“Did you engineer this, Wilson?” he asked.
“I did not ask to be put in command, if that’s what you mean,” Stan answered.
“You act like you thought you had to take over here,” Sim said and his eyes blazed.
“Wilson has forgotten more about flyin’ than you’ll ever know,” O’Malley cut in. “And ye better remember that.”
“Easy, now. This is a teamwork job,” Stan said. “Your orders are to cover our long-range ships. They’ll be heavy and gas logged. My planes have to get to use all of that extra gas, Sim. What we’re doing is trying to break the jinx on the fighters.”
“Yeah? It smells bad to me. I think you’re trying to get yourself an extra bar on your shoulder.”
Stan’s lips pulled into a straight line. “I don’t care what you think of me, personally, but you better cover my flight, and cover it right.”
The other fliers were staring at the two officers. They had worked under Sim Jones a long time. Stan was a newcomer the same as Colonel Holt; both had seen much service in other theaters of war. Stan sensed that they were siding with Sim. He turned away and began getting into his outfit. O’Malley was beside him.
“That bird may try something,” O’Malley said out of the side of his mouth.
“We sure slipped up when we didn’t let him tell this plan to the colonel,” Stan said sourly.
The boys sloshed out on the field. Stan looked over the dim outlines of the planes. He would have six ships in his penetration flight. His boys had been carefully instructed. They were to break away and appear to leave with the other fighters, then loop up and over and come in on the enemy from out of the sun when he dived down after the bombers.
One by one the Thunderbolts slipped into the raw morning darkness. Stan eased his ship off the ground and up into the sky. He dropped into place in Sim’s flight along with O’Malley. They were separated by one ship. The Thunderbolts carrying extra weight were spotted so they could be covered by the others.
Soon they picked up the Forts and Libs and were headed across the channel toward Flushing. Day broke and they could see the bombers below them. The air was clear and cold but there were many scattered banks of clouds all around. Stan kept his eyes open. Today he was not watching the beauty of the bomber formation, he was checking on his own flight of fighters. Sim was holding his ships in perfect formation. They roared along with Stan and his boys using gasoline from their reserve tanks so that they could get rid of them as soon as possible.
Their first action came near the coast. A flight of Focke-Wulf 190’s broke out of a big cloud and roared in on them.
“Break for action. Cover specials!” Sim called.
The formation of Thunderbolts broke up and the fight was on. As usual the Jerries were not aiming to close with the Yanks. They were willing to pick off a cripple or a plane cut out from the flight but not to make it a real battle. Their job was to delay and to pull the fighters away from the bombers.
Sim handled the situation well. The Thunderbolts did not break away, nor were they delayed. They met each thrust and stab, but they refused to be pulled into side shows. For once O’Malley was ignoring a Jerry fighter. He was well up in front heading straight for Germany. Stan was in the rear where he had been spotted. Sim was flying his cover, having dropped back for that purpose.
“I guess he’s all right,” Stan muttered. “He’s making it his personal business to see that I get through.”
At that moment two FW’s dived down at the tail ships. Stan did not shift course.
All Sim had to do was to make a pass at the Jerries, loop over and shoo them away. Suddenly Stan realized Sim was not making a pass. He had stabbed at a Jerry coming in far to the side.
Kicking his rudder, Stan went into action. The Jerries, seeing their chance, had cut him off and now he would be sucked into a fight. The Thunderbolt responded awkwardly. Stan reached for the tank release, then his hand froze. If he kicked loose his tanks, the Jerries would be wise to the trick. They would radio the information to base. Grimly Stan dived and then zoomed.
The two Focke-Wulfs gleefully tore in upon him. Stan gave one of them a burst but missed. He was caught like a clumsy float plane and knew it. Up he went and over, using every evasive trick he knew. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Sim had banked sharply and was coming back to help him. He also spotted the cloud the Jerries had used to ambush the flight. As he laid over and made for it, one of the FW’s knifed in and splattered him with lead. He felt the bullets pinging against his armor plate and ripping through his wings. Ducking, he went down under the cloud, just what the Jerry wanted.
Sim had cut out one of the FW’s but two others had joined the hunt, bent on finishing the Thunderbolt they had cut off. Stan laid over and wobbled around just as though he was hit bad. The Jerry banked and went up a bit to get a better dive. He figured he had plenty of time because the Yank was crippled. That was what Stan wanted. He kicked the Thunderbolt wide open and zoomed for the cloud. Too late the Jerry saw what was up. He roared down through the misty edge of the cloud and barely missed a head-on crash with Stan.
The instant the cloud closed around him Stan kicked off his extra tanks, then he dived up and over the cloud. The Jerries were waiting for him. Sim was chasing one FW, but three waited for the cripple. When Stan came zooming out of the top of the cloud, they were a bit startled and showed it by their hesitation. Stan grinned as he snapped his ship over and dived on the nearest Jerry.
Before the German could get going Stan had him in his sights and his thumb had squeezed the gun button. His six 50’s flamed and the recoil set the Thunderbolt back on her flaps. The Jerry shuddered an instant, then broke in two and burst into roaring flames. Stan went over the wreckage and cut in between the other two Jerries. They were alive now and in action. Around the three went, up and over, painting the chill sky with streaks and loops of vapor. Stan did not hold on long. The instant he had a chance to dive and run for it he did. And the Jerries did not chase him. They were convinced he was no cripple.
As Stan roared after his formation he saw Sim closing in from far to his left. He was red-hot and wanted to tell Sim a few things, but he knew the setup was such that he had to keep his mouth closed. Sim had made an error of judgment in going after the lone Jerry and letting the other two cut him out. Stan was sure it was intentional, but he could never prove it.
Another thing that worried him was that he did not know how much gasoline he had used out of his reserve before he kicked his tanks loose. He was flight leader of the group headed for Huls. If he went on with his flight and there was much dogfighting, going and coming, he might not get home. Sim’s voice came in.
“Wilson, sorry I couldn’t handle all three Jerries. You’ll have to go back with our flight.”
Stan scowled. Sim appeared well pleased with the idea. “I’ll use my own judgment,” Stan snapped back.
“Name a leader and go back,” Sim barked. “That is an order.”
“Sorry,” Stan answered. “I’m taking the boys on through.”
CHAPTER III
HULS
Stan overtook his formation and dropped into place. The flight was deployed with the Jerries perched up above and around waiting for the Yanks to go home. Below lay the fields of Holland.
“Are you clear, specials?” Stan called.
“All clear,” the boys called back. That meant they had zoomed down and ditched their tanks in a way the Germans would not notice.
Flak was coming up and a flight of FWs were worrying the Fortresses and Liberators below. One big fellow was out of formation and having a tough time. Fifteen FW’s were after it.
“We’ll go down and have a crack at those FW’s on that Fort,” Stan called. “So long, Sim, see you at mess!”
One after another the six special Thunderbolts zoomed down upon the FW’s. They came down in a screaming dive and their first burst sent five FW’s smoking to earth. Instantly the whole battle changed. The flocks of Jerries up above were taken by surprise because this was not according to the book. The Yanks should be keeping altitude, holding them pinned to the sky, and they were due any moment to start running for home.
Stan and his crew covered the limping bomber and she began to pull up into place where her flight had slowed to help her. Up above, the Jerries cut loose and the Yanks got a crack at them as they tried to filter through.
