by M L Maki
Tommy smiles and shifts his weight, “You know, I was going to ask you the same thing.” A pair of F-14s fly a pass to the north.
“Never.”
“It was worth a try, but I thought so. Do you ever wonder what will happen to you when you die?”
Puzzled, Meier answers, “No. Whatever my soul is, I do my duty, so it is pure. Do you?”
“Yeah, I do. Especially, lately. I hope God can forgive me for what I do.”
Meier smiles, “And what do you do?”
Tommy slowly brings his left hand up and grasps his pistol, in its shoulder holster, by his index finger and thumb. The Germans watch him remove the pistol, totally focused on his left hand. Tommy wraps his right hand around the hilt of the sword, its sheath taped upside down to his back, and pulls it free. “Now!” He shifts to his left and rushes Meier, bringing the sword up back-handed, and stroking it across Meier’s throat.
At his command, Wingnuts men open fire, taking out the front row of infantry. Meier pulls the trigger on his Luger just as the sword touches his skin, and hits Tommy in the right chest. Tommy reverses the sword, and pushes it into Meier’s neck, severing his trachea, then his hand lets go and he drops the sword.
Meier, eyes wide in disbelief, fires again and again, hitting Wingnut in the chest and gut, then shooting into the air. Tommy falls and rolls onto his back, trying to get his gun up. He can barely see. His world is contracting and getting dark. Then he sees two F-14s dive in. Tommy smiles, “Yes! It worked. We did it.”
ROOK 131, OVER EPSOM
Nix, in a shallow dive, sees Wingnut fall. “Selecting ground.” He opens up with his 20mm cannon, hitting a tank, then a truck that explodes spectacularly.
Robot, “SAM launch at our six.”
“Got it.” Nix triggers off chaff and flares and hugs the ground, then climbs as the missiles crash into the ground behind him.
Arthur is next in to strafe. Lizard, “Spike is in.”
Robot, “Watch the SAMs.”
Lizard, “SAMs are gone. Spike out.”
They circle back, as each ’14 takes it turn strafing the German unit. “Thud in. Thud out.”
“Swede in. Swede out. We see a tank trying to advance in the rubble.”
“Gunner in. Gunner out.”
“Pappy in. Pappy out.”
“Nix in.” He settles on a group of trucks and takes them out, scattering troops as he goes. He hits a tanker truck, and it goes away, sending a shock wave through the trapped unit. “Nix out.”
As Nix pulls out, two A-10s join the line. In minutes, all the tanks are smoking hulks, the trucks are all on fire, and the remaining infantry are dead or running like hell, trying to hide in the ruined town.
EPSOM, UK
Sergeant Johnny Rodriguez and the medic run out to Wingnut, grasp him by the shoulders, and drag him back to cover. The corpsman cuts open Tommy’s flight suit, “Damn, three, we got three. Sergeant take this compress and get pressure on his upper chest. NOW!”
Rodriguez presses the bandage onto the wound, blood running over his hands. Tommy’s eye’s flutter open, “Stay with us, Lieutenant. Stay with us.”
Tommy smiles, “God, you’re an ugly angel. Johnny, get them home.”
Johnny fights back tears, “Come on, Boss. Stay with us.”
The medic, Franks says, “There, got those, now,” and turns to work on the last wound. A shadow covers them, and the medic looks up. The largest black man he’s ever seen is looking down at him.
Fluffy asks, “How is he?”
“I think the external bleeding is under control, but he’s got three bullets in him and he needs a surgeon.”
“Roger, that.” He turns to the sailors that came out with him, “Bobby, call it in. Tell them to meet us with an ambulance. Wingnut’s critical.”
“Aye, Chief. Okay, let’s get this done. The sailors sling their weapons and pick Wingnut up. Tommy’s squad forms the perimeter and they move fast toward Kenley’s perimeter.
AC-130, 5000 FEET OVER EPSOM
Major Albert Maki looks out his side window as they approach their target. “Get ready for action, boys.” On radio, “Yankee, Specter 1, I can see the area of engagement south west of Kenley. Are there friendlies on the ground?”
“Specter 1, Yankee actual, affirmative. They’re to the east heading back to Kenley out of the debris field.”
“Roger, I’ve acquired them. So, the troops heading after them are the enemy?”
“Specter 1, Yankee actual, affirmative. You are weapons free. Take them out.”
“Weapons free, roger.”
Maki turns his Specter C-130 on its left wing, sights out his window, and opens fire.
LEAVING EPSOM
Fluffy and Rodriguez are on drag, walking backward and firing. A bullet takes off Fluffy’s ball cap. He stops, reaches down, picks it up, and puts it back on his head. When he looks up, three SS are running over the top of the debris.
Then hell rains down, and the SS disappear in a wall of bullets. Fluffy looks up and sees the Specter, “Oh hell, yes. Run boys. God’s taking care of the bastards.”
Fluffy sees that the men carrying Wingnut are struggling to hold on to him. He runs in front of them, “Stop.” He bends down and they put Tommy on his left shoulder. He straightens up and turns, running to the base and the waiting truck.
CHAPTER 29
1ST BRIGADE, 18TH PANZER DIVISION, COMING UP ON WOOFORD WELLS, NE OF LONDON
0816, 7 October, 1942
The brigade commander is standing in his hatch studying the village in front of them when he hears the loud, paper tearing, sound of incoming artillery fire. He shouts on the radio, “Button up!”
Most of them are already closing their hatches when the rounds start falling on them.
VALKYRIE 1, 100 FEET, SIX MILES EAST OF THE GERMAN 1ST BRIGADE
LCDR Douglas sees the where the shells fall and reports, “Mississippi, Valkyrie 1, good shots. Fire for effect.”
All three battle wagons open up. Thirty-four 14-inch guns hammer the German formation. Bodies and tanks and vehicles fly into the air.
Douglas to her new co-pilot, “It’s hell, pure and simple. See what we have wrought.”
BRICKET WOOD, HERTFORDSHIRE, UK, 14 MILES NW OF LONDON
0820, 7 October, 1942
Sergeant Tommy Thompson and Lieutenant Maki, still in his khaki uniform, step off the bus. The platoon lieutenant calls his men to muster. Maki wanders into an aid station in a church. The vicar and his people are helping the nurses and one doctor. The place smells of iodine and alcohol. A nurse notices him, “May I help you, Captain?”
“Lieutenant. May I speak with the men?”
“Of course. Are any of them yours?”
“No, ma’am. I just want to help.”
Another ambulance pulls up and she walks away.
ROMMEL’S HQ, LUTON, UK, 25 MILES NORTH OF LONDON
0824, 7 October, 1942
Rommel, on radio, “First of the 18th, fall back. Fall back! Those are battleship guns.” He turns to his aid, “Get me Weber.” He shakes his head, looking at his map.
His aid hands him the radio, “Weber, sir.”
“General, they have battleships somewhere in the Thames estuary. They’re a secondary priority behind the Devil’s Cross, but please, they need to be destroyed.”
“Can you avoid them for now?”
“I can, but it forces me west and our enemy knows that.”
“Understood, sir.”
VALKYRIE 117, FIELD SOUTH OF ALYLESBURY, 36 MILES NW OF LONDON, UK
0850, 7 October, 1942
Lieutenant Jim ‘Smooth’ Lowandowski hovers his SH-60 as his sensor operator and a corpsman, HM3 Franks, run out for a wounded A-10 pilot. The SENSO slaps the center console when they’re back on board and he rolls on the engine power, increases his rotor pitch, and pushes the stick forward. The bird transitions to forward flight and climbs out. Smooth, like his call sign. He turns south for Guys Hospital
.
In three minutes, they’re crossing the German lines. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a missile launch. “Hang on!”
He drops the collective and the chopper drops. Applying collective and throttle, he slows as the ground comes up. The missile turns and explodes against the cockpit roof. The engine grenades and Smooth adds more collective and pulls up a bit. The helicopter lands flat and slides into a stone barn. Smooth and his co-pilot are instantly killed.
The corpsman hauls the SENSO and the A-10 pilot out of the burning wreckage. Alders is treating the two men when German soldiers walk up. They do not interfere as he gets the pilot stable and covers the SENSO’s burns, then gives them both a shot of morphine. He sits back, they should recover.
Then he looks up and sees a smiling SS officer approaching. Alders stands and puts his hands up. The German’s smile broadens, and he opens fire with his machine pistol, killing all three men.
FIELD HOSPITAL, BRICKET WOOD, HERTFORDSHIRE, UK
0856, 7 October, 1942
Lieutenant Maki kneels next to a soldier with burned arms and hands, “How are you?”
The man answers in a British accent, “Better than a lot of my mates, sir.”
“What branch are you with?” Maki takes out a notebook and pen.
“Armor, sir. Trooper David Preacher, East Riding of Yorkshire Yeomanry.”
“An honor to meet you. I’m Lieutenant Maki, US Navy. May I ask you some questions?”
“Of course, sir.”
“I’m with the Navy Design Bureau. We’re working on new tanks. Have you faced the German tanks?”
“Bloody hell, I have. Begging your pardon, sir.”
“No problem. What can you tell me about them?”
“We’re facing two kinds. The smaller is the Panzer 4. A fine tank with a high velocity 75mm gun. My Covenanter, with its two pounder is no match for it, but we gave them hell, anyway.”
“And the larger one?”
“It’s mobile death, sir. From the size of hole it puts in our armor, it has at least a 120mm high velocity gun. It can shoot accurately from over a mile. Artillery will kill them, and the amazing Dragons. They chew them up. But my rounds, just bounced off their hull.”
“Thank you. Obviously, a new tank has to have a big high velocity gun, and respectable armor. I know a tank should be easy to maintain in the field, but what other characteristics do you think it should have?”
The young Brit pushes up onto his elbows, “You’re asking me? I’ve never built a tank?”
“You’ve fought in them. What couldn’t your tank do, that you needed it to do?”
“Um, as low a silhouette as possible.”
Maki writes, “That requires the commander’s hatch to be separate from the gunner’s hatch.”
“Yeah, that would be brilliant. When you brew up, the gunner might escape. The tank needs to be powerful and as fast in reverse as it is in forward. When you see a turret tracking to you, you want to back up as fast as possible and get something solid between you.”
“That makes sense. How does the driver know where he’s going?”
Preacher laughs, “He don’t. The commander or loader gives him directions. When the Hun is firing at you, you don’t much give a fuck if you hit a farmer’s fence.”
A nearby nurse frowns at them, “Begging your pardon, ma’am. Speaking of fast, the faster the better.”
“I agree. Most tanks have gunner and commander on the right and loader on the left. Does that arrangement work?”
“It kinda has to. There’s no way the loader can manage the gun left-handed. Well, not most loaders. You ain’t thinking of building lefty tanks, are you?”
“No, the tanks all need to be the same.”
Then, a man runs in, “We got to move. The Hun broke through.”
CONTROL CENTER, RAF KENLEY
0915, 7 October, 1942
Spike is back in control, listening to the progress of the battle. “BATDIV-5, Valkyrie 1, cease fire. I repeat, cease fire. All enemy is destroyed.”
Spike looks at the map, “Good, now they have to go west. Inform the Warthogs that the Germans will be shifting west.”
They hear Commodore James, “Valkyrie 1, BATT DIV, what percentage of kills?”
“BATT DIV, Valkyrie 1. One hundred percent destruction. There is nothing left.”
Spike shakes her head. She knows it was the right decision, but… Andrews joins her, “Most of the ground crews are back at work. We’ve lost nine,” and he hands her the list of dead and wounded.
“Damn, I saw what Wingnut did down there. He bought us time. Here’s a draft for the CMH and one for a Navy Cross for his sergeant. Those men saved a hell of a lot of lives.”
“Yes, Spike. One of them would like to see you.”
“Okay, send him in.”
Andrews motions and Jimmy Thatcher walks in carrying his sword in its sheath. Jimmy salutes Spike, “Private Thatcher, ma’am.”
She smiles at the slight boy, “Hello, Private Thatcher. That’s a nice sword.”
“Yes, ma’am, a saber. My great-grandfather earned it in Egypt in 1890.”
“I see.”
“My grandfather died at Hudderfield where I met the Lieutenant. His men, the airborne rangers, teased me about carrying it into battle, but it’s all I had, until Grandfather died, and I got his rifle. I cleaned the sword up, ma’am. It’s for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is what Lieutenant Urland used to kill the Nazi commander. He had us tape it to his back. He took that Nazi’s head clean off. Well, mostly off. The sword should go to Lieutenant Urland, but they won’t let me in to see him. So, could you take it and make sure he gets it?”
“What would your father think about you giving the sword away?”
“Ma’am, my father died at Dunkirk. My Grandpa died at Hudderfield. My mum died of the fever years and years ago. It was just me and Grandpa, and now, it’s just me.”
“I’m sorry. Private, what’s your full name, and how old are you?”
“James Thatcher, ma’am. Grandpa called my Jimmy, and I’m sixteen.”
General Ridgeway walks into control.
“Thank you, Jimmy. Colonel, keep him with the airborne fire team who was with Lieutenant Urland. They need rest. He’s going to need gear. Draw the expense out of my personal account. Private Thatcher, we’ll get you sorted. Don’t worry.”
“Ma’am, me and the Sergeant, and the guys, if there’s fighting to do, we’d rather be fighting.”
“I’m sorry, Jimmy. I’m not authorized to send someone sixteen years old into battle. That, and if you die, your whole family line dies with you.”
“Did I say sixteen? I meant nineteen, ma’am, and begging your pardon, I’m not in the royal line. I’m not even noble. If my family’s gone, it’s no difference to nobody.”
“It makes a difference to me, okay?”
“Can you keep the sword safe until Lieutenant Urland’s healed up and you decide what do to do with me?”
“Yes, that I can do.” She hands the sword to Andrews, “My office, thank you.” Andrews guides Jimmy out and she turns to Ridgeway. “General, do we have enough planes?”
Ridgeway grins, “You grounded every C-130 that landed here until we did. The airborne unit you were talking about, it’s led by Sergeant Rodriguez, correct?”
“Yes, I think they need the rest.”
“They think they need another combat drop. They’ve already drawn gear.”
Spike takes a deep breath, “Damn. I need statements from them for a CMH investigation.”
“I gave the reports to Andrews. Are you putting the kid in for a medal?”
“I’m putting Rodriguez and Franks in for the Navy Cross, the other five for bronze stars, including Private Thatcher.”
“Good. I’ve set H hour for 0630 tomorrow. It’ll be full dark on the ground, but we’ll have some light at altitude. Once we’re down, we’ll have daylight to secure the fie
ld.”
“That works. I’ll have my units up and briefed. We’ll synch with your schedule.”
Ridgeway, “I’ve studied what we have on their air defenses. Can you take them out?”
“We must. If we fail, then you’ll abort.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
IMPERIAL COLLEGE, WHITE CITY, NORTH LONDON
1310, 7 October, 1942
Lieutenant Maki walks backward carrying another stretcher. He and the soldier on the other end are directed to a classroom. When he’s delivered his patient, he goes out front and finds his transportation gone. Going back into the building, he sees a British soldier crawling toward a rifle leaning against the wall.
“Can I give you a hand?”
The young man looks up, “Do you have one to spare?” Maki turns red, the man’s left hand is gone. “You could get me my rifle.”
“Why?’
“Because I’m fucking useless in bed, and no bloody way the Hun will find me asleep in bed.”
“We’ll stop them.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Truth, I don’t. I do know some of the Marines at our front, and they know their business. I know Patton has tanks and he knows his business. And, Commodore Hunt is still flying. I trust her.”
Maki gets the rifle and ammo belt and gives them to the soldier, “Can I ask what happened?”
“I’m a sniper. A tank took the building I was in. It fell and crushed me. Now, I’m useless. My rifle can’t speak.” He looks at Maki, “Why are you here?”
“I’m US Navy. I’m here to learn how to defeat the German tanks.”
“Then pick up my rifle and face them.”
Maki flushes, “Who are you?’
“Sergeant Murray, Recon platoon, 6th Battalion, Gordon Highlanders.”
“Lieutenant Maki, Navy Special Projects. If the Admiral finds out I was in combat, he’d be so pissed.”
“So, you’re neutered?”
“If you’d made it to your rifle, what would you have done?”
“I’m done. I’m useless like this.”
“Look, if I take your rifle out there, you’d better be here when I get back.”
“Do you know how to shoot, Navy man?”