World War Three 1946 Series Boxed Set: Stalin Strikes First

by Harry Kellogg

  Yet tonight they had arisen from the shores of the Channel and were flying West with what seemed like a purpose. Almost 100, what seemed like solo missions, spread out and flying due West at low to medium altitude. The new models of radar easily picked them up and they must have known that, yet here they were flying into what would seem to be certain destruction. True the AA defenses had been decimated but he night fighter units had been largely untouched and had been well hidden during the onslaughts of the previous days that had decimated their daylight counterparts. For the most part the night fighter units were intact and ready to deal death.

  Williams dove down and approached the much slower target from the lower rear heading Towards the West but still over the Channel. When he got within 2km he saw a light come from where the target was. For all intents and purposes is looked like a missile being launched. Johnson shouted a warning that another blip was on the radar and closing fast. Williams didn't need to be told, He could see the damn thing streaking right at him at a tremendous rate. Acting instinctively he put the Mossie in a wing over screaming dive and luckily he timed it right as the missile could not turn fast enough given the closing rate. Williams mind was thinking... the God damn thing turn and would have hit us. It God damn turned. Jeesus where was it now? It was one of those guided things he has heard about. But in the night! What the hell!

  "Where is that thing Johnson? Can you see it for God's sake?

  "Hell no...and it's off the radar behind us somewhere?"

  "We can turn faster than it can if we know where it is."

  "It's got a flame coming out the back it shouldn't be this hard to see it for God's sake."

  Williams with his pilot’s eyes, saw the blue flame off to the right as they continued on in the dive. As he was trying to pull up the Mossie creaked and groaned like an old rocking chair before it broke. If there was a tree down there we are dead, he thought. Then wham the missile exploded as it was turning towards them again.

  The wood bomber power zoomed away from the water like only a Mosquito can and was quickly back to a safe altitude. All the unexpected gyrations had caused Johnson to smash his head into the radar scope and put it and his left eye out of commission. Their night was over.

  "What in bleeding hell was that?"

  "One of those guided missiles the day boys are always talking about I should think."

  "What's it doing our here in the night? I saw no indication of radar pulses coming from it or the target and where did it come from. The target was moving away from us not pointed at us. We have to get back and report this newest big from Ivan and see if the egg heads can figure it out."

  "How bad are you hurt?'

  "Not too, but the scope is off kilter and we are done for the night anyway."

  Just then Williams spotted another missile launch and saw the missile initially drop from the now silhouetted twin engine plane. The missile had indeed launched backwards and was heading with a vengeance at something. That something turn out to be another Mossie. Whomever was in this plane did not react as fast or as correctly as he did. The Mossie turned and dove way too slow and the missile hit it amidships and flames were everywhere along with pilot and crew he assumed. He kicked himself for being so crass at a time like this, but the mind does such things.

  In all their maneuverings they were now low and slow and heading back East and heading towards Dunkirk. A tingling feeling went through William’s body and the hair of the back of his neck went up just before another missile slammed into them.

  3 kilometers West

  Zoya just hoped that what she was told was indeed what was going to happen. She and her fellow Witches were told to fly like a metal duck in a shooting gallery and wait for the Nightmare Missiles hanging from her outmoded Pe-3 Bis to tell her she was being hunted. Two of the things were pointed forwards and 4 where pointed backwards! Who would have thought of that and why? But then she thought about it. Where would a night fighter with radar attack you from? The rear of course! Why not have the missile launch backwards if your enemy was behind you. Who needs a rear gunner when you have a rear missile? It was not like the rear facing ones cause that much more drag. The Pe-3 was slow as hell anyway.

  She was sweating and so nervous that when the four rear missiles started to signal in unison that something was behind her she almost wet herself and would have jumped a meter if she wasn't strapped in. She had not been trained to fly at night extensively. These Pe-3s had been given to the navy as dive bombers and no one expected them to see combat again. But they had slapped a new late war German radar set in them and put those Nightmares facing the wrong way on them and told them what to do.

  Basically they were bait and a launching platform for the Nightmare. Nothing fancy about that. Just go and fly West into what looked like assured death for the Motherland. And they all did it of course. That's what you did in Stalin's realm. Only this might not be so deadly for them after all.

  Once a rear facing missile was launched they were to turn and attempt to follow it to its target. If it did not hit the target they should be facing the correct direction and could turn on the radar or even just wait for the forward facing missiles to start signaling. If so then they were to launch them.

  She and 18 others got lucky that night. A total of 53 missiles were launched with 11 rear firing and 7 launched frontally hitting their intended targets. She never did see the enemy until it exploded in a flaming ball that plummeted to earth.

  After her left outside rear facing missile was launched she threw the little bomber in a tight right hand turn while Maya tried to keep an eye on the missile. While completing the turn she caught a glimpse of the Mosquito as the missile flashed by it briefly illuminating it. She supposed that the Nightmare could have some kind of flash suppressor or flame reducer or whatever they called it, so it wasn't so bright but then again maybe that was by design to scare the enemy even more and to make them and their intended target easier to see. It did work in his case and she clearly saw the general direction the night fighter was headed. She pointed her nose at where the plane should be and her forward Nightmares started to chatter so she launched one.

  She reported that she did not believe that the enemy knew what hit him. The deadly Mosquito Night Fighter did not appear to be attempting any evasive maneuvers like the initial encounter and was flying fairly straight and level. Probably trying to process his near miss with death only to set himself up again for said fate. Other successful forward firing marksmen reported similar findings, although you could hardly call them marksmen when all they did was to point and hit the launching button. The missile did the rest.

  The rear firing successes appeared to be a matter of surprise. A deer in the headlights type of reaction by the illfated, would be hunters, caught red handed in the spotlight and not knowing how to react. Fascinated by the turn of events and not able to think to turn their planes quickly enough. Perfectly understandable if you asked her and the commissar did ask her.

  The Night Witches were back![lxxix]

  The Captain Asks a Question

  The General finally seemed to be in a good enough mood and his aide decided that the time was ripe for him to ask a question that had been eating him alive ever since the first day he had joined HQ and become an aide. He was a fighting man a real grunt that had gotten a number of field promotions from private to Captain. Not because he had gone to college or because he has attended military academies. No, he had earned his Captaincy by thinking fast on his feet and using that gift to kill a lot of Japanese. He had not been to combat school or lectures or anything even close to learning the ins and outs of strategy. He knew tactics and in particular small unit tactics like no other person in the Army and he had learned it on the job.

  So he was very frustrated by what he saw at HQ. He now attended the briefings and small meetings of some of the Armies highest ranking officers. The people who had attended West Point including some who had written the books that they used at West Point. He was surrou
nded by the brain trust of the US ground forces and he was totally confused by what the hell was going on.

  "General, may I speak freely and ask a question or two? It will help me do my job, Sir."

  "Of course Porter, ask away."

  "Well sir I just don't get what is going on in Spain. We have close to 2 dozen divisions trained and sitting waiting to be deployed. Why aren't we getting them to the Pyrenees Line and doing it as quickly as possible?

  "That is a good observation Porter and it would seem to be the smart thing to do wouldn't it. Send those boys to shore up the line and eventually maybe even push the Reds back a ways. Let me ask you a question. How many lives and how much time do you think it would take to finally fight through those 100s of commie divisions and get to Moscow? I'll give you a little hint. It took us close to a year to go 600 miles fighting an enemy who was being bombed day and night. Whose infrastructure was devastated, and we were facing less than 60 divisions filled with old men and boys. Divisions who were spent, yet who gave us a run for our money.

  Now imagine what we are going to face if we try and attack from Spain. We would be fighting an enemy close to 4 times the size of the German forces. An enemy who has only one front to defend and not two like the Germans. An enemy who is not being bombed day and night. Who's militarily significant infrastructure has been repaired and in relatively functional shape. An enemy who has as many resources as we do and all within his territory. Add in the fact that we have to go over 3 times farther to get to his capital and another 900 miles to get to his industrial heartland. Do you think it's reasonable that the American public is going to support such a long drawn out war that will include many times more casualties as the last war and take up to three times as long to win?"

  "Well sir I guess it's a pretty tall order. So how are we going to do it?"

  "Son, we are going to divide and conquer. We are setting old Joe up to be sliced and diced. We are making him think he is winning. We're making him believe that just a few more divisions will do the job. Just a few more squadrons and a few more resources allocated and he will eventually punch through our lines wherever they are. A few more squadrons will finally defeat the RAF and a few more divisions will finally make the breakthrough into Spain a reality. Just a little bit more and then a little bit more until he is all in. Like a gambler who thinks his opponent is bluffing and keeps calling and raising, sure that just one more raise will break his opponents will.

  If we stop him cold in the Pyrenees, he will dig in and even possibly consolidate what he has won. He might just start to set up defensive lines in depth and get ready for us. If we keep him thinking that just a little bit more and then a little bit more might just win him the brass ring he will keep feeding his forces into the meat grinder and not think about the future. If we stop him cold and even start to push him back, he will dig in and that will not be good. That will lead to a stalemate and an endless war that the American public will not support. So it is imperative that we make him commit as many of his forces as possible to the offensive and not thinking about defense. Once he digs in it is over, and no one will win quickly."

  "So you’re setting him up by drawing him in? By making him think that he is winning, and that just a little bit more force will finally break our back? Kind of like a pool hustler."

  "Now you have me at a disadvantage son. I don't know about pool. But yes that is the first part of the plan. The second part is getting very complicated with many moving parts all designed to deceive the greatest double dealer of all time. We still have a series of operations planned to make him commit his forces even more. All designed to stretch his supply lines to their breaking point without him realizing what he is doing. We are setting the biggest trap ever contemplated, much less implemented. We will not win a war of attrition. We barely did that with Germany and Japan, and they were fighting the Reds, as well. We are going to win a war of maneuver. General MacArthur showed us how to do that in the Pacific.[lxxx] We have to make the obvious seem not possible."

  "All I can say sir is I'm glad you're on our side."

  Warning! Extreme Cussing

  Another fucking run. God it was hot even for September, almost October. What do you expect for Alabama! It's always hot here from what I've seen so far. Slow it down you asshole. I'm sucking dust back here. I guess that makes you want to be out front. Not me I'm not busting my butt. Holy shit is that an alligator or a crocodile and what is it doing there next to the trail? I'm so tired I can't even scream. Shit I just ran right past a crocodile and didn't faint. Now that's tired. Wait till I tell Bob back home. That will shut him up from some of his war stories. I wonder if I'll have any more stories and survive to tell about it or will I get killed coming off the boat, LCI even, Higgins boat. What the fuck, who cares. I never even used to swear in my day dreams or even while I was thinking like this. Now I'm swearing at the top of my lungs if the Corporal orders me too. Amazing how they figure out your buttons to push. A hundred setups or 20 pushups no big deal. Calling my girl a whore, didn't get to me. Making me clean the latrine, a piece of cake. Then the mother fucking bastard noticed I never swore. He zeroed in like a hawk after a mouse.

  Ordering me to cuss every other word for what seemed like hours. What am I going to do when I get home and something slips out? My mom will be so ashamed and so disappointed. I guess I just can't ever go home again. That's stupid...oh Jesus a God damn snake for Christ sake. Oh my God stop it! Stop thinking such awful things to say.

  Alright, alright think about something else like how your legs are going to fall off or how I sure lost that pot belly. Didn't think that would happen. I sure wish I'd have missed this war too like I did the last one. Sat at home with all the girls in town and I was one of the only young guys around. Man that was heaven. I even got to third base with Elaine. God what great breasts. Oh shit not now, not a boner while I'm running. Oh Christ if someone notices I'll never live it down. I can hear it now. There goes Boner Dietz. Hey Boner let's have a drink. Boner you going to take all night shitting in there. There's a puddle.

  Okay slip and fall into it.

  Holy shit that stinks!

  "What the hell you doing Dietz! Now get the fuck out of there and quite wallerin around like the pig you are and GET BACK ON YOUR FEET! YOU HEAR ME DIETZ YOU COCK SUCKIN GERMAN BASTARD!"

  "I tripped Corp."

  "I don't give a rat’s ass if you dove in there. GET THE HELL OUT!

  "Yes Corp!"

  "You better swear when you say that Dietz!"

  "Fuck you Corporal!"

  "I can't hear you."

  "FUCK YOU CORPORAL!"

  "That's better not get your ass moving."

  Damn that was close. Nothing like that ugly bastards face to wipe any thoughts of Elaine's boobs out of your mind. Oh shit there they are! I actually never did see them, but I sure felt them. I guess being a second generation German with flat feet doesn't help in this war. Hell everyone spoke German in Lodi. Lodi Wisconsin, what a great place. Even working in the canning factory wasn't too bad. Lodi's Idol corn and peas. You worked you ass off for 4 months then waited for it to start again. I heard the old man put his brother through dental school and then his brother turned around and put him through school. The story goes he didn't want to be a dentist after all so he started the factory. How in the hell do you start a factory?

  Being one of the few eligible men in town I was in high demand both for work and for making out. Well those days are sure gone. When the GIs came back I was back in second class. They had all these stories and the girls just wanted to hold them all night and take away their nightmares. I wonder what we're in for? All this training for invasion shit. Amphibious operations is all we hear. Hell I rather jump out of airplanes myself. Day after day of climbing those damn cargo nets and wading through the mangrove swamps around Mobile. I wonder how many mangrove swamps we'll find in Moscow for Christ's sake.

  Why can't they invent a slide to get into the boat or how about a Tarzan vine to sw
ing down. Higgins boat, LC, Landing Craft Infantry, who in the fuck cares? Miserable creations the wallow in waves. You're so sea sick before you get to shore you can't possibly shoot straight. What the hell is the army doing learning to invade anyway? Isn't that what the Marines are for?

  Oh man just a half mile more. Hell before this I couldn’t have walked a half mile much less run it. Someone must be expecting us to do a lot of invading or we are sure wasting our time, which is nothing new in the army. Fucking Russia has no coastline from what I remember or very little. Let's see...something around the Baltic and the Black Sea. But both are hard to get to. OH FUCK! OH SHIT! a fucking cramp. Oh that's just what I need! Damn that hurts.

  "Move your ass Dietz."

  "FUCK YOU CORPORAL!"

  "That's what we like to hear Dietz. NOW QUIT FUCKING AROUND AND GET YOUR ASS MOVING."

  "FUCK YOU CORPORAL!"

  I don't think anyone is going to believe this when I tell them. I am actually ordered to cuss out my drill sergeant and corporal. Fucking unbelievable! What is father Peters going to say when I have to confess? Please don't let me swear in front of Mom. It will kill her. If I can learn to swear I can unlearn it just as well but first I have to kill Stalin according to the Sarge. Fucking Sarge if you please. Mother fucking, cock sucking Sarge! God damn my leg hurts. At least I'll beat Jennings. What a fat fuck. Strong as hell though. Imagine doing 10 pull-ups and pulling up 250 lbs. I wouldn't want to have him get me in a bear hug. Crush my ribs for sure. At least I can outrun him. What's that saying? I don't have to outrun the bear, just you. He's actually a nice guy.