Churchill's Ace (Epic War Series Book 1) (31 page)

* * *

Madeline was with Winston at 10 Downing Street when the Royal Hancock Theatre went up in smoke. Winston asked James to see if indeed an errant set of bombs had fallen on London. Five minutes later James returned. “From what I’ve been told the Royal Hancock Theatre took a direct hit.”

Madeline nearly ran over James in her rush to get out the door. “Take me there now.”

James looked at Winston, who nodded. James ran outside and started up the Rolls Royce. Soon they were in front of the demolished theatre. The site had already been cordoned off by the bobbies, but that didn’t stop Madeline from pressing against the makeshift safety barriers. Madeline confronted a bobby. “Is there anyone alive? Did you hear me?”

“Miss, it’s a bad one. There are some, but they’re having a hard time getting to them. Now just be patient; they’re doing all they can.” When the officer turned his attention elsewhere, Madeline darted through the barriers and into the rubble of the theatre.

James saw her disappear into the twisted beams and said, “Damn.”

Inside the theatre, the center of the roof was missing, and sunlight was pouring thru the opening. A half dozen rescue workers were digging through the rubble to reach those who were moaning for help. Instinctively, Madeline called out for her mother.

Her clothes brushed up against a fallen beam and tore. She then tripped and fell onto a pile of debris. It was then she saw the 250-kilogram bomb lying to one side of the shattered stage. The iron bomb was slightly bent from the impact.

A rescue worker lifted her up. “What are you…” The middle-aged man who wore a tin hat saw the unexploded bomb. “Oh no. We’re going to have to clear the area. If that bloody thing goes off…”

“But my mother... she’s in here.” Madeline ignored him and searched among the ruins of the theatre. She turned around and saw a faint shimmer of light coming from beneath a pile of debris. The sun moved across her face as she carefully stepped toward the flicker of light that was reflecting from the sun.

It was Lady Margaret’s ring. Madeline didn’t know about the engagement ring, but it was the hand of a woman that she saw. She dug through the rubble and heard a voice call out. “Thank God. Help me.”

The middle age rescue worker joined Madeline, and they purposely made a path to free her. Another rescue worker saw what was happening, and he summoned for help. The three of them gently slid Lady Margaret out from the rubble. Lady Margaret fell unconscious again. The younger of the rescue workers said forcefully. “This is it until the bomb section gets here. That damn thing can blow at any time, and when it does, the rest of this place will come down.”

A stretcher was brought forward and Madeline helped carry her mother out of the Royal Hancock Theatre. She didn’t relax until they were outside, which was now full of Londoners trying to get a look at the destruction.

When news of the unexploded bomb was found out by the authorities on site, they moved the barriers back by several hundred feet. The theatre was now isolated and the rescue personnel had been accounted for.

James met Madeline at the foot of an ambulance. Winston was next to him, and he was drawing a crowd. He nodded at Madeline as she joined Lady Margaret in the back of the ambulance. As the ambulance drove away, Winston said to James. “If Herr Hitler knew he was up against the likes of her, he never would have been foolish enough to attack us.”

Winston got back into the Rolls Royce, and James drove away. Moments later the time delayed 250-kilogram bomb blew up and the rest of the Royal Hancock theatre came crashing down. All that was left of Harold Ickes’ Royal Hancock Theatre was a smoldering pile of twisted metal and splintered beams.

Later that night, Wolf and Randolph joined Winston in his working office at 10 Downing Street. The battle with the Luftwaffe was still raging and Fighter Command had been pushed to the breaking point. The incessant Luftwaffe attacks on the RAF airfields was straining the system.

Wolf and Randolph relaxed in the comfortable chairs in the Prime Minister’s office. They certainly were easier on the back than being stuffed in a Spitfire, while a German was trying to blow you out of the sky.

Winston poured himself a glass of brandy. He offered a brandy to Wolf and Randolph, but they declined. He sighed, “You both must be very tired to refuse French brandy. I understand that the pair of you continued your winning ways today. You each have six now.”

Randolph smiled, “Wolf has seven. He’s determined to stay one up on me. And Madeline is quite safe, Sir Winston.”

Wolf was exceptionally quiet, and Winston tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry; Madeline will soon be along. Randolph, your mother is doing well and will make a full recovery. She is more than lucky that Madeline was persistent in clawing thru the debris. She is more than brave.”

Randolph smirked, “She always was a bit of a tomboy.”

“With a rough edge,” said Wolf.

“Is that why you’re so keen on her?” asked Randolph.

“That and other things.”

Winston laughed, “If we only had the time to laugh the night away. I wish it were so. Would both of you be so kind as to follow me.”

They all stood and left Winston’s office. They went into an adjoining room and walked by Mr. Stuart, who only smiled. “Prime Minister.”

Inside the room was a 4 x 4 relief map of downtown Berlin. 12 Wilhelmstrasse was in the middle of the map. Wolf immediately saw the various German government buildings on the relief map. The oversized layout would have made a fine middle-school project. Wolf knew that wasn’t what it was for. He said, “Is that how you spend your quiet time Sir Winston?”

“Actually, the RAF reconnaissance staff pulled this all together... on my orders. But I think none of us will be touring the area, at least not on the ground. At least, I hope not.”

Randolph asked, “What do you have in mind?”

“Contingency plans that are now in play. I can’t very well let the bombing of London go unanswered. The public will expect our government to act in kind. This is a nasty business, but hard decisions can’t be avoided.”

Wolf wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. “You don’t plan to bomb civilians...right? It was one plane that flew over London.”

“Two things, Wolf. And they aren’t easy. First our airfields must be given time to recover. Unless the RAF is defeated, Hitler will not be able to invade.”

Randolph said, “So you’d rather the Luftwaffe hit other targets besides Biggin Hill and such.”

“And the propaganda war must be considered. The invincibility of the Third Reich must be broken. The public, theirs and ours, must realize that Herr Hitler isn’t a god... just a man.”

Wolf stood up and studied the relief map. “What’s the target?”

Winston pointed to 12 Wilhelmstrasse. “The Nazi art exhibit, which is opening two days from now.”

Randolph nodded, “Really, a Nazi art exhibit. They have lost their senses.”

Winston went on. “Works by Adolf Hitler will be on display. That should be interesting.”

“And you expect to hit that building straight on?” asked Randolph.

“No, I was thinking that both of you flying a Mosquito would do that. The opening will be attended by Nazi supporters and Goebbels propaganda staff. Can you hit it?”

Wolf looked at the relief map. He turned to Randolph. “The boulevard is wide. If we came in at 1200 feet and dropped down just above the buildings as we approached the target, we could drop a bomb on it. But Sir Winston, I’d think rockets are better.”

“Rockets,” exclaimed Randolph. “That’s a rather difficult shot, maybe even impossible.”

Wolf smiled, “Not with my co-pilot guiding me to the target.”

Randolph shook his head. “Now I’m your co-pilot.”

Winston took out a cigar and lit it. “Our new Mosquito has plenty of range and the Luftwaffe has nothing that can keep up with it. An early evening raid is what I had in mind. One plane should have no problem getting through. But it’s dangerous as all missions are.”

“Fine,” said Randolph.

“Another thing. I didn’t want to cloud the situation. But our intelligence has gathered another piece of information, which I have no choice but to pass on to you, Wolf. Doctor Bockler will be attending the opening of the Nazi art exhibit. No doubt between his horrific medical experiments on live subjects. His dossier is long and dreadful.

Wolf’s body tightened. “Zigfried’s father.”

“The very person who arranged for the murder of your parents.”

Randolph shuttered, “My God.”

Wolf said, “The sooner, the better.”

Madeline entered the room and saw the map. “Mother is out of surgery. She’s going to make it.”

Randolph asked, “And what about? I forgot his name.”

“Harry Ickes, the owner of what was the Royal Hancock. I’m afraid he’s dead.” Madeline saw the relief map. “What’s this, Sir Winston?”

Winston hesitated and Randolph seemed to be tongue-tied also. Wolf said, “Something that has to be done.”

“I don’t like the sound of that...”

JAG 23 was back in the air the next morning. There was no rest afforded the Luftwaffe or the RAF. One of the air forces would surely break. But which one? That was still up for debate. Zigfried Bockler led his squadron of Me 109s as part of a major raid on the RAF air base at Hornchurch.

Several squadrons of fighters from the Luftwaffe were assembled for the bombing run. The attack forces grouped together over the Channel and hit the Hornchurch installation in two waves.

The sky above the target area quickly became a series of individual battles. Zigfried had a new wingman, his third after losing Wilhelm and Hans. The rookie pilot stuck to him like glue. Early in the encounter, Zigfried dove on a Hurricane that was busy shooting at a Junkers 88 bomber. The JU 88 was shot up and rolled over.

However, the victorious Hurricane soon felt the impact of Zigfried’s Me 109 20 mm cannon fire. The Hurricane was badly damaged, and the pilot tried to bail out. His canopy was stuck in a twisted ball of metal. The Hurricane pitched downward to meet its fate.

As the Luftwaffe fighter escort tangled with the Spitfires and Hurricanes, a high percentage of German bombers bore down on Hornchurch. Sticks of bombs were released and within minutes, Hornchurch suffered substantial damage.

To add to the carnage, a second flight of bombers followed the first. Most if not all of them made it to the target. JAG 23 headed for home. The RAF base at Hornchurch had been put out of action, and Zigfried had scored his fifth kill. He was now an ace... a Nazi ace.

The de Havilland Mosquito was known as “The Wooden Wonder.” It was well named, because it was made almost entirely of wood. It was a novel concept, to turn your back on the modern metal frame structure and go with something that termites could sink their teeth into. But that wasn’t exactly true. The Mosquito used laminated plywood for various sections of the plane, including the wings and interior structural ribbing.

The whole thing was held together with state of the art glue and wood fasteners. As time went on, the Mosquito would go under numerous changes to solve various problems unique to the plane. Those would be the deterioration of the Mosquitoes surfaces in humid weather, to the unfounded fear of termites eating through the plane’s fuselage.

It was exactly 90 minutes before dusk, when Wolf and Randolph finished their pre-flight checks on the twin supercharged engine Mosquito that they were to fly to Berlin, with the hope of destroying what the young pilots called, “Hitler’s Gallery.” The sleek Mosquito was built for speed and there was nothing in the Luftwaffe arsenal that could keep up with it.

For this mission, the Mosquito, which wasn’t fully operational yet with the rest of the RAF, was armed with eight 60 lb rocket projectiles, four machine guns in its nose, with four lethal 20 mm cannons, eight under the cockpit floor. The firepower was awesome and unique for a two crew plane. The Mosquito was equipped with extra fuel tanks and would have no problem reaching Berlin.

Wolf and Randolph walked to the front of the plane, just as Winston’s Rolls Royce was pulling up. Winston and Madeline got out. Randolph said, “There’s room for one more in there Sir Winston.”

Winston reached up and touched the belly of the fuselage of the Wooden Wonder. “I’d hate to alter the delicate balance of the plane. Who knows what effect an additional passenger would have. Although I’d be happy to pass the time with the recounting of my time with Lord Kitchener in the Sudan.”

Madeline laughed, “You better wear a parachute. Surely that boring adventure would get you tossed.”

Winston took out an envelope and handed it to Wolf. “In case you have time on the way back.”

“There’s more?” asked Randolph.

“Aren’t you pushing it,” smirked Madeline. “Why don’t you have them kill Hitler while they’re at it.”

“It may come to that and no one would shed a tear. Now have a safe flight. The Mosquito has a service ceiling higher than anything the Luftwaffe can muster, so use that to your advantage.”

Wolf kissed Madeline. She said, “Try not to trip.”

“I won’t.”

Madeline turned to Randolph. “Bring him back and yourself as well.”

“Goodbye.”

Wolf and Randolph climbed into the cockpit, through the Mosquito’s doors which were in the underbelly of the fuselage. Minutes later they roared into the dimming light, on their way to Berlin. Winston and Madeline watched the plane disappear as it headed for the Channel. Madeline said, “I hope this is the last of your special missions, for the two most important men in my life.”

“I hope so, but war has a way of mucking things up.”

JAG 23 landed at their Calais airfield with minor losses. The raid on Hornchurch had been a smashing success. Only two Me 109s had been lost. If this was the way of things of to come, England would soon be defeated. The pilots were debriefed and Zigfried’s fifth kill was confirmed. The younger pilots celebrated JAG 23’s new ace.