by M. L. Maki
Gloria takes a deep breath and takes her hand off the stick. Her hand is shaking uncontrollably. Putting her hands out, she watches them dance in the air. “Byron, open the canopy. I can’t. Thanks.”
He opens the canopy and cold air rushes in. “Damn, boss. Let’s not do that again. Good job. I thought it was all over when the nose wheel came down. Damn fine flying…and driving. You rock.”
“Thank you, Byron. You know I can’t do what I do without you. Your confidence in me, well…I had to get it right...Oh, my God, we made it.”
They’re down about a mile south of Brockenhurst, England.
COLONEL GETZ’S MiG-29, 8000 FEET,
25 MILES EAST OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT
“All units, straggle home. Conserve fuel by slow climb at most economical. Report in.” More than half of his Tornados, F-4s, and F-104s are gone. “Is there aircraft you see that can’t report?”
The silence is deafening. At 10,000 feet and 10 miles south of Dover, his threat warning activates. “Incoming.” He goes back to afterburner and turns into the attack. Two missiles are inbound. He violently pulls up, hitting chaff and flares, and the missiles pass behind him. He rolls on his side, turning, as two F-14’s streak by. They continue in their dive toward F-104s below.
Returning to base course, he cuts back the afterburner. As he slows, he cusses to himself, “Am I a brand-new cadet? Of course, they ambush us. I am a fool.”
CHAPTER 21
KNIGHT 1
Spike overflies Gloria’s plane and waggles her wings. “Puck, fuel state and where is Ghost Rider?”
Puck, “All Knight flights, check fuel state and report. Ghost Rider 333, what is your location?”
“Knight 1, Ghost Rider 333, we are over London. We have a good picture now.”
On radio, “Felix, Tripod, splash two. Woo-hoo!”
“Felix, Bubba, splash one. Boss says keep it cool and watch your fuel.”
“Dirty and Moses are hit. Dirty and Moses are hit. Still flying.”
“Moses, Bubba, boss says fly direct to Alconbury. Tripod, escort him.”
Bubba, “Felix units form on me. Check fuel.”
“All units, Gold Eagle actual, good job. The Eagle is now underway and will recover aircraft as soon as we can. Again, good job. We are proud of all of you. Knight 1, report.”
“Gold Eagle, Knight 1, we have one bird lost, one bird made an emergency landing, several birds banged up. We are bingo fuel and returning to base.”
“Roger, Knight 1. Felix can handle the CAP for the time being. We bloodied them bad. You and your crew get some rest. You’ll have the load soon enough.”
“Roger, Gold Eagle. Knight squadron tank if needed and return to base.”
As they climb north, Puck, “Let’s have Thud check us out. I don’t like that shake.”
“Okay, flat and level.”
“Speedy, Puck, can you give us the once around?”
“Puck, Speedy, you have hits on right elevator, right rudder, and aft hull. The supersonic run peeled back the skin. How does it feel?”
Spike, “Tell him it’s a little sloppy.”
“Spike, Bubba for Groovy, what are your losses?”
Puck, “One shot down, one damaged and landed on a road. Several damaged but flying.”
“Roger, Groovy says we’ll leave you Felix 303 behind to bring you up to the ten aircraft we promised Churchill.”
Puck, “Groovy, Puck for Spike. Much obliged. Thank you.”
GERMAN AIRFIELD
1752 local time, 13 MARCH, 1942
Colonel Getz approaches the pattern to land, “Schwarze descend to 500 feet and enter the downwind leg.” He turns, descending.
“Schwarze, acknowledge.”
“Un, Control, Schwarze, descending in pattern.”
He lands and taxis to his shelter. There he sees the general step from a car. When he’s on the tarmac, he salutes, “Good evening, Herr General.”
“Is it a good evening, Herr Colonel?”
“It’s been a difficult one, Herr General. We lost aircraft, but we killed many. I am pretty certain at least one Tornado broke through their defenses, but I do not have a damage report from Portsmouth. Many of our planes ran out of fuel and landed in France. We must ferry fuel to them immediately. On the ground, they are vulnerable.”
“Of course, Herr Colonel. I shall accompany you to your control center.”
ALCONBURY RAF BASE
1655, 13 March, 1942
Spike’s plane is the last to land. “Puck, I’m sorry for all the radio chatter. I couldn’t figure out how to pass what needed to be said through you succinctly.”
“It’s fine, Spike. We kicked some real ass up there. You were amazing.”
“You did great, too.”
KNIGHT 894, SOUTH OF BROCKENHURST, ENGLAND
1655, 13 March, 1942
As Gloria and Byron walk around the damaged aircraft, the local farmers start showing up carrying pitch forks, shotguns, rifles, and pickaxes. The farmer on the tractor follows the road, stopping behind them.
Byron says, “Gloria, my friend, these folks do not look happy to see us.” Coming down the road is an old car with a blue light and a sign on the roof which says ‘Police’. “Here comes the official welcoming party. Why do they all look so pissed off?”
“I don’t know, Byron. Helmets off.”
“Shall I handle it?”
“I’ll put on the charm, Byron.”
The car stops abruptly and three people pile out. Two men in police uniforms and a young man in Royal Army fatigues carrying a rifle. The young soldier points the rifle at them, yelling, “Hands up, ya Krauts!”
They drop their helmets and raise their hands, and Gloria says, “Easy soldier. We’re Americans. We’re on your side.”
“Don’t try to trick me. I know these planes. They’re German.”
“Look at it. This is a United States Navy aircraft, son, and I’m a Navy lieutenant. Now, please put the gun down. Do I sound like a German?”
A kid with the farmers says, “It does say it’s a Navy plane. It says USS Carl Vinson. USS is for America.”
He looks confused, then resigned, and lowers the gun, “Since when did the Yanks let women be officers?”
“Since the Yanks finally got smart. Now, you look to be a corporal from your rank insignia. I’m Lieutenant Hoolihan and this is my flight officer, Lieutenant Standley. So, here in England what is the traditional way for a corporal to greet lieutenants?”
He snaps to attention and salutes, “My apologies, um, ma’am.”
ALCONBURY RAF BASE
1657, 13 March, 1942
As Spike taxis to her hard shelter, she watches the rest of the airwing taking off and heading back to the Vinson. When she makes the turn at the end of a short taxi way, she sees a group of people near a small fenced off hill shelter. They’ve a large truck and a small crane. But, what really catches her eye is the large number of Marines guarding the compound. “Damn, Puck, what do you suppose all the Marines are guarding?”
“That is interesting, Spike. No idea. The General’s booze supply?”
She reaches her hard shelter, swings the bird around to be backed in and sees Papa and a general talking. After the plane is pushed back by her ground crew, she locks the brakes, and completes the shutdown checklist. Papa and Altman walk over to her plane.
She and Puck dismount and salute, “Sir?”
Papa smiles, “Brigadier, this is Lt. Commander Samantha Hunt, commanding officer of the Black Knights, and her radar intercept officer, Lt. Hawke.”
“So, this is the infamous female fighter pilot. How are you, Commander?”
Spike, “A pleasure to meet you, sir.” Then turns to Papa, “Papa, we lost planes. I haven’t heard from Glow Rod or Buster. Hot Pants and GQ made an emergency landing on a road.”
“I heard. Are you okay?”
Fluffy walks up and salutes, “Ma’am, I got the squadron servicing aircraft. We have six birds
ready to fly if need be, but right now the Tomcatters are flying CAP. I see your bird is shot the fuck up. We’ll work on it. Oh, and ma’am, the berthing buildings aren’t done. The Brits told Swede we had to bed everyone down with the planes. That’s kinda fucked up, ma’am.”
“Fluffy, is there bedding?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are there bath room and shower facilities?”
“Most of the hard shelters seem to have one bathroom and one shower, though not all of them are done. And, ma’am, they’re as cold as hell as soon as the door opens.”
“Okay, Fluffy. I need a bathroom and then I need to see Swede.” They pause as a F-14 from the Tomcatters accelerates down the runway, deafening them. “Where is the squadron headquarters?”
“I ain’t found it yet. At your bird, I guess.”
“Okay, it will work for now. I’ll be there in a second.” She turns to Papa and Altman, “Sorry, Captain, General, that needed taking care of.”
Papa smiles, “No problem, Commander. You can go.” She leaves, walking to the head, and leaving a bemused general behind her. Papa and Puck exchange a knowing smile.
Swede sees her, but she holds up a finger and points to the head. She finishes peeing and washes her hands at the sink. Looking in the mirror she sees tired eyes and lines where there were none before. Rinsing her face, she takes a deep breath, dries off, and leaves, walking back into the hangar.
All the pilots and aircrew are waiting. Swede and Fluffy are talking to a British officer. She walks up, “Sir, I am Lt. Commander Hunt, Commander of the Black Knights,” and offers a hand.
“Good day, ma’am. I’m Squadron Leader Richard Maugham at your service.” He’s impeccably dressed in a spotless RAF uniform and he’s leaning on a cane in his left hand. “I’m your liaison officer with the Air Marshall’s office. Is there any immediate needs to be serviced?”
Her southern drawl deepens, “We need to situate our people while servicing all our birds. The carrier is still nearby, and it will handle the CAP for a while, but we have very little time.” Looking around the hard shelter, “Did the designers of this base consider berthing and messing arrangements?”
“They did in the buildings behind the shelters, but, unfortunately, not all is in readiness. For that, I offer my sincere apologies. I’m told the Yank Army Air Corp will be providing rations using a field expedient kitchen until all is in order.”
“Needs must. Were you briefed on what our needs are? As you can see, the squadron is, well, co-ed.”
“I don’t follow…Ah, the women. Yes, we were told, but in truth, I did not quite believe it was so until you arrived. Quite extraordinary.”
“Yes, well, we need the berthing’s segregated. Males and females sleeping in the same space will be an issue. We can deal with it for now, but it will need to be addressed.”
CDR ‘Groovy’ Miller walks up, “Spike, where is Papa?”
“He was here a bit ago. Now, I don’t know. Commander Miller, this is Squadron Leader Maugham. He’s our British liaison. Squadron Leader, Commander Miller, CO of the Tomcatters.” The men shake hands.
Groovy says, “A pleasure, sir.” Then to Spike, “I have half my squadron on CAP. You did real good up there. You were right. Most of the German planes landed in France. I’m trying to organize a strike to hit them on the ground.”
She turns to Maugham, “He’s right. We have a bunch of German jets scattered to hell and gone without fuel or ammo. Now is the time to hit them.”
Maugham says, “We quite appreciate the strategy you adopted. We’ve sent several squadrons of the RAF’s finest to do exactly that. It is the minister’s wish to keep the American aircraft close to Britain.”
“Okay, as long as we’re hitting them.”
Groovy, “Well, if it isn’t our mission, do you want us to drop our ordinance for you guys to use? We have more on the ship.”
“Groovy, thank you. Yes, and thank you. Fluffy, get your boys on it, please.”
“Also, I’m leaving Dirty and Moses with 303.”
Pappa joins them, “Thanks for giving up your ordinance, Groovy, and thank you for the men and the jet. We’re going to need all we can get. Spike, what is the status of your birds.”
“We have six standing by, sir.”
“Good. I want two launched in a couple of hours. Once up, I want them to sweep 50 miles south of Portsmouth, then sweep north up the English Channel using radar to make sure all is clear. While they’re up, have four on ready five, and the rest on ready 15 as soon as it can be done.”
“Yes, sir. Do you want to be here for the debrief?”
“Debrief is postponed. Halsey wants to be here. Are Hoolihan and Standley okay?”
“Yes, sir. They got down intact. Sir, if we have time, I want to see what is going on in that bunker.” Pointing at the fenced compound with all the Marines.
HOOLIHAN AND STANDLEY
1716, 13 March, 1942
Gloria and Byron hear a faint whoop, whooping in the distance. “Corporal, what is your name, so I can write a positive remark in my report? You were doing your duty.”
His chest swells, “Corporal Lance Witherspoon of the Home Guard, Baker Platoon, Charley Company, Winchester Volunteers, ma’am. My lieutenant is Barker, ma’am.” Then he sees the helicopter coming in, “My Lord almighty, what is that?”
“They’re here to help us. Officers, could you close the road while we sort this out?”
They nod and move out as the helicopter comes to a hover over the road and people climb out with bags of gear. ADC Gellar comes up and salutes, “Ma’am, sir, are you injured?”
“We’re fine, Chief. The bird has at least one bad engine and the controls are iffy.”
“Okay. We’ll try to patch her up. If there are accommodations for you two here, you’re better off. They still sorting out berthing at the base.”
Byron, “I’m sure they have an inn we can bill the Navy for. We’ll arrange beds for you guys as well.”
Gellar, “That would be cool. We’ll also have to guard the bird.”
The older male police officer returns and says, “I’m certain we may accommodate you in your need. May I inquire if you shot down any Jerrys?”
“Yes, sir. We shot down three.”
CHAPTER 22
MESSCHERSCHMITT AIRCRAFT FACTORY, AUGSBURG, GERMANY
Hitler walks around the prototype aircraft, “It will continue to be called the ME-163, yes?”
Alexander Lippisch says, “Yes, Mein Fuhrer. With the turbojet engine, longer fuselage, landing gear, and greater fuel capacity, this Swallow will be a huge asset for our pilots. Never will bombers fly over our Fatherland.”
“It is good. But can pilots fly it? The rocket plane, I understand, was difficult.”
“Mein Fuhrer, that is the gift of the new engines. The fuel is vastly more stable and with the added length, it is easier to fly. We have also added flaps and slats to aid in take-off and landing. The aircraft is revolutionary.”
“Good. I want them built as fast as possible. When the missiles and radar are ready, incorporate them. When will the first be ready for the Luftwaffe?”
“Yes, Mein Fuhrer. The first will be ready in no more than six months if our supplies keep up. If all goes well, perhaps five months.”
“Finish them in four months. And, Herr Lippisch, design another three times as large for a bomber. Give it a range for New York and back.”
“Yes, Mein Fuhrer. Heil Hitler!” He salutes.
ALCONBURY RAF BASE
1717, 13 March, 1942
Altman joins Holtz and Hunt as they walk toward the mysterious compound. When they approach, a Marine sergeant steps forward, “ID?”
They present their ID, and the Marine says, “Captain, Commander, you are on the list. Sorry, General, but you are not cleared.”
“Bull shit. These two work for me. If they are cleared, I am cleared.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I have my orders.”
&nb
sp; “From who? I’m the ranking American in England. I demand you let me in.”
Holtz says, “General, we’ll only be a moment. Let me see if I can sort this out.”
Altman asks the Marine, “What would you do if I just pushed by?”
“Sir, I would shoot you. Please, don’t”
Holtz and Hunt look at each other. Holtz says, “General, we’ll only be a moment. Let me see if I can sort this out.”
“Very well, Captain, but I want to know, in detail, what this is all about.”
They walk through the check point and into the bunker. It’s configured so you have to make two turns underground to get to the door. Only a direct hit would damage it. They walk into an anteroom, and beyond that is a large steel room with a large cradle, a work bench, and a desk. Standing in the entrance of the inner room is Lt. Commander Shawn Hughes, directing a chief and four sailors in the storage of a large bomb.
Sam says, “Sir, is that what I think it is?”
Shawn spins around, startled, “Samantha! Um, Commander, Captain, yes, it is.”
Holtz asks, “We’re storing a nuclear device on our base? Does that mean the President has plans to use it?”
“No, sir. As I understand, it’s for counter strike only. Well, unless ordered otherwise by the President.” Hughes hands Holtz a packet of papers off the desk.
Holtz asks, “Who is cleared into this building?”
“Besides the tech’s, only Admiral Klindt, Admiral Lee, you, Commander Hunt, Lt. Swedenborg, and myself. We are to brief Prime Minister Churchill before I leave.”
Sam asks, “Who else besides us can know it is here?”
“Same list, plus Churchill. No on else. The guys who came back will probably figure it out. They need to be told it cannot be discussed, even in passing. If the Germans get wind that it’s here, they will spare nothing to destroy it.”
Holtz says, “We have a brigadier general outside that wants to know what’s going on. Commander Hunt, I will deal with him. I take it you two know each other?”