Because we have manuals for every single job on the big birds. Doesn’t matter what. Pilot, navigator, radio operator, each has his manual. It’s got all the procedures laid down. The inexperienced follow them exactly, by the book. It says ‘read the check list out. Don’t do it from memory.’ So they read the check list exactly the way they’re supposed to. But you get some smart-assed crew who think all that stuff is for the new recruits, not for them. They’ve got ‘experience.’ So they take short cuts, ignore procedure and one day it kills them.”
“Any idea what cased this crash?” Griswold was interested. His formations were only just starting to run through the training process.
“First assessment? They tried to take off with a propeller in reverse pitch. There’s no mention in the tower report of them doing a Vandenburg Shuffle before heading off. That’s one thing the Wing Commander will be clearing up for me tomorrow; just how many of his crews miss the Shuffle. Before he takes over his new command at Wendover.”
Griswold winced, Wendover was a hellish posting, right on the Utah/Nevada border. One could lose all one’s money gambling in Nevada and then have the Mormons in Utah make one feel really bad about it. Nobody liked Wendover. Some people even preferred the Aleutians. LeMay caught the gesture and continued. “People get killed in war. Can’t be helped. But if I ever meet the men who died under my command I want to be able to tell them ‘we did everything we could to prepare you. We made the best plans possible under the circumstances. We maximized enemy casualties and minimized our own. That having been done, I consider your life to have been properly expended.’ Won’t make them feel any better of course.”
“One thing’s been bothering me a little, Curt. You told me that there were going to be four groups to an Air Division? My people ran some numbers today and that seems too few. If we go by base location and capacity, we should be able to have eight groups in each Division. I know the normal span of command is three to five but it might be a more efficient use of resources to go for eight.”
“I’ll take that under advisement Phillip.” LeMay was interrupted by the bang of the outer door opening. Blackout regulations meant all the buildings on Andrews had double doors. A second later, the inner doors opened. An airman entered, blinking owlishly at the lights and squinting around.
“Hey guys, need a hand here. My battery has gone dead.”
“We might have a spare around here somewhere.” Griswold was very carefully keeping his voice neutral. “We’ll help you put it in.”
“No need for that. I got a spare at home; saw it for sale a few months back and grabbed it for when the old one died. Didn’t think it would go this soon, though. If you can give me a push to get started, I’ll swap them over at home.”
A few minutes later, LeMay, Griswold and The Seer watched the masked tail lights of the car vanish into the darkness. LeMay broke the silence that had followed the bang of the car being push-started. “That’s a smart kid. Thought ahead to the time when he would need a new battery. Anybody see what his name was?”
“Badge said ‘Martin’.”
“I’ll keep him in mind.” LeMay granted suddenly. “I hope that kid never finds out who we were.”
“Why, Curt?”
“If he ever discovers who he asked to push his car, he’ll drop dead of heart failure.
“On the whole though, it is better not to get shot down.”
Lieutenant Stanislav Knyaginichev translated the American’s remark and listened to the guffaws of laughter from his men. They’d built the zemlyanka quickly and efficiently as usual. In the process, they’d ‘shown’ the Americans how to do it as a way to stop them from trying to help and thus disrupting the well-oiled routine. Then they’d shared their vodka and food with the two pilots. The Americans had rewarded their generosity with ground attack mission stories that usually featured vivid descriptions of German units being doused with copious quantities of napalm. Russian units never seemed to tire of those accounts. The last story had ended with their Grizzly being hit by a ‘Spiral.’ That had taken a little translation work but eventually they had made it. Then one of the Russians had asked a question about fighters.
“Rifleman Kabanov asks if you have fighter escort when you fly against the Hitlerites?”
“Our Grizzlies, usually no. We fly low down and there we are faster than the fighters, except the jets of course. But if we fly higher up, as bombers rather than ground attack aircraft, then we have an escort, yes. When I flew A-20s, we always had escorts. Usually Thunderbolts. If we were lucky we had Yaks to protect us.”
There was a stir of pride when Knyaz translated that. “So the Russian pilots are better then.” It was more a statement of satisfaction than a question.
“For us in the bombers yes, very much so. The Yak pilots remember their duty. They chase off the fascists but then stay with us in case more arrive. Our fighter pilots leave us to attack the enemy aircraft, but then go chasing off after them so we are unprotected when more Hitlerites appear. We were always pleased when we heard a Yak regiment was to be our escort.”
“And now we shall escort you as well.” Knyaz shifted to Russian. “Bratischka, the fascists have advanced north of us but they have not broken through. Our men have formed a defense line further north and the Hitlerites have failed to penetrate it. The Finnish attack has also failed. They have broken up the Canadian division they attacked and isolated it in small pockets but those pockets are holding out. Not just holding on but their artillery and aircraft are bleeding the treacherous fascists white. We are winning this one, Bratischka. Now, our orders are to head north as well, to rejoin our parent unit. And, of course, to bring our American friends back with us. Let us do that task well, Bratischka. You have all heard how they have made the fascists suffer for invading our soil.”
The two ships were blacked out; just shadows that were very slightly darker than the land against which they were silhouetted. Becker ran his eyes quickly over them. Three large funnels amidships; two twin four inch guns forward, one twin mount aft. They sat high out of the water. Their freeboard was increased by the mine deck that was the whole purpose of their design. Today, that mine deck was an extemporized field hospital, crowded with German seamen; most were badly burned, all suffered from exposure. Becker had picked the worst casualties for the first run to Iceland. The Faroese Islanders took their fishing boats out in the pitch black night to help speed the loading process. Once again, Becker had been awed by their skill at handling the small craft and their dedication to helping the wounded.
“Aye, they’re good people in these Islands. They can hold their heads high in any company I can think of.” Colonel Stewart was watching the two minelayers getting ready for sea. “The thing is, if our positions were reversed, they would still be doing the same. They don’t care who’s right or wrong in this. They’re sailormen and when they see fellow sailormen in trouble, they drop everything to help.”
“We could learn a lesson or two from them.” Becker lapsed into silence. His mind was occupied by the images of the battle. The screams of the men burning as his ship had been hammered, the way she had shaken as the hits reduced her to scrap. And, always, the vicious snarl of the Ami jabos as they had pitilessly pounded her. They’d won in the end. His
“I got the reports from Task Force 58. The destroyers attached to the battle line have picked up some more survivors. They combed the battle area but the numbers aren’t good. A couple of hundred. Stewart kept the rest of the message to himself. By the time the Americans had finished pushing aircraft too badly damaged to be worth repairing over the side, they had lost almost 500 planes. And yet, Halsey was going to take another swing at the British Isles before he left to repair his air groups.
“There’s one last group of survivors to be loaded before the minelayers pull out. They’re on the way out now.”
Becker looked curiously at the Scottish Colonel. “I thought we had the worst of the wounded on board already.”
“We have. These are something different. Some of my boyos speak German and they’ve been listening to what was being said. Quite a few of your lads are pretty devout Nazis so we’ve separated the worst ones out and are getting them out first. Better for us that way, they’d be the ringleaders in any trouble. Better for you, they’d be the ones to dispute any orders you give.” Becker nodded. It made sense. “One thing, Captain. We separated out the ones we could recognize. We can’t have got them all. The ones that are left aren’t going to appreciate the difficulty of your position and they won’t like the way the ships have had their scuttling systems disarmed. If I were you, I would watch my back very carefully.”
