckaroo until the last round was fired. Then the guns fell silent, and the American crew bravely prepared for the worst.
Suddenly, the diving enemy fighters broke from their pattern, scattering in all directions.
Amazed by the erratic behavior of the German planes, Captain Ross questioned his copilot, "What's goin' on up there?"
No sooner had he asked, than his question was answered. The American's "Little Friends" had returned. Sweeping past the three lumbering bombers, a group of RAF Hawker Hurricanes trained their guns on the Germans.
Captain Dawson, leading five other RAF fighters, engaged the Messerschmitts at speeds up to two hundred miles per hour faster than the damaged bombers could fly. The crews in the battered American planes watched the brave English fighter pilots rally against the enemy. White trails of vapor traced lines through the sky as the fighters tangled with each other.
The men in the bombers cheered when one of Dawson's pilots triggered his guns on an incoming Me 109 and sent it spiraling in an uncontrollable dive. Moments later, a second German fighter fell victim to the brutal dogfight. Low on ammunition, the last German planes turned east in defeat, clearing the once dangerous sky.
Starved for fuel, Dawson and his pilots were relieved to see the end of the battle and immediately veered west. Following the trail of black smoke, the Hurricanes quickly rejoined the damaged B-24s struggling to reach the safety of the English Channel. Having saved the bombers from disaster in France, Dawson and his men reformed to surround the American planes and escort them home.
CHAPTER NINE
A SHAKY RIDE HOME
"Well, Captain Ross," Dawson radioed to the American pilot. "It looks as if we will take the low road home today."
Dawson referred to the fact that the crippled American planes were in no condition to climb above the storm clouds.
"Gettin' home is all that counts. It don't really matter how," Ross replied with some relief in his voice.
Then he asked, "Say, where are the rest of my boys?"
Dawson radioed back, "Simms and his lads are watching over them up above the cloud cover. They must be about twenty miles ahead of us by now."
Pleased to know the rest of the bomber formation was in good hands, Captain Ross looked out his shattered window at the French coast line passing below. The entire crew breathed a sigh of relief when they headed out over water, back to England, and home.
For the first time since coming under fire, Ross took a moment to inspect his cockpit and instruments. On the panel in front of him there seemed to be more bullet holes than gauges. Broken bits of glass were everywhere, and frayed lengths of electrical wire dangled from the walls and ceiling of his plane. Fortunately, no one was injured. Miraculously, his plane was still capable of flying.
Captain Ross called to the other two bombers in order to check on the amount of damage they had sustained. When the others radioed back, describing their situation, it was clear that the sooner all three planes were on the ground, the better.
"Captain," Ross called to Dawson, "me and my boys here ain't gonna make it all the way back home to our base at Manchester."
"Roger," Dawson replied. "Why don't you spend the night with us at Hampton? Our mechanics will fix your pl
anes and you'll be on your jolly way in a day or two."
Ross looked at his co-pilot. Both men, fully aware of their condition, agreed that the RAF base was the best option. The Americans would have preferred to make it to their home base at Manchester. But Hampton was closer. Setting down there would significantly reduce their dangerous flying time.
The American pilot keyed his radio, and with his thickest accent told Dawson, "Now that's down right friendly of you, Captain! I'll radio my other crews and tell them we're gonna follow you home to Hampton Field."
While Captain Ross informed the other two B-24 pilots of the plan to set down at Hampton, the coast of England came into view. The men in their faltering planes cheered when they saw the rocky beach pass under their wings.
Upon reaching the safety of English soil, Captain Dawson ordered four of the six RAF fighters to speed ahead to Hampton. Dawson and Lieutenant Mathews, flying the only two Hurricanes with enough fuel left, remained to escort the three struggling Liberators the last miles to their landing field. Smoke continued to trail from the battle-damaged bombers as they approached the small RAF fighter base that would be their temporary home.
CHAPTER TEN
FINAL APPROACH
"Prepare for final approach, boys," Captain Ross radioed his men. "And look tight for the crowd."
Ross' co-pilot laughed to himself. Shaking his head in disbelief, he flipped switches and checked the few remaining operational gauges in preparation for landing.
"Whatch y'all laughin' at?" Ross asked the co-pilot.
"Well, Chief," he replied, "how do you look tight with a plane that has lost two engines, is barely able to fly, and..." The co-pilot suddenly stopped in mid-sentence.
Ross glared at him and asked, "And what... what else?"
Looking worried, the co-pilot finished, "And has no landing gear."
Captain Ross shifted in his seat and mumbled under his breath, "If our luck changes, we might just git outta this alive."
Ross radioed his situation to Captain Dawson. Trying to help, Dawson dropped his Hurricane several feet in order to inspect the underside of the Texas Buckaroo. The English fighter pilot saw the twisted metal and broken hydraulics that prevented the Buckaroo's landing gear from lowering.
Dawson drew his plane back up alongside the damaged B-24 and called to Ross, "Captain, I'm sorry to inform you that your undercarriage is a bloody mess!"
"Thank you for that 'comforting' description of my landin' gear!" Captain Ross sarcastically replied.
"All right," Ross continued, "there's nothin' we can do about it up here. I think it's time you and yer wingman went home. Then the other two Liberators can put down. I'll bring the 'Buckaroo' in last for the big finish."
"Roger, Captain," Dawson said with some hesitation. "For what it's worth, old chap, welcome to Hampton, and...good luck."
"Thanks for the help, Dawson. You and yer boys ain't bad considerin' you're Brit fighter jocks!"
Then, Dawson and Mathews, the last of the fighter escort for this mission, rolled their planes and broke from the three bombers. Circling to the northeast, the fighter planes straightened out and made a direct approach to land at Hampton Airfield. Throttling back on the engines, the last two Hurricanes descended to the landing field and touched down. As the planes slowed, their tail wheels dropped into the grass.
On the ground, Dawson and Mathews taxied their exhausted fighters to the hardstand. His part of the mission over, Captain Dawson rolled back the canopy of his plane, climbed out of the cockpit and hopped to the ground.
Out of habit, Dawson glanced over at the Winslow hedge. As usual, Harry was there, although this time he was impatiently pacing about. Captain Dawson signaled for Harry to come and join him on the hardstand. Dashing through the small opening in the bushy fence, Harry ran across the field to meet him.
"Captain Dawson!" Harry called. "I need your help with something."
Dawson bent down to speak to Harry, "Just a minute lad, those Americans up there are in trouble."
Absorbed with his own problem, Harry hadn't noticed the sputtering B-24s circling overhead. When he sensed Dawson's concern for the safety of the Americans hovering above, his troubles began to shrink in comparison.
"Harry," Captain Dawson explained, "those men have had a tough time of it. Mathews and I were the only ones with enough fuel to hang back and escort them home. For all they've been through already, it looks like landing could be the most dangerous part of their mission."
Harry could hear the worry in Dawson's voice. Then he asked, "What can we do?"
After a long moment watching the American planes struggle, Dawson finally looked at Harry.
"Harry," Dawson started in a resigned tone, "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do now. It's all up to them."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BARELY ABLE TO LAND
Simms and the other RAF pilots joined Captain Dawson and Harry out on the hardstand to watch the Americans. The engines of the three war-weary Liberators thundered and popped overhead as they prepared to land at Hampton Field. Although the smaller RAF fighter planes were able to take off and set down together in groups, the huge B-24s would have to land one at a time. Without landing gear, the Texas Buckaroo would have to belly in. Due to the danger of a fiery crash, she would come in last.
The first B-24 cleared to land was the Sledge Hammer. Those gathered on the ground were amazed that the American plane, battered by German fighters, was even capable of flying. One of the two vertical tails was missing, and the left engine's propeller was bent so far back that it had lodged into the wing. Struggling with the controls, the exhausted pilot lowered the bomber close to the field and cut the remaining engines early. The plane silently dropped the last few feet, until its wheels hit the ground with a heavy thud. Powerless, the Sledge Hammer rolled to a quiet stop at the far end of the field.
Then the Tall Order approached the field. Although the plane looked relatively undamaged, there was definitely something wrong. Once the Tall Order came closer to the field, the problem became apparent. Gaping bullet holes riddled the plane. Huge pieces of the tail and wing flaps had been shot off, making them useless. The pilot controlled the bomber by throttling the engines up and down to direct their approach and correct for wind changes. Captain Dawson could see both the pilot and co-pilot feverishly handling the controls of the lurching B-24 as it neared the ground.
Finally, its wheels slammed into the turf. After bouncing off the runway several times, the pilot of the Tall Order was able to maneuver his plane behind the hardstand. Now the field was clear for the last damaged B-24.
Trailing thick black smoke, the Texas Buckaroo turned to approach the airfield for landing. While waiting for the other airplanes to clear out of his way, Captain Ross had maneuvered so he could land on the far side. If the "Buckaroo" were to crash there, it wouldn't damage the fighter squadron's airstrip or any other planes. In his mind, Captain Ross felt it was the least he could do for his new RAF friends, especially since they were the ones who helped get him and his crew this far.
Down on the ground, Dawson, Harry, and the rest silently watched the Texas Buckaroo straighten for the approach and then begin its risky descent. Captain Ross skillfully piloted his plane to within a few feet of the turf. Without landing gear to cushion the impact, he struggled with the controls to inch even lower and still maintain a level flight.
Inside the Buckaroo, Ross shouted to his crew, "Okay, boys, this is it! Everyone get in your crash positions!"
Then he cut the remaining engines. For a moment, the people on the ground and in the plane held their breath.
An instant later, metal met ground. To those watching, it looked as though the Texas Buckaroo gently settled to the earth, sliding easily along the grass to a stop at the end of the field. But to the men huddled inside, the sound of the 30 ton airplane grinding through the dirt was deafening. The crippled bomber violently shook, while pieces of sod and rocks flew past the windows. For the weary crew, th
e last nine hundred feet of the mission was the most terrifying. With one final lurch and a slight twist, the flight of the Texas Buckaroo came to an end.
A relieved Captain Ross took a deep breath. Looking at his co-pilot he started in a practiced voice, "Shut down procedure!"
"Chief," the co-pilot interrupted, "there's nothing left to shut down."
Captain Ross looked around the battered cockpit and then reached over to pat his co-pilot's back.
With a big grin, Ross unbuckled his seat straps and shouted to his crew, "All righty boys, let's call it a day and get out of here!"
Captain Ross and his crew climbed from the hulk of their broken B-24. Shaken, but alive, they pounded each other on the back with hearty praise.
Sirens screaming, the airstrip fire truck and ambulance tore across the field to the disabled airplane. Immediately, almost every pilot, mechanic, and crewman at the airfield, as well as Harry Winslow, had rushed over to the Texas Buckaroo.
Captains Dawson and Simms reached out to shake hands and congratulate their new American friends. Then the pair of RAF pilots escorted the Americans back to the Operations Building to meet Colonel Harrison.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MISION COMPLETE
With everyone gathered together in the briefing room, Colonel Harrison was able to confirm to all the exhausted fliers that their mission was a complete success. They had badly damaged the supply lines to the coastal fortifications by demolishing both the bridge and railway yard. And more importantly, the destruction of the oil depot would significantly cut back on the fuel supply used for German air raids on England.
"Unfortunately, my mechanics have just informed me that the B-24s you landed here have been determined unrepairable. All three are considered lost and will have to be scrapped," Colonel Harrison told Captain Ross.
Fighter Escort Page 3
