Die Glocke

by M C Drake

  Squadron leader Staff Sergeant Brookie Johnson was the first to spot it slightly below him to the left passing through a small spattering of white wispy cloud cover, a glint of silver moving at speed.

  For a second Johnson could not believe his eyes but he soon recovered to give his orders.

  "Squadron, split and follow me. We have bogies three o'clock slightly low but climbing. Griff, we have a problem but we are on it."

  “What is it Brookie?” Griff said but he was cut off as the wing of the bomber next to him exploded in a hail of shrapnel and flames.

  "Stay in formation, gunners ready yourselves," Griff shouted.

  The B-17’s stayed in there tight box formations with their angry guns covering each other’s asses in an overlapping field of defensive fire, the P-51’s split into pairs to track the single target.

  Johnson and his wingman jettisoned their bomb loads so they could gain a much-needed increase in speed; they tried to maneuver their fighters onto the tail of a state of the art Messerschmitt Me 262.

  The world's first operational jet-powered fighter roared through the air slamming the throttle down and diving towards the ground at a frightening speed, hurtling towards the earth at over 500 mph.

  The two diving Mustangs struggled to keep up, Johnson was slightly in the lead, to the right was his wingman was giving him cover to the left. Johnson could not get a clear shot. He cursed.

  “Brookie I have a shot, break right.”

  Johnson pushed right to let his wingman though. He immediately pushed the trigger for a three-second burst. The six 0.50 caliber browning roared into life, spitting rounds forward.

  The Me 262 pilot pushed into a barrel roll to avoid the incoming fire, then he broke left and pushed up nearly vertical opening the throttle fully.

  "Damn he's good," Johnson said as tried to follow.

  The Flying fortresses carried on mission when five more Me 262 fighters appeared from nowhere, the dived down onto the bomber formation firing a short burst into the slower bombers. One B-17 was hit on the left wing causing its engine to billow black smoke, the pilots cut fuel to the engine and carried on the fight.

  The Mustang escorts split and left the bombers to chase this unexpected threat, the dove from all angles after the agile German fighters.

  "This has gone FUBAR already gents," Jarad said to his bomber crew. "Look alive and let's get this job over with so we can head for home."

  A hail of bullets tore towards the bombers. The attack came from behind.

  The tail gunners in the B-17’s returned fire as the rear of the formation split in every direction. Three B-17’s were hit hard; the tail gunner in the very rear bomber was killed instantly as the tail was ripped to shreds. Smoke poured out of the crippled aircraft and it tilted lazily to the left.

  “Shit Me 109’s attacking through the formation, fucking blow them out of the skies.” Peter ‘Big P’ Armstrong called out over the radio.

  The striking yellow painted nose of the single-seater Messerschmitt Bf 109 fighters pushed through the scattering formation of heavily armed bombers, their two 13mm 131 machine guns angrily blazing as they went. The propeller-driven fighter was not as quick as the jet-powered Me 262 but was still a hugely effective aircraft; especially when taking on the slower bombers.

  “Shit, the fuckers lured us away so they could get the 109’s onto the bombers.” Johnson exclaimed, “Jimmy leave the 262 we have to protect the bombers.”

  “Roger.”

  The two Mustangs pulled off the tail of the Me 262 and throttled up as hard as they could to get on the tails of the fighters who were decimating the Flying Fortresses.

  From the ground Master sergeant Robert Miller watched with a morbid sense of intrigue and horror as the skies above them were illuminated with flashes of gunfire. It looked like chaos in the air as bombers split in every direction being hounded by the agile fighters. Streaks of flames and smoke flew across the increasingly bright sky. This was it the sun had now peaked above the horizon.

  Without warning four German artillery guns opened fire simultaneously. The shells whistled through the air and plunged into the field 200 meters away from the ground forces position, the ground shook as four large explosions made the field erupt in a fountain of mud, rocks, and shrapnel.

  “Shit find cover boys, this is it!” Miller shouted and he dove behind the nearest Sherman.

  American soldiers ran for any cover they could find as the next barrage flew down on the wooded area barely 50 meters from where they were positioned, the dirt, splinters and shit from the trees peppered the lead tanks.

  “Fuck, what do we do lads?” Sergeant Bradie Jones screamed.

  “We sure as hell can’t just fucking sit here!” Private First Class Tommy ‘Gun’ Thompson shouted.

  “We are to stay put until the bombers flatten the jerries defenses, got it? If we advanced now we will get blown to shit by our own bombs.” Miller ordered.

  “If the bombers get through.”

  "The bomber always gets through," Miller added.

  There were a hundred and twelve bombers in the formation when they had started the mission but five had already been blown out of the sky.

  Jarad ‘Griff’ Griffin stubbornly stayed on course despite the unfolding chaos in the sky around him.

  “Griff Me 109 coming round on our tail.” Gunner Roy ‘Tino’ Martinez shouted as he tracked the target and opened fire with everything he had.

  The waist gunners opened up as well, spitting rounds at the fighter. The German pilot was too eager, was in too close and the rounds hit the front of the aircraft peppering the cockpit, which imploded in a hail of lead and glass. The pilot took multiple hits and blacked out quickly due to blood loss. The crippled Me 109 went into a steep dive from which it could never recover, its flaming body span and span finally crashing nose first into the open fields.

  The dog fighting continued in the skies above the Polish mountains with frightening ferocity. Crews from devastated B-17’s tried to get to the parachute hatch before the flames consumed them, one unlucky bastard jumped free and immediately opened his parachute only to hit the wing of a trailing bomber, he got tangled in the spinning propeller and was promptly cut to pieces.

  Brooklyn Johnson weaved through the bedlam and managed to position himself on the tail of a Me 109 who had just destroyed a B-17.

  “You’re gonna pay for that.” He roared.

  Johnson pulled the trigger and sprayed a burst from near point-blank range into the Luftwaffe fighter. The tail melted under the fire, the fighter rolled slightly and Brooklyn fired another burst into it. The left-wing split from the body and the fighter tumbled from the sky. Johnson watched over his shoulder as the pilot ejected.

  “Brookie, look three o’clock low.”

  Johnson looked to his right and tilted his plane so he could see. A Me 109 had positioned itself behind three B-17’s and was nearly in an excellent firing position. The bombers were pumping out defensive fire but the pilot was clearly skilled and held no fear.

  “Roger that Jimmy lets nail that son of a bitch.”

  Out of the frying pan, into the fire

  The artillery shells continued to rain down into the woods where the American troops were hiding, the latest one scoring a direct hit on a jeep killing everybody in the immediate vicinity and seriously wounding half a dozen others.

  “Sir we have to move otherwise we won’t have anyone left.”

  "We ain't going nowhere Private, not until those bombers have delivered their loads."

  “But Sir…”

  "But nothin, I'd rather the Germans kill us than our own bombs." Commander Jim ‘Pete' Parker growled form the commander's hatch of his Sherman tank. He could have closed the hatch to take cover from the shrapnel but it was a measure of the man that he was out in the open for all to see.

  Jarad ‘Griff. Griffin in the lead B-17 was over just about over the target. His Navigator Jordon ‘Mac’ McDonald called out. The Bombardier
was ready and Griffin gave the order for all bombers to begin their bombing runs.

  “Drop that load Deer, go go go!”

  Stephen ‘Deer’ Hunter did not need to be asked twice, he pressed the release button and the bomb load bay doors opened. Two thousand lbs. of ordinance was in free fall from the bowls of the plane. It plummeted beneath the bombers who were dropping long lines onto the field below.

  Explosions rocked the ground causing it to shake and explode into plumes of dirt and fire. A direct hit on an anti-tank gun turned the it into a large fireball and several German troops who were not killed in the blast staggered around trying to put the flames out on their backs; without success, they screamed and their limbs flailed about until they finally succumbed to the intense heat.

  This was the cue for the American ground forces to advance. The Sherman's roared forward as they led the way. They held their fire as they moved but this was it and the troops following through the smoke-filled air cheered as they forced themselves into the heat of battle.

  There were too many bombers for the Luftwaffe to take down and despite their valiant effect many of the B-17’s were dropping their bombs. This did not stop the Me 109’s taking on as many as possible and the air was swarming with tracer rounds from all directions.

  A Me 262 opened up into the back of a desperately moving P-51 Mustang, all four of its 30mm cannons tore chunks out of the back of the Mustang who had black smoke trailing from its tail. The Me 262 fired another short burst and the devastated Mustang burst into a ball of flames that literally fell out of the sky, the pilot had no chance of surviving.

  The P-51's wingman tried desperately to avenge his fallen comrade and began firing upon the superior German aircraft. The Me 262 pilot was well trained and in an instant he half-rolled his jet inverted and then executed a descending half-loop so he was now in level flight in the exact opposite direction at a lower altitude. The P-51 had not expected the split-s maneuver and had not noticed the Me 262's wingman slip in behind him, the 262 opened fire and blew him out of the sky.

  With the bombers dropping their explosives the Germans opened up with another surprise. The air filled with five Flakpanzer ‘Kugelblitz' self-propelled anti-aircraft guns. The vehicles all fired in unison sending 450 rounds a minute per gun into the crowded skies.

  The Kugelblitz ‘Ball Lightning' had twinned-mount versions of the MK 103 cannon which meant each vehicle could fire 900 rounds per minutes. High explosive rounds poured into the air.

  “Shit flak guns!” Jared shouted, “Everybody stay on mission, we are nearly there!”

  To Jared's left a B-17 took a stream of direct hits from the flak guns, his starboard wing completely separated from the airframe, the bomber lurched left before another stream of 30 mm shells decapitated the cockpit from the rest of the fuselage; it tumbled from the sky.

  “Fuck it this is hell.” Jarad said out loud.

  Brooklyn Johnson and his wingman had managed to maneuver behind the Me 109 who was devastating the bombers directly in front of him. The yellowed nose devil had taken down two of the bombers and had just fired a burst in the third, which was smoking but stubbornly carried on.

  "Look Brookie the 109 has disengaged, he's diving for safety," Jimmy said.

  “I see him; bet he has spent all of his ammo. Make sure he doesn’t get away.”

  The two Mustangs stayed on the agile fighter's tail while diving for the ground. Brooklyn was again in the lead and fired a burst into the fighter, the rounds hit just behind the cockpit causing the glass to smash. Brooklyn fired another two-second burst into the fighter as it continued to race towards the ground. The two American fighters followed for as long as they could but had to pull up, they watched as the German fighter did not recover and crashed nose first into the bomb-cratered field; the pilot never ejected.

  The first of the bombers had now finished their bombing runs and had begun to turn for home. Jarad and his crew were not out of the woods yet though as his gunners were desperately trying to fight off a Me 109 who had locked onto their tail.

  All the rear and mid-facing guns were firing furiously but the fighter disengaged and turned to face the B-17’s that were still attacking.

  The Co-pilot wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Phew thank god for that." He exhaled.

  “Shut up ‘Woody’ before you…” Jarad was cut off.

  Bullets shattered through the glass cockpit hitting Mark ‘Woody' Wood and killing him outright. Jarad had been hit in the arm but he watched as the Me 262 streaked passed and continued to attack the bombers behind him. Jarad turned to Woody to see him slumped over in his chair with blood pouring from his open wounds. The controls of the B-17 were not badly damaged and she continued to fly.

  Large explosions blossomed as another two B-17’s were hit by the flak guns; they spiraled earthwards and crashed into the fields below. The bombers next to them finished dropping their bombs then bugged out of the fight. Bombs detonated all over the surrounding area and German troops who were dug in just had to pray they were not going to get hit. An unlucky Panther medium tank took the full brunt and was immediately set ablaze; the smell of burning flesh drifted into the dense smoke filled morning.

  The word had filtered through the SS troops that they were not being attacked by the Red Army and it was, in fact, the Americans who had appeared out of nowhere to launch a vicious air raid. The Germans felt a wave of relief wash over them as the Americans were more humane than their Russian counterparts.

  Bombs continued to rain down on the German positions smashing two artillery guns into pieces and detonating an ammunition pile, a group of unlucky soldiers were caught in the explosion.

  The fight had only been going on for just over five minutes now but some of the aircraft had begun to run out of ammunition. A Me 109 fired his last burst into the top of a B-17 as he dove passed but the resilient bomber carried on. The Me 109 was hit from a wall of fire from multiple Flying Fortresses and the fighter started to break apart but the pilot managed to get out just in time.

  Shells continued to fill the air as the Kugelblitz crew trained her guns on the bombers overhead. The high explosive shells penetrated the underbelly of a B-17 that went up in flames within seconds, the crew tried to jump desperately and a couple jumped without parachutes to escape the inferno, they met with a grizzly end.

  A Me 109 was hit with friendly fire from the Anti-aircraft guns and it veered off into a collision course with a B-17. The B-17s guns fired furiously but the two planes crashed causing debris to rain from the sky; the flying fortress span downward and finally impacted on a group of German anti-tank guns, killing everyone instantly.

  Amongst the devastation Brooklyn Johnson and his wingman Jimmy weaved back and forth on the tail of a Me 262 who had started to strafe the incoming American ground troops. The German jet had just pulled up and started to accelerate away when suddenly he lost all thrust from the engines. The pilot tried desperately to regain control but his jet lost power and speed at an alarming rate.

  This was Johnson’s moment, he was in position with the piper direct over the target, he squeezed the trigger and the rounds flew true. His cannons tore chunks out of his adversary and almost instantaneously the volatile jet fuel exploded, dowsing the rest of the aircraft in thick red flames, the plane rolled onto its left as the pilot managed to eject but he was too close to the ground for his parachute to open in time; Johnson looked away before the impact.

  The last of the surviving B-17’s finished dropping their bombs and turned towards safety, it was at this point that the Luftwaffe fighters disengaged and began to strafe the ground forces with devastating intensity.

  Brooklyn and his fighters were instructed to escort the bombers but in light of this new development they had to protect the troops on the ground. Brooklyn checked his fuel gauge and knew he would not have enough to get to home if he stayed but the mission came first and he and his boys chose to engage.

  The bombers had caused a lot of damage; a
ll the artillery guns were either destroyed or damaged. Two of the Kugelblitz vehicles were burning hulks, with a third tipped over on its side in a huge crater. A dozen anti-tank guns were completely destroyed and a lot of the troops were either dead or dying.

  Despite this, the Waffen SS had prepared for this assault and had created bunkers for a lot of their armored vehicles. A mass of troops came out of hiding and manned their positions on the first line of defense and they waited until they could see the whites of the enemy's eyes.

  The Sherman’s advanced under strafing fire from two Me 109’s, they were not yet close enough to fire on the German positions accurately. Three loud bangs rang out across the battlefield, the muzzle flash gave away the positions from where the shots came but it was too late and three Sherman’s were quickly knocked out, the first to be hit was penetrated clean through causing the ammunition to explode and the tank went up in flames.

  "Shit!" Commander Jim ‘Peter' Parker said as he saw what just happened, he raised his binoculars and could see a concrete bunker with a Royal Tiger II tank sat underneath its protection. Parker admired the handy work for a second.

  "All units we have dug in King Tiger tanks focus all fire on these positions, The German Bastards have protected them with concrete, we need to get in close and take them out from the side."

  The Tiger II heavy tank was a formidable opponent when out in the open but it had hidden a lot of its weaknesses by being dug into a position. It was free to fire its 8.8cm 71 caliber main armament with deadly precision. The shells could reliably penetrate the Sherman’s from a distance of 2000 meters. The Tiger II was more heavily armored than its American adversaries so the Sherman’s had to get in close and take it out from the side or from the rear; with the tank being dug into the ground it was going to be hard work for the Sherman’s.