The Red White & Blue

by Harry Kellogg III

  The Soviet repairs meant that the time for precision bombing was over. The fact that there might be gaping holes in the bomber stream didn’t matter. These holes would continue to be created periodically by squadrons doing a Wiley Coyote maneuver of turning as a squadron to make the missiles miss. The chances were that the area not bombed was vital. But then again, it might not.

  The Soviet SAMs and AAMs had made Carpet Bombing a thing of the past. The missiles wreaked havoc in the tight formations needed to accomplish such a bombing mission. Huge holes would have been torn in the formation. Holes that had previously been filled by men and machine. Holes that would for a split second be made of bones, flesh, blood and metal after the missile’s warhead exploded. Then the pieces of a once beautiful airplane would combine with pieces of sons, brothers and fathers slowly falling to the ground.

  Jonesy was still awed by the sight of the whole squadron quickly veering to port. Also, he was amazed at the skill of the pilots in avoiding each other while still remaining in formation. It was a wonderful display of skill. The commander had called out SAM launch and everyone had waited to see who would be the target. They had not tried to out maneuver the AAMs sent their way. The escorting P-51 and P-38s were doing a fair job of keeping the medium bombers from launching properly so there were numerous loose AAM missiles seeking targets. Jonesy had actually seen one slam into a Soviet bomber that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  This time it was for real and this time it would hopefully save a life or two. As they approached Baku, the skipper was the first to report SAM! Jonesy couldn’t see it from his rear facing position but he could feel the ship get a little tenser.

  Something happened to catch his eye off to the West. It was another SAM and he dutifully called it out. He had beat Williams in number three that time. They had a running tally going on and this was his and his alone. Williams was up by three until this one. You didn’t get many chances from the tail position to call a SAM out.

  The Soviets must be altering their tactics as well. He heard the Skipper say a quick “oh shit’ and knew that they were the target of the first launch. They had already fought their way through a gauntlet of AAM thrown at them by a bunch of Bats the Lightnings had seemed to have over looked. Out of twenty missiles fired three had hit, far too many. The P-38s had got a measure of revenge by shooting down 2 Bats that he could see. They were unusually aggressive for this early in the bomb run. Must be some kind of ultimatum going on in the Commie world. He didn’t care as long as they were easier to shoot down.

  He himself had gotten two of those radial jobs, the La7. It looked a lot like the FW190 and just as deadly. The guy must have been stunned by a near miss because he just showed up not 150 ft. behind the Ypsilanti Queen. It was an easy shot. The La7 blew up quite spectacularly as a tracer must have hit some misting fuel. It happened two sorties ago and was still fresh in his memory. He could have sworn that he saw the upper torso and head of the Commie go spinning to the ground. Maybe he was trying to get out of the fighter that was going down from previous damage when Jonesy had hit him.

  Another violent shutter brought him back to the moment. His headphone crackled…

  “Five, four, three, two, one GO!”

  He heard the skipper yell.

  The Ypsilanti Queen shuttered as it dove and turned for all its worth to the left. The other planes followed in a precise move that was incredible to watch. Then, he saw it…this was his part of the drama. It was his moment to contribute.

  “She missed Skip…SHE MISSED! He shouted as he caught sight of the missile straining to turn with his ship. It flew right past about 300 feet. Thank god the Reds had not figured out a way for the missile to change targets in midflight. They seemed hell bent on the destruction of just one bomber at a time and didn’t switch course once they honed in on a target. Then they would straighten out and go for another few kilometers and then explode. Probably some kind of failsafe mechanism he had heard an Egghead say.

  A few seconds after he made his pronouncement, the Skipper counted down again and pushed the engines to max as they climbed to regain formation. He watched some circling fighters warily but none seemed interested in attacking their seemingly lost Box. Jonesy guessed they were waiting for Ypsilanti Queen to get separated further from the stream. When she didn’t it was too late for them to pounce. He figured the fighters were somewhat stunned by the squadron’s maneuver but would probably adapt soon enough in this war of move and counter move.

  It seems like when one side or the other gets the upper hand, the other figures out a way to gain it back in spades. Take for example the atomic bomb. Rumor has it that it was sabotage that stopped the program but then we used our last 4 bombs. They should have been the knockout punch, but true to form the Soviets came right back with their air defense systems. They had started to use modified VT fuse on us now! It was kind of hit and miss so they weren’t as deadly to us as ours were to the Japs but they were still far too accurate for anyone’s liking.

  And there they were right back in formation with the whole maneuver taking about 15 minutes. Not too shabby in combat conditions. He spotted three other squadrons doing the Wiley Coyote maneuver as well. One got caught though. He guessed from the aftermath and smoke trail of the missile that the leader had turned too soon. Easy to do considering what was coming at you. If you turned too soon the missile had time to turn with you and WHAM (as they say in the comics) your dead. It looked like two bombers went down with that hit. He had heard at a demonstration of the Wiley Coyote maneuver back at the base that you had to be within a three second window to make the turn fast enough yet not too soon. No wonder those guys had misjudged.

  They dropped their bombs and lost another dozen or so of their number to missiles and fighters on their way home. The Ruskies followed them all the way back it seemed. The fighters had their hands full for almost the whole flight with the Reds launching as soon as they could and following us back as far as they dared.

  He was just starting to relax when one of those little jets snuck up from below and caught him day dreaming. A small movement caught his attention. The ball gunner had completely missed the little bugger as it rose from nowhere to suddenly be on their tail. The jet was lining up on Jonesy’s nose with its 30 mm cannon. The Stalin’s Dart fired first but Jonesy was more accurate and the little plane exploded as the last of its 30 mm cannon rounds took off Jonesy’s left ear, and the right leg of the left waist gunner named Cooper. Miraculously the round did not explode and must have been one of the tracer rounds. Otherwise, they would have been cut in half as well.

  Bleeding like a chicken with its head cut off, he screamed, into the intercom for help and to see if the rest of the plane was still in one piece. The Skipper replied calmly, that all was well, and Michaels would be back to help him soon. In the meantime, he should stop the bleeding. Jonesy was able to calm down and found the first aid kit. He was trying to tie a bandage to his head when Michaels showed up covered in blood. Jonesy thought he was hit but Michaels assured him that it was blood from Cooper.

  His ear was shot clean off and was still in one piece, so Michaels decided to keep it cold and see if they could sew it back on. That really did the trick and Jonesy got his act together, insisting that he could still man the tail gun. That action won him the Silver Star among other things including his wife who he met on a War Bond Tour nine months later, complete with his ear sewn back on. Reunited as it were with a piece of himself. His wife was movie star gorgeous and a business woman as well, but we’ll continue their story later.

  General Twining

  He was churning up inside. On the outside he was as cool as you can be, but inside he was producing all sorts of chemicals and his body was not in balance with what he was thinking. His mind was overtly controlling how he was perceived but his inner chemistry was jacked up. The cause was his concern for the bombing crews he had sent out this morning. They were going to try a new and very risky operation. LeMay had warned
him that if the planned Wiley Coyote maneuver ended up in tragedy, he would personally see to Twining’s courts martial. But, that really wasn’t his main concern. He was genuinely worried about his crews, about the boys he saw everyday walking to the briefings and standing in the chow line. He didn’t care what anyone said. They were his boys and his responsibility. If he had done anything to increase the chances of them not returning to their mothers and fathers then he would never forgive himself.

  In other words, he was a good commander and an outstanding leader. His men could sense that and they would have followed him to Moscow if he ordered it. On the other hand, they knew he would not put their lives in needless danger so they didn’t question his leadership. He had, himself, experienced ditching an airplane. He spent six days in a life raft during the last war when the plane he was on had engine trouble in the Pacific between Guadalcanal and Espiritu Santo. He knew what it was like to feel abandoned and forsaken.

  The fighters appeared first as usual. They were the lowest on fuel and the fastest. A CAP was formed when they were about an hour out to prevent or as least harass the inevitable Soviet attempts at incursion over their base’s airspace. Without the strong CAP, the crazy Ivans would follow them all the way home and shoot them down as they landed. They had actually experienced that a few times. The VVS has sent flights of longer ranged Yak 9s at very low altitude towards their forward bases. They had done a good job of shooting up the place. So, now a strong CAP was SOP at low altitude to deter the Ivans in the future. For the most part, it worked.

  He could tell from the radio chatter that morale was good. Improving morale was one of the main reasons he had let the development of the Wiley Coyote progress. The losses were not sustainable, yet the Pentagon kept ordering them in. The Soviets were losing pilots as well. But, they were flying fighters and a few medium bombers so every plane shot down by us only involved the loss of one man. Each of our bombers shot down was seven times worse. From all reports, the VVS was keeping up with trained pilots and fighter planes where we were not. We were losing more bombers than could be replaced in a timely manner, especially when it was the B-29. Even at full production, we only were able to produce 65 a month. Before SAC was given a breather, they were on pace to lose 100 a month.

  The most maddening part was that the Soviet’s oil production was increasing despite the SAC’s best efforts. The slow but inevitable loss curve in bomber numbers had developed much like the one the Luftwaffe experienced with their fighters. Unless something changed, they were going to lose this fight.

  He heard the first of the venerable B-24 Liberator bombers’ engines and decided to go back inside and wait for the reports. He was actually optimistic at least as far as morale was concerned. Temporarily, at least, the Wiley Coyote had done the trick.

  A few hours later, the reports were added up and he was looking at them with renewed hope. Twenty squadrons had pulled a Wiley Coyote and only three were hit by a SAM. Seventeen had successfully evaded the missile shot at their mission leader’s plane. This was very good news indeed. Losses were actually sustainable for a change and hovered around 6%. Very close, but sustainable when America’s manufacturing finally hit its stride.

  The corporate leaders had finally been shamed into making the switch once again from consumer products to military production. It seems the US was out of money. Being the good capitalists they were, it took some arm twisting to get them to support the war effort. Ford was poised once again to pump out B-24s and it looked like they would be the workhorse once again. The B-17 got the headlines while the Liberators did the work.

  It was kind of interesting that this war had been mainly fought using the last war’s equipment. He supposed that if the war dragged on more and more sophisticated machines would be fighting it out. For now, it was still the propeller vs. the propeller for the most part.

  You just couldn’t crank out jets as fast as you could piston engines. You could shoot them down as fast however. He mused that future wars will be fought and won or lost very quickly due to the fact that it was eventually going to be quality over quantity that would win the day. Today it was still quantity and they were fighting an opponent that was second to none in producing good-enough equipment in massive quantities. Quantity had been the issue for the Germans. Their equipment was superior to ours but they lacked the industrial capacity to match us. Their superior jets and tanks were not superior enough to overcome our greater numbers. But now we were in a war with an opponent who could potentially keep pace with our production.

  The Soviet Union and the US had something in common. Unlike the Germans and the British, our means of production were almost impossible to attack at the moment. Hell, we didn’t even know where their facilities were located. For the most part their manufacturing sites were so far inland and hidden that it was very similar to us having the Atlantic Ocean between us and their attacking forces. Their ocean happened to be the vastness of their country. We executed a very well planned attack on their oil fields and refineries before they could react, but they closed that window surprisingly fast.

  His mood took a turn for the better as he read the After Action reports. They were very positive and the Wiley Coyote maneuver was a qualified success. It had increased morale as well as shaved a point or two off of the losses. The reduced losses meant that on a 500 bomber raid another five or ten crews made it to base and 35 to 70 Americans made it home. 70 less letters that had to be written, and 70 more men would not be ripped from their families and shipped overseas, and that was worth it.

  Chapter Three:

  Onslaught Begins

  Figure 8- Turkish Troops hours before the attack

  The First Hours

  November 25th, 1946

  Nazik reasoned that they wouldn’t waste another rocket of shell on a location they already destroyed. So as soon as the shell hit, he jumped into the newly created crater. It was still warm and smoking, but otherwise a good hole to hide in. He didn’t think there was one piece of Turkey within his eyesight that was not destroyed. The barrage of rockets, shells and bullets seemed to reach a crescendo and then, to his amazement, increased. How could they have so many guns and rockets pointed at his poor country?

  He had his back to the Turkish Straights and was one of the first to notice the parachutes. Thousands of them coming down behind their lines. He had only the vaguest idea of what a parachute actually looked like. He had even a lesser understanding that some of the chutes were attached to armored cars like a balloon vendor’s cart. He did comprehend the men hanging from the majority of white cloth mushroom caps. More importantly, he was clear that they were between him and safety. The very safety he was going to run to when the shelling stopped. He would have left earlier, but the American had been watching him and his squad. When the American was wounded, he and many others started to look to the east. They urgently needed to escape the shelling and what they assumed was about to follow.

  For now they were about to be possibly cut off from even that avenue of retreat. It appeared that there was an avenue of escape left open to the southeast where fewer parachutes had fallen. Others saw what he saw and started to jump from crater to crater in the only direction that still seemed open to them. A trapped animal is at its most dangerous and a trapped Turkmen is even more dangerous individually than your normal soldier. No one excels at individual survival than these masters of stealth and hand to hand combat.

  It is quite possible that the way to freedom was purposefully left open. No records can be found of such a plan but it was curious that a quarter mile wide gap was conspicuously left open by the Soviet paratroops. This avenue of retreat led to a desert wasteland devoid of any strategic value. Armored cars where particularly useful in keeping the Turkish forces moving in a southeasterly direction.

  As Nazik made his way to the open avenue of escape, he noticed the Ruskies soldiers were not even shooting at them and even the ground was less tortured by the rockets and bombs. Contrary to what you might
think, these details unnerved Nazik even more than the massive barrage of hours earlier.

  Nazik and his men went to work. In less than an hour, he destroyed an armored car and shot or stabbed 7 other paratroopers. That made 13 kills including the crew of the armored car and one officer who was hanging around the vehicle. He had made his personal quota and it was time to save his life and lives of his men for another fight. Every bone in his body told him not to take the obvious retreat route left open by the initial paratroops. His animal instincts told him it was not safe. He had lost none of his squad and they had done a good job despite the others around them running at first chance.

  Three of his squad snuck off and ran with the waves of others to the corridor open to the southeast. Nazik led his men directly east from his original area of operations, the Kucuksu Palace on the shoreline overlooking the straights. It was a small palace that had been renovated in 1944 and was used by royal hunting parties as a stopping off point towards parts unknown. Nazik and his men had enjoyed their stay on the grounds. It was now a pile of ruins and rubble destroyed by the initial shelling and rocket attacks.

  Knowing full well what was about to happen, the Turkish high command made the controversial decision to make the Western part of Istanbul or European side an open city. They were hoping to avoid Istanbul’s destruction, once again by an invading army, and had heavily fortified the eastern side or Asian side across the Turkish straights. Nazik was thankful that the western side was devoid of fortifications as it made his escape much easier. His departure would have been without drama, except for the 10,000 or so Soviet paratroopers between him and short term safety.