Demon's Well

by E. R. Mason

  No sooner was the first ship flying than number two powered down the runway. The line of waiting planes continued to move and soon an aircraft was lifting off every 30 seconds.

  Feeling like a man who had lost control, Jax watched Captain Wellington drive his airplane along the taxiway until they were the next in line. Once on the runway the engines roared to full power though the airplane seemed to creep reluctantly forward. “We’re so heavy,” thought Jax. “I haven’t flown this much weight yet.”

  Halfway down the runway, with the airframe shaking and vibrating, it again seemed as though there was not enough runway. Jax called out airspeeds trying not to sound concerned. At 100 mph the Captain still was not pulling back on the yoke. At 110 he finally did. The nose of the plane pitched upward but several long seconds passed before Jax felt the wheels spin free of the ground. A flat moment in time went by when it seemed like everyone onboard was holding their breath. Then, the airplane seemed to catch the wind and began to steadily rise. A moment later prop wash from the previous takeoff hit hard and caused a shudder and tilting of the wings. From there the ship finally settled into a smooth climb. As quietly as possible, Jax began to breathe again.

  “Gear up,” called the Captain.

  Jax snapped back to reality and pulled up the gear lever. “Coming up,” he replied.

  As the airplane achieved 1000 feet, Buck, the navigator came over the intercom. “We’ve got the 210 buncher, Cap.”

  The Captain gently tipped the heavy airplane to the right and replied, “210 degrees.” He looked over at Jax and gave a half smile. “I wish I could take the time to talk you through this Jacks, but from here on out it’s so tight there’s no taking your mind off the instruments. We’ve got to arrive for group assembly in the right order or the whole thing goes all to hell. Once we’re in position, group leader has to get us to meet the main body on the coast within one minute of the scheduled rendezvous time or the whole main stream will be out of position.”

  Jax nodded.

  “Watch for the red flare, Jacks. That’s the leader.”

  As they approached the first grouping point, enough clouds cleared beneath the moon to give a surrealistic view of large bombers trying to find each other in the night, intent on flying together in formation. “Except for the rumble of the aircraft’s engines, this could be a dream,” thought Jax. He suddenly realized how cold it had become and pulled his sheepskin jacket in tight. As he did, a red streak suddenly shot across the sky. Jax turned to Captain Wellington, but the man was already tipping the airplane in that direction.

  Somehow, almost like magic, the Easy Money was suddenly flying formation in a group of six airplanes. Easy Money was number 5, middle rear in the arrangement. From his position, Jax could look around and see all the other aircraft. Had it not been for the mid upper gunner’s canopy, he would have had a full 360 degrees of vision.

  It did not take long for the formation to reach the coast. The lights of the cities faded to invisible black sea, and Jax found himself surrounded by many more airplanes that had appeared like ghosts in the night. Chatter on the intercom was picking up. A group commander was giving instructions and threatening anyone not in tight enough. Then, the call for arming of bombs and gun checks came in. Although Jax was expecting it, the loud machine gun bursts from gunners all around made him jump. When they were done, an ominous silence again fell across the group, the drone of so many engines phasing in and out of sync. But beyond the engine noise and fire checks Jax could still feel one other thing from the group; a strange, absolute resolve to fight back against a monster. That feeling seemed to permeate the air and its presence was far stronger than the fear behind it.

  “How’s the number 4 pressure, Jacks?” asked the Captain.

  Jax leaned back in his seat. “There’s no fluctuation at all, Captain.”

  “God, that makes me worry more than if it was there,” replied the Captain. “Must be the gauge.” The Captain scanned the area and spoke once more. “So this will be your introduction to flak, I understand.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Expect a bumpy ride, son. You won’t hear the blasts much. The engine noise drowns them out, and you won’t see that much ‘cause the flak is as black as the night, but you’ll smell the powder and there will be spotlights trying to blind us as they search. If we’re real lucky the fighters won’t get to us in time, but if they do there’ll be flares dropped from above to try to light us up. Can you handle all that, Jacks?”

  “Sir, can anyone?”

  The Captain gave a grim laugh and became silent for a moment. “When we get near the coast you’ll want to move over and sit in front of your panel. Watch for fuel and oil leaks. They can be hard to spot while we’re running on all four. Keep a good eye on our O2 supply, too.”

  Jax nodded to the Captain and stared off at the ocean of airplanes that were fading in and out of dark clouds. When last gun checks were finished and the group leader had announced radio silence, a foreboding mood came over the ship. People were thinking about home, family, and friends and weighing their chances of survival. For Jax, the thought of his life back on the mainland was a chaotic weave of indiscretion, danger, and futility. Flying into war was almost a relief from it.

  Soon lights from the distance coastline began to flicker. The tension in the air grew. The engines seemed louder as though they were announcing the arrival. There was the instinct to find a hiding place to crouch down in.

  As the lead airplanes crossed the coast, the spectacle began. Suddenly in the distance white beams from spotlights began sweeping across the sky, and as the planes crossed over the coast, Jax could make out puffs of smoke amid the search light beams. The aircraft up ahead began lowering their bomb bay doors. He could see them rocking violently in turbulence from the flak. A moment later Easy Money was pitching, swaying, and shuddering from those same explosions coming from all around. The aircraft groaned from waves of vibration flowing through it. Jax had to hold to a panel to keep his position.

  A flush of new fear raced through him as the flak became even heavier. The Captain was pitching the aircraft left and right to avoid the lines of staggered antiaircraft explosions ahead. Jax watched in amazement as the leading ships began to drop their bomb loads.

  The Captain’s voice suddenly erupted over the intercom. “Sharpy, have you got it?”

  “Dead in my sights, Captain!”

  “You have the airplane!”

  Jax did not feel the weight of the bomb load leave the ship but a second later Sharpy’s voice came back over the intercom. “Bombs gone, Captain.”

  The flak again seemed to intensify. It was closer now. There was a frequent splattering of shrapnel against the ship’s body. Jax fought to focus on the instrument gages. Many of the needles were oscillating wildly from the beating the ship was taking. He braced with both hands and tried to see outside the aircraft. The others aircraft were taking the same beating. In the distance he could make out one aircraft with an outboard engine smoking badly. The smell of burning powder was now continuous.

  Jax was turning to look at the Captain for reassurance when the largest explosion of all hit them on the starboard side, so close that the sound of it made Jax’s ears ring. It pushed the Easy Money sideways and rolled it steeply to the right, almost completely over. Anything not tied down crashed down against the side of the ship. Jax smashed face first against his instrument panel and was held there for a few seconds by the force of it. The ship dove down forward and rocked back and forth as it righted itself.

  Jax pushed himself away from the panel and looked forward and aft. Somehow all of the airframe seemed to still be intact. Skip, the wireless operator was struggling to get back to his seat. Hawk, the navigator was on the floor holding his head. A steady burst of wind was coming from the pilot area. Jax looked up for the Captain. He was still in his seat but he did not seem to be moving. Jax scrambled up to his position and stopped in horror.

  There was a baseball siz
e hole in the pilot’s canopy. Captain Wellington was slumped over in his seat. A spray of blood covered part of the canopy and the instrument panel. He wasn’t moving at all. The aircraft was in a slow dive.

  Jax froze. The nose of the plane suddenly pitched down even more sharply. Something clicked in Jax’s head. Instinct took over. He dove at the Captain and pulled him away from the controls. Holding him back with one hand, he used the other to grab the control yoke and wrestle the airplane up into level flight. “Hawk, get up here!” he yelled.

  Hawk climbed up to join them and stood staring in fear at the Captain.

  Jax yelled over the wind and engine noise. “He’s got a pulse, but he’s bleeding badly. Get him down to the table and stop it.”

  Together they wrestled the Captain out of his seat. Hawk dragged the limp body down as Jax struggled to pull himself into the pilot’s seat. Once there, he fought to steady the aircraft and struggled to get his bearings amid the continuing bursts of flak.

  The formation was above and ahead. They had not closed up the gap. Easy Money’s position was still open but they would be forced to close it up very quickly. Jax powered up and checked his rudders and control yoke. Everything was still responding. He skidded the big plane back to the left to realign then added power to begin a slow climb toward the group. There was so much radio chatter going on from planes in distress Jax couldn’t get a chance to transmit. As soon as he had a free hand he pinched his intercom button. “Hawk, how bad is he?”

  It took a few moments to get a response. “He’s hanging in there, Jacks. We’ve pinched off the bad bleeding, but we’ve got to get him back as soon as possible.”

  Jax paused to fight the aircraft back to the left as he continued to climb. “Okay guys, is anybody else injured?”

  One by one the other crew called in okay.

  “What do we have for damage back there?”

  Skip, the wireless operator responded. “Just small flak holes everywhere is all I can find, Captain. Nobody’s checked the main panel though.”

  The flak began to taper off. Jax could not take the time to look at the engineering panel. He was coming back up into formation. Other pilots seemed to be aware of the Easy Money’s return and were giving a wide berth. Just as Jax came up into place he spotted the explosion of a wing on a distant airplane. The wing folded up and broke off, flipping down as it went. The airplane slowly stalled, pitched over and spun down out of sight. It was the greatest horror Jax had ever witnessed.

  The flak stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Group leader began calling for checks on all aircraft. Several did not respond. When he came to Easy Money, Jax replied, “Moderate damage to the airframe, all engines operating. One crewman critical.”

  There was a long pause on the radio. Finally the group commander answered, “Who am I talking to?”

  “Jacks in for Captain Wellington.”

  There was another long pause. “How bad is your Captain?”

  “We need to get him on the ground as soon as possible, sir. They’ve stopped the bleeding but it’s not good.”

  “Understood, Jacks. All units, when we get back, Easy Money will be number 1.”

  Another long silence fell over the radio. Jax knew they were worrying whether or not he could land the airplane. If Easy Money crashed on landing it could shut down the main runway with the entire group low on gas waiting to come in. Jax wanted to transmit that landing would not be a problem, but he knew that would not reassure anyone. For all he knew a gear wouldn’t come down, or a control surface was more damaged than expected. After a few more moments passed, the group leader resumed his crew checks.

  Dawn was just breaking as they approached the airfield. Aircraft began to break away into landing formation, leaving Jax out front for a straight in approach. Jax began slowing the aircraft and to his relief the flaps came down without a problem. He could already see the bull dozers parked along the runway, there to push off any airplanes that skidded or crashed. Also waiting were the ambulances.

  Jax’s mind became totally focused on the runway ahead. The next good sign came when the landing gear dropped down and locked. The aircraft came in over the threshold, floated for a few seconds, and touched down in what may have been the softest landing he had ever made. No one made a sound but he could feel the jubilation. With extra braking he made the second turn off. As soon as he was clear of the runway, a military police vehicle met him followed by an ambulance screeching to a halt outside the aircraft’s side door. No commands had to be given. The entire crew raced to get the Captain out. As the ambulance sped away followed by the police, a ground crew vehicle with its yellow light flashing signaled Jax to follow. Parking was near a large repair hanger.

  Debriefing of the Easy Money crew was a mixture of relief and triumph at having made it back. After being dismissed the crew remained silent, but there was a slap on the back and some appreciative nods to Jax as they left.

  Somehow Jax felt like a different person. There seemed to be no way back to his old self. His flight suit had blood on it and had to be left outside the locker for the cleaning crew. On his way back to the barracks there was suddenly a deep feeling of inclusion from everyone he passed by.

  The thin mattress on his bunk had never looked so good.

  Chapter 20

  Post mission day one was easy. Jax slept through it. He made the mess hall in time to cash in on the evening’s meal and did so with enthusiasm. Though no one spoke to him, it was abundantly clear he was now accepted here. These were people sharing blood and tears in a way no one else could ever understand. Back at the barracks, he fell asleep studying a mission flight formations manual.

  The next morning he had barely made it through breakfast when a messenger told him to report immediately to the Squadron leader’s office. No reason was given. With some trepidation, he straightened up and headed that way.

  A Captain Pariss was sitting at his desk signing paperwork. Upon seeing Jax at the door, he nodded and waved him to a chair.

  “Neil, thank you for coming in right away.”

  Jax nodded.

  “I wanted to say thanks for how well you handled the situation with Easy Money. I understand Captain Wellington will be okay after some rest and recoup.”

  “Yes, sir. I checked on him last night.”

  “Quite a bit of bad luck there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But how are you holding up, Neil? That was quite an introduction to night missions.”

  “I’m fine, sir. No damage done.”

  “I see, but how would you feel about another mission after having been through all that?”

  Jax wondered if it was a trick question. “I’m ready to go, as needed, sir.”

  “Well here’s the moment of truth then, Neil. Would you be willing to go again tonight?”

  “You need a flight engineer for tonight, sir?”

  “Actually no, Neil. We need a pilot. Wellington will be out for several weeks. Easy Money is serviced and ready. We’ve got another flight engineer. We just need a pilot.”

  Jax was startled. He stuttered his answer. “How would the crew feel about that, sir?”

  “They’ve already signed on. I wouldn’t be asking you if I hadn’t talked to them first.”

  “The crew said okay?”

  Pariss nodded. “So what do you think?”

  “What is the target, sir?”

  “Believe it or not, it’s Bremen again, but this time it’s the A.G. Weser Submarine Shipyard. Do not discuss that with anyone. The briefing will be at 19:30.”

  “I am ready, sir.”

  “Very good. Get a good seat at the briefing. Intel says some of the anti-aircraft batteries around Bremen have been moved. There’ll be a new exit plan.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Nervousness occupied the remainder of the day. Jax now fully understood why there was less chatter and camaraderie around the base. At the briefing he wrote down the mission navigation points in spit
e of his photographic memory. Once again, this would not be a milk run. In the ready room, the Easy Money crew took note of his entrance but continued to silently suit up. Eye contact occurred often and said more than any verbal communication ever could. The ride to the flight line in the panel truck was just as quiet, although one member of another crew had a bad cough. At the airplane, the boarding ladder was in place with ground crew standing by. Flak vests and helmets were handed out as each member boarded. Last to arrive was new flight engineer Mick. Most of the others already knew him.

  Jax strapped into the pilot’s seat and suddenly began to feel at home again. Everything in the cockpit had become so familiar. Mick called out a greeting and introduced himself as he climbed into the jump seat alongside Jax. When the hatches were sealed, the waiting began. Word soon came down that unexpected weather was delaying departure. The crew fiddled with their gear and milled about watching for a green “go” flare, or a red “scrubbed” flare.

  One hour later with the stars shining between drifting cloud silhouettes, a green flare shot across the runway and the word was given. Engines began roaring to life and ground crews scrambled to cover the many airplanes now burning fuel. It took just 15 minutes to make the runway and become airborne headed for the buncher point, a task that kept Jax tense and alert. Delaying the group would be a very undesirable way of making a name for himself. Fortunately, upon arriving at the assembly point, Jax had to orbit once to wait for another aircraft having trouble finding its spot. It seemed there were other trainees flying this mission. For Easy Money, the insertion went smoothly and professionally, after which the group leader wasted no time in leading his formation to the rendezvous over the coast.

  The dark ocean seemed so peaceful. The winds became steady and smooth and after trimming, the aircraft practically flew itself. Jax had time to look out over the carpet of airplanes all around and wonder at all the men with ice water in their veins willing to risk their lives behind an oxygen mask at 10,000 feet above ceaseless guns intent on killing them.