‘Captain, think I can see waves down there,’ he reported.
‘Well, North Sea’s supposed to be over to the east,’ said Holberg, ‘so that’s telling us something useful. Keep looking, Sergeant.’
Jim Corrales chipped in. ‘Smells like the sea, here at the tail. I’d guess we were still over the water.’
‘I’ll take us down another couple hundred feet,’ said Holberg.
A minute later, another shaft of moonlight broke through and Harry saw at once the white caps of breaking waves. In an instant the Fortress flew over a small fishing boat, close enough for Harry to see the startled faces of the men on board. ‘Captain, we’re right down over the sea. Pull up, pull up,’ he shouted.
Holberg didn’t comply. Harry heard him say, ‘Landing lights on, Lieutenant Stearley.’
Intense white beams pierced the gloom and, sure enough, they revealed a choppy sea almost close enough to touch.
Harry couldn’t stop himself from yelling out, ‘It’s the sea! We’re about to hit the frigging sea.’
‘Hold tight,’ said the captain. The engines screamed as they climbed a thousand feet. ‘Cain, I think we have to admit we’re lost.’
There was no reply. Holberg continued, ‘Skaggs, I want you to start transmitting a Mayday signal. We need to get a position here.’
Harry felt a twist of fear. Lone transmissions at this time of night over the North Sea were bound to attract the attention of the Luftwaffe. Those signals enabled their tracking stations to pinpoint the position of a bomber. Depending on where they were, they might have a Nazi night fighter on their tail within minutes.
Skaggs came on the interphone a few minutes later. ‘We’ve had a fix from Attlebridge. We’re 53°40’ North, 5°34’ East.’
‘Can you plot a route back for us on that, Lieutenant Cain?’ Holberg sounded unsure. Harry could tell he had lost faith in his navigator.
‘Wilco,’ came Cain’s terse response.
Harry continued his 360-degree survey of the sky. The cloud cover was breaking up, and luminous shafts of moonlight were lighting up patches of the sea. ‘Captain, there’s a string of islands about ten miles to the east,’ he shouted.
‘I see them too,’ said John.
‘Shit,’ said Stearley. ‘Those have got to be the Wadden Islands. There’s a whole chain of them off the Dutch coast.’
‘OK, here’s what we’re going to do,’ said Holberg. He sounded terse, but his voice was steady. ‘LaFitte, I need a fuel supply estimate as quickly as you can. Work out how long it’ll take to reach the English coast and what our optimum cruising speed should be to preserve fuel. The rest of you, watch out for night fighters. Skaggs, keep radio silence until absolutely necessary.’
Harry knew what that meant. If they were going to crash, then Skaggs would be at his post until the last few seconds, transmitting a distress signal.
Five minutes later, Holberg came over the interphone again. ‘OK. We’re heading straight for the British coast, but for now we’re in enemy airspace. Keep looking for fighters.’
The next thirty minutes passed in an anxious silence. Then Dalinsky called out to report the exhaust plume of a Nazi fighter at three o’ clock level. Harry tensed up, expecting the Macey May to be raked with cannon fire at any moment.
There was a rattle of machine-gun fire and at once the interphone sprang into life, with Hill, Dalinsky and Corrales all shouting excitedly.
‘Fellas, pipe down,’ said Holberg. ‘Was that them or us?’
‘I fired off a few rounds, Captain,’ said Dalinsky. ‘Thought I saw a shape over to the right.’
Holberg was admirably calm. ‘Everyone take a good look and report back immediately if you can see any aircraft around us.’
There was another minute’s silence, then the interphone came to life with all the gunners reporting they could see nothing in the black sky. Five minutes passed, then ten. If there had been a night fighter, it had lost them.
Harry kept rotating his turret, looking out for any sign of a coastal outline but all he could see was the sea. Fifteen minutes later LaFitte came over the interphone. ‘We’ve only got fuel for another fifteen minutes, Captain.’
‘OK, Macey May, I want you to prepare to ditch,’ Holberg said. ‘I don’t think we’ll make it to land.’
There was an ominous pause, then he said, ‘Skaggs, transmit our position as soon as Cain can give it you … And try to get a position for the nearest airfield along the coast. We should be close to the Wash by now, so we might get lucky.’ Then he added, ‘Sergeant Friedman, you can come out of the ball now.’
As others in the crew carried out last-minute checks, Holberg told any crew who were not occupied to throw anything they could out of the Fortress. It was just like being on a ship that was in danger of sinking. Even the guns had to go – out through the open bomb bay doors.
Harry passed his own machine guns up to John Hill through the open ball turret hatch. It was a relief to be out of that little steel ball, but he could die just as easily in the plane with the rest of them. Despite his fear he felt a fleeting regret that this magnificent machine, with its thousands of carefully assembled and maintained working parts, would shortly become a rusting heap of junk at the bottom of the sea.
His duty done, he went to join the others who had congregated in the radio operator’s compartment between the bomb bay and his turret. Only Holberg and Stearley were left in the front of their aircraft. Harry didn’t envy them, with the awful responsibility of a night ditching. No one in their right mind would want to put a B-17 down in a choppy sea.
If Holberg screwed up the landing and dipped the tail in first, rather than landing level, then the most likely place for the B-17 to break in two was the exact spot they were all sitting. He tried not to think of what would happen to them if that occurred. They’d be flying at 100 miles an hour. They’d be killed for sure.
‘Life vests on,’ said Bortz, the bombardier, who was the most senior officer there among them. ‘And don’t go inflating them before we’re out the plane.’
They all placed their yellow life vests over their heads and they checked one another’s to make sure they had fastened the harnesses correctly. Skaggs stayed at his post transmitting a steady stream of Mayday messages. Harry wondered if anyone was responding. Skaggs seemed to be transmitting into a void.
Cain was fidgeting and would not catch anyone’s eye. No one spoke to him either, although John still checked his life vest’s harness. Clearly the crew was blaming him for their situation.
Over the deep drone of the engines, Harry heard Skaggs’s voice catch. ‘Hallelujah!’ he said. ‘Read you … Macey May, call sign G-20, Heavy Bombardment Group 488, Eighth Air Force, based at Kirkstead. Current location approximately twenty miles east of Norfolk coast, just about level with Cromer and heading towards the Wash. We’re ditching and require immediate assistance …’
The engine note changed dramatically. LaFitte, the engineer, immediately called over to Skaggs. ‘Captain’s cut the two inboard, contact imminent.’
Skaggs did not need to be asked twice. He immediately joined the others crouching against the bulkheads, wrapping the cushion on his seat around his head. The compartment doorway flew open and Harry looked through it at the central spar which held his ball turret in place and wondered what would happen to it when it hit the water. Thank God he wasn’t stuck inside it. Corrales quickly shut the door again.
‘That’ll make a big difference,’ he said with a nervous grin.
Only Bortz was plugged into the interphone system, but he was getting nothing from the pilot’s cabin. ‘I’m going to check they’re all right.’
Cain looked up from his crash position. ‘Let me go. It’s too dangerous. We’re gonna hit the water any second. I got us into this mess …’
Just as he got to his feet the engines screamed as the Macey May lifted a little in the air. Bortz shouted, ‘Brace!’ and there was a huge jolt. Cain crouched down again, just
in time.
Another jolt followed, perhaps the crest of a wave, then the overwhelming drone of the engines ceased. There was a sudden massive deceleration and they were all thrown against the bulkhead. Another sickening lurch twisted them back and forth as the plane pitched to the right. A nightmarish screeching sound from beyond the closed door filled the radio compartment and Harry thought the belly of the plane might open up beneath them. He sensed they were still travelling at some speed and prayed that the Macey May would hold together.
CHAPTER 6
Harry’s pants were soaked. For one awful moment he wondered if he’d wet himself but the smell of salty sea water filled his nostrils and he quickly realised there were now sloshing pools of water along the floor of the Macey May. He felt a mad panic and an overwhelming urge to escape.
The engines were silent and they sensed the plane had stopped moving forward in the water. Now it just rocked with the waves. The sound of the sea was all around them, even the cawing of a few startled gulls.
Bortz was looking grim but composed. In fact they all were. Harry was struck by how calmly his comrades had behaved. He was desperate to know what lay beyond that compartment door to the rear of the plane, and whether they would be able to get out of the exit there before the Fortress sank. He tried hard to keep his fear under control and not give them any reason to think he was a flaky kid who had lied about his age to get into the USAAF.
Dalinsky was the first on his feet and pulled the life raft handles, releasing them from their two stowage boxes at the side of the outer fuselage. They would inflate automatically as soon as they hit the water.
A wave broke against the side of the Macey May, making the Fortress tilt alarmingly to the right. ‘Let’s go,’ said Bortz. Out they went, through the compartment door, Corrales first, then the two waist gunners, then Harry, then the rest – just like they did in the drill. Harry noticed at once that the ball turret had been torn from its housing, leaving a livid scar of ripped metal along the belly. Water surged through, rising and falling with the swell. The limitless depth of the sea beneath the ruptured aluminium frame filled him with foreboding.
‘Exit door’s jammed!’ Corrales shouted back to them. Dalinsky, right behind him, gave it an almighty kick and it sprang open with a grinding of bent metal. Water poured in as the aircraft dipped in the waves. Harry felt the icy blast of the sea, but nothing was going to stop him leaving the aircraft.
He plunged into the freezing water and was immediately submerged. His heavy flying suit dragged him down into pitch-black water, where he didn’t know which way was up. Pull your cord, a voice inside his head said. He fumbled for the cord with clumsy gloves and the life vest filled with compressed air. At once he found himself rising to the surface like a cork, but almost immediately his head hit something hard. He was still underwater and realised he was trapped somewhere under the plane. In his panic he couldn’t find his way free but then felt someone tugging him by the arm.
Now he was above the surface, drawing in gasping lungfuls of air.
John was there by his side, holding on to his arm. ‘Harry’s out,’ he shouted.
Harry realised now that he had come up under the wing. Dalinsky was already up on it, swaying unsteadily in the swell of the sea. Corrales was crouching on the edge, holding the tethers of both the life rafts.
Dalinsky dragged Harry and John out of the sea. So far the B-17 was still level. ‘Who else is out there?’ said Corrales. Cain dragged himself up the wing, and then Skaggs, LaFitte and Bortz followed.
‘Well, that’s most of us,’ said Bortz. ‘Where’re Holberg and Stearley?’
Dark though it was, there was still enough moonlight to see the pilot’s cabin. The right window was closed – a bad sign. That was one of the pilots’ emergency exits. Cain dived into the sea and reached the rear exit in a few quick strokes. Bortz shouted, ‘Come back, Warren. She could go under at any second.’
The water level was already up to the door.
Cain levered himself up and peered into the dark interior.
Harry said, ‘I’m going to help him,’ but Bortz held him back.
‘Friedman, you stay here. This plane is going under any second. There’s no point wasting both your lives.’
Even as he said it, the Fortress’s nose dipped down lower in the swell – enough for the rear exit to nearly clear the surface of the sea. They all felt the wing tilt, but then the Fortress seemed to steady itself. Harry knew he couldn’t just stand and watch. Bortz had let go his arm, and without another word he dived back into the water. When he reached the hatch, he pulled himself up, his waterlogged clothes hanging heavy on his body.
Peering down into the darkened interior, he realised his task was hopeless. What happened next startled him. The lights inside the plane came on.
Wading through the waterlogged interior, Harry reached the cabin to find Cain and Holberg wrenching at Stearley’s harnesses. The co-pilot had passed out and was trapped in his seat. ‘Warren, get me the toolkit. Just by your table.’
Cain wrenched off his bulky life jacket and threw it to Harry, then squeezed through the narrow passageway beneath the pilots’ seats. As he opened the small wooden door Harry saw freezing cold water gush around his legs. There must be at least a foot of it swilling round in there. They all felt the B-17 dip lower in the water as Cain’s weight shifted the centre of gravity. Within seconds he had found the tool case and quickly returned to the cabin.
‘What do you need?’ he asked.
‘Hacksaw.’
Cain handed it over and Holberg began to desperately saw at the tough canvas strap. Stearley started to moan and then struggle. ‘Hold still, Curtis,’ said Cain, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘We’ll get you out in just a second.’
‘You deadbeat,’ said Stearley, with sudden wide-eyed aggression. ‘You got us into this frigging mess.’
Holberg pushed him down in his seat. ‘Not now, Curtis,’ he said angrily. ‘We need to get you out of here. This man is trying to save your life.’
Harry passed Cain his life jacket. ‘You’d better put this back on, Lieutenant.’
Cain gave him a grim smile. ‘Thank you for coming to help,’ he said.
It took another twenty seconds of frantic sawing to cut through the harness.
‘Do you think you can walk?’
Stearley nodded.
‘Let’s go,’ said Holberg. But Stearley was still too unsteady on his feet and quickly collapsed in the swirling sea water.
‘We need to get him out by that rear exit,’ said Cain. ‘He’ll never make it out through a window.’
Holberg, Cain and Harry grabbed Stearley and struggled to drag him through the cramped interior.
‘Let me be,’ said the co-pilot. ‘I can walk.’
The Macey May lurched forward and they almost lost their balance.
‘Quick,’ said Holberg. ‘She’s about to go down.’
The interior was constructed of a series of alloy rings, and the three of them grabbed hold of them to steady themselves as they dragged Stearley towards the rear, Cain and Holberg pulling on his arms, Harry behind, holding his feet. As they reached the rear exit the plane lifted right out of the water by about twenty degrees and Harry lost his footing, sliding down towards the mangled wreckage of the waist.
He hit his head when he stopped and felt momentarily dazed, then saw Cain making his way back to help him. ‘Come on, Friedman, we’ve got to get out of here fast.’
They looked up to see Holberg standing at the exit, pulling the compressed air handle on Stearley’s life jacket and pushing him out back first, then Holberg shouted over to the men on the wing, ‘Into the rafts, boys. Get away from her before she goes down.’
He hesitated at the door, looking down the fuselage at Harry and Cain, struggling to regain their footing. ‘Come on, men, get back up here,’ he shouted. ‘Don’t get sucked under.’
‘Captain, jump,’ they heard Corrales shout from outsid
e.
The Fortress shifted again as the nose filled with water. Holberg started to climb down the interior, but the closer he got the more the plane dipped down. With a supreme effort Harry and Cain managed to claw their way back up to the exit, now fighting gravity as well as their waterlogged flight suits.
‘Come on!’ urged Holberg.
But he waited, knowing his weight was keeping the Fortress from dipping further, and when Harry and then Cain came within reach he held out a hand to help them.
Holberg pushed Harry out and he landed face first in the sea, the shock of the freezing water taking his breath away. There was another splash right next to him. It was Cain. They surfaced to see Holberg still framed by the doorway.
They watched the bedraggled figure of the captain hesitate at the doorway. Then he jumped too.
Stearley was still floating in the water, too weak and dazed to help himself. Seeing him a few feet away, Harry dragged the co-pilot back to the nearest raft, which Corrales, John Hill and Dalinsky had now occupied. It took the three of them, and several near capsizes, to drag the co-pilot and Harry into the raft.
The tail end of the Fortress was now forty degrees up from the water. The nose had disappeared and water washed around the pilots’ cabin. They could still see the eerie glow of the internal lights just below the surface.
The B-17 swung further to the upright, its massive tail section hanging over them all. There it stood for a few moments as Holberg and Cain swam frantically towards the other life raft.
The Macey May gave another lurch then slowly began to sink into the sea. Now the wings were gone entirely and trapped air continued to belch and hiss from within. The tail hung suspended for a few more seconds, then a great bubble of air surfaced around it and it vanished into the depths.
LaFitte, Bortz and Skaggs had boarded the other life raft and they dragged Holberg and Cain in with them. As the two rafts bumped against each other Holberg said, ‘Tie ’em together, quick.’ He looked utterly exhausted, but he continued with the drill.
‘Emergency compass?’ asked Holberg. ‘Spare radio? Pigeon?’
Bomber Page 5
