On Desperate Ground (36 page)

“Rosie, old chap, get your boys ready,” Flight Lieutenant Trevor Dinsdale said, poking his head out from the pilot’s compartment, “we’re beginning our descent to the drop zone.”

“Gear up!” Rose shouted to the men, who quickly began adjusting helmets, packs, and weapons.
 

“How come everyone else can call you Rosie, but you jump all over me when I do?” asked Mack as he tightened his helmet strap.

“Haven’t known you long enough,” answered Rose, as he always did. Dinsdale chuckled and smiled at Rose.
 

* * *

Leutnant
Josef Falkenberg lifted off his Ju-88C-6 night fighter from the Dessau airfield, moments after being ordered into the air by
Flügkapitan
Karl Wendel. Flakenberg and two other Ju-88 night fighters had recently been assigned to
Kommando Ritter
, the special air unit providing air cover for Gambit. Tonight, Falkenberg and his crews were to patrol a specific area between the Elbe and Mulde rivers. German radar had picked up a group of Allied bombers headed for that territory, and Flakenberg was leading his flight to intercept.

* * *

The two squadrons of A-20 Havoc medium bombers had flown southeast over Germany, taking a dog-leg route that would turn them sharply north east of Leipzig, in order to avoid that city’s anti-aircraft defenses. The northerly leg of their route would allow them to fly directly over Hill 182, where two of the escorting P61 Black Widows would drop their flares, and four of the Havocs would let loose their 4,000 pound bomb loads on the hill. The Skytrooper transport and its two night fighter escorts were about ten minutes behind, and the plan was to drop the paratroopers on level ground on the west side of Hill 182, 5 kilometers away. There would be fires from the bombing run, making Hill 182 clearly visible.

“The Havocs have overtaken us,” announced Dinsdale. “Everything is on schedule.” Flying at a top speed of 185 miles per hour, the slower transport had left the airfield hours before the bombers. All flight elements were now in place.
 

“The four Havocs that will hit Hill 182 are dropping back,” Dinsdale explained to Mack. “They’ll make the return flight with us until we’re—”

“Get up here!” Hank shouted from the cockpit. Dinsdale turned instantly and jumped back into the co-pilot’s seat.

* * *

Leutnant
Falkenberg received a radio transmission from
Flügkapitan
Wendel as the three night fighters flew on an intercept course towards Leipzig.

“They’ve turned north. Bitterfeld radar shows medium bombers heading directly for Wittenberg. Change course to 95 degrees. The bomber stream is thinning, slower elements in the rear. Attack them first and then pick up the others on their return.”

“Acknowledged.”

Flakenberg banked his Ju-88 and the two other aircraft followed. The night fighter’s radar was limited, and they had to be vectored toward their target before they could pick them up. As Falkenberg pushed the fighter to its maximum speed of 300 miles per hour to catch up with the bombers, he wondered why some of them had slowed down. Most medium bombers, like the Havoc or Marauder, could fly faster than the Ju-88C with its ungainly radar antenna protruding from the nose of the aircraft. He flashed on his radar to see if he could pick up the rear elements of the flight.

* * *

“Our little friends have picked up fighters closing on us,” growled Hank as Dinsdale put his headphones on. “Didn’t expect to see any more of those goddamn things.” Mack and Rose had followed him forward, sticking their heads in through the narrow door.

“Night fighters?” questioned Rose.

“Oh, yes, definitely night fighters,” said Dinsdale almost cheerfully. “Jerry doesn’t send his regular blokes up in the dark. They’re as likely to run into each other as us.” Dinsdale stopped and listened to another radio transmission from the escorting fighters. He and Hank exchanged grim glances. Dinsdale’s expression then changed to a smile as he spoke to Rose.

“Rosie, please do get your boys ready. Just in case. Three of them are closing in on us at 300 miles per hour. With our top speed of 185, it’s only a matter of time.” He looked at them and winked. “Not to worry though, we’ve got two escorts and your Black Widows are ten times better than anything Jerry has. Simply wizard, those aircraft.”

“C’mon Mack, let these guys fly the plane. They know what they’re doing.” Rose clapped Mack on the shoulder and led him back to his seat.
 

“Listen up!” Rose announced, “We got a few night fighters on our tail. We won’t stand a chance if this crate has to keep flying on the straight and narrow, so we may have to jump early and let these guys fly evasive maneuvers back to our lines. Okay?” Everyone nodded.

“Okay. Just means a longer walk.”

“They have to drop us at Hill 182,” Mack said.

“The aircraft won’t make it there on a drop approach,” Rose said. “They have to fly low and straight for that. One night fighter could chew us up in ten seconds.”
 

“We can’t waste time getting lost out here,” Mack yelled. “They have to get us there!”

* * *

Leutnant
Falkenberg’s radar operator leaned toward him in the cramped cockpit and yelled excitedly, “Three targets, dead ahead!”
 

“Be specific, man!”
 

The operator turned back to his radar indicator and watched the luminous screen. “Three targets, ten kilometers ahead. Lead aircraft dropping to 1400, now 1300 meters. Two other aircraft slightly above.”

Two escorts and a crippled bomber,
thought Falkenberg. He keyed the radio to his two wingmen. “Follow me in toward the lead aircraft.”

In a small grove of pine trees on the top of a small hill, Major Klaus Branau listened to the roar of bombers coming from the south. He leaned against the sandbags surrounding a 20mm anti-aircraft gun, pointed skyward. He had command of the 401
^st
Flak Brigade, a composite group of anti-aircraft units left in this area after the pullout of Twelfth Army. He had placed an 88mm anti-aircraft gun and three 20mm guns on this hill, figuring he could defend against a ground attack as well. He had both dug-in and mobile anti-aircraft units between Wittenberg and Eilenberg. While he had sufficient anti-aircraft units, there were only two companies of regular ground troops to patrol this large area. Because of that, he was nervous about the withdrawal of Twelfth Army from all around him, especially the Panzers. Still, the
Amis
and the Russians were not breathing down his neck, not yet.

Branau scanned the night sky for the bombers. He had no searchlights, and didn’t plan on wasting ammunition firing blindly into the dark. The dull roar of aircraft engines grew louder, and he thought he could see dark shapes momentarily flit across the stars. Then the sounds began to fade towards the north. Heading to Wittenberg, or even Berlin, perhaps.

But not all of them. As the loud engine noise faded, he could hear a faint noise in the sky above and to the south of him. Then, definitely, a different sound, one or two aircraft circling directly above.

“
Alarm! Alarm!
” shouted Branau, suddenly aware that this was not a raid passing over their heads. His crews ran to their guns, the 20mm next to him swiveling up into the sky, hunting for the source of the sound.
 

The brightest light he had ever seen burst above him, followed by other flares illuminating the night sky, descending slowly to earth. Everything was bright white, brighter than daylight. The 20mm began to fire at the lights, blindly, frustrated, seeking out the planes they could clearly hear above them.
 

Through the pounding of the gun and the drone of the planes, Branau heard another sound. A slight whistling noise, growing louder. Branau knew exactly what it was. The gunner next to him heard it too.

“
Ach, Scheisse!
” It was the last thing either of them heard. The ground erupted as 500-pound bombs from four Havocs tore into the hill. It was over in seconds. Fires raged, guns and equipment lay broken and scattered on the hilltop, and the earth was blackened as large shell holes smoked from the explosions. Ammunition exploded, fueling the inferno. Before the two Black Widows joined up with the departing Havocs, they flew in low over the burning hill and made a strafing pass, shells from their four 20mm nose cannon chewing up the landscape. It mattered little. No one was left alive, and fires lit up the sky in every direction.

* * *

“B Flight reports they hit the hill,” Dinsdale yelled back to the cabin. “They took some ack-ack but hit the target dead on. Fires and secondary explosions as they left.”

“Glad we hit it,” said Mack. “Now let’s get there in once piece.”

Hank flew on, ignoring Mack’s comment and listening to the reports from the Black Widow pilots about the German planes, quickly catching up to them.
 

* * *

Falkenberg led the flight in a V-formation, expecting that the two escorts would peel off to either side and come around on his flanks. This way his wingmen could engage the fighters and allow him to hit the bomber ahead. The extra aircraft gave him an advantage, but only in the initial attack. If these were American Black Widow fighters, he knew they would be out-classed within minutes. He had one opportunity to hit and run, and he planned to make the best use of it.

Ahead, the Black Widows split off, one banking to the right and one to the left, coming around for a side attack on the German planes.
 

“Fighters coming in four o’clock and eight o’clock low!” Falkenberg’s radar operator reported.

The
Ami
were trying to hit them from below, a favorite night fighter tactic. So Falkenberg did the unexpected, increasing the throttle on his two Junkers Jumo engines and climbed, putting more distance between his planes and their pursuers. Then, thrusting the throttle down, he went into a steep dive toward his quarry, the bomber dead ahead.
 

He heard gunfire, not the heavy sound of cannon fire, but his own plane’s defensive armament, the single rear firing 13mm machine gun operated by the radar man. He closed on the aircraft ahead, not near enough yet for a clean shot.

The air came alive with tracer bullets as the Black Widow’s multiple 20mm cannon sought out their targets. Flakenberg knew that one quick burst from that much firepower could rip a Ju88 to shreds, and that he should start flying defensively, weaving left, right, up and down as his wingmen were. But he kept flying straight ahead.

One of the other Ju88s rolled and tried to evade the fire aimed at it, the pilot vainly attempting to corkscrew and avoid the hail of bullets, as his rear gunner fired back at the muzzle flashes. The Black Widow kept with him, and finally closed the circle tighter than the German plane. The American pilot lowered his flaps, not wanting to overshoot his target, at this same time pressing the fire button. Dozens of 20mm shells chewed up the fuselage of the Ju88, ripping through the cockpit and sending the aircraft into a steep and sudden dive, trailing smoke and flames.

The other Ju88 wingman swung around, in the opposite direction his pursuer expected, as he went to the aid of his partner. Too late to save him, he managed to catch the Black Widow with one deflection shot, emptying a burst from his four forward machine guns and one 20mm cannon at the target. The bullets stitched along the wing root, leaving a wispy trail of smoke behind. Knowing he could not outlast two Black Widows, even with one hit, the Ju88 pilot dove steeply and turned in the opposite direction from his flight leader, hoping at least to draw them away from Falkenberg.

Falkenberg closed in on the plane ahead, following his radar operator’s intercept directions. He had a few seconds grace before the
Ami
night fighters returned for him. He dove again, picking up speed for the final approach from below and behind, where he could avoid the worst of the bomber’s defensive fire. Then suddenly he could make out the shape ahead and above him. A transport! No defensive fire at all, an easy target. He maintained his approach and brought the plane clearly into his sights and squeezed the trigger, just as his radar operator opened up with his rear machine gun.
 

The Black Widows had not taken the bait offered by the other Ju-88. The lead
Amis
plane was above and behind Falkenberg, giving his radar operator a moment to fire. One of the Black Widows returned the fire of the single machine gun with its four 20mm cannon, hitting the JU88 square in the rear fuselage, sawing the plane in half, but not before Falkenberg had squeezed off a single, sustained burst directly into the Skytrooper.
 

* * *

Inside the Skytrooper, the bullets from the Ju88 erupted through the floorboards and exited out the ceiling, working their way from mid-fuselage to the cockpit. As soon as Hank heard the fighter fire, he yawed the plane to the left, trying to turn inside the arc of fire to escape it. He avoided most of the 20mm shells as he moved the plane out of the stream of fire, but the aircraft took hits on the right side.

Within seconds it was over, the bright explosion signaling that the escorts had done their job. Mack looked out the transport window and saw the shattered German aircraft falling to the ground in flaming pieces and then checked on his men. Rose was across from him, on the right side of the plane. The man seated next to him was dead. A shell had come up through the wooden floorboards and hit him under the chin. It had lost some velocity coming through the flooring, and had not exited the man’s head. Except for the blood seeping out the entry wound, he looked fine, still sitting upright in his seat.