Of Windmills and War (31 page)

40

Since this was their first mission,
Sweet Sophie
flew
the “tail-end Charlie” position at the back of the formation. As predicted, the
fog and low ceiling complicated the well-rehearsed assembling of aircraft into
their formation. It took just under one hour for the entire division to unite
into combat box formation and turn east toward the Continent. As they flew,
Danny took in the heavily peppered sky filled with B-17s and B-24s. Then, as
they gained altitude, chalk-like contrails formed by crystallized vapor began
to stream behind each plane. A beautiful sight to the untrained eye, but it felt
like they were flying blind-folded through those eerie contrails of the planes
ahead. Both pilot and co-pilot held their breath, anxious to clear the stuff.

“This is a whole lot worse than I expected,” Shorty said,
chomping his chewing gum. As flight engineer, he stood directly behind the cockpit
between the pilot and co-pilot’s seats. There he kept a keen eye on all the
instruments, making sure everything worked as it should. “Sure wasn’t this bad
in all those practice runs.”

“Let’s just hope it’s not a sign of things to come,”
Anderson
said.

“Captain, we’re over the Channel,” Sully said from his
position in the nose. “Permission to arm the bombs?”

“Roger that,”
Anderson
responded.

As Sully left the nose to make his way down to the bomb bay,
Dal Nicholson inched his way back to his position as tail gunner. Don Michaels
crawled into the ball turret and strapped himself in.

A short time later,
Anderson
said,
“Time to test your weapons, gentlemen.”

Shorty slipped up to the top turret position soon joining in
the
tat-tat-tat-tat-tat
of machine gun fire that rattled the fuselage. From
front to back, top to bottom, the gunners shot off their weapons sending the
pungent odor of gun smoke whipping through the aircraft.

“Little Friends at
three o’clock
high,”
Dal announced from his position in the rear of the plane. “Nice to know we’ve got
escorts, huh?”

“Yeah, but they don’t come along just for the heck of it,” Franconi
chimed in. “Must be bandits up here too.”

“We’re at ten-thousand feet, men,”
Anderson
announced. “Time for those oxygen masks. Check in.”

“Ball turret, checking in.”

“Top turret, checking.”

“Radio, checking in.”

The rest followed, one after another.

“Keep checking those masks for oxygen flow. At these
altitudes, they’ll freeze and you’ll pass out if you’re not careful.”

“Yeah, Franconi, you heard the captain,” Jimmy teased from
his post as left waist gunner. “No drooling today. We wouldn’t wanna have to
carry your sorry corpse outta
Sophie
tonight.”

“Shut up, Foster.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Danny said. “We’re all a little
tense, so let’s cut the cheap shots.”

“Stay sharp, men,”
Anderson
ordered. “We’re crossing the European coastline. Watch for those fighters and
call them out the second you see them.”

“Captain, I see flashes down below!” Michaels yelled from
the ball turret. “You seeing flak up ahead yet?”

“I see it,”
Anderson
answered. “Coming in
heavy at
one o’clock
low. Men, make sure you’ve got those flak
jackets on.”

Danny spotted the black puffs of smoke popping up all over
the sky. Soon the plane rocked hard as they encountered the dreaded explosive
shells for the first time. Each jolt seemed to slam the B-17 harder.

“Geez, it feels like we’re dancing through a mine field!”
Danny yelled.

“Better get used to it,”
Anderson
growled. “The closer we get to target, the worse it’ll be.”

“I hate this stuff!” Michaels shouted, adding a string of
expletives.

“Three bandits! Coming in level at
three o’clock
!”

“Thunderbolts fanning out! Knock ‘em outta the sky, Little
Friends!”

The B-17 slammed hard again, thanks to the dense flak.

“OUCH!” McCabe screamed. “That one got me!”

“Waist gunner! Where are you hit?” Danny shouted.

“I’m okay! I’m okay! Just some shrapnel on my cheek.”

Another explosion rocked the plane as hot shrapnel bounced
through
Sophie’s
mid-ship.

“Fire! Fire!” Jimmy shouted. “Balls of fire all over us!”

“Put it out! Put it out!”

“Tony!”
Anderson
yelled. “Can you put it
out?”

“I’ve got it!” Franconi answered. “Fire extinguisher blowing
as we speak, sir. I think we’ve got it—”

“Over here, Franconi!” McCabe shouted. “There—in that
corner.”

For three more hours, they battled German Messerschmidts and
Focke-Wulfs while dodging the unrelenting flak. The constant
ping
of shrapnel
and the hollow
clanging
of cartridge casings flying around the middle
section of the plane all grated on Danny’s last nerve, an audio background to
the visual madness.

A few minutes later, they watched helplessly as
Dream
Boat
took a direct hit on its left wing. The engine caught fire and the
ship quickly started losing altitude, then spiraled out of control. Then,
before a single chute was spotted, she exploded in a huge fireball, wreaking
havoc on every ship in her immediate area.
Anderson
struggled to keep control of
Sweet Sophie
. As the initial shock swept
through the plane, the intercom went silent, but only for a moment.

“Dear God . . .” Danny’s breath caught as his
heart pounded.

“Those guys didn’t have a chance.”

“Did anybody see a chute? Surely somebody—”

“No time for chutes.”

“My buddy Mickey,” Dal croaked. “Mickey was on
Dream Boat
.”

“Get us to that target so we can take out those Nazi—”

“Gentlemen, take a breath,”
Anderson
said.

Danny did, and with it gave himself a mental slap in the
face to focus on his job. Nothing could help those guys now. Not even a prayer.

Anderson
called for another oxygen check. The crew
sounded off in order.

“Captain, we’re five minutes, thirty seconds from the IP,”
Pendergrass stated.

The sky was nearly black with heavy clouds of flak as they
drew ever closer to their first target.
Anderson
fought
hard to maintain as level a path as possible.

“Bomb bay doors in the lead plane opening!” Danny shouted as
he watched the streamers of pure white smoke cascade from the lead plane.

“Opening bomb bay doors,” Sully answered from the toggelier.
Then, following the lead plane, Sully flipped the switch, releasing the payload
from
Sophie’s
belly.

“Bombs away!”

All around them, the ships flying in their formation dropped
the five-hundred pound bombs right on target. Danny had never seen anything
like it. As their craft still bounced along the flak-filled sky, he looked
down, marveling at the explosions rippling across the landscape below. For a
moment, the intercom remained silent. Danny wondered if the rest of the crew
was experiencing the same emotions he was—pride at a mission accomplished, as
well as a peculiar check in his spirit at the loss of life below. It wasn’t
regret. Not in the least. The Germans certainly had it coming. The atrocities
and bloodshed at their hands were the sole source of blame for the war here in
the European Theater. Still, an odd and quite unexpected sense of sadness
drifted through him, knowing there were also
innocent
lives lost below.
Yes, war was necessary and he was honored to do his part. But that didn’t make
it palatable.

Danny called for another check-in, and once completed, the
crew’s nervous chatter once again filled the intercom as they banked to the
left to begin the long ride home. The trip back to
England
was
much like the trip over, dodging the incessant flak and constant enemy
fighters. Yet, knowing they’d fulfilled their first mission supplied
Sweet
Sophie’s
crew with an adrenaline they’d never experienced.

Several hours later they crossed the
North
Sea
,
thrilled to spot the famous white cliffs of
Dover
. Just
as they’d taken off, they approached the base at Framlingham in formation
flying in low circles until they peeled off and at last, touched down. And only
at that moment, did Danny take a breath; one he felt sure he’d been holding
since they’d left here before dawn.

As they taxied on the way to their hardstand, the ground
crew lined the flight line as was their custom, welcoming them home. These
unsung heroes always waited patiently on mission days, keeping careful count as
each plane appeared on the horizon. Danny wondered if they ever realized how
much the flight crews appreciated all these guys did. He blew out a long sigh
of relief and thanked God for
Sweet Sophie’s
safe return.

When
Sophie
made her final stop back at the
hardstand,
Anderson
cut the engines. He sat silent for a
moment before reaching his hand out toward Danny. “Good job, McClain.”

Danny shook his hand heartily. “Great job, Captain.”

As the boisterous crew went about collecting their
belongings, they all slapped each other on the back for a successful first
mission. Danny was relieved too, but far too fresh from the experience to be
cutting up with the rest of the guys. Once they all exited the plane, a truck
showed up to ferry them to the Briefing Room. Once there, they looked around,
wondering what they were supposed to do.

“Danny!”

He turned as Charlie waved his hand above the crowded room.
Danny waved back as his friend closed the gap between them then gave him a hug.

“How’d it go, Rookie?! Feel good to have that first one
under your belt?”

“You can say that again.” Danny laughed, raking his hand
through his hair.

“Flak was pretty heavy up there today. Any trouble?”

“Nothing too serious, but it sure felt good to get back on
the ground. How about you?”

“Not exactly a milk run, but we managed. C’mon. I’ll buy you
a drink.”

“Ah, that’s okay, I’d—”

“Danny, it’s part of the routine. Compliments of the
United
States
Army Air Force.
Calms your nerves before
debriefing.” Charlie chuckled as they neared the table of drinks. “Don’t worry.
I won’t let you get drunk again.”

All over the room he watched officers knock back shots of
whiskey. “All right, then. If it’s protocol.”

Charlie handed him the tiny glass filled to the rim, which
promptly spilled from his trembling hand. “Whoa, you were right about the shakes.”

“Just be glad you’re all in one piece and able to hold it at
all.” Charlie winked then held up his own glass. “To your first mission.”

“To my first mission.” They clinked glasses and Danny downed
his whiskey. “Whoa,” he rasped, feeling the liquid burn all the way down.

Charlie patted him hard on the back. “See? Just what the
doctor ordered. I’ll see you after debriefing.”

Danny shook his head to still the alcohol buzz then found
his way over to the table with his crew. The Red Cross Girls supplied them with
plenty of hot coffee and donuts as the S-2 Officer started the intense questioning.
Danny wondered if Sally might also be helping out, but with the interrogation
underway, he had no chance to look around the room. The Security Officer asked
each crew member questions pertinent to the mission. Clearly, they were all
ready to unleash the tension they’d held in for the past twelve hours, filling
in all the details until at last the session was over.

Danny felt like he was still in a haze the rest of the
evening as everyone chatted over dinner. They talked about the day’s mission,
the close calls, the planes and crew members who didn’t make it back, and the
usual horse play that follows such a nerve-wracking day. Mostly, Danny just
wanted to get some sleep, but on the way back from dinner, he stopped by
Operations to check the roster for tomorrow’s mission. Sure enough,
Anderson
’s Crew
was listed.

That night, when his head finally hit the pillow, Danny
uttered a silent prayer of thanks. As he rolled over on his side, he had one
last thought before he drifted off to sleep.

And tomorrow we do it all again.

41

31 December 1944

Framlingham
,
England

“
Hamburg
. Why’d it have to be
Hamburg
? It’s
New Year’s Eve, for crying out loud!”

“Franconi, knock it off,” Pendergrass growled from
Sweet
Sophie’s
nose. “Uncle Sam didn’t ask for your opinion and neither did we,
so shut up.”

“Yeah, but three missions in a row? You’d think they’d at
least give us a day off so we could—”

“So we could what? Go celebrate at
Times
Square
?”
Lowenstein asked. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a war here.”

“Maybe so, but I’m with Tony,” Michaels chimed in from the
ball turret. “It’s not fair, sending us up three days in a row.”

“That’s enough, men,”
Anderson
snapped from the cockpit. “Unless you’re calling out a fighter, I don’t want to
hear another word. Just do your job so we can get back to base in one piece
tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Franconi and Michaels answered in unison.

Once again,
Sweet Sophie
flew in one of the last
groups. Danny had assumed by their third mission, he’d be used to the
anxiety—at least partially. But the knot in his gut pinched every bit as hard
as it had the last couple of days. Today the flak was brutal and getting worse the
closer they got to
Hamburg
. They’d been warned during
briefing about the possibility of intense flak, but Danny had never seen the
sky so black. The plane bounced and slammed as shrapnel peppered the exterior,
harder than any hail storm back home. Once they passed the Initial Point,
Anderson
fought
to maintain as straight a line as possible to the Drop Point. The moment came,
the bomb bays all around them opened, and once again Sully Thornton flipped the
switch.

“Bombs away!”

Anderson
leaned to his left to watch the impact
below from his side window. Thinking he’d do the same out his window, Danny
turned to his right just as a B-17 at
one-o’clock
high took
a direct hit. Before the words could form in his mouth, the plane exploded. The
fireball was coming directly at them! He slammed
Anderson
’s
right arm to get his attention. As the pilot casually glanced back, he
immediately spotted the fireball and quickly but steadily pulled up on the
steering column, allowing what was left of the crippled Fortress to slide right
beneath them.
Sophie
bucked and slammed and rocked, but she kept course.

“DID YOU SEE THAT?!” Lowenstein shouted from the top turret.

“It’s the
Lazy Susan!
”

“Look for chutes! Look for chutes!”

“I see two!”

“I see three!”

“Geez, look at it! There’s nothing left!”

“McClain! We’ve lost power on engine number three!”
Anderson
shouted.

Danny looked out his window at the engine closest to him.
“Number three all torn to shreds. Globs of oil coming out!”

“Feather three!”

“She’s not responding. She’s dead, Captain!”

Unable to stop the lame propeller from spinning, its blades
created drag on the already beleaguered B-17. Quickly losing altitude and
dropping out of formation would make them easy pickings for the Luftwaffe.

“Navigator!
Anderson
shouted. “Give me a
heading to get us out over the
North Sea
as soon as possible!”

“Roger that, Captain,” Pendergrass answered. A few seconds
later he called out the heading which would place them over the mouth of the
Elbe
River
.
Banking hard to make the turn, the river came in sight.

“Captain! Flak barges on the river and they’re all firing!”
Jimmy Foster shouted from midship.

The nasty black puffs of smoke soon engulfed them, shaking
the plane from nose to tail.

“Captain! We’re losing altitude! Twelve thousand feet and
falling!”

Anderson
drove
Sweet Sophie
like a race car
on a severely pot-holed track, but moments later they outran the black madness as
they sputtered over the open sea.

“Thank God!” Dal shouted from the tail.

“Great job, Captain!” Sully cried.

Danny shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Captain! Bandit at
six o’clock
!” Dal
screamed just before blasting off his guns.

“Bandit closing in fast, Captain!”

“Here come our Little Friends!”

“Knock ‘em outta the sky, Little Friends!”

As if obliging their cries for help, the P-47 Thunderbolts
swooped in and shot the German ME 109 out of the sky.

The cheers of the crew filled the intercom, thankful the
fighter pilots had once again provided protection.

“Men, we’ve got to lighten our load or we’re not going to
make it to the coast,”
Anderson
barked. “Toss everything you
can overboard, and I mean everything.”

They’d all heard too many stories from other crews who
credited these
North Sea
dumps with saving their lives.
They quickly threw out guns, ammunition, and anything not nailed down in an
attempt to lighten the load and get
Sophie
across the water.

“Mayday! Mayday!” Danny shouted on the Emergency Channel to
alert Air Sea Rescue to their position. They still had a long way to go before
they could hope to see the white cliffs of
Dover
. He
looked out his window and wondered how cold the sea water below might be then
prayed he’d never have to find out.

Finally, the English coastline appeared ahead. Danny let out
a heavy sigh—just before a plane blew right across their path!

Anderson
tried hard to fight the bird’s slipstream.
“What was THAT?”

“British Air Sea Rescue, sir!” Lowenstein shouted.

“Don’t those idiots listen to the tower?”

“Hey, thanks for the rescue, jerks!”

With their plane approaching stalling speed while flying at
an extremely low altitude with her nose up, Danny gulped hard when he noticed
white caps just below them.

“This is gonna be close!”
Anderson
cried.

“There’s the Brit’s Norwich Airfield!”

With no time to call for clearance,
Anderson
aimed
for the closest runway.

“Hold on, everybody!” Danny shouted.

Seconds later, they landed.
Sophie
skidded all over
the runway. By the feel of it, Danny wondered if the tires had taken some flak.
But thankfully, they were back on the ground and still in one piece. A few
minutes later while exiting the damaged aircraft, the crew started counting
flak holes—astounded that the plane had survived. They stopped counting at two
hundred.

As they waited for a truck from the 390th to come for them,
the British offered hot coffee and refreshments in a hangar that was chilly at
best, but at least out of the elements. They all talked at the same time,
reliving the close calls and applauding their captain’s incredible landing
which prevented them from ending the year—and possibly their lives—with a freezing
swim. A few moments later, the pilot from the Air Sea Rescue plane arrived.
Anderson
lit
into him for cutting so close across their path, forcing them to fly through
his slipstream.

Danny stepped between them. “Dick, take it easy. We’re fine.
I’m sure it was an accident.”

“Sorry, mate, but to be honest, you gave
me
quite a
fright as well,” the Brit said, still holding his helmet. “I was looking for
you in the water below! I couldn’t believe you were still airborne, what with
your nose just above the drink and flying at stall speed? I couldn’t believe
you and your crew weren’t all wet!”

“Yeah? I’ll
show
you who’s all wet!”
Anderson
snarled, trying to push Danny aside.

Danny held on, blocking him. “Captain Anderson! Let it go!”

Anderson
’s chest heaved repeatedly until he finally
grumbled a few choice words then walked away.

Their truck showed up several hours later, long after the
stroke of
midnight
. The tired crew spoke little on the trip
back to base, most of them sound asleep despite the bumpy ride. Danny tried to
sleep, but couldn’t. His mind still whirling, he wondered how many close calls
a guy gets before he uses them all up. He wondered if his mother’s prayers had
been responsible for keeping him alive one more day. He couldn’t help wondering
what the new year would bring.

Then he wondered if he would live long enough to find out.