by M. L. Maki
Commander John ‘Marshall’ Dillon to his RIO, Ensign Joline ‘Fish’ Pond, “Okay, Fish, we mass volley at thirty miles. Sort out the shot with the others.”
“Marshall, two are turning our way.”
“Some kind of defensive maneuver? Target those still on course.”
Fish on radio, “As briefed. Target those still on course.” Seven RIO’s affirm the order. Fish, “Volley fox three.” Eight ‘14s fire four AIM-54 Phoenix missiles each. Fish, on intercom, “Targeting radar, sir. Those two out of position have launched.” On radio, “Incoming. Evasive.”
Marshall inverts and dives. “We’re in their range.” Two of his jets are too slow to maneuver.
ALBATROSS 1
Mentz, on radio, “Jammers on. Jammers on.” The German jammers are below their wings. The Phoenix missile, with its extraordinary range, and because of its high curving path into the upper atmosphere, attacks from above. It has its own targeting radar, completely unaffected by the German’s jammers. The Phoenix missiles, some targeting the same plane, find twelve Albatross’s. They crumble, falling into the Norwegian mountains. There are no chutes.
Gant, “Two are down, Oberst. We got them, sir.”
Mentz, “Yes, and we lost twelve. So many.”
“Do we abort, sir?”
“No. We continue.”
BEEFEATER 1
Marshall and Fish hear Ensign Lonny ‘Hilo’ Stevens on the radio, “Meat Head is hit. Still flying.”
‘Meat Head’ Jones is a 1990 with twenty-five kills. “Pulling 2.”
Marshall, “Have Skeeter stay with him.”
Fish, on radio, “Skeeter, stay with Meat Head. Meat Head, you’re still on fire.”
Marshall, “We need dust off. I see chutes for Lips and Sly.” They watch as Ensign Karen ‘Lips’ Moss and Ensign Marsha ‘Sly’ Snick, ‘41’s and new pilots, drift to the ocean below.
Fish, on radio, “Yankee, Beefeater 1. We need dust off for four. The helos will need refueled.”
“Roger, Beefeater 1. Scrambling the Eightballers and the Arco.”
CHAPTER 39
CONTROL ROOM, RAF GREENWOOD
0035, 11 January, 1943
Spike strides into the control room, “What do we have?”
“Yankee reports engaging forty-six German bombers over Norway. They say twelve were destroyed and two Tomcats lost. The Germans have missiles and jammers.”
“Which Ghost do we have up?”
“Ghost 078.”
“Thank you. Land and refuel the CAP.” She picks up the base wide announcing circuit, “Black Knights, make all preparations for a full squadron sortie at 0500.”
The Canadian duty officer, “You would leave your radar plane alone?”
“I would. The Hawkeye will find them long before the Germans can fire upon them. The Hawkeye is way faster.”
Swede walks in, and she brings him up to speed. He nods, “Good plan. Brief at four. Launch at five?”
“Yes. I need to know the Germans tactics. Send a message to Yankee for the details.”
OFFICER’S CLUB, NAS MIRAMAR
2140, 10 January, 1943
Jeremiah shows Gloria the ring he bought. “Do you think she’ll like it?”
Gloria looks at it in the light, “I do. It’s beautiful, Jere. How do you plan to propose?”
“A bonfire.”
ARTHUR 1, 40,000 FEET, 200 MILES SOUTH OF ALBATROSS FLIGHT
0535, 11 January, 1943
Spike, “Chaos, we know where they are. As we briefed, we come up behind them.”
“Aye, Spike. There should be thirty-four. Why aren’t we firing all of our missiles at once?”
“Because some will miss. We fire one missile at each bird. Any that survive get a second missile. That should eliminate them all.”
“Roger that.”
On the secure frequency, they hear, “Knight flight, Ghost 81. Come to 223. Tango is 80 miles at 223.”
Spike makes a smooth turn and all her jets line up abreast. The sun rise is behind and to their left. Chaos says, “I’m ready.”
Spike, “Me, too. Let me talk to them first. Maybe, just maybe, we can get them to surrender.”
“Knight flight, Ghost 81. Illuminate. Good hunting.”
Spike, “Check fire.”
Chaos repeats the order. She switches to the German frequency, “German bombers. This is the Drachendame. I’m behind you with fourteen jets and enough missiles to destroy all of your planes. Jettison your cargo and land where I say. No one has to die today.”
ALBATROSS 1
Gant, “Sir, is she bluffing?”
Mentz, “I truly hope so. We circle back with Victor.”
Gant, “Opening missile bay.”
ARTHUR 1
Chaos, “Two are turning.”
Spike, calm, “Fire as briefed.”
Chaos on radio, “Knights. Volley Fox 3.” Thirty-four Phoenix missiles drop and fire. They sprint ahead of the jet and curve upward.
ALBATROSS 1
Gant, “Targeting radar! From behind the formation!”
Mentz, “My plane.” He descends and continues the turn. “Extend our package.” On the radio, “Turn on jammers and stay calm.”
Gant, “I can’t see them. Fuck.” He looks over his shoulder as their plane makes the turn, “Sir, we’re losing planes. So many planes. No chutes!” The bomber above and behind them in the formation is hit. The fireball reaches toward them and the rear of their fuselage is peppered with debris.
Mentz, “How many are hit?”
“Fifteen…Sir, twenty. Maybe more.”
“Half our force in one shot. Understood. The Americans have fired their missiles. We’ll make them pay.”
ARTHUR 1
Chaos, “We hit twenty-one. Both of ours hit. We got one of the turning bombers. The other’s still coming around.”
Spike, “Target the one turning.”
“Got it.” On radio, “Fox 3.” Each plane in her squadron fires two missiles. The enemy is closer, the flight time shorter.
ALBATROSS 1
Mentz, “We’re hit. Engine 4 and 5. Throttles to idle.”
Gant, “We’re on fire!”
Mentz, “Do you have the shot?”
Gant, “We’re on fire. Just a moment. Radar on. Fire two.”
ARTHUR 1
Chaos, “All but two are hit. Five are still flying. They’re losing altitude. The rest are gone. Our hit is still turning.”
“Warn everyone.”
Chaos, on radio, “Inbound. Break. Break.”
Spike sees two missiles leave the rails of the stricken bomber. She inverts and fires off countermeasures. “Grunt.”
They hear Gandhi, “Fox 3. Fox 3.”
Spike, “That’s the last two. Where’s the missile?”
“It passed astern.”
On radio, Gandhi, “Splash two.” One of the bombers was hit aft of its bomb bay. A huge fireball expands in the thin air, then dissipates. All that’s left is falling debris.
Then, Ensign Peter ‘Fast’ Chester, RIO for Ensign ‘Truck’ Carmichael, calls on the radio, “Truck is hit. Truck is hit. Still flying. Left engine is pulled. Still flying.”
Spike gets on the radio, “Check fire. Check fire. Cuddles, escort Truck to the nearest feasible runway. That will be Saint-Honore. Steer 155.” As she talks, she maneuvers behind and below Albatross 1.
Cuddles RIO, “Roger, Spike.”
As the bomber descends, she can see that two engines are a total loss and the wings peppered with holes, fuel streaming from them. “Chaos, I’m going to try to talk him down.”
“Roger.”
She selects the German’s frequency, “German missile bomber. I told you. I do not wish to waste your lives. You have no chance. None.”
ALBATROSS 1
Gant, “What do we do?”
Mentz, “Gant, do you wish to die?”
“I will die, if I must, Herr Oberst.”
“I know yo
u will. There is nothing more we can do for our fatherland. If we fight, we die. We have a choice. Do you wish to die?”
“No, Herr Oberst.”
“Nor do I.” Mentz selects the release lever and jettisons the missile rack. He closes the bomb bay door. As the missile rack falls away, he feels the plane lift. On radio, “All units, Albatross 1. Jettison ordinance. When we get to a lower altitude, jettison all classified information. Drachendame, can you give us a steer?”
Spike finally breaths. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. “How many meters do you need to land?”
Mentz, “Twenty-five hundred meters.”
Spike, “Bagotville can accommodate you. Steer 152.”
FINAL, RAF GREENWOOD, NOVA SCOTIA
Lieutenant James ‘Oscar’ Stewart jockeys the engines and adjusts his altitude so he can stay on the glide slope. As he crosses the runway threshold, he flares and lands. “Mustang 301, turn left on taxi way B. Follow ground directions.”
His RIO, Gabby, “Taxi B. Mustang 301.”
In a few minutes he’s directed to a stop by the yellow shirts. “I’m glad we don’t have to land on an aircraft carrier.”
Gabby, “Yeah. But, I’m sure you could.”
RAF SAINTE HONORE, CANADA
Truck and Fast inspect their bird. Cuddles unasses his bird and joins them. “Truck, that was some heads up flying. You got her down. Do you know what you did wrong with the missile?”
Fast, “We tried to lock it up, but couldn’t.”
Cuddles, “I’ve only seen that trick pulled once or twice, and it’s always at extreme range. The right maneuver is to dive perpendicular to the missile and fire off chaff and flares. We taught you that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Swede has an away team coming to patch your bird back together.”
Fast, “Do you think Spike got the Germans to surrender?”
Cuddles smiles, “In England, she got a whole army to surrender.”
ALBATROSS 1
Mentz is at the controls as they glide down to the runway at RAF Bagotville. “Gant, we leave our weapons in the plane. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mentz brings in the huge plane, slow and easy. As they touch down, both men breath a deep sigh of relief. “We’re down.” They taxi to the other bombers and line up at the end, wings overlapping with the last in line. He looks out and sees armed security in position surrounding the last four birds of his flight. He looks up and sees two F/A-14s landing in formation. He watches them taxi and stop nearby.
Gant, “It’s the Drachendame.”
Mentz nods, looking at all the flags on the lead plane. “Maybe she wants to meet us. Her German isn’t terrible.” He opens the cockpit canopy and a stairway is pushed against the side of his plane. He and Gant climb down slowly, keeping their hands visible.
As they step onto solid ground, a security team pats them down, removes their knives, and steps back. Spike climbs down from her bird, and walks over. “You are in charge? You landed last.”
Mentz, “I am.”
Spike, “I wish you had surrendered sooner. You had zero chance.”
Mentz, “I hoped you were bluffing.”
Spike’s lips twitch, “I never bluff.”
Mentz nods, “What will happen to me and my men?” He sees ground crew crawling all over the damaged planes.
“You will be treated in accordance with the Geneva Convention. After the war is ended, you will be sent home.”
“Our aircraft?”
“They will be studied.”
He nods, “I left my pistol on my seat. Drachendame, it should be yours.”
A crewman hands her a Luger. “Thank you.” She puts it in a pocket and offers Mentz her hand, “I wish you the best.”
“I wish the best for you, as well. Something I can give you. One of your people, a Jew named Moskowitz. He is working at the factory.”
Mentz sees Spike’s face light with joy. “Thank you. It is good to know he lives.” She takes a deep breath. “Take care.” She walks away into the hanger and finds the head.
BOBLINGEN AIRFIELD, GERMANY
0130, 12 January, 1943
Goering paces, “They should be back by now. Some would return. Some would.”
An aid rushes to his side, “Reichsmarschall, this was released in the American press.” Goering takes the paper and reads, “HUNT’S SQUADRON KILLS THE ENTIRE GERMAN BOMBER GROUP!” He throws the paper at the aid, “That bitch is everywhere.” He stomps to his car and gets in, “To Berlin.”
SPIKE’S OFFICE, RAF GREENWOOD, NOVA SCOTIA, CANADA
0952, 12 January, 1943
Spike and Swede sign the turnover paperwork. He looks up, “It hurts me to be taking your slot.”
“I get it, Swede. You’re a good person. It’ll all get sorted out eventually. Once it is, I’ll move up. Right now, I’m right where I want to be.”
Cooper knocks and pops his head in, “Boss, Pettigrew is at the gate asking to speak with you.”
Swede, “That ass. Fuck him.”
Spike “I tore him apart in his FITREP. Why would he be here?”
Swede, “Do you trust him?”
“No. The thing is, I destroyed the man. Why would he come back?” She thinks for a moment and nods, “Cooper, escort him to the lounge. Swede, could you meet Lee and Klindt when they land and bring them to the meeting?”
“Yeah, sure. Watch your back.”
“I will.”
Twenty minutes later, Cooper escorts a disheveled Pettigrew into the lounge. Pettigrew stops when he sees Spike. He makes eye contact and renders a proper salute. “Civilian reporting with information, ma’am.”
“Cooper, please get Mr. Pettigrew a cup of coffee.” As Cooper complies, she turns back to Pettigrew, “Tell me your tale.”
“First, I deserved everything you did to me, and more. I owe you a profound apology. I say this not expecting acceptance.”
Spike nods, “I accept your apology.” Cooper hands Pettigrew his coffee and looks at Spike. She smiles and motions for him to leave.
“Thank you, ma’am. I understand that does nothing to redeem my character. I’ll be working on that for the rest of my life.” He pauses and takes a breath. He holds the coffee cup in both hands, breathing in the steam. Admiral Klindt, Admiral Lee, and Swede walk in and sit down.
Pettigrew’s eyes are locked on Spike, “What I have to share is not an excuse, and it does nothing to absolve me of my responsibility for what I did to you. I’m bringing it to you, so you know it wasn’t only me.” He takes another sip of this coffee.
Spike, “I’m listening.”
“Quincy Diggs is the chief of staff for Senator Russell. He put me up to the whole thing. He promised me a position with the film crews if I could find anything incriminating on you, or…or if I could get you pregnant.” He hangs his head, then looks up, “I’m sorry. I was a selfish bastard. I took him up on it. It was wrong. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was horrible, but I silenced my better nature, and did it. When General Lincoln received my FITREP, and it said everything it should have said, he called Diggs.”
Pettigrew takes a ragged breath and finishes the coffee. “May I have another cup? I can’t seem to get warm.”
Spike nods, and Swede takes Pettigrew’s cup and refills it. He looks at Spike with a worried frown, and sits down.
Pettigrew, “Thank you.” He sips, then, “Diggs denied knowing me. I was fired, and I deserved to be fired. That’s not my point. I went to Digg’s office. He denied me in front of his secretary. Acted like he’d never met me.” He reaches into a coat pocket, “I did only one smart thing, ma’am.” He hands her a notebook. “I took notes every time he and I talked. There’s plenty in there that incriminates me as well. Frankly, I don’t care. I deserve it.”
Klindt takes the notebook from Spike and begins reading.
Spike, “This is why you came all this way?”
“It is.”
&n
bsp; “Now, what are you going to do?”
“Ma’am, I…I called my mother. She was so proud of me when I got my commission. My little brother was only…he joined the Marines. He’s in the Pacific.” He takes another sip, “God, I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t disappoint her. After dad died, we were all she had. She worked so hard…” Pettigrew hangs his head, “I was ashamed of her because she had to go out to work. She…she cleaned houses…I was going to be better than that. I vowed it.” He gives a hollow laugh, “Now look at me. I’m not better. I ruined my career in film. I lost my commission. I don’t know. If I don’t go to jail, I’ll try to join the infantry. Do you think they would accept me as a private?”
Lee, “You want to get back in the propaganda stuff?”
“No, sir. I want to carry a rifle and serve my country. If I do that…” He takes a ragged breath, “If I do that, then maybe, someday I’ll be able to live with myself. If I die, it’s all I deserve.”
Lee, “They should accept you. Lord knows, they need the riflemen.”
“Thank you, sir.” He turns back to Spike, “By your leave?”
Spike, “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Pettigrew. Cooper?”
Cooper, “Yes, ma’am.” He escorts Pettigrew out and drives him to the train station for the long trip back.
After they leave, Lee says, “Something else you should know, darlin’. The five bombers that surrendered, we have to account for them in the kill records. I know you hate it, but we’re raising your official kills by five.”
Spike nods, “Dad, please make sure they come off after the war.”
“Yes.”
RAF GREENWWOD, NOVA SCOTIA
1100, 12 January, 1943
Spike looks out at the Black Knights in formation. She smiles at Swede, and he returns it. They’ve just finished doing the squadron turnover. Admiral Lee says, “Attention to promotion. With his assignment to command Carrier Air Wing 12 comes a promotion to captain. Congratulations, Captain Swedenborg.”
Sam pins on his eagles, “I wish Gloria was here.”
Swede, “These should be yours.”
Sam smiles, “I’ll get mine soon enough. You’ve earned them.”
Swede, “Why aren’t you pissed?”
Sam’s smile widens, “Because you’re my friend and I’m happy for you. Swede, they don’t own me and they don’t deserve my anger. The people who matter know who I am.”