All the pilots of 361st assembled in the briefing room, until the commander entered the room. With his 30 years, the commander was an old man compared to these young guys. Everybody stood up as he entered the room.
“At ease man, sit down”
The commander looked at the men in the briefing room. Most of them were still so young. But now he had to send them off to war again.
“Intel has discovered that the German are moving S-boats up and down the coast. These boats are their best offensive weapon when the invasion starts. You will be flying patrols along the French coast and attack any S-boat you encounter.”
The men moaned. Patrolling the French coast looking for S-boats would probably mean another long patrol without encountering anything special.
“If you don’t find the S-boats, you are allowed to fly further inland and attack any target of opportunity such as convoys or trains”
That lightened up the men, at least now they were sure they would see some action.
As Frances strapped into his cockpit aided by his crew chief, the chief asked him: “Are you gonna add a marking today to your score sir”
“I hope so Walter, I hope so”
Across the channel, Oberst Gnumeyer circled around in his Focke-Wulf. He was eager to kill another American. His last kill dated from a couple of weeks ago, when an American Thunderbolt pilot was so foolish to attack him head-on. The four 20 mm canons of the Focke-Wulf chew him up and spit him out like wolf devouring a rabbit.
But since then Oberst Gnumeyer had not made a single kill, which upset him. It was as if the Americans were avoiding him.
“Unknown contacts to the north”, crackled his radio.
Finally some enemy fighters had shown up. For days now, S-boats had been patrolling along the coast. They would act as a lure for the enemy fighters. And they took the bait.
The enemy would dive onto the S-boats who had to defend themselves. But as such the enemy would be low when Gnumeyer and his wingmen would arrive. They should have the high ground and could swoop down on the unsuspecting enemy.
“S-Boats below, initiating attack”
Frances wing leader had spotted the S-Boats and dove on them. Frances, who flew a little bit behind and below his leader, prepared himself to for his attack.
He would drop his bombs during the first pass, leaving the rockets for his next run. S-Boats were difficult targets to hit. Small and nimble they could reach speeds of 41 knots. By using their agility and speed they could evade their attackers bombs and missiles. The trick was to lead the bombs so that they would hit the boat on the place it would be seconds after the bomb was dropped.
Frances pushed the stick forward. The Thunderbolt whined as it dove towards the S-Boats. Using the cross hairs, Frances estimated a point in front of his selected target. He pulled the trigger and two bombs left their pylons.
He pulled up quickly, using the speed from his dive to get out of the danger zone. The Flak on board of the S-boats had been focusing on his wing leader but might now pay more attention on that second Thunderbolt that roared overhead.
“Frances, you bombs fell short”, called the wing leader.
Frances cursed, this would mean returning to the target for a second run. But now the boat crew would be waiting for them.
Oberst Gnumeyer had finally reached the first enemy fighters. He immediately flipped his Focke-Wulf upside down and dove onto the Thunderbolts.
But in his haste to make a kill, he forgot to calculate the deflection and his bullets fell way behind their target.
Screaming like a vulture, his aircraft dove past the Thunderbolt. Gnumeyer fought to withstand the G-forces as he pulled up his aircraft. He scanned the sky around him for his victim. His reckless dive had placed him well below the ensuing dogfight and now he had to observe the battle from below.
Much to his despair he saw how another Focke-Wulf shoot down his intended target.
Meanwhile Frances had turned around his aircraft and was performing his second attack run on the S-boat. But this time they were waiting for them.
Tracer fire whizzed by his cockpit as the S-boats threw everything they got at him. But no fighter backed down. Frances waited for the right time to fire his rockets. He pulled the trigger for his guns, peppering the deck of the S-boat with bullets. This forced the gunners to take cover.
At the right moment, Frances fired his rockets. The first pair smashed into the sea, throwing water onto the aft deck of the S-Boat. But the second pair exploded right on the aft deck, closely followed by the third pair. Then followed a huge explosion as the S-boat disappeared into cloud of metal and water vapor. Frances barely managed to evade the debris cloud.
“Nice shot, Frances”, announced his wing leader, “Now lets find some jerrys to bag”
“fine by me”
Frances took up position behind his wing leader. Both aircraft raced towards the dogfight in the distance where the escorting Thunderbolts were fighting it out with the German fighters.
Gnumeyer heard on the radio that one of the S-boats was hit. He immediately headed in that direction. He was still flying low but the Thunderbolts would still be flying lower.
If he managed to keep the sun in his back he could sneak up to one of the Thunderbolt. Perhaps one of the Thunderbolt pilots would be again so stupid to attack him head on.
Gnumeyer cranked open the throttle and sped in the direction of the S-boats.
“Gerry down below”
Frances wing leader had spotted a lone Focke-Wulf. Frances saw him too. Probably a straggler who got separated from the fight and who was now heading home.
Frances checked the sky around them; no other German aircraft were in the vicinity.
“Go ahead, leader, I got your back”
The wing leader dove down to the lonely German. For some reason the German did not pay attention to his six o’clock.
At the last moment the wing leader pulled the trigger, eight .50 machine guns blasted away. But he misjudged his speed and deflection, so most bullets whizzed by the German, who was now alerted by the tracer fire that someone was on his tail.
Frances realized that his wing leader was about to overshoot the German, who could in turn fire on him.
“Leader, I am coming in”
Frances pushed the stick forward closing the gap. If he only could fire at the German before he could fire back at his wing leader.
Gnumeyer’s first mistake was that he had been looking down for low-flying Amis and was completely caught off guard when the tracers flew around his cockpit.
He immediately rolled his aircraft around and applied full rudder to slip his aircraft out of the line of fire.
Tracers kept flying around him so he pulled a hard right turn followed by sharp left turn. The Ami was still on his tail, firing with all guns, but his tracers were just fireworks and did not hit his aircraft.
When he performed his second roll, Gnumeyer could hear the Ami roar by.
“Now I got you”
Gnumeyer immediately dove after the Ami, making his second mistake. In his eagerness to follow the American he failed to notice Frances’ Thunderbolt quickly approaching him from behind.
Frances had no intention to make the same mistake his wing leader made. He waited until he was real close by the Focke-Wulf.
Apparently the German pilot kept having a blind eye for his rear because he dived directly after the wing leader without noticing the Thunderbolt on his tail.
“Get him of my tail”
The wing leader had spotted the danger and called for help.
“Leader keep going, I almost got him in my sights”
The Thunderbolt dove with all its weight towards the Focke-Wulf. Just as Frances could almost touch the Focke-Wulf, he pulled the trigger.
Eight .50 machine guns spit fire. Bullets ripped through the tail of the German, shattering metal and steering cables. Parts of the tail let loose and flew behind the German like blood running from a fleeing deer.
But still Frances kept hammering the aircraft with his guns.
When his propeller almost touched the German, Frances pulled up hard. He quickly rolled his aircraft so that he could look down on the German ready for a second attack.
“Where did he come from”
Was the first thought of Gnumeyer, when the second Thunderbolt strafed his plane.
The bullets tore apart his elevator, sending his Focke-Wulf into an unstoppable dive towards the ground. Gnumeyer released the hood of his aircraft. Exposed to the wind created by his high speed, he struggled to jump out of the cockpit.
Slowly his plane was spinning around, make his ejection that more difficult. The ground approached fast. With all of his force Gnumeyer jumped out of the cockpit, narrowly missing the tail of his aircraft
From his cockpit Frances watched the Focke-Wulf slowly spiral towards the ground. Silently he prayed the German could not pull up.
Suddenly a small figure separated from the aircraft. The pilot was trying to escape from his dying aircraft. He tried to open his parachute but the ground was too close. His parachute never fully opened before the German hit the ground, merely fifty feet from the crater left by his aircraft.
Frances made a victory roll. He finally had avenged the death of Oswald. He did not care that the German felt to his death after barely escaping his aircraft. For Frances the Germans were not the master race, but cowards who had started a war and who would now reap the whirlwind.
“Nice shooting”
The wing leader formed up with Frances. Together they flew back to England.
When they reached the base, Frances made another victory roll. Down below his crew chief Walter, waived his hat and punched the other mechanics. His boy had killed again. Those Gerrys would have a hard nut with his boy.
Frances jumped of the wing of his Thunderbolt.
“Walter, bring out the paint, I got me another one”
“I sure will sure, I sure will”
As Frances walked away, Walter took a good look at the aircraft and caressed its body.
“Thank you baby for bringing my boy back home”.
A couple of hours later, Frances stood back at his aircraft. He looked at the second German Cross that was painted underneath his cockpit.
“This one is for you Oswald”
