by Jeff Kildow
A ripple of excitement raced through the formation as the powerful Gestapo transmitters blasted Galland’s message. To everyone’s astonishment, it was General der Luftwaffe Galland himself, and the broadcast wasn’t even in code! Immediately, requests to turn around flooded into von Schroeder’s airplane over the low power radios.
“No! No! I forbid it! This man is an imposter! He is lying! We must continue; we must destroy America!” von Schroeder radioed back. “It is a plot! It is an anti-German plot, to make us the coward, to turn with our tails between our legs, like a dog. Galland is a true hero of the German people; he would never order such a cowardly thing.”
Von Schroeder watched with increasing rage as entire squadrons of GO-460s begin to turn.
“No! No! I forbid it, I tell you! I will have you shot! You must continue!” His voice was high pitched and desperate. “Please, my fellow Germans! I beg you! Do not abandon me now! We are so close to victory! I plead with you, stay the course!”
Even as he made his desperate pleas, von Schroeder saw more and more of his bomber strength turning away; soon, there were only the volunteers. Then, to his bitter dismay, they too, began turning back toward Spain.
Chapter 106
6 September 1945
ACP 2 Headquarters, Millville Army Air Field
1144 Hours
Attack Revealed
“As the first word about a proposed truce extension arrived in Washington, D.C., ladies and gentlemen, this reporter felt a sense of exultation, almost euphoria, sweeping the capital – could this war in Europe finally be nearing its end? Then, cruelly, those high hopes seemed dashed as a huge, unauthorized attack upon Washington, D.C. was revealed. A very large force of fighter airplanes, hundreds of them, we are told – from all over the East Coast have roared off to meet them, to engage in mortal combat.”
The slick haired radio announcer leaned into the microphone he was uncharacteristically gripping, and took a deep breath, “Then, astonishingly, ladies and gentlemen, the new, anti-Nazi German government itself has ordered the attack recalled, lest it cause the peace talks to falter. As I speak, the peace initiative hangs precariously in the balance, as Washington and the nation, holds their collective breath. Will the bombers turn back? Will they attack despite the recall? Surely, if Washington is attacked, the peace talks will immediately fail, and the war may go on indefinitely. We will broadcast more news regarding these momentous events as soon as we are informed. This is your reporter, John Tully Sullivan, speaking to you on the World Wide Network. Good Day.”
Joel Knight listened to the civilian radio broadcast in the ready room at Millville Army Air Field while he also monitored the radio chatter between the P-61 flying as ACP-2 and the hundreds of fighters racing toward the German bombers.
Abruptly, General White’s distinctive voice came over the speaker, “ACP-2, Central Command. The President has ordered all fighters in your district to hold their fire, I say again, hold their fire. You will not fire, repeat, not fire upon German bombers that have turned away. Fighters are to escort the Germans until their fuel requires them to return to base. Acknowledge. White out.”
A moment passed, then, “ACP-2 to Central Command; we acknowledge; we have relayed the message, over.” There was a brief pause.
“Fire! Uh, ACP-2 is declaring emergency, repeat, we are declaring an emergency! We have an engine fire! Pull the fire bottle again! We have to abandon the aircraft! Oh, it’s bad! It’s bad! Bail out! Bail out! Get out now—” the transmission ended abruptly.
Joel jerked; he knew Major Bruce Myers, the ACP-2 pilot well. Immediately, the radio was filled with calls:
“Parachutes! I see three parachutes – they got out OK! Call for SAR [search and rescue]. Somebody stay and circle ‘em!”
The red phone from Central Command rang. The duty officer quickly answered it, and turned to Joel, “Sir, it’s for you, General White.”
“This is Colonel Knight, sir.”
“Colonel, get your backup ACP bird airborne ASAP. Meyers is down, with an engine fire. Go circle the capital, and wait further instructions. White out.”
“Yes, sir,” Joel said to dead line.
Joel raced to the flight line, wondering which airplane they’d have for him. He hadn’t paid attention to the ready room status board. As he jumped out of the car, a smile crossed his face. There sat his familiar old P-61, ready to go; across its rounded nose was the yellow script Scintillating Sue. It made him feel good, just to see her name.
Two crewmen hurried out, their seat pack parachutes smacking them in the backsides as they climbed into the big fighter.
“Get her started, Joe,” Joel told the crew chief, “I’ll grab a ‘chute and be right back.”
Gall rose in von Schroeder’s throat as he cursed those who had abandoned him. It never occurred to him that the crew of his own aircraft might be similarly minded.
Americans, the fools! They expected me to attack Washington directly. Now, they think we have all turned tail. Never will they suspect what my real target is! He chuckled humorlessly to himself.
The Delaware coastline was just visible through the ever present haze, ten or twelve miles ahead. Smoothly, firmly, von Schroeder banked to the left, toward the massive U.S. Navy complex at Hampton Roads, Virginia. As the James River came into in view, he banked right. His strategy was to fly south of the American capital, and avoid the flak and home defense fighters based there. Staying north of Hampton Roads lessened the likelihood they’d be spotted.
They will not expect me here, and I can bypass Washington, and fly unmolested to Tennessee. A cruel smile flitted across his face. Yes, I will take them entirely by surprise, and their super bomb will never touch Germany!
He advanced the throttles, and began to climb. At 11,000 meters [35,000 feet], no one will see us from the ground. We will arrive undetected!
Unfortunately, the atmospheric conditions worked against him; as the Gotha climbed through 30,000 feet and crossed majestic Chesapeake Bay, long lines of white condensation from the engine exhausts formed in the sky. They pointed to his aircraft like a giant arrow in the sky.
Chapter 107
6 September 1945
Over Washington, D.C.
1527 Hours
On Patrol
“Central Command, ACP-2, on station at 2-7 minutes after the hour. What’s the situation, over.”
“Roger, ACP-2, Central Command. The Germans turned back. You are ordered to circle the city and standby. Central Command, out.”
Joel relaxed a bit as he keyed the intercom, “Well, boys, that’s really good news. Maybe we won’t have any work today after all; let’s pray that’s so. This is a chance for you to do some sightseeing.”
“Say, sounds good, Colonel,” said the RADAR operator cheerfully, “let’s also pray that the Ack-Ack boys know we’re friendly!”
It was the first time Joel had seen the Pentagon up close from the air.
Guess I know why I got lost in there a couple of times, he chuckled to himself, that place is really big.
They made a second circuit around the city, with the gunner and RADAR operator exclaiming enthusiastically about the famous monuments and public buildings they could see.
Abruptly, the radio sprang to life, “ACP-2, Central Command. Come to heading 1-9-5 degrees, and commence immediate climb to 3-0 thousand feet. Over.”
What in the world? Joel wondered as he turned toward the new heading. He put on his “war face.”
“Roger, Central Command, ACP-2 turning to 1-9-5 degrees, and starting climb. What are we looking for? Over.” The engines roared as he advanced the throttles.
“ACP-2, Navy at Norfolk reports a single aircraft at high altitude heading in the direction of Charlottesville, Virginia. It’s leaving a con trail, that’s how Navy spotted it. They think it’s German. Over.”
“Central Command, ACP-2, climbing through 2-0 thousand feet, on course. What’re they up to? There’s nothing in Virginia, or even We
st Virginia to bomb. Doesn’t make sense. Over”
“We agree, ACP-2; that’s why you need to catch them. We may have a ‘Flying Dutchman’ situation here. Advise when you’re close enough to observe. Central Command out.”
Twelve Minutes Later
Joel leveled out at 30,000 feet, and was carefully hand flying while the RADAR operator scanned at the equipment’s highest magnification.
“Colonel, something’s just starting to show up. We’re still maybe twelve miles or so behind them,” the RADAR operator told him. “We’re at the limits of my range, sir, so that’s mostly an educated guess.”
“OK, Phil,” Joel said, “keep working. Gunner, you’ve got younger eyes; can you see a con trail?”
“Ah, no, sorry, sir, we’re too far off to spot that yet. I’ll tell you soon’s I see somethin’, sir.”
“Roger,” Joel said, looking at the airspeed indicator.
Let’s see, 410 indicated. If we’re twelve miles out, that’ll take— He shook his head; that was a bit too difficult to do in his head.
He reached for his knee pad, and did the calculation. OK, just a tad more than another minute! I shouldn’t be so anxious.
“Sir, I’ve got contact, at seven miles. Come right five degrees, sir, and we’ll be directly astern of them,” the RADAR man said.
“I’ve got ‘em in the bi-nocs, sir – it’s a Gotha, for sure. Leaving a pretty strong con trail, too. Permission to charge my guns?”
“Do it, Guns. Here’s the plan; I’ll climb above them, and make a fast pass in front of the cockpit. Guns, watch for internal movement.”
Joel saw the bomber was maintaining altitude and a speed of about 250 knots. Long white condensation trails followed it. The P-61 climbed another 5,000 feet, and overtook the camouflaged German. Just as Joel was about to dive across in front of the Gotha, the gunner yelled, “Top turret traversing! They see us! They’re firing!”
Chapter 108
6 September 1945
Over West Virginia
1603 Hours
Pursuit
“Wow, that scared the crap out of me – sorry, sir. I saw two guys jump like crazy, then the gun turret fired. It’s no Flying Dutchman, it’s got a crew,” said a rattled Sergeant Rex “Guns” Argon.
“Yeah, I saw ‘em too, Guns. Good job! Keep a close eye on that turret. We’ll make another pass.”
Joel swung the fighter around, nearly level with the Gotha. “There! The red baronial seal! It’s von Schroeder!” he shouted, even as the Gotha’s top turret fired at them. Joel jinked hard, and the rockets missed. He moved out of range, and keyed his mic.
“Central Command, ACP-2, do you read, over.”
We’re pretty far from Philly, Joel worried, hope they can hear us.
To his relief, they responded immediately, if a bit faintly. “ACP 2, Central Command, we read you weakly, over.”
“Roger, Central Command, be advised that we confirm, repeat, confirm, a Gotha. Also, be advised, aircraft carries the personal markings of General von Schroeder. We are receiving fire, and are about to return it. ACP-2, out.”
“ACP-2, stand by – standby – someone needs to speak with you, over.”
There were some clicks and pops as the microphone was passed.
“Joel, this is Susan, at Central Command. You must shoot that airplane down!” The urgency in her voice sent a surge of fear through him. The radio signal began to heterodyne as a competing signal interfered. Susan’s voice was fading, dropping out, and changing tone.
“– target – secret plant – Oak Ridge, Tennessee. – devastating – country if they succeed. Do you understand? This is – suicide – we talked about. Von Schroeder – knows about – plant and will die – destroy it. Over”
“Susan! What? Are you sure? I’m having trouble understanding you. Over.”
“No, listen to me: – target is Oak Ridge; – had confirmation – Europe – last hour; that’s – target. Please, Joel, he – not be allowed to do this. It’s – important – he not –. You have to stop him!” Her voice was pleading.
“Roger, ACP-2 understands, WILCO. ACP-2 out.”
“Well, that changes things, boys,” Joel said grimly. “I’ll gain altitude, go in front of them and we’ll do a diving, angled pass across ‘em front to rear. That’ll force them to try to traverse their guns fast enough to hit us. I’ll hit ‘em with rockets and save the 30mm’s for later if we need ‘em. Guns, wait ‘till we’re in range, then do your deed. Don’t rotate your turret.”
Early P-61s like Scintillating Sue suffered severe buffeting when the gun turret was rotated, so the guns had to be fired from a fixed, straight ahead position.
“Phil, find any military radio in the vicinity. We won’t be able to get through to Philly again. Fill ‘em in on what’s up, and make ‘em stay on with you; if we force von Schroeder down, I want all the help we can get, OK?”
Chapter 109
6 September 1945
Over Eastern Tennessee
1641 Hours
Final Encounter
They flew a long arc, climbing above and ahead of the Gotha, which had not changed course.
“Here we go!” The fighter’s engines roared as it dove steeply toward the German. Joel armed the rockets hanging under the wings. They closed very quickly, their combined speeds over 600 miles per hour.
“Now!” Joel shouted, and squeezed the trigger. A pair of rockets, one from each wing, shot toward the Bomber. Above him, the four 0.50 calibre machine guns thundered. In an instant, they flashed past the Gotha. Unexpectedly, Joel saw gun flashes in return.
Uh, oh – now they have guns and rockets, he thought.
“I hit him! I got good hits!” yelled the gunner as Joel used their momentum to climb above the Gotha again. “I think I did, too,” Joel said.
Von Schroeder was ignoring the American fighter as he concentrated on maintaining his course.
We are only minutes away! I must destroy it, for the glory of Germany! I must not fail!
For an instant, the screams of his mortally wounded top gunner intruded, but von Schroeder remorselessly shut the sound out.
“They are coming around again, General! On the port side!”
Von Schroeder did not look away, but leaned forward, urging his bomber on, his lips moving in silent supplication. His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel. A thunder of jarring impacts accompanied the roar of the American plane as it raced over the stricken flying wing. The Gotha shook and shuddered from the impact of the American rockets and machine gun fire. The lower gunner was hammering away with his machine gun; sparks flew from the underside of the fighters’ left wing.
“Fire! Number One, Number Two engines on fire! Pulling the fire bottle handles! One went out, but I’ll have to feather number Two. We’ve got bad fuel leaks, General!” The co-pilot was scrambling to save the airplane.
Again, the huge fighter swung around, and approached, this time from the right. In horror, the crewmen felt the flying wing shudder and shake as they were hit again and again. Now, there were fires on the right side as well. Von Schroeder did not divert his eyes.
“General! General! The fires, they are out of control! We must abandon the aircraft!” the co-pilot shouted, but von Schroeder’s gaze was fixed.
Quickly assessing the situation, the co-pilot shouted over the intercom, “This is the co-pilot – Bail out, Bail out! Abandon the aircraft!” He moved quickly toward the escape hatch as the others copied him. With a glance at the still fixated General, he leapt from the faltering plane.
Chapter 110
6 September 1945
The Horse Farm
1659 Hours
Down and Out
“They’re bailing out! We got ‘em, boys!” Joe shouted.
“Only five chutes, Colonel. Somebody’s still on board.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Guns. I doubt von Schroeder would miss the chance to go down with his ship. Let’s see.”
He st
arted to turn toward the bomber, then thought better of it, Joel kept an eye on the smoking Gotha, and keyed his mic.
“Central Command, ACP-2. The Gotha is going down, we’ve spotted five chutes. The aircraft appears to still be under control, so we’ll hit it again. ACP-2 out.” There was no response.
“Colonel, we were hit on that last pass. We’re leaking fuel pretty bad from the lower left wing. It’s away from the exhaust, I think,” Phil told Joel.
Von Schroeder jerked like a sleeper rudely awakened; they had all left him! He was abandoned again! The anguish, the unbearable pain of abandonment, which he thought he’d buried in his childhood, rose up in his chest and he thought he would die. He squeezed his eyes shut so hard they watered.
All the warning lights were flashing, the emergency bells ringing. A glance at the altimeter: This is hard to control, I’m too low to jump; I’ll have to ride it in.
A surge of fear hit him as he remembered: the bombs; I haven’t dropped the bombs! They’d blow him to Valhalla if he didn’t dump them. He pulled the Bomb Jettison handle. The aircraft leapt up a little as the weight dropped away.
Now, find a place to crash land, and quickly!
“He’s dumped the bombs! He’s going to do a forced landing. Phil, have you raised anybody on the radio yet?”
“Roger, Colonel, I’ve reached an Army Reserve infantry detachment on maneuvers; they’re west of La Follette, West Virginia. They can get to civilian telephones, otherwise, they only have a twenty mile range.”
“OK, quick as you can, tell ‘em to relay what you’ve told them to Philly, to District Two Central Command. Tell ‘em to call collect, the Army will pay for it; just keep ‘em on the radio as long as you can. Where ever Schroeder goes down, we’ll need help.”