American Under Attack

by Jeff Kildow

  A powerful gust of wind shook the Packard, forcing Joel to take notice of the increasing snowfall.

  “Say, what’s with the snow? It’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

  “Apparently, somebody didn’t tell the weather,” she laughed.

  “Man, it’s really coming down. Look, it’s even starting to stick to the highway.”

  “Are your tires good, Joel? We sure don’t want to get stuck out here.” Susan worried. “Do you think we should stop at Clayton?”

  “Let’s decide when we get there. I really need to be home tomorrow morning.”

  When they reached Clayton, the road was snow covered, but the pavement was visible in the tracks of cars ahead of them. Joel pulled into a gas station.

  “Philly Radio station says it’s only gonna be flurries, Colonel,” the man told him, “’course, it already looks like more’n that here. I talked with a fella who drove in from Vineland about an hour ago. Said it was slushy, that’s all. I think you and your lady will be just fine.”

  Dubious but somewhat reassured, they gassed up, thanked the man, and started towards Millville.

  Two Hours Later

  “I hate to criticize that gas station man, but I think we’re beyond ‘slushy,’ don’t you?”

  Joel was bobbing his head to see through the snow the wipers were leaving behind. The heater was roaring; he switched it from heat to defrost every few minutes.

  “Do you think we should turn back?”

  “I’m not sure I could turn around without getting stuck. Let’s see, we went through Malaga back there, so it’s only about ten more miles. Let’s press on, and watch for a farm house where we can stay overnight, and go in to Millville come morning.”

  “Mmmm.” She sounded dubious. “I wish we’d already stopped. If we see any civilization at all, we need to stop.”

  “I agree. Keep your eyes peeled.”

  From growing up in Colorado, Joel knew it was a full-on blizzard. The wind was blowing hard and wet snow was packing under the wipers. He had to reach around through the open window with his hand to try and clear the blade. They jounced over a hidden bump, and the wind caught the car, turning it a little sideways. Joel fought the skid, turning the big ivory steering wheel rapidly only to have the vicious wind again push the car. This time, both right wheels fell off the pavement. The piled up snow pulled them part way into the ditch. Before he could correct, they lurched to a halt.

  They looked wordlessly at each other as he attempted to move the car. Even rocking it forward and back, shifting between reverse and low, did little to free them. He got out and attempted to dig the car out with his hands, but quickly realized it was futile.

  Joel shook off as much snow as he could and got back in the car, “Well, that decision’s made for us. Looks like we’re here until the storm lets up.”

  Susan looked scared, “Joel, we’ll freeze! And we don’t dare walk somewhere. What will we do?”

  Joel made his voice sound confident, “Not to worry, my dear! I’ll not let you freeze. Let me get my ‘winter kit’.”

  Before she could ask, Joel got out, opened the trunk and brought a sturdy box back into the car. Shaking the wet snow off his head, he opened it.

  “My dad and granddad never drive in the winter time without a winter kit. Look at this.”

  Inside were smaller boxes. “This one has candles – you’d be surprised how much heat they put off.” He held up another, “Waterproofed matches. Two warm blankets, some candy bars – not very fresh!– and a flashlight. Here’s a nice chain, to pull us out of the ditch. And some road flares so folks won’t drive into us. Even a pair of wool mittens to keep those beautiful hands all toasty!”

  He could see Susan was by turns amazed and pleased that he had foreseen this situation.

  “Do we dare burn the candles? Won’t the bad air kill us?”

  Joel smiled, “It might, if we don’t crack open the wing window and let in a bit of fresh air. Now, here’s the plan. We’ll wrap up in these blankets, and I’ll run the engine ‘til the heater takes the chill off. Then we’ll light a candle and see if it’s warm enough; if not, we can light a couple more. If we don’t run the motor too much, we’ll have enough gas to keep mostly warm ‘til morning.”

  Joel remembered the time when he was fifteen, and had gotten his dad’s pickup stuck miles from the ranch house. There’d been a winter kit stuffed behind the seat. He’d been colder than he’d ever been before or since, and had just avoided frostbite on his toes, but he survived. He mentally kicked himself for failing to include a shovel in this winter kit.

  He had no idea how cold it was, but it felt very cold. He was fiercely determined that Susan would come out of this experience with nothing but funny stories to tell, no matter what he had to do.

  At first, they wrapped up in the blankets individually, but were soon cold again even running the heater. Outside, the storm raged on, and darkness fell.

  With a lecherous grin, he told her, “Too bad, young lady! Looks like you’re going to have to snuggle with me if you want to survive. Heh, heh, heh!” He mimicked twisting a mustache like a vaudeville villain.

  She giggled, and moved over next to him. He was secretly delighted that she wasn’t put off by the idea; having two blankets over them, and sharing body warmth really did help. Susan pulled her feet up on the broad seat, and lay her head on his lap.

  They began to talk. Joel discovered that Susan loved baseball, even if she did follow the Chicago Whitesox; Joel was a big Yankees fan, probably because his granddad was. Susan loved F. Scott Fitzgerald, especially The Great Gatsby. Joel mentioned he liked Booth Tarkington’s Penrod and the second book, Penrod and Sam.

  “Those are boys’ books,” Susan said.

  “Well, yeah, I was a boy when I read them; I don’t have a lot of time for novels these days, ya know!”

  She laughed, and said she loved Will Rogers. Joel enthusiastically agreed.

  “It’s so sad he died, right at the top of his popularity,” Susan lamented.

  “Yes, and it was terrible to lose Wily Post too, ‘cause he was doing such important aviation research.”

  “Now, I’m not much for movies, but I did like Stage Coach and Gone With the Wind; what about you?”

  “Oh, Clark Gable was so dashing in Gone With the Wind, don’t you think?”

  “Don’t know; I was too busy watching Vivian Leigh to notice!” She poked him with her elbow.

  By the time the luminous hands on his watch read 10:15, they’d covered music as well. Joel loved that they had so much in common. He just felt, well, comfortable with her.

  They fell quiet, and Susan fell asleep, breathing softly. He put his face down in her hair; it smelled wonderful.

  He dozed off, waking up stiff and cold. It was almost midnight, and snow was still falling. He started the engine, and ran the heater. Susan stirred, but slept through it. Twice more through the night, he awoke and ran the engine and heater. The candles were down to stubs, and the gas gauge was reading below ¼ full. He prayed that help would come with the morning.

  The rap on the window was loud, “You folks alright in there?”

  Joel was jolted awake. He sat up, and rolled down the window. The sun was very bright against deep snow. He blinked, and squinted up at the face of a worried looking New Jersey State Trooper. Susan sat up, looking disoriented.

  “Yes, sir, we’re just fine. Do you think you can pull us out of the ditch?”

  As he nodded yes, the trooper noticed Joel’s uniform, “Say, are you Colonel Joel Knight? The Army’s got us looking for you. I need you to come to the patrol car and call in and tell ‘em you’re OK.”

  Immensely relieved, Joel gave Susan a quick kiss and a wink, and disappeared toward the officer’s cruiser.

  Chapter 79

  23 November 1944

  Millville Army Air Field Officers Club

  1630 Hours

  Thanksgiving Dinner

  Joel and Susan
sat waiting for their friends. The tables were covered with starched white tablecloths, and set with fine china and glassware. White napkins were neatly rolled in silver MAAF monogram rings. The centerpieces were bisque china Pilgrim figures, the man in his buckled hat, holding a turkey by its feet, the woman in a gray floor length dress, carrying a pie.

  Major Chappie Chapman and his wife Regina joined them. Regina was radiantly expecting her first child in two months, and the two women immediately began discussing the upcoming event.

  “Would you ladies care for a hot roll?” Joel offered, trying to get the women to join the conversation he and Chappie were having.

  “Oh, yes, please,” Regina said, “I’m just so hungry all the time. Eating for two, you know.” She looked happily smug.

  They were served lettuce with a green, vaguely opaque molded gelatin tower in the center. A small bowl of mayonnaise sat at the side. The two men eyed it suspiciously.

  “Even that looks good,” Regina exclaimed, to everyone’s laughter.

  Chappie, like Joel, was wearing his green dress blouse [jacket] over “pink” trousers. Other officers were wearing all green uniforms, some with brown blouses, others with green. The ladies, by delightful contrast, had managed to conjure up the current fashions; that they had managed it with the diminished availability of cloth and sewing needles amazed Joel.

  Susan’s outfit must be fashionable, Joel wryly decided, judging by the attention she is receiving from the other women, and not a few of the men. He knew nothing of women’s fashions, all he knew was that she looked great.

  Of course, he admitted to himself, I’m just a bit prejudiced! I think she always looks great.

  In the background, the seven-man Millville Army Air Field band played light classical music. By mutual, if unspoken agreement, no one discussed the war; this was a time to celebrate with friends, and to pretend that it was just another Thanksgiving.

  Susan noticed a change in Joel. He was more at peace with himself. The sense of heaviness was gone.

  Did he repent? she thought, I surely hope so. I’ll ask him next time we’re alone.

  The dinner’s main course was served, and the meal was wonderful.

  “Oh, my! This turkey is so good,” Regina said around a mouthful, “how do they do that?”

  “I don’t know, but these Southern style sweet potatoes with pecans are nothing short of delicious,” Chappie said.

  To Joel’s delight, dessert was cherry pie a la’ mode.

  “Well, what do you think, Joel?” Susan asked him.

  “Say, you can’t beat this,” he said, a big smile on his face.

  “Men,” said Regina said with mock disgust, “a little good cooking, and they’re satisfied.”

  “Guilty as charged, ma’am,” Joel smiled, as a waiter refilled his coffee cup.

  Susan made a mental note: cherry pie; that just might come in handy some day.

  Chappie and his wife excused themselves before the dance began.

  “My doctor would have a fit if he found out I was dancing, but I sure wish I could. I haven’t danced hardly at all since—.” She looked at Chappie, who smiled at her warmly.

  “Not to worry, my pet, you’ll be dancing again soon enough.”

  Susan thought she looked tired, and went with her to collect her coat.

  The band played a variety of popular music, and Joel and Susan tried them all.

  The music seems to have been written just for us, Susan thought dreamily.

  She laid her head on Joel’s shoulder as they danced to an instrumental version of Lena Horne’s hit, Stormy Weather. Later, she held him tightly as they danced to a very credible version of Benny Goodman’s Taking a Chance on Love.

  The drive home found her again resting her head on his shoulder as he drove; she could hear him softly humming. It somehow made her feel safe and secure. The smell of his wool Army overcoat had begun to be very familiar.

  Joel walked her to the boarding house door, their breath a frosty cloud around them. At the door, Susan turned to him. Joel took his cap off with his left hand and tenderly kissed her. It seemed to last forever, then she stepped back. “Good night, my love,” she said softly, and was gone through the door.

  Chapter 80

  15 December 1944

  Millville Army Air Field, Base Theater Building

  0800 Hours

  Reorganization

  Joel watched First Sergeant Bill Madsen, waiting for the signal. Madsen nodded, and Joel strode onto the stage of the Base Theater as Madsen shouted, “Room, Attention!”

  Joel looked at the men standing rigidly in front of him for just a moment.

  Either I’m getting old, or they’re really sending me kids these days, he thought.

  “At ease, be seated. I am Lieutenant Colonel Joel Knight, Group Commander of the 160th Coastal Fighter Group. I want to welcome you as the first members of the 162nd Coastal Defense Fighter Squadron which will be exclusively P-61s. Your sister squadron is the 161st, flying P-47s. My deputy, Major Chappie Chapman, will be acting squadron commander for the 161st, and I will be acting squadron commander of the 162nd until we assign permanent squadron commanders.

  “Some of you may be disappointed at not being posted to the European or Pacific theaters, but I think you’ll find we’ll have some excitement for you here. We will be using the P-61 differently than they do overseas, but then we have a different kind of war to fight here.

  “In the weeks and months ahead, you’ll help us develop the unique character our mission requires. One thing I’ll not do is break up your crews; you’ve all trained together too long and hard on this complex piece of equipment for me to throw away that teamwork.” He saw several men relax a bit; Bill had been right, some were worried about that.

  “We will be dividing you up into flights, with groups of flights assigned similar search areas off the coast, both day and night. What we’re going to take advantage of, men, is your ability to ‘see’ the enemy when they’re far away. Unlike our counterparts in Europe, where Black Widow crews seldom encounter more than one enemy aircraft at a time, you’ll be intercepting formations numbering from fifty to a hundred or more bombers. We need your ability to give us advance warning, so we can scramble lots of fighters, both P-47s and P-61s to help you out.

  “Once we’ve seen how you work, six crews will be chosen for special training as ACP – that’s Airborne Command Post – duties. We have a very long coastline to defend – from south of New York City, to north of Hampton Roads, Virginia. That means we defend our nation’s Capitol. ACP directs fighters from more than a dozen bases, from all branches of the armed services. ACP controls these fighters to bring the most firepower against the German formations.” Joel could tell from their expressions that these men had no idea they would be defending the Capitol.

  “Training begins tomorrow. I’m thankful that you’ve been trained to fly in bad weather; I can promise you, we have plenty of that to share with you.” There were a few chuckles in the audience.

  Joel cleared his throat, “I’ll have gatherings like this at least a monthly. If you – any of you – think there’s a need for a meeting, let Bill – First Sergeant Bill Madsen – know, and we’ll pull one together. I try to have an open door policy. If you need to see me, get an appointment with Bill, or if my door is open, knock, and we’ll talk.”

  1945

  Chapter 81

  4 January 1945

  Millville Army Air Field

  0800 Hours

  More Changes

  Chappie Chapman wrinkled his forehead in concentration, “Now, let me get this straight: General Furston has been sacked, General White has taken his slot, Colonel Randolph gets a star and takes over for General White, and you are now bird Colonel Knight doing Randolph’s job?”

  “You’re almost right, Lieutenant Colonel Chapman!” Joel said with a big smile.

  “And now you’re going to take over my job! And you better get this place shaped up, if you know what
’s good for you!” He handed the surprised man a set of his own silver oak leaves.

  Chappie sat down. “Wow, that’s a lot to digest, sir. Are you sure I’m ready to take over, sir? I’ve only been your deputy for about seven months.”

  “To be honest, Chappie, nobody’s sure that any of us are ready, but ‘exigencies of war’ and all that. You’ll do OK, my friend. Look how well you’ve done all the times I’ve been away.”

  “Yeah, well, Joel, it’s one thing to ‘act instead of’ and quite another to actually be the guy in charge—”

  “If you need me, Chappie, I’m a phone call away, but I don’t expect I’ll be receiving any calls.”

  Chappie looked thoughtful, then said, “Say, what about General Furston? They’re not going to drum him out of the Army are they?”

  “No, they just had to show Congress that somebody high up took the fall. He’s too competent a man to just send out to pasture. Actually, he’s taking leave, then going to Kentucky to take charge of the new B-29 plant. That will be the fifth plant; two in Washington State, one in Nebraska, one in Georgia, and now Franklin, Kentucky. When it‘s up and running, I’ll bet among the five factories, we’ll be making fifty a day,” Joel told him. He was wrong, but not by much, and on the low side.

  “Now, I’m taking Bill with me, so your first two decisions are who’s your deputy, and who’s your First Sergeant. Good luck with those.”

  “Believe it or not, sir, I’ve actually thought about that. What would you think of—.”

  Chapter 82

  24 January 1945

  Joint Chiefs of Staff Conference Room, The Pentagon

  0910 Hours

  B-29 Decision

  The morning briefings for the Joint Chiefs were over; they shooed their staff out so they could have a private conference.