Behind the pilots, gunners diligently watched the sky for enemy fighters.
“Sir, we are almost at the target”
The navigator had kept close track of their course. They were minutes flying away from their target, a German airfield.
“I am ready, Sir”
The bombardier bent over his Norden bomb sight, adjusting the dials.
“Ok boys, this is the captain. Stay sharp we are going in.”
At their base the pilots of the 361st fighter squadron assembled in the briefing room. Frances noticed the regular faces, but most pilots did look like they were hit by a freight train. Yesterday evening was the birthday party for the base commander and clearly some pilots had spent too much time at the bar and too less time in bed.“Welcome guys”
The base commander seemed quite fresh, despite the fact that the last time Frances saw him, he was puking in the bushes next to the canteen.
“Today, we have to fly escort for B-24 bombers on their return leg from France. We’ll rendez-vous with them near the French coast right here.”
The commander pointed out the rendez-vous point on the large map of Europe behind his back. Frances made notes, happy that he had not drank too much yesterday.
Once the weather officer had told them the weather over the mainland, most pilots hurried to their aircraft.
Since some time the pilots of the squadron had a special tradition when they took of. The dog of the base commander, Pluto, always stood next to the runway, watching the fighters take off. The pilots had adopted the tradition of saluting the dog, just before they released the brakes and took off. Like everybody else, Frances saluted the dog, wishing that he could add another cross to his list of kills.
In the Liberty Bell, pilot Pike was nervous. During the bomb run the Liberator had to fly perfectly straight and level. This made it an excellent target for flak.
At the same time the bombardier took over control of the aircraft through the Norden bomb sight Handing over control of his aircraft was something Pike disliked, what if something happened and he would not have time enough to regain control of the aircraft?
“Bomb doors open”
The bombardier had the enemy airfield in his sights. If he pressed the trigger the bombs would fall. The other bombers would drop their bombs when they saw his bombs fall. If he missed the target, so would all other bombers.
Slowly the target crept into his sight.
“Ready, bombs away”.
Almost simultaneously the other bombers dropped their heavy load on the runway. The soldiers on the ground would probably hide in their shelters, but the bombs would still destroy runways, hangers and fuel depots.
“Enemy fighters!!!”
The Germans had launched a counter-attack. Soon the entire squadron was swarmed with Messerschmitts. Gunners yelled out the location of the fighters while blasting away at them.
The bombers flew in close formation, protecting each other with their guns. If a German pilot wanted to dive into the fray, he would have to face the crossfire of several bombers.
But the Germans had developed some tactics to counter this massive body of firepower. They grouped together and singled a bomber out. Like jackals they dove onto their victim in such a rapid order that by the time the first fighter pulled out, another one was already firing at the bomber.
“Where are the little friends?”
The bomber crews knew that without their fighter escorts they were sitting ducks. One by one the bombers were picked of. Aboard the Liberty Bell, the crew prepared for the inevitable doom.
“Jerry, 12 o’clock low”
The ball turret gunner had spotted a lone fighter climbing towards their aircraft. He immediately blasted away at the fighter, making slight corrections for the deflection.
The .50 bullets smashed the cockpit of the German fighter and ripped open the engine cowling.
The ball gunner screamed as he kept spraying the enemy fighter with bullets.
“Come on get it, German Pig”.
Other bomber crews saw how the German fighter kept climbing towards the Liberty Bell, like it remained untouched by the rain of fire.
To their amassment the German fighter pilot seemed to hold his fire. Would he try to crash into the bomber?
Then the first yellow flames appeared around the engine. But it were not the muzzle flashes from the cannons, these were much darker flames, which seem to spread around the entire engine. The German was on fire!
Flames spread across the wings and engulfed the cockpit, trapping the pilot in an inferno. The propeller stopped. The ball gunner of the Liberty Bell stopped firing. The German kept climbing towards him, engulfed in fire.
Then the enflamed aircraft slowly turned on its back, it almost seemed to hang still in the sky, before falling like a glowing meteor back to earth.
“It seems were just in time”
The Thunderbolts roared over the bombers. Frances immediately ordered his wing into attack.
“Little friends up in the sky”
Aboard the Liberty Bell everybody sighted with relief. Now the Germans would be pinned between the bombers and the fighters
The German fighters split into all directions once the Thunderbolts dove down on them. The sky was filled with aircraft, Germans trying to shoot the bombers while Thunderbolts blasted away at the Germans. Some Thunderbolt pilots got so close that they risked being hit by the fire from the bombers.
“A Focke-Wulf on our tail!”
The tail gunner on board Liberty Bell spotted the German fighter approaching really fast. But then he spotted the Thunderbolt behind it.
Frances saw how a Focke-Wulf dove onto a Liberator. Without hesitation Frances dove after the German. The heavier Thunderbolt quickly gained on the Focke-Wulf. Frances pulled the trigger and threw a hail of bullets to the German. The German quickly broke off his attack, while Frances almost crashed into him.
“Nice shooting”
The tail gunner saw how the Focke-Wulf dove away, trailing a vapor trails. But then he uttered a profanity as he noticed the second Focke-Wulf approaching fast.
The gunner fired with all his guns but the German kept coming. The wings and engine cowling of the Focke-Wulf light up as it fired at the Liberty Bell.
In a reflex the gunner closed his eyes, expecting to be torn apart by a hail of fire. But the German was not aiming for him. Instead his bullets and shells tore apart the starboard engines.
“Engine 1 is on fire”
Pike looked over his left shoulder.
“Feather the prop!”
His co-pilot quickly prepared to feather the prop and shut down the engine.
As Pike watched shells hit engine 2, which bursted out into flames too.
“Use the extinguishers”
“They don’t work”
Pike looked at his co-pilot; time to declare the unthinkable.
“All crew, this is the captain, bail out, bail out”
Everybody aboard the wounded bomber now prepared to bail out. The bombardier opened the bomb doors, which would allow the crew to jump away without hitting the stabilator or getting caught in the flames of the burning engines.
One by one the crew bailed out. Spike and his co-pilot were the last on the plane.
“Stone, get ready to jump, as soon as we release the steer, this bird is going to dive”.
“I am staying, sir”.
“No, you are not. Jump out, I’ll be right on your back”
Stone climbed out of his chair and crawled to the bomb door. He glanced a final time behind him, before jumping into the void.
“1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi”
With a hard pull, Stone yanked the release cord for his parachute. With a shock the chute opened. Behind him he noticed the 8 parachutes from the rest of the crew.
Then he noticed the roaring of a crashing plane. The Liberty Bell was diving to the ground. Did Spike got out? The Liberty Bell now stands right on her nose, hurtling towards the sea, in which she crashes amidst a giant mushroom of fire, water and steam. Spike did not get out.
The wind drifted Stone’s parachute to the coast. When the German soldier, guarding the Atlantikwall, captured Stone, he found Stone crying over the loss of his friend and captain.
Meanwhile Frances was fighting the remaining German fighters. Despite the fact that he had lost contact with his wingman, Frances attacked straightaway a flight of Me-109’s.
Frances focused on the first one, firing with all his guns. But the German pilot was not stupid; he circled around so that his wingman could take a shot at Frances.
The three aircraft circled around each other. Frances fired at the German and missed, then the German wingman fired but missed too.
The fight seemed to last an eternity. Then the German wing leader started climbing straight up. Without hesitation Frances followed him, closely trailed by the wingman.
Like a pearl of firing mosquitoes the three planes climbed to the sky, it seemed that would go on forever.
But the laws of physics played their part too in this deadly game of cat and mouse. With every foot the three aircraft climbed, they lost more and more speed. Gravity pulled at their wings, trying to pull them down.
The wingman was the first one to fall into the clutches of gravity. His aircraft stalled, fell on its back and spun towards the ground.
The pilot tried to regain control of his aircraft, but gravity was a cruel master. The Me-109 spun faster and faster, pinning the pilot to its chair. As gravity pulled harder and speed increased, the controls became harder and harder to operate. The pilot, realizing his dire position, tried to open the canopy.
His canopy blew away, but the sheer wind force pushed him back into his seat. The sound of the howling wind covered the screams of the pilot as his aircraft dove into the ground.
Nor the wing leader, nor Frances saw the drama behind them. They too were struggling with gravity. Frances kept firing short bursts at the wing leader. His bullets flew beyond the reach of gravity towards the Me-109.
Then a lucky shot shattered the canopy and killed the pilot. Just in time as both machines stalled almost simultaneously. In the Me-109 the dead pilot lumped forward, pushing on the stick and sending its aircraft in a deadly spiral.
Frances felt his Thunderbolt shudder as gravity won over the aircraft. The Thunderbolt slid back on its tail, before starting to spin.
Inside the cockpit, Frances struggled with the controls. He pushed the rudder forward and pulled on the stick opposite the spin. The Thunderbolt kept falling like a leaf towards the ground, its wings useless.
Finally the spin stopped, with its nose towards the ground, the Thunderbolt gained speed by trading height. Eventually the speed was high enough for the wings to create lift and Frances could pull the aircraft out of its deadly dive.
So low at the ground, it seemed that the sky was empty. Besides some condensation trails and some black smoke on the horizon, there was no trace of the fight that took place in the sky.
Without a wingman above enemy territory can be a lonely place, so Frances flew his aircraft back to England, hoping that at least some bombers made it back home.
