****
Bainbridge took control as they hit the IP and started the bomb run. Theoretically, having the entire bomber group hold a steady course approaching the target was logical. But in reality, with flack bursting all around, it was ludicrous. The anti-aircraft gunners’ expertise allowed them to target the group’s exact altitude. From the ground it was a turkey shoot with 88 mm cannons firing at moving, but predictable, targets.
A scream came over the intercom.
A few seconds later the left waist gunner reported the radio man had been hit. “He’s bleedin’ bad.”
“Take care of him,” Sikes ordered.
Another explosion threw the plane upward. The bombs. With the bomb bay open, if the bombs were hit, the plane would be blown to smithereens.
Peterson’s voice came over the intercom. “Number three’s smoking. Losing pressure.”
“Okay. Bain, how much longer?” Sites asked.
“We’re almost there. A few more minutes,” replied the bombardier.
“McNichols, how’s LaCross doing?”
No answer from the back of the plane.
“What’s going on back there?” Peterson asked.
Still no reply.
“Hood, check the com lines,” Sikes ordered.
“Bombs away,” Bainbridge announced. At that moment the bombs jerked free. The plane lurched upward. Ted instinctively grabbed hold.
Hood mumbled something about the bombs, but Ted couldn’t understand him.
A concussion rocked the bomber, again.
“Check in,” Peterson said calmly, as if they were just cruising along on a routine flight.
“Bainbridge.”
“Kruger.”
Then silence.
“Bain, get up here and help Hood.”
Ted wondered what had happened to the Flight Engineer. Bainbridge eased past and disappeared through the passage to the flight deck.
“Kruger, get back to the waist and see what’s going on.”
“Okay.”
Ted unbuckled, disconnected his throat mike and oxygen line. He hooked up a walk-around bottle and crawled through to the bomb bay. When he opened the door, the wind from the open bomb bay doors almost sucked him out. He carefully made his way along the narrow bridge between the racks where the bombs had hung just moments before. Wind assaulted him from all sides. He focused on the hand holds and the walkway, trying to ignore the gaping empty space and the ground twenty thousand feet below.
He reached the radio compartment and forced the door shut behind him. LaCrosse lay sprawled on the floor. Blood covered his midsection, seeping through the many layers of clothing. He’d never make it back bleeding like that. McNichols knelt over the wounded man doing what he could to administer first aid.
Ted nodded to the waist gunner, then stepped around them into the waist. Colson was out of the ball turret but hung over it holding his oxygen mask to his face.
Ted grabbed another oxygen bottle. He hooked Colson to it then leaned the semi-conscious man against the bulkhead and checked him for wounds.
Blood dripped from Colson’s left hand. Probably hit in the arm.
Ted glanced around for the other waist gunner. Movement in the tail section caught his eye. The tail gunner must have been hit.
Ted fished a knife out of his pocket. The bulky gloves caused him to fumble it. Instinctively he started to remove his glove, then he stopped himself. If his hands got frostbit, he’d be useless. He picked up the knife, cut Colson’s sleeve, and peeled it back to reveal a bleeding gash in his forearm.
Ted fumbled with the first aid kit and managed to get a bandage out. He wrapped it around Colson’s wounded arm as tightly as he could.
Shelton pulled the unconscious tail gunner into the waist. Ted stood, but before he could take a step the plane shuddered, knocking him off balance. He grabbed the .50 caliber gun to keep from falling.
Someone punched him in the arm. McNichols stood beside him and shouted through his mask. “Come look at LaCrosse.” Ted nodded and went ahead of McNichols into the radio compartment. He knelt down to examine the wounded man. He was dead.
Ted forced himself to ignore the sick feeling in his gut. Daylight flickered through a hole big enough to put his fist through right where the radioman had been sitting.
He turned back to McNichols and shouted, “Go help the others.” He nodded toward the waist. “I’m going to tell Sikes what’s going on back here.”
McNichols nodded.
Ted turned and pulled open the door to the bomb bay. He’d hoped the pilot had closed the bomb doors, but he hadn’t.
As the cold wind whipped around Ted, he gritted his teeth and steeled himself against the temptation to look down. Instead he stood for a few seconds. Instinct told him something was wrong. He spotted a ragged hole where the hydraulics and the com lines had been ripped apart.
He had to cross the narrow bridge, had to tell Sikes about the damage, about the wounded. His mind raced ahead. Getting back, crippled, so many wounded.
An explosion rocked the plane.
Bright orange flashed around him.
He slammed into something.
Blackness. Numbness. Silence.
He floated, suspended in a surreal dream.
Kitty.
She came to him. Smiling, her glorious hair glowing in the sunlight.
I’m sorry, my love. You can’t save me this time.
Chapter Thirty
Madge sat in her hotel room staring at the words she’d typed the day before. She’d managed to get hold of the debriefing reports from Ted’s last flight, and fighting tears, she’d typed up the sections describing his plane, when it was hit, when it went down.
She had wanted to know every gory detail. Everything that had happened. The report told it all, briefly, vividly. Direct from the men who’d seen it happen. Hit in the nose. Big explosion. The whole front of the plane gone. Steep nose dive. Wing came off. Two chutes spotted. Probably gunners. Jumped or thrown out just before the fuselage started to spiral.
She swiped at a tear spilling onto her cheek.
Why’d she have to fall for a guy like that? A guy who’d go and get himself killed? But she had. And he’d broken her heart. When he’d dumped her for Kitty, she’d sworn she’d hate both of them forever.
But she didn’t.
When she first heard, she’d been sure the report was wrong. Mistakes were made all the time. Fear drove her to dig deeper. She’d made calls, used up favors, and she’d verified that Ted was in fact assigned to that crew. He was on the flight the day it went down. She’d talked to two airmen who’d seen him at the briefing, who’d seen the plane go down.
Second Lieutenant T. R. Kruger, NAV: Missing, presumed dead.
His name glared at her. She couldn’t change it no matter how much she wanted to.
She’d prayed he wouldn’t go back to the bombers, that he’d stay at headquarters. She’d even hoped the stupid investigation would ground him. But it had only delayed the inevitable.
She sighed and slumped down on the bed. The tears came, and she didn’t try to stop them.
He’d known he was going to die. His friends had died, and he’d wanted to go with them. It was crazy, but she knew it was true.
And what about Kitty?
She had been so mad at Kitty. Her anger was really wounded pride that Ted preferred Kitty to her. That’s why she’d gotten so upset. That and Kitty being so stupid. The girl denied being interested in him when anyone could see the way she looked at him, the way she acted around him, how crazy she was about him.
Madge had watched Ted as some invisible force pulled him away from her and toward Kitty. Like some unexplained phenomenon in a magic act. Poof! And Ted had thrown her over for Kitty. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
Someone tapped on the door, and Madge got up to answer it.
“Aren’t you coming?” the girl asked.
“I’m not hungry. You go ahead.”
“What if we meet some guys and take off to a show or something?”
“Go ahead. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got other plans.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want.”
Madge closed the door and returned to the bed. The typed pages lay there, calling to her.
As much as she’d wanted to come to London and let off some steam, she couldn’t. She had to tell Kitty. She couldn’t bear the thought of the poor girl not knowing. It would be down-right cruel. The two may have fought over Ted, but now that he was gone, Madge couldn’t keep it from Kitty.
She looked at her watch. One o’clock. Maybe she could get to High Wycombe before the end of the work day. She’d find Kitty and tell her the horrible news. It was the least she could do for her friend.
****
Kitty stacked the files on the table by the bank of file cabinets. After she filed them all, she would still have time to straighten up her desk before the end of the day.
With General Lake gone for the afternoon, she had used the opportunity to get his office in order. He’d become increasingly disorganized since they’d been at High Wycombe. He complained his office was too small and he had too many interruptions.
She believed he was having trouble adjusting to his new position. What would have happened to him if she hadn’t agreed to come?
Subconsciously, she checked her hair to make sure no stray curls had escaped. Sure enough, some had slithered free. As she reached up with her other hand to find and adjust the pins, her thoughts strayed to Ted. She remembered how he had touched her hair, insisted she let it down. In his last letter he mentioned how much he missed caressing her hair and how he loved the way it framed her face.
Joy filled her heart. She gently caressed her curls as he would have done and relished the memory of his touch. Oh, how she wanted to see him again.
“Sergeant.”
A WAC approached her.
“Yes?” Kitty straightened and assumed her most business-like pose, hoping the other woman had not noticed her daydreaming.
“You have a visitor.”
Kitty’s heart leapt. Could it be Ted? Had he somehow managed to come see her? She looked beyond the woman but saw no one who didn’t belong.
“She’s downstairs,” came the explanation. “Can’t let her come up without security clearance.”
“Of course.” Kitty fought her disappointment. “Do you know who it is?”
The woman shook her head. “A WAC from another unit.” She started to turn. “I told her you’d be down shortly. When your shift ends.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
Kitty wondered who would visit her. She hadn’t been here long enough to make friends. Maybe one of the girls from Ellingham Castle. But why would they come here?
When she finished the filing and straightened her desk, Kitty went downstairs. She didn’t see anyone so she asked the guard on duty if there was someone waiting for her. He directed her to the little alcove under the stairway.
Madge jumped to her feet when Kitty approached.
“Madge!” Kitty was too shocked to say more.
“Hello, Kitty.”
She looked strange somehow, tired and not her usual upbeat self. But then, they hadn’t parted on good terms. So why had she come here?
Madge moved closer, almost touching her shoulder. “I need to talk to you.”
Kitty nodded. “Okay.” What did she want? And why so serious?
“Is there somewhere we can go? Somewhere with a little privacy?”
Apprehension tightened her insides. “Sure. Would you like a cup of coffee? Or tea, maybe?”
Madge nodded.
Kitty led her out through the main entrance. They walked across the road and down the board sidewalk to the canteen.
“Maybe it won’t be too crowded, and we can get a table to ourselves.”
Inside they ordered coffee at the counter. Each took a steaming mug, and Kitty led the way to an empty table in the corner. Up to now they’d avoided eye contact. As they settled in their seats, Kitty decided it was time to find out what Madge wanted.
Kitty sat her mug on the table and drew a deep breath. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
Madge held her mug with both hands and stared into its depth. Finally, she looked up. Their gazes met. “It’s about Ted.”
Kitty froze.
Madge’s face contorted. She blinked rapidly as if fighting tears. “Kitty…Ted’s dead.”
Kitty flinched as if Madge had slapped her. Her breath caught. Seconds passed before she could speak. “No,” she murmured, shaking her head.
“It’s true,” Madge continued in a strong determined voice. “His plane was shot down on the sixteenth.”
“No!” She’d found her voice. “No! It can’t be. I just got a letter yesterday.” Her words came out loud and furious.
“It is true. I saw the reports.”
“No, no, no.” Kitty shook her head back and forth, wanting to escape, to run away.
Madge leaned closer and reached out to put her hand over Kitty’s.
Kitty jerked away. “You’re lying. You want him back so you made up this story so I would think he was…” Her voice broke. She couldn’t say the words, couldn’t allow herself to admit the possibility.
Madge pulled back and straightened in her chair.
Kitty glared at her old friend. She saw the tears streaming down Madge’s face. At that moment, she knew. It was true.
She covered her face, trying to contain the rush of emotions. Her body convulsed, and she bent double. Madge’s arm slid around her shoulders. Sobs wracked her entire being. They morphed into coughs. She struggled to breathe.
Oh, God. Oh, God, no! No!
Madge held her until the sobs slowed, until the numbness descended. Kitty sat in a daze. Unable to think. Unable to move.
“Drink this,” Madge urged. She pressed a cup to Kitty’s lips.
Kitty tasted the liquid. Coffee. She took a drink then pulled away.
Her mind tried to focus. Ted. Gone. How?
“What happened? Do you know?”
Madge had mentioned a report. What did she mean?
“They were on a mission over Germany. His plane was shot down. Anti-aircraft fire, over the target.” Madge patted her hand. “Several men saw the plane go down.”
“Did…did anyone get out?” She’d heard of men parachuting out of burning planes.
“They reported seeing two chutes.”
She looked up into Madge’s face, for a glimmer of hope. “Then… Maybe he didn’t die. Maybe he got out.”
Madge shook her head. “I read the debriefing reports. All of them. I even talked to two men who saw it. The whole nose was shot off the plane. The only ones who could have gotten out were the gunners in the back.”
“I…I don’t understand.” She just couldn’t wrap her mind around what Madge was saying.
“You remember, back in the states, when that nice young lieutenant took us up for a ride in a B-17?”
Kitty nodded. It had been so long ago, but for a young girl who’d never flown in an airplane, it was unforgettable. “What’s that got to do with it?”
“Remember where the bombardier sat? Stuck out there with nothing but glass all around him?”
Kitty nodded. She’d ventured out there for a minute before panic set in and she’d retreated back into the body of the plane.
“The navigator sits just behind the bombardier.”
She remembered. Right behind the bombardier. Right below the pilots. In the nose.
Oh, God.
Her head dropped. She squeezed her eyes tight. Clenched her fists.
“He probably never knew what hit him.”
Kitty wanted to curl up and die. She rocked back and forth as Madge held her. She didn’t want to go on.
“I know. I know. I…I loved him, too.” Madge’s voice cracked.
Kitty nodded against her friend’s bosom. Madge had loved him. That’
s why she’d been so mad. They both loved him.
****
Kitty took Madge back to her quarters and arranged for her to stay the night.
A letter from Ted waited for her. She held it, unable to make herself open it. She vaguely listened as Madge explained to the girls who shared the room what had happened.
Kitty’s boyfriend had been killed. B-17. Shot down.
Kitty barely knew the other girls. At that moment she couldn’t even remember their names. They knew she had a man in her life because of the letters. He’d kept his promise, and once they’d started, she’d gotten a letter every day. How many more would she get before they stopped forever?
Finally, just before lights out, she gathered the courage to read his letter. With shaking fingers she tore open the envelope. At first the words swam on the page amid her tears. She blinked them away and forced herself to take deep breaths.
Darling, Not much happening today. A training flight to get the new crews used to getting into formation. Not very exciting. I like the guys in this crew. Sikes and Peterson are good pilots, although more superstitious than most. I’ll have to tell you about their pre-flight ritual. You’ll laugh. Hope to see you soon. It won’t be long now. When I finish up, I should get leave. Then we can get together. Till then, Love, Ted
She felt his presence, deep inside. As if he were here beside her. She could feel his touch, his kiss, the way he ran is fingers through her hair. His arms around her, holding her close.
“When is that dated?” Madge interrupted her thoughts.
She looked at the date at the top of the page. “July 14th.”
Madge sighed. “Maybe you’ll get a few more.”
Kitty nodded. She carefully folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. Then she opened a box beside her bed and placed it on top of the other letters. Some from Milton and some from Ted.
She gently closed the box, caressing the top. “At least I have his letters.” Then a thought occurred to her. “Do you have a picture of him?” She hoped maybe Ted had given Madge a portrait, one of those shots made in his dress uniform.
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