A Sky of Blood and Honor

[Vick_Vega85]

Steeplehead England, 1998

A black taxi slowed to a stop on the small country lane. The rear passenger door swung open and slowly a man made his way out. His body had aged and his gait wasnt as long as it used to be and the hair on his head was quite a bit thinner than it was years ago but the grey eyes that stared out on the waving field of wheat hadn't aged a day. It had changed over the years but the orchard at the end of the wheat field and the large rusted half circles of hangars long abandoned of aircraft now full of farm machinery. A second person walked out of the cab, a striking female with salt and pepper hair and a straight, proud back. She stood next to the oldman and put her arm around his shoulders. Her voice held an air of british learning and a lilt of the local region. "Its been so long but it all seems like yesterday."

The older man slid his arm around her waist and held her close to him, "It sure does."

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Steeplehead England, 1943


Corporal Christopher Scarletta looked out the window of the taxi as it drove through down Town Steeplehead. He watched as pubs and bars packed with people whizzed by and he wanted to be with them. He turned his attention back to where he was headed. The Army Air Corp had a fighter base just outside of town for its fliers and Chris had to get situated. The cab driver turned back to talk to him. "So your a yank are you? I cant believe how many of you lot are here now adays, cant swing a broom without bashing one of ya." Chris smiled, the guy was right. There was a seemingly endless tide of Americans coming into this area. The fighter unit needed alot of support staff plus the bomber squadron a few miles north of here, Steeplehead was the way point. Chris saw high fencing and a lone guard shack. The cab squealed to a halt. Chris slipped the man a handfull of notes that he didnt have a clue what they were worth and jumped out holding his duffel over his head to block the rain. The MP stood in the path to the gate. "Can I see your ID sir?" Chris handed over his ID book and papers and the guard gave them a quick overview and nodded, "Very good sir, the Flight command is in that cinderblock building over to the left of the path. The BOQ is on the other side near the hangars. Have a good night sir." Chris hurried past and made his way to the Command building. His boots splashed in the muddy puddles and made him start hating England. The smell of AV Gas and cordite still hung in the thick air. Nothing like a fighter base to have all the comforts of home. Chris tossed the door open and shocked the mousy clerk sitting behind the desk.

He smiled, " Sorry ma'm. Im Corporal Scarletta, Im supposed to report to Colonel Krebs." The clerk stood and walked to the only door in the room, " Right this way Corporal, the Colonel is in the middle of a call right now but he should be done soon." Chris gave the clerk a smile and nod and walked into the office.

The room was clouded with cigarette smoke and smelled like a pack of Lucky Strikes and bourbon. Chris set his bag down and stood at attention. Krebs was leaning back in his chair, a butt hanging from one corner of his mouth, the other end speaking into a telephones reciever. "No damn it, listen to me Mike, I need those damn Mustangs and Lightning Bolts by weeks end not three weeks from now, I have planes that are so full of holes and sheet metal patches they look like swiss damn cheese. I have pilots going into combat with planes that stall, guns that misfire and heaters that fail ten minutes into flight."There was a pause as whoever was on the other end of the line spoke. His face pulled into a grimace, "Who the fuck cares about budget expenditures by the air corp, do they not know what the hell if going on over here. I tell you what Mike, Ill call Hitler and ask him if he can stop training his pilots so well and maybe hold off on shooting our boys down allright. Thanks a bunch Mike." Krebs slammed the phone down hard and Chris was impressed it didnt bust in half. The Colonel lit another smoke off his smoldering butt and looked up, "You must be my new pilot, Scarletta is it?" Chris nodded. Krebs puffed and nodded, "Good, we lost one of our boys a week agao, flamed into the channell coming from an escort mission. In your file it says that you've flown in the Pacific theatre, seen alot of action there, have seven confirmed kills."

Chris felt his pride swell a little. Krebs puffed and smiled. "I have a spot for you at the BOQ Corporal, your sharing a room with one of my combat vets. He's a good man about your age you two should get along like a house on fire. Ill have him come up here and take you there. Sit Corporal, have a smoke." Krebs called to the BOQ as Chris sat in the one chair opposite the Colonels desk and pulled out a pack of Lucky Strikes and lit one up with a gold plated zippo. Krebs smiled, "Going away present from your old flight?" Chris nodded, "Good men sir, hell of a group of fighter pilots." Krebs stubbed out his cig and opened a drawer, pulling out a half full bottle of bourbon, pouring two glasses and pushing one to Chris. "Here Corporal its a whole diffrent ball game. In the Pacific you take those zippy little zeros at 5,000 feet or a little more, you have a ceiling for days and a hell of alot more back up. Here we do alot of high altitude fighting. I have alot of faith in you Corporal, you'll fit right in here." There was a knock on the door and in walked a tall, thin man wearing his daily uniform. He snapped a quick salute and stood at ease. Krebs smiled, "Corporal Scarletta, this is Sargeant Jimmy Cavanaugh, Cavanaugh this is your new roommate." Cavanaugh nodded and smiled at Chris, "Nice to meet you Corporal." Chris nodded. Krebs smiled," Well you two play nice and get the hell out of my office, Scarletta, Ill see about getting you a plane for tomorrow, in one week your in rotation, welome to England son."


The BOQ wasnt an illustrious building housing the best fighter pilots in the world. It was like a brick row house sectioned off into rooms. Cavanaugh tossed the worn wooden door open and walked in. Chris followed him and looked around. The room was a mess and that was putting it lightly. Coke bottles were scattered here and there along with tattered, dog eared issues of Yank and pin up mags. A ash tray brimming with cigarette butts stood on one of the two clothes dressers. A bed sat empty, the matress rolled up with the pillow showing bare springs. The wall around the one window was covered in celebrity pin ups and pictures of girls with lipstick lips on them. Chris dropped his bag on the cluttered floor and nodded approvingly. " Glad to see something hold true in all theatres of this shitty mess."

Jimmy dropped on his back on his bed and smiled, "Sorry, let the maid have the day off."Chris laughed and unrolled the mattress and looked in the bottome drawer of his dresser for new linens and found some of the roughest sheets he had ever known. Jimmy reached under his bed and pulled out a Mason jar full of a clear liquid. "Since we're not supposed to have liquor in our rooms I take it you wont rat me out to the MP's."

"That depends if you intend on sharing that shine or hogging it for yourself." Jimmy poured two small paper cups with the moonshine and handed one to Chris. He took a smell and backed his head up and nodded at Jimmy, "We used to use lemons for our stills in the Pacific."

"Well we dont have lemons but we do have apples." The pair shot the shine down and both tried not to pull a face as the harsh liquor slid down there throat. Jimmy tossed the cup on the floor and took out a pack of Winstons. " So Corporal, you've seen some action on the warm Pac have ya, tell me, how do those Japs fly?"

Chris sat on his bed and leaned back on his pillow, "Well there crazy as hell for sure. Fly low and fast, there ships are zippy as hell. When you see two in front you can bet your months pay that theres two more on your Six."

Jimmy nodded, "Here its a bit diffrent, these Krauts are good and they will go one on one and can usually pull it out. The ME's are good and the Focke Wulfs are better. And since we're so close to occupied teritory they have alot more planes than we do. We usually pull escort missions for our bomber friends to the north. Our fuel tells us how long we can hang with them and if we have to turn back we turn back. It may sound FUBAR but its what we do. Those bombers are tough nuts to crack but those Huns can buzz around them like wasps and blast them out of the sky."

Chris nodded, same war diffrent hell storm. He looked around and shrugged, "So what do you guys do for fun here? "

Jimmy smiled, "Your lucky my friend, its Saturday and theres a dance in town at the Red Cross club." He checked his watch, "And we can leave now, The engineering teams are leaving in five minutes, you can meet your crew chief then." Chris stood and slid his jacket on and checked his tie in the mirror. Jimmy shook his head, "Lets move Lady killer." The large duece and a half sat idling near the gate when Jimmy and Chris ran through the muck and jumped into the canvas covered back.

A voice spoke from inside "Figures Cavanaugh would make us wait, thanks to you Jimmy all the good broads will be gone"

Jimmy laughed and sat down and Chris sat next to him. "Whos the new guy?"

"This is Corporal Christopher Scarletta, our new pilot, Chris, these are the grease monkies that make sure we can get airborne."

"Nice to meet you."

Someone sparked a match and lit a cig, took a puff then spoke, "Dont be to thankful yet Corporal, we dont have a good bird for you to hit the sky in yet. Im Will Legrande but everyone calls me Bama."

"Hey Bama."The two shook hands. Bama was a big southern boy and spoke in a drawl that made Chris want to hit fast forward to get to the end of a sentence. "Ill be your crew chief Corporal, we do have a Mustang for you te get your paces out on but for a permanent ride, it may take a few weeks."

Chris shrugged, "Its fine with me Bama, as long as I get in the air."The truck rolled out of the bases gates and down the dark muddy road to town. Every bump and bounce brought a loud whoop from the engineers and two airmen. The rest of the time was passed by smoking and Chris telling a story of how he and a few friends stole the generals jeep and on a big mean drunk crashed it into a palm tree near the beach. They burst into laughter when the truck slammed on the brakes and the driver called back. "We're here gentlemen, have a good night." The men jumped off the truck and headed to the club where music was pounding out of every crack. Jimmy and Chris walked in and Jimmy guided him to a table in the back corner. The barkeep walked over and put two beers on the table and a bottle of Scotch.

Chris raised an eyebrow, Jimmy laughed. "I come here alot." The two drank the beers and smiled as Bama and another engineer, a short, dark haired man sat. Jimmy poured them all scotchs and stood, raising his glass. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, may I make a toast. To my new Roommate and fellow Flier, Corporal Scarletta. May his aim be true, his wings be straight and his bed never empty!!" The whole club cheered and raised there glasses. Chris laughed and downed his drink. Bama smiled and the short man who Chris found out was named Skelling whooped. Jimmy sat and nodded to Chris, "The Huns wont know what hit them Chris." Two people made there way through the crowd and stood at there table. Chris noiced first that they were women and secondly they looked very happy to be there.

Jimmy's face brightened, " Cora, I knew you'd be here." He stood and hugged the red haired girl wearing the green and red dress. Chris couldnt take his eyes off the other girl. Her black hair hung down her back in a simple braid and her white and yellow dress was a bit more comservative than her friends but she was breathtaking. Her eyes were a warm brown and a small smile played across her lips. Jimmy pulled away from Cora and looked at Chris. "Im sorry Chris, This is Cora Sojurn and her friend Diana Jameson. Girls this is Christopher Scarletta, fighter pilot, Jap hunter extroidinare."

Chris took his hat off and put it on the table, "Ladies, Im honored."

Cora smiled and leaned to Diana, "He's quite the charmer isnt he."The band swung into a quick beat and Chris bowed to Diana, "May I have this dance Ma'm?"

Diana smiled and blushed slightly and put her hand in his, "Why yes you may Corporal." Chris lead her to the dance floor and held her hand in his and her hip in the other. They were twirling and moving to the music and her hair moved in the air and he caught the smell of lilly's and lemon. "So Corporal, from what James said I take it you've seen some combat in the Pacific."

He moved to make room for Bama and a plump blond "Yes ma'm, I have seven confirmed shoot downs and a pretty decent record." Diana smiled, "You dont have to call me Ma'm Corporal." Chris nodded,"Sure thing Diana as long as you call me Chris."

She nodded with a smile. "So what got you into flying Chris?"

He shrugged, "My dad was a crop duster back in Wisconsin, learned how to fly during the first war. Taught me when I was young. What do you do Diana?"

"Im a secratary for an accountant.What do you think of England so far Chris, I know its been preety dreary recently."

"I hope England turns out to be as beautiful as my dance partner Diana."She blushed a deep crimson and hid her smile. The song ended and they headed back to the table where Cora was sitting on Jimmy's lap and sipped a whiskey sour. Chris sat and snagged a chair from another table and gave Diana a seat. The room was getting thick with smoke and heat. Chris pulled off his uniform jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Jimmy looked and grinned, "Whoa, check that out!" They were all looking at the blue eagle with an american flag that had been inked on his forearm. Diana grinned wide and rubbed Chris's shoulder. "Yeah, I was drunk and my flight wings dragged me to a place on the beach where an old man did tattoo's with a bone needle and india ink." Jimmy smiled and ordered another round of drinks and soon the table was loud and boisterous. Jimmy looked at Chris and saw he had one arm around Dianas shoulders and they were sharing a cigarette.He nudged Cora and she smiled and nodded, indicating that she had noticed. Jimmy puffed on a lucky strike and blew the smoke out of his nose. It seemed that Corporal Scarletta would be enjoying England very much.


The past days for Chris had been alot of airtime in the beat up P-51. He and Jimmy had flown together the day after his first in the cockpit and practiced dog fighting and Chris had to admit that Jimmy was a hell of a pilot. Him and his plane which was named,the Long Shot, was a great duo. They each had scored kills on each other, Jimmy tallying 10 Chris with eight. Currently Chris was busting through cloud cover waiting to see Jimmy and The Long Shot below so he could get his ninth. Chris saw that the clouds were becoming thin and wispy. He looked around his canopy,and saw nothing. Son of a bitch where was that ass? A buzzing behind him answered his question. "Hey there buddy." Chris gritted his teeth and rolled his Mustang to his left, diving down and hoping to get away from him in time to blast him. Jimmy smiled and rolled with him down, keeping his three ring sights on his tail, a few more seconds and he would have him. Chris started to level out then cut his prop speed and pulled up.

The Long Shot flew by like a blur and Chris grinned wolfishly and plugged his speed back up and lined up a shot and squeezed the trigger. The empty guns clinked and he whooped in the radio. "Thats nine Jimmy."

" Lucky shot there Corporal, its about time we land, Im sure our surprise is done for you."

"What surprise?"

"Land and you'll find out." The two planes came around and glided to a landing. Bama and Skelling stood in the hangar. Chris slid open the canopy and undid the straps. Bama and Skelling put the ladder next to the plane and he climbed out seeing a large thing under a sheet. Jimmy walked in, his flight helmet in his hand. Chris looked at the three and saw Jimmy's crew smiling, leaning against the Long Shot. "What are you waiting for Corporal, tug the sheet off." Chris walked over, took the large canvas sheet and yanked it. The large piece of cloth came off and he smiled as the newish looking P-51 Mustang. He looked at the matte silver metal and the american flag detail at the rear. What caught his eye was the large picture at its nose near the exhaust ports. A busty brunette wearing a red bathing suit held two large mugs of beer and a big smile. She was sitting on an angry Badger. Above her head in bold orange letters read Brew HA-HA. Chris smiled and turned to Jimmy. The girl looked like the red head on Jimmy's plane rolling a pair of dice in a black bikini. "I take it this is my plane?"

Jimmy smiled and nodded, "Me and Krebs pulled some strings and got you this baby. Its not exactly brand new but its been in the air and hasnt stalled once and hasnt had a few dozen cannon rounds punch through it engine. Be happy man, this cost us six cases of Scotch and a humidor of Cubans."

Chris nodded and smiled,"Thanks man, I mean it. Why Brew HA-HA?"

"Your from Milwaukee man, the beer city, it might as well have been written on your forhead."Chris nodded and looked at the plane again. She was sure a beaut. Two other fliers walked over. One was a tall, thin pilot named Grays and a stocky shaved head named Grant. They were part of Jimmys combat flight Grays flew the Wild Filly, Grant flew the Flaming Sword. Chris was assigned to there flight making the foursome a team. Grant whistled at the nose art on it. "Very nice Bama, the new guy needed some new looks. Almost makes me wish I let you sketch out a chick for my plane."

Bama blushed, "Thanks sir, I had some ideas and knew that the Corporal liked brunettes."Everyone shared a good natured laugh at Chris expense. Jimmy clapped him and Bama on the back. "Lets get ready for that party gentlemen, ladies await."

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Colonel Krebs watched as the six men walk towards the BOQ. He had been asking around about the new pilot and found he was a good sort, got along with the men in his flight and was a good enough pilot. If he could keep that bucket of bolts he had been flying for practice in the air he had to have a touch of luck. He let Cavanaugh talk him into wrangling a newish plane for the Corporal. He had used a few favors he had accrued in his years of army life to get a second hand Mustang for him. Krebs turned and pulled a Cigar from his small humidor and lit it with a long match. In three days the flight teams would be escorting long range bombers over occupied lands to knock the Krauts out of europe and drive them back to the fatherland and then concentrate on Germany itself. His phone rang. "Krebs here."

"Sir the band is here for the party tonight . The liquor truck will be arriving shortly to restock the officers club and we believe guests will be showing up in two hours."

Krebs nodded. "Good Lieutenant." The phone went dead and he smiled, The party was his idea, give the boys a good night before hell came to meet them in the sky.

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The officers club was a bustle with activity as Jimmy, Chris, Bama and Skelling arrived. Grays and Grant were taking there sweet as time getting prepped, they knew whatever time they got there there would be girls for them. Jimmy, Chris and Bama wanted to be early to see Cora and Diana. Bama was nervous and hoped Heather would be there. They teased him as the bartender poured them double scotches. As the band started to play as the sunset through the windows of the club Chris heard foot steps behind him and felt cool, small hands slide over his eyes. A familiar british voice cooed in his ear. "Guess who."

Chris smiled and gently pulled the hands down and turned to see a smile and a twinkle in Dianas eyes. "Hello darling." He swept her up in a hug and kissed her gently and held her tight. They slowly parted as he looked around for an open table and spied one near the band. He turned and saw Jimmy with Cora already in his lap. Jimmy pointed to the table and nodded. The two couples walked over when Chris realized that Bama had slipped away. "Jimmy, where did Bama go?"

"Oh, he spotted that yellow haired gal from the other day and they left after." Cora grinned and had a glint in her eyes, "Well dont those southern boys work fast." They burst into laughs as they sat at the table. A loud cheer went up as Colonel Krebs walked in and gave a good natured wave and smile. The fliers clamored to buy him drinks. He took a few and made his way to Jimmy and Chris's table.

"Boy's, good to see you here, would you introduce me to these fine ladies."

"Im Diana Jameson Colonel,"She turned to Chris,"You never told me your commanding officer was a handsome man."

Cora stuck her hand out and and smiled when Colonel took it and kissed the back of it. "My, my, what a gentleman, you better watch yourself Jimmy, this man is positivley a gem." Krebs laughed and leaned back in his chair. He held up his left hand and showed the gold band to the group. "Sorry ladies but Im attached and have been for fifteen years. So Ill leave you all for the night, I just wanted to say goodnight and welcome Corporal Scarletta to the flight. Have a good night gentlemen." Krebs stood and left. Chris and Jimmy looked at each other. That was a bit odd. The band started to play, a quick tune and Chris stood and offered his hand to Diana, "May I have this dance beautiful?" She nodded and the two started to dance q quick fox trot.

Jimmy drank his scotch and looked at Cora, "Why dont we ever dance like that?" Cora tugged on his tie and took his hat off and slipped it over her red curls,"Oh poor Jimmy, I dont dance that well, Im better lieing down, you know that." Jimmy blushed which made Cora smile wider, "Oh someones embarassed." The quick song ended and a slow song heavy on the guitar and cello started. The very formal nature that Diana and Chris had first danced was gone. He had both of his hands on her hips and she had her arms wrapped around his neck, her head on his chest. She looked up with a sad smile. "When is your first mission Chris?"

"Three days love, escorting bombers over some occupied land. Its going to be a milk run, dont worry about it." He had lied to her. This was a high risk one. Casualties were figured to be high. He held her closer and smelled the lemons in her hair again. "So I heard that you have a new plane?"

Chris nodded, "Yup, a beaut, would you like to see?" Diana nodded and headed to the table and Chris stopped her."I have to get my coat fly boy, its a mite cold out there." He shrugged his uniform coat off and draped it around her. She smiled, "I always heard pilots were resourceful." The two headed out with a wave to Cora and Jimmy. Cora smiled and looked at Jimmy, "Looks like northern boys move quick to."


1065 Corporal Daniel “Danny Boy” Eugene Webster stepped off the bus with his large army-green duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The bus hissed and groaned as it pulled away and the sounds of the diesel engine disappeared into the night as he looked around. He sniffed the air and could smell the familiar odor of aircraft fuel and engine oil as he cocked his garrison cover a little to the left side of his head. Since the sun had already dipped below the valley, the only point of light was the streetlamp overlooking the small guard shack in front of him. As he approached and saluted the sentry, he dropped his bag to his side and produced his ID and transfer papers. “You coming in from the 361st, Corporal?” asked the sentry, flipping through his papers on his clipboard. “Yes, sir.” replied the shy pilot. “See any action?” Daniel didn’t answer for a few moments, rather simply stared down at the man’s chest. “I said did you see any action, Corporal?” the sentry barked, bending low to meet eyes with the boy. “Y-yeah, yes sir.” He replied hesitantly. “Ok, well, there’s a party going on in the main hanger, so I’ll have an escort bring you to HQ where the Colonel will outfit you with a bunk and then you can meet your crew.” The guard stated as he waved another soldier over to them who took his pack and piled it into a nearby jeep. “Thank you sir.” Daniel replied as he hopped into the jeep and sped off into the darkness of the base. He could see the faint outlines of several hangers on either side of the road as black half-circles capped by a deep purple and blue night-sky. There was a particularly large hanger at the end of the base with a blazing display of lights and music issuing from the square roof windows. He guessed this was where the so-called ‘party’ was being held. But first he’d have to check in with the CO. “Boy, straighten up, let me get a good look at you.” Colonel Krebs snapped from behind his messy desk in the smoky office. “Colonel Harper says you come highly regarded. And that you lost a good deal of pilots in your last mission.” Corporal Webster found his gaze drift downward a bit, but he wasn’t going to keep the base’s CO waiting for an answer. “Yes sir. It was a pretty intense dogfight, sir.” “It was a cluster-fuck is what it was!” barked Krebs as he looked over his bifocals at Webster’s transfer papers. “I know how you feel, Corporal. I lost three planes in my first mission over Germany back in ‘15, then another six during my first mission overlooking this base.” Webster didn’t comment, simply nodded and listened to the Colonel’s testimony. “But this says you’ve got three confirmed kills, one of which saved the transport plane carrying a Brigadier General. Is that right?” Krebs asked. “Yes sir, we were escorting an Intel General across the English channel to a French airbase and got ambushed.” “Well, sounds, like you’ll fit in quite nicely here, son. You’ll get Scareletta’s old plane, bit of a high altitude staller, but it’ll suit you just fine. You got here just in time too. Throwin’ a little party for the boys before the next mission into heavily occupied France. You’ll be briefed in the morning for your test run. But for now why don’t you drop your bags off in one of the rooms in the BOQ and the Private here will take you over to Hanger three to meet your crew.”

“Yes sir, thank you, sir.” Webster said, saluting, grabbing his bag, and following the soldier next to him. ~~~ The hanger was pulsing with music, incoherent shouted conversations, and lights as the Private swung open the doors and led Daniel inside. As he stepped into the hall, the music enveloped him and the streamers and balloons all fastened to the ceiling reminded him of one of the local county fairs he used to go to as a kid. The Private waved him over to a table with three or four men sitting around all drinking and laughing with women swooning all around them. “So this is the newest edition to Colonel Krebs Aces, eh Womack?” shouted one of the men at the table. He had a pretty girl with red locks wearing his pilot’s hat draped over his lap and smiling at her girlfriends dancing in the crowd. “Sg. Cavanaugh, this is Corporal Daniel Webster transferring in from the 361st out of Walden.” the Private answered. “Walden? You guys flew over Bremen didn’t you? Bama, get this guy a beer, thanks Womack, we got him from here.” He said, shooing away the Private who was hasty to depart the scene and get back on sentry duty. “Yes sir, I’ve been over Bremen.” Daniel replied, seating himself next to the portly fellow who slid a mug of dark beer under his nose. “Well, Webb, you can call me Jimmy, the fine man to your left is Bama, that little mousy gentleman is Skelling, and the empty chair next to me is Chris.” “Who said it was empty?” laughed a man behind Daniel as he went to sit down next to Jimmy with a beautiful young dark-haired girl on his lap. “I was just showin Diana here my new plane. “Well, newbie, meet the other newbie. This here’s Webster.” Jimmy said sparking a cigarette and pointing to Daniel. “Daniel Webster, my friends called me ‘Danny Boy’.”

He greeted, shaking the man’s hand. “Chris Scarletta, nice to meet you, what outfit you coming from?” Chris asked, accepting a smoke from Jimmy. Before Daniel could answer, Jimmy puffed a ring and tucked his smoke between his lips. “Ole’ boy’s from the 361st out of Walden. We were just talking about that, weren’t we? Just got done flying over Bremen, didn’t ya?” “Yeah, it was a rough ride.” He replied, reserving his true feelings to himself. “Rough ride? You guys made the papers, something like a dozen planes got shot down. Did you get hit?” Bama asked while receiving a glare from Skelling. “Yeah, my plane took some damage, but I made it out alright.” He muttered. “So, what’s your story, then Webb?” Jimmy asked. “Got any kills, shoot down the Red Baron, Got any girlfriends back home?” “Yeah, I got a gal.” he said. “And what’s this lucky lady’s name to have such a flamboyantly lively man as you as her sweetheart?” Jimmy snickered as his girl jabbed him in the ribs a little. “Her names Margret. Hope to get home someday and pop the question, but things are getting worse in the war, not sure if I’ll get the chance.” He said, looking down into his beer mug and downing it in one gulp. “Aww, what a heart-throb you are!” moaned the redhead on Jimmy’s lap who proceeded to playfully slap him on the chest. “When are you going to get down on your knees and ask me?”

“Hey hey hey! Take it easy, doll, I’m just getting to where I can remember your name!” Jimmy hollered as the group erupted into laughter. “Well, you fly right and you’ll get that chance.” Chris said as he sipped from his beer and kissed his girl. ~~~ “Wake up Corporal, time for your test-” Bama shouted as he and his crewmen, Skelling, shined their flashlights onto an empty bed. “What the hell? Where’s that new kid at?” Bama and Skelling traipsed along the barracks and then finally made their way back to the hangars to find a man bent low into the engine compartment of a P-51 with several bullet-hole patches and oil streaks along the fuselage. The distinct sound of a socket wrench being turned could be heard from within the bowels of the plane. “Hey, ‘Danny Boy’, is it?” Bama barked with a slight speech slur due to his tiny hangover from last night. Daniel banged his head on the inside of the engine housing and cursed, straightening upright on the small ladder under the nose of the plane. Rubbing his head and peering through the dawn light at the man before him, he climbed down and wiped his hands with a rag. “Oh, good morning, fellas.” “Yeah hi, uh, so what the hell are you doing?” he asked, a little peeved.

“Oh, last night the Colonel said my plane had a slight stalling problem so I thought I’d take a look at it.” Daniel replied, looking back up at the beat-up Mustang. “Oh, ok, well just so we’re clear, I’m your crew chief and all maintenance goes through me, got it?” he snapped. “Sure thing, chief. She should be good to go now, had a bit of a manifold clog, but it’s clean as a whistle now.” He said as he climbed back up the ladder and closed the engine compartment and hopped back down. Bama stood in shock. “You uh… you got any mechanic experience there, Danny Boy?” “A little.” He replied as he pulled the top of his flight jumper over his shoulder and pulled on his leather helmet. “Ready for my test run, Bama.” “Yeah, ok, well get on up there and we’ll get you in the air.” He replied. Daniel climbed up into the cockpit and slid the canopy window closed. As he sat there, staring at his gauges and controls, he pulled out a small picture from his pocket. It was a faded photograph of a stunningly beautiful, yet quaint little woman. ‘Maggie’ was written in the bottom margin in pencil and he wedged it behind one of the pressure gauge covers. He looked at the picture and suddenly heard the blast of the engine as Bama pulled down, hard, on the prop, sending it into a constant and steady twirl as the Rolls-Royce engine beat a healthy rhythm, filling the hangar with its loud sound. Daniel smiled as he taxied the plane out onto the airstrip with relative ease as he squeezed and released his grip on the steering column. Bama could be heard crackling over the radio in his ear. “Ok, son, she sure sounds pretty this morning.” “Thanks, chief .” Daniel replied. “Yeah, well don’t go opening the whiskey just yet. She’s a little wobbly above 5000 feet so take her easy and she’ll take care of you just fine.” “You got it.” He replied as he pointed the nose down the runway and hit the throttle. The Mustang’s engine whined and shot the plane down the tarmac like a racehorse and soon the beat-up old P-51 was soaring off the asphalt and up into the heavens. As the plane gained altitude, the Corporal sent her into a fancy spin and added a loop-de-loop for good measure. “Damn.” Bama said, staring after Daniel’s plane. “Might have us an Ace in the makin here, Skelling.” The thin man wiped his brow, muttering. “Might even give ole’ Jimmy a run for his money.”


Chris rolled over as he heard a plane turn over and taxi down the runway that was just outside his and Jimmy's open window. He pushed himself up and watched as that beatup old Mustang loop in the air and roll up. He grinned and looked at Jimmy's bed where the pilot was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Chris looked around and grabbed a flight boot from under his bed and tossed it and watched as it hit Jimmy in the gut. He moaned and sat up, bleary eyed and looking like shit. "What the hell was that for you Dago?"

"That new kid, Danny Boy, just looped that shit box test plane they had me in. Hes damn good there ace better watch yourself." Jimmy grumbled and dragged himself to the bathroom. Chris rolled over and stared at the ceiling with his hands behind his head thinking about what happened the night before.

*************************

Diana lay on the canvas cover that blanketed the Brew HA-HA. Her dress was undone to the just below her navel. Chris held himself up on his arms as they kissed. His dog tags were flipped onto his back and his jacket, tie and uni shirt was hanging from a wing tip. The moist air made his undershirt stick to him and sent a chill in the air. His hand slid down her flat, pale stomach and his fingertips disappeared below the top of her panties when she grabbed his wrist. He looked up ate her and saw the look on her face. "What is it Diana?"

She looked up at the rusty hangar ceiling and propped herself up on her elbows. "Listen Chris, I really like you and I hope you like me in the same way but its just.."

He nodded and sat up, "I know, its too soon. Im sorry Diana I dont want you to think Im only after one thing."

She sat up and touched his cheek, "Chris, I never thought that. I just want to wait and really get to know you before we take that step."

He nodded, "Me to Diana." He reached and buried his hand in her hair, pulling her close and kissing her deeply. They pulled apart and she grinned, "Keep that up and I may reconsider." He winked at her and helped her get her dress buttoned back up and she helped him tie his tie before heading back to the party. ********************************************

He heard Jimmy flush and the sink kick on. Chris rolled over and opened the one drawer on his nightstand. He pushed aside a stack of Yank magazine and packs of smokes and pulled out a small strip of green silk. He held it and smelled the lemon and lilly of Diana's perfume and smiled. Something heavy hit him in the crotch and made him wince. He looked down and saw another flight boot sitting on his blanket. Jimmy burst into laughter, "Lets go lover boy, they just posted flight assignments, get a move on." Chris slowly sat up, putting the ribbon back in his nightstand and found his pants, tugging them on slowly, damn Jimmy. By the time they showed up the whole squadron was clustered around the large cork board. Jimmy and Chris elbowed there ways to the front and scanned the five pages of printed paper. Jimmy dragged his finger along the last sheet and smiled."Check this shit out roomie, Grant, Grays, you Webb and me are all one flight group."

Chris smiled and turned to see Webb walk in still in his flight suit and carrying his helmet. Chris and Jimmy walked over and smiled. Chris patted him on the shoulder, "Guess what Danny Boy, your flying with the A team on the next mission my friend."

He looked at the two puzzled Jimmy laughed, "You, me, The corporal here Grays and Grant are all flying together my man."

Webb nodded with a small smile, "Good deal guys."

Jimmy put an arm around Chris and Danny, "Dont worry boys, Ill be sure to keep the Huns off you, maybe even let you get a kill or two, my treat."

Danny and Chris looked at eachother and then at Jimmy, " You better watch your own ass there Ace, me and Danny Boy are gonna clean you out."

Jimmy looked at both and dug in his pocket and pulling out two twenties, "Wanna bet?" Chris nodded and threw his money in. Danny grinned at the two and added his own cash. Jimmy fanned the $120 and waved it at them,"This is the last time your going to be seeing it boys. Ill see ya'll later, I need to call Cora and have her get us a reservations at a nice restrant now that Im gonna have some spending money."

Chris watched Jimmy go and smiled at Danny, "Theres one in every bunch."

Danny nodded, "Had one just like him in my old unit."

Chris watched as Danny seemed to change thinking about his old flying mates. He lightly punched him on the shoulder, "So I see you got saddled with my old plane, thats a tough brake."

"It was, I fixed the stalling problem, had a manifold clog."

Chris nodded, "I saw you take off and start manuvering up there, your pretty damn good Danny Boy."Webb looked at the ground and Chris smiled. He thought it was funny that Webb was a hot shot pilot in the air but humble as hell on land. Chris nodded at Danny Boy, "Ill see you around Danny Boy, briefing is in one day, after we get back we can show you the town and the pub there."

************************************

The two days to mission day went by pretty fast. Chris, Jimmy, Bama, Skelling ,Grays, Grant and Danny Boy had been working on there planes alot, fine tuning engines, making sure the guns wouldnt seize up when in combat and double checking the waste lines, no one wanted a piss tube to freeze in altitude during a dog fight. One day to mission time the MP's had tried to break up the impromtu baseball game that had started on the runway till they saw Colonel Krebs was pitching. The Military Police found somewhere else to be. The Colonel was a good CO, respected his men and knew what dangers faced them. Most Co's wouldnt let men have women in there rooms or declare there base a dry area, as in no liquor. Krebs laughed at those notions and let his men have freedom and they loved him for it. Krebs watched as the new kid, Webb, and Jimmy and Chris load the .50 cal shells into there Mustangs six machineguns. Two new guys on a combat flight team usually spelt doom for one, maybe both men but they got along and had all seen action, Scarletta had been an Ace in the PAC, what could be diffrent here? Krebs sat in his office giving the missions flight patterns an overview. He saw all the red dots marking AA-Guns and Flak Cannons. A path of steel and fire and his boys had to take a whole Bomber squad through, dodge the groundifre and take on whatever the Luftwaffe could throw at them. He looked out of his window as the sun rose on Mission day.


*************************************


Chris sat at the Pilots mess, flight suit folded down and tied around his waist. He sipped a warm cup of coffee and picked at the tray of food he had gotten from the cook. The steak and eggs sat untouched. When you spent enough time in the Air Corp you noticed certain things. Like when a mission was expected to be a tough one the food was good. No more army processed rations, real, fresh eggs, thick juicy steaks, a fliers last meal. Chris looked up from his cooling coffee as Jimmy and Danny Boy walked in, getting there food and walking over to the table he was sitting at "...so she say, I guess if I said no I'd be guilty of treason, and I say, I do believe that your correct ma'm, so there I am in a jeep with the Generals daughter when the night watch comes around and find us, and thats how I got kicked out of flight school the first time..." Jimmy burst into laughter and Danny smiled good naturedly. Jimmy was full of dumb and raunchy stories that were ninety percent bullshit.

The two sat and nodded at Chris. Scarletta shook his head at Jimmy, "Why do you have to tell the new guy all that crap? He's gonna think your unfit for duty." Jimmy smiled and nodded then shoveled a forfull of eggs in his mouth and looked at Chris's plate, "You gonna eat that?"

Chris shook his head and pushed it to Jimmy. More pilots walked in and got there brreakfast. Chris, Danny and Jimmy shot the breeze about baseball, football and how much they missed going to a ball park, having a hot dog and a beer and just enjoying a game. They didnt say it but they all thought about never getting that chance again. Soon everyone was in the room and the Flight command walked in. Davis Garman was a middle aged pilot and a Captain in the Air Corp. He was a good pilot but not popular with his men. He rarely mixed with them at a pub or at the offciers club, never got together for the regular bullshit sessions the pilots always have had. He was a by the book man and held whoever didnt follow his lead in a low regard. Even Colonel Krebs didnt like him, the guy was a medal hunter to the bone and didnt care how many of his men bought it. Garman walked to the podium at the front of the mess hall and pulled down a map of europe with there flight plan mapped out. "This is todays mission men. We will take off and rendevous with the bombers over the chanell. We then escort them into occupied territory into france, our objective is an airplane factory and landing strip just south of Paris. This is a simple mission men, no hot dogging, we dont go looking for a fight, we let it come to us."

Jimmy leaned over so only Chris and Danny could here, "Thas good to know, a simple mission thousands of miles in Nazi occupied europe with the Fuehers pilots waiting, shit I could have phoned this one in."

The two nodded in agreement. Garman continued "Radio discipline will be intact the whole time, This base will be Base cloud, Fighter groups will be known as Storms, Individual planes will be Thunder claps. Good hunting gentlemen."The pilots all stood and headed out to the air field. Chris undid his flight suits sleeves and slipped it on, fastening it up and slipping the shoulder holster and the Colt 1911 .45 that every pilot was issued. The two dozen men ran to there planes. Bama and Skelling stood as Grant, Grays, Chris, Jimmy and Danny Boy all dove into there Mutangs. Jimmy and Chris looked at eachother and gave eachother thumbs up. They taxi'd out and the Fighters lifted of, 24 war birds heading to fight a seemingly unending supply of enemies.

[Vick_Vega85]

The flight so far was tense and silent but uneventful. As the wind whipped past the cockpit and the sound of the P-51’ss engine vibrated the seat under him, Daniel adjusted for turbulence and squad position rotation and kept a sharp eye out for flak smoke. As they escorted the squadron of B-17s, the landscape became more and more covered in fog and clouds. Soon, his fellow pilots began a steady rattle of chatter as he blinked a few times, trying to keep his vision sharp. “Anybody know any good jokes?” radioed in Grant from his plane. “I got a good one, not really a joke, more of a true account.” Answered Miller, a vet in one of the lead positions. “Oh no, here goes Miller.” Ragged Jimmy. “So I gots this buddy of mine, he’s a radio operator out of some aid station down in Bastogne attached to the 101st airborne. He gets this call after a drop. “Help, help!” cries this kid on the horn. “What’s the matter, private?” my buddy asks him. “My friend ain’t movin and his face is all pale! I need to know what to do with his dog tags since he’s dead an all!” so my buddy calmly asks him, “Shouldn’t you make sure he’s dead before you go takin the poor bastards tags?” so after a few seconds of silence he hears a few rounds of a .45 go off. Without missin a beat the kid gets back on sayin, “Ok, now what?””

The entire formation burst into laughter and jeers. “Ha ha ha!” “Bullshit, Miller!” “Yeah, you made that up you prick!” “Heh heh heh!” “Hey, I swear, true story!” Miller giggles. “Ok, I got a good one.” Jimmy pipes in. “This dame gets on a bus with her baby, right?” “Wasn’t yours, was it Jimmy?” hollered Grays. “Never know with Jimmy, could be his, could be his old man’s!” laughed Miller. “Ha ha! Would you shut up and lemme tell my joke?” Jimmy chuckled back. “So this dame gets on a bus and she’s carrying this little baby in her arms. The bus driver takes one look at the kid and goes, “That’s the ugliest baby I’ve ever seen!” So the lady walks to the back of the bus and sits next to this guy and says, “That driver just insulted me!” So the guy looks at the dame and her kid, and then frowns at the driver and goes, “You should go up there and tell him off. Here, I’ll hold your monkey.””

“Ha ha ha ha!” “Good one Jimmy!” “I’m telling you, that’s gotta be Jimmy’s kid!” “Nah, he’s telling Miller’s life story!” “Ha ha ha!” “Hey I got one.” Chimed in Lopez, coasting on the left flank next to a B-17. “This one’s a beaut!” “What? You got a girl?” Jimmy asked. “Yeah, yours, Cavanaugh!” Lopez snapped back. “No, listen. A naked lady walks into a bar with a pig in one hand and a duck in the other.” “You goddamn beaners always gotta bring up animals and promiscuity into a conversation, don’tcha, ya sicko?” laughed Miller.

“Only when I’m talking to your old lady, Miller!” Lopez grinned. “So the lady sets down the duck and the pig down on the bar. The bartender says, “I suppose you won’t be needing a drink.” Then the naked lady says-” *RAT TAT TAT TAT* *BOOM!!* Suddenly Lopez’s plane exploded with gunfire as a squadron of Luftwaffe fighters careened through the formation, dotting the skies with flickering tracer rounds. “Focke-Wulfs! Break right, break right! They’re trying to split up the formation!” Miller shouted, pulling hard on his plane, sending the right wing almost straight down in a starboard bank. “Shit, they got Lopez! They’re coming in from ten ‘o’ clock!” Grant hollered while diving below the formation to chase a passing Nazi plane. “Base Cloud, this is Thunder Clap 1. We’ve got several bogeys coming in from the formation’s ten ‘o’ clock. Thunderclap 6 is down, I repeat, Thunderclap 6 is down!” Miller barked into his radio. Daniel followed suit and banked hard to the right and found an entire squadron of Luftwaffe planes staring him down in a deadly game of ‘chicken’. He gasped and pulled on his trigger, blanketing his sights with .50 cal tracers. Several of the oncoming planes broke formation and trailed away from the gunfire, flying past Daniel and going for the bombers. “Get those Krauts, boys, we’re not even close to the drop zone yet!” Jimmy shouted as he pelted the left wing of a bogey; send the smoking bandit plummeting down with a deafening siren-like whine. Daniel focused on breathing steadily as he felt his body tense up following a hard left bank. He was tailing a pesky Nazi fighter who was trying to shake him loose and take down a B-17 at the same time. Just as the enemy’s volley of yellow bullets began to creep along the sky towards the tail of the B-17 ahead, the fighter’s tail finally steadied into the rings of his sights and he mashed on the trigger, disintegrating the back of the plane. As he pulled up, just in time to narrowly miss the falling Nazi wreckage, he emerged over the back of the bomber and found a hellish dogfight in front of him. It was difficult to make out friend or foe as the scene resembled angry bees buzzing around the B-17s. “Nice shot, Danny Boy, now get this Kraut off my tail!” Chris shouted as Daniel wrenched his neck around to see Scarletta’s brand new Mustang being chased to the heavens by a gaining Focke-Wulf. “On my way, Chris!” he responded as he pulled the plane around and shook loose a bogey fighter behind him who sent a string of gunfire under his deck and broke left to engage someone else. “On my mark, I’m gonna break right, you light him up and then hit the top.” Chris ordered. “On your signal!” Daniel shouted. “Now!” he replied as the shiny, new brunette pinup showed her face and veered right. Daniel had the Nazi in his sights the whole time and released a hailstorm of tracers into the back of the plane. As the tail end began chipping off in chunks, the bullets grazed the wings and the entire plane burst into flames, shooting jets of fire in every direction. Daniel pulled up and as he passed the explosion, he felt a peppering of shrapnel under his feet and a spray of either oil or blood streaked his canopy. “Holy shit!” screamed Jimmy from behind the two planes.

“Webb, you got another one!”

“Jimmy, watch your six!” shouted Grays as a Focke-Wulf flew right past him, dotting his tail with a few bullet holes. “Son of a bitch, I’m hit, I’m hit!” Jimmy barked as he reared his head around to look for smoke coming out of his rudder. “It’s alright, you’re not smoking Jimmy. Can you operate your rudder?” Grant asked, sidling up next to him. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Jimmy snapped back as he banked right and left and finally dropped down to chase the fighter who sprayed him. The bogey made a sweep around and laid down some fire on one of the bombers, shredding the bottom gun turret and parts of the belly. As the B-17 began losing a few bombs out its ruined bay-doors, one of the daisy-cutters caught a spark off the jagged bullet holes and detonated, sending the two halves of the plane down into the countryside in a giant fireball. “Goddamn it! Get that guy!” Miller shouted. “I got him!” Grays said as he pulled his stick around and locked sights with the bogey. “Hell no, that Kraut is mine!” Jimmy piped as the Focke-wulf spilt in half from gunfire and Jimmy’s Mustang came careening down between the Nazi and Grays’ plane. “Nice flying, asshole, you almost hit me!” Grays grumbled. Meanwhile, Daniel was trying to shake off the Nazi behind him who was spraying his six with suppressive fire every few seconds, seemingly taunting him. “Shit, someone get this lunatic off my tail!” he shouted as he dove into a spin and felt tracers graze his canopy a few times. As he pulled back up, he found the fighter a bit ahead of him, coasting towards another target. “He didn’t see me. He must’ve though he shot me down!” Daniel thought as he gritted his teeth and sent a hail of bullets at the Nazi’s right wing. The gunfire missed, but it caused the bogey to bank right and bug out, narrowly missing one of his comrades who was buzzing around a bomber. “Who hoo! Danny Boy scared that one off! Look at him fly outta here like a bat outta hell! Ha ha!” Miller shouted as, indeed the fighter was flying in a direction away from the dogfight. As a B-17’s tail gunner blasted two Focke-Wulfs at once, Daniel danced around a fighter of his own, trying to chase it away from another bomber. “Hey, that was Mickey’s plane!” cheered Miller. “Who does he have on the tail?” asked Grant. “I think it’s Clemens.” Grays suggested. “Yeah Clemens, good shot!” Just then Grant’s right wing got dotted with a line of gunfire, ripping a good section of his wing-tip off. Grant shook a little from the shock of the damage and eyed his jagged, torn wing. “Ah, shit! They got me, those fucking pigs! They fucking got me!” he shouted. The wing was issuing a trail of smoke and his fuel gauge was beginning to slowly drop. “You lucky son of a bitch, Grant! That bogey just about cut you in two!” Grays shouted, pitching his plane forward to get a good look at Grant’s damage. “I gotta break formation. This is Thunderclap 4 to Base Cloud. I’m heading home, my plane is damaged and I’m leaking fuel.” He sighed. “Very well, Thunderclap 4. Do you have enough fuel to make the trip?” asked the base’s radio operator.

“We’ll see. Hopefully I don’t dive into the drink!” Grant replied. “I’ll see you when you fellas get back.” “Fly straight Grant!” Miller shouted. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep all your girlfriends company for you!” Grant laughed as he broke away and banked left, making his way back to the base. After a few moments of silence, Jimmy chimed in. “Hey, where’d all the fighters go?” “Keep your eyes peeled for flak smoke, we’re near the drop zone!” shouted the Captain of the lead bomber. “Oh shit.” Thought Daniel. Fighting against Focke-wulfs and Messerschmitts was one thing, trying to dodge the near invisible smoke clouds of flak cannon shrapnel was another thing entirely.

After Danny Boy had saved his bacon Chris flew The Brew Ha-Ha in a wide right arc and came up behind a ME-109. The mainstay of the Luftwaffe's arsenal, the ME was fast and a hell of a fighter plane, but with the best American engineering had to offer on its ass it didnt stand a chance. Chris lined up his sight rings and depressed the trigger. He felt the click as the gun cam started snapping away as the incediary .50 cal shells lit up the Kraut. One must have found a fuel pod because the plane was there for a second and then a ball of fire and shrapnel filled Scarlettas vision, "Oh shit." He dove hard, hoping that he would avoid colliding with anyone and escape the debris cloud, he had seen one to many friends buy it because they were too close to a Zero when it went up.Chris pulled up and saw a pair of ME's heading towards the lead bomber. These 109s held the slow but powerful german rockets that could take out a B-17 easy as pie. Chris swung the Mustang right behind them and slammed the throttle to full open, no way was he going to let these assholes take another heavy dropper out. The ME's always went after the lead bomber in formation, thats why it was known as Silver star alley. Chris held his fingers on the gun triggers till the ME's were right there and fired. The .50's traced a line up one side of the 109 and it careened sideways, billowing black smoke but still flying. Chris could see the pilot working hard to bring his plane back under control. Chris banked hard left and looped, coming at a perpendicular angle at the german fighter. He aimed at the cockpit this time and fired. The plexiglass canopy exploded and he watched as the pilot was chopped to pieces by the heavy guns of the P-51.. The dead pilot slumped forward on the stick and the ME dove straight down sputtering flames and smoke following. Chris grinned, two down, not bad. He started to look for Jimmy, Danny Boy and Grays when a chattering to his rear made him look.

The second ME was on his ass and peppering him with shots. The Mustange dove fast and hard, the ME hot on his trail. The G force was pinning him to his seat but Chris started to level off and smiled, it worked on Jimmy. He cut the throttle and eased the plane up. The ME whizzed by and Chris opened the throttle up again and was on him. He had to hand it to the Hun, he was a good pilot but Chris would bet his bottom dollar that he was better. The German rolled and dipped trying to shake the Brew Ha-Ha off his tail but Chris was dug in like a tick on a dogs ass and wasnt going anywhere. The Messerschmitt started to gain altitude when Chris saw a cough of dark smoke come from the Germans engine. The plane stopped rising as the prop stopped turning. It was the easiest thing in the world to line up and blast the Kraut to hell. He watched his third kill of the day hammer towards the earth and realized that there were no more fighters buzzing around. "

Keep your eyes open for Flak smoke we're near the drop zone!!" Chris cursed, great. He quickly fell in formation and saw that his flight was one plane down. Jimmy's voice buzzed in his radio."Nice of you to join us Corporal, thought you might have bugged out and went home."

"No such luck there Ace, just bagged myself three, how'd you do?"

"I got mine but Danny Boy is giving us a run for our cash."

"Hey there Danny, you fucking shit up for the Fuehers Air jocks?"

"Hell yeah, thats what they pay me for."Chris laughed as two puffs of smoke appeared on his starboard side, 'Oh shit, Flak right, Flak right!!" The shells exploded high in the air, there mission was to blast the planes down from above, sending shrapnel through the planes skin and hopefully the pilots. Danny Boy, Chris, Jimmy and Grays all rolled hard left and felt the exploding shells whump there planes but not damaging them.

Jimmy got on the radio to Garman who was leading the first fighter group a few miles ahead, "This is thunderclap 8 to Thunder clap leader acknowledge."

"This is thunder clap leader, what do you need thunder clap 8?"

"Sir this flak is gonna get worse the closer we get to the drop zone, I request we gain altitude to avoid casualties."

"Thats a negative thunder clap 8 effective range of German Flak cannons is below our altitude." Three more flak shells popped up and caused the fighters to roll away again. Jimmy asked again and Garman gave him a negative.

"Son of a bitch is trying to be a damn hero and its going to cost us our lives" said Miller. Chris nodded, one in every unit. More and more Flak flew up from occupied land and exploded in the ranks of the bombers and fighters. Three mustanges fell out of the sky, flaming balls of steel thanks to the shells. One bomber caught a shell in the belly and detonated into the biggest fireball Chris had ever seen in his life. The captain of the lead bomber commed the radio. "Two minutes to drop zone, I repeat two minutes to drop zone." Chris scanned the skys ahead hoping to see no more flak puff but something caught his eye in the thick cloud bank a few thousand feet above. "Jimmy and Danny, take a look at that cloud bank and see where its thin, what do you see."

Jimmy looked and saw a small dark shape, but Danny recognized it first "Thats a fighter, but....." He didnt finish his sentence because fifteen ME's and Focke-wulfs dove from the concealment of the clouds and into the combat formation.

The confusion of the flak cannon clouds multiplied as voices over the radio began flooding in from nearby bombers about a commotion in the clouds ahead. “152s and 109s, dead-ahead!” shouted Miller as he led the formation in breaking right to avoid a head-on collision. “Holy shit, it’s a fucking beehive over here!”

Grays screamed as he nearly clipped the wing of a Schmitt and plowed through two Focke-Wulfs with his guns. “Whoo hoo, just nailed two!” “What the hell are these Nazis doing? They’ve got flak cannons going off and now they’re sending in their own fighters!” Jimmy piped. “I knew they were crazy!” Chris hollered as he swept passed a bomber and dove under an oncoming 152. “Almost as nuts as those fuckin slant-eyes in the Pacific!” “Spread out, we need to draw these fighters away from the bomber formation!” ordered Miller as he spun around in his seat to find a Schmitt on his tail, dotting the skies around him with tracer rounds. “Fuck, this guy’s on my ass!” “I see him, I see him Miller!” Grays hollered as he whipped the nose of his plane around and sprayed the space between Miller and the bogeys, scaring them off in a desperate set of spins and dives. “They’re booking, those cowards!” Daniel dove between two bombers chasing a 152 who was trying desperately to shake him loose. “You’re not getting away that easy.” He muttered under his breath. He eased up on his throttle and spun the plane upside down, centering the bogey in his sights. As the fighter’s cockpit came into view, he pulled up a little more to allow for range and blasted a volley of rounds into the canopy, shattering the glass and metal body of the plane. As the bogey drifted downwards trailing smoke and debris, a deafening pulse of flak shrapnel detonated underneath it, disintegrating the 152 and sending the shards careening down into the countryside. Daniel’s P-51 rocked to the side as the flak cannon took out what was left of his target. “Son of a bitch.” He thought. “These Krauts are out to get themselves killed in this flak field.” Jimmy pulled up and opened his throttle, sending a barrage of bullets at two Schmitts bobbing up and down, trying to get a bead on a bomber. As the gunfire peppered the wing of one, the pilot panicked, punching his throttle and breaking left straight into his comrade. As the smoking plane leaned into the other one, the two ignited , sending a shockwave outward which shook Jimmy’s Mustang a little too hard for his comfort. “Dammit! Chris, where in the hell are you at, these loonies are getting on my nerves!” Scarletta broke left, avoiding a head-on with a 152 and found a hole between two bombers. As he made for the B-17s, a Schmitt lined up with him and tagged his canopy with a few rounds, shattering the glass down onto his head. The instant pressure change took the wind out of his lungs and sent his goggles to the tops of his eyelids, nearly blinding him. As he quickly adjusted his helmet, he looked back up to find one of the bombers nearly ten feet from his nose and he dove under it in a sloppy dive. As he emerged on the other side, the bomber’s belly gunner swung around and pumped both barrels at the bogey behind him, dusting it with bullets until it resembled gray swiss cheese and burst into flames. Chris gasped for air and frantically pulled on his O2 mask. The air bladder connected to his mask bulged and collapsed over and over again as he reared his head back to see how close he had come to glancing that bomber. As he turned around to look back up, he noticed the entire top half of his canopy was gone. Even if he hadn’t had his cockpit rendered to shards before diving under the B-17, he definitely wouldn’t have one now. Daniel hummed along, tailing a 152 and looked left to spot a sea of flak clouds inching their way closer to him. He abandoned the fighter he was chasing and gained altitude to avoid the flak cannons as a few bullets whizzed by his cockpit. He looked ahead to find a Focke-Wulf dead-ahead and well within his sights. He smiled and squeezed the trigger, only to hear the distinct sound of a machinegun jamming up. “Oh no!” he shouted. “Danny Boy, what are you waiting for?” Grays asked, flying by. “Light him up!”

“I can’t, my fucking gun’s jammed!” Daniel shouted back. “Hey, don’t just sit there, Webb, he’s almost on you!” Jimmy hollered. “What am I supposed to do, spit on him?!?!” Daniel blared as he frantically squeezed the trigger with the same clicking and scraping of his jammed weapons. The 152 closed in on him and he could see flashing points of light on its wings as bullets began shrieking by his plane. “Danny Boy, pull up, pull up!” “He’s almost on you!” “Get outta there!” Daniel looked from his sights to the trigger, desperately fidgeting with it. The 152 swerved left and right, trying to scare him into changing his heading, and getting closer, and closer, but the pilot was more concerned about getting his guns working. “Thunderclap 8, pull up!” shouted one of the pilots. Daniel looked up and saw the wide wings of the 152 close in on him, mere yards from his nose. He hit the stick with a right hook and sent the plane in a starboard spin until he was upside down. “AAGGGGHHHHHHH!” *ZEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM* The Focke-Wulf’s props hummed as the plane whizzed below Daniel’s head and he found himself breathing heavily into his own jacket. “That guy had blue eyes!” he shouted into his radio as he wrenched his head back to gaze at the trailing fighter. “Watch your six, Webb!” Jimmy barked. Daniel pulled on the stick and, while still belly-up, sank down below the dogfight altitude to try and lose the fighter. “Danny, Boy, what are you doing?” Grays gasped. “You’re gonna hit the hard deck!” “Gotta shake this buzzard or I’m history.” Daniel replied. The Schmitt followed him and sent bullets over his plane, trying to tag the exposed belly of his Mustang. As he dove farther and farther down towards the industrial city below, the Schmitt kept on him, only his rate of descent was a little slower and Daniel found himself flying straight down while his enemy was still at a decline. Just as the Schmitt spun around so he was facing the same direction as his target, Daniel noticed they were only a few hundred feet above the deck and cut the throttle, pulling up on his stick, hard, and bringing his plane from a nose dive, to a steady climb. As he did this, the Schmitt increased speed to try and get him in his sights, and he did. The bogey began sending a volley of bullets over Daniel’s head but soon stopped as he found the ground coming up fast and he pulled his plane up as hard as he could. Daniel yanked on his stick until it nearly broke off as the rooftops below just about grazed the bottom of his plane as the horizon came back into his sights and he spun around in his seat and saw the Schmitt barreling down behind him and crashing into the buildings below. “Holy shit, did you guys see what the rookie just did?” asked Grays in shock. “We’re at the dropzone, bombs away!” shouted the Captain of the lead B-17. As he said this, the sky under the formation became filled with bombs as the bay doors of each of the flying fortresses dumped their payloads onto the neighborhoods below. Admist the lines of explosions below, Chris met up with Daniel as he rose back up to formation altitude and shook his head. “What happened down there? That was some amazing flying!” Daniel just sat and stared at his sights, shaking and breathing into his jacket. “Are you alright, Webb?” Jimmy asked, passing the two in a hail of bullets as he showered a couple fighters with gunfire, scaring them away. “I…I’m fine. Just got a little close to the deck down there.” Daniel gasped.

“A little close? Boy, any closer and you would’ve drilled straight through the Earth and popped up out the other side!” Miller cheered. With the last bomb dropping, the lead bomber led the formation in breaking right and making back for base. “Alright Storm 2, mission accomplished, let’s go home. Climb to 25,000 feet and increase speed to 430mph. Remember to don your masks over 10,000 feet.” “I’m already wearing mine.” Chris chimed in. “Hey yeah, Scarletta, I saw that move by those two bombers back there, trying to get a free haircut?” joked Grays. “Alright, knock it off everyone. This is Thunderclap leader. Be sure you keep a steady distance from each other, the remaining fighters are bugging out and we’ve got a clear shot home. And keep checking your masks for frozen saliva. That stuff gets down there and blocks up your oxygen flow. The last thing I need is someone passing out on me up here.” Garman ordered. “In short, don’t drool.” Jimmy said, sarcastically. “In short, check your masks and keep the radio chatter down, gentlemen!” Garman snapped back. “We’ve got a few hours before we break free airspace and Gerry can still throw the Luftwaffe at us.” Daniel slipped on his breathing mask and blinked the images of the tops of those buildings out of his head. “That was a real close one.” He thought as he fully opened up the throttle, sending the engine into a steady high-pitched whine and joined the rest of the formation in happily using up the rest of their fuel to speed themselves home.

Chris brought the wounded Mustang into formation as they headed home. The Germans could be planning an attack as they crossed over Holland, if the krauts ventured any farther the RAF boys in there Spitfires and Mosquitos would be all over them. He shivered as the icey temperature of high altitude washed over him. The flight suit and heavy jacket was meant to keep the pilot warm with the aid of the planes heater but they werent designed with keeping a flier toasty with an open cockpit during a high altitude flight. Chris checked his gauges and breathed a sigh of relief that his fuel gauge was a little below half. He had ditched the two external fuel pods during the first fight with the Germans. No one wanted a container of AV gas hanging on them when tracers were flying. He had more than enough to get home. The Brew Ha-Ha looked worse for wear, its fuselage was dotted with bullet holes and his canopy was gone but it was still flyable and Bama could patch and get a new canopy from supply. An hour into the flight home Chris's waste tube froze solid. He cursed and unhooked the rock solid piss tube and buttoned the flap in the suit. His radio crackled. "How you doing over there Corporal?"

Chris gritted his teeth under his oxy mask, "Just peachy Grays, a nice breeze, a close shave and my dick almost froze off but Im all good." His flight group laughed and the ribbing started.

Jimmy laughed in his ear. "I know its a bit warmer in the PAC there Chris but here we usually keep the canopies on, for safety and what not."

"Hardy fucking Har there Jimmy. By the way Cora asked me to tell you something but her mouth was full at the time and I couldnt understand what she said."

A chorus of chuckles and oohs made him smile and he saw Jimmy raise a gloved hand and flip him the bird. Chris laughed and looked as they passed over Holland. Nothing came off the ground to meet them. Chris sayed a silent amen. If a Hun wanted his ass right now it would be pretty easy. The bombers broke away heading to there base farther north. The lead bomber, The Scarlet Harlot, was pitted with cannon holes and scorched here and there but still flew. Its captain came on the radio"Thanks alot boys, we appreciate it."

Jimmy commed back, "No problem, call us any time there big fellas." They slowly banked north and left the fighter group behind. Twenty four planes went up in the air and 19 were coming back. Chris hoped Grant had made it back. They passed over the icey gray of the Channell and he shivered and not from the cold, that water looked damn ominous. He shook his head and thought of better things. He had bagged three Germans today and probably disabled a few more. Once the gun film was reviewed at the debriefing he would paint his first swastikas on the Brew Ha-Ha's nose. The english coast burst from the fog and cloud cover and he knew a few more minutes and he would be landing. He had survived his first mission on this front ************************


Bama watched as the Brew Ha-Ha, the Wild Filly, Danny Boys yet un named ride and Jimmy's Long Shot taxid down the tarmac and coast into the hangar. Bama just stared at Chris's plane and let Skelling get him out and set the lader against the wing. Chris climbed down and smiled, the lines from his oxygen mask red on his face. "Sorry Bama."

The southerner ran his hand through his hair, 'I said she wasnt brand new, I didnt mean for you to treat her like a forty year old whore sir."

"If it makes you feel any better the kraut who did it is no longer with us."

"Should have brought his ass back here to fix it, Skelling, get me a request form, we need to get a new canopy for the Corporal. Dont worry about it sir, we'll get her patched and ready." Chris nodded and saw Jimmy, Grays and Danny heading his way. They all smiled and clapped eachother on the back. They were all smiles for more than just being alive. The Flaming Sword sat shot to shit in the hangar, three crew men already working on it. Grant had made it. They all stood in a semi circle and joked and laughed and told bull shit stories till a fat PRO waddled up. He tapped Jimmy on the shoulder and smiled. "Sargeant Cavanaugh, I was wondering if you would want to talk to the press after this latest mission?"

Jimmy took one look at him and then at the throng of reporters standing at the edge of the airfield like a pack of dogs and shook his head, "No thanks."

The PRO didnt take the hint. "Sargeant, the press would love to hear about the heroic battle you and your comrades here have fought today."

"Listen, Im tired and feel like shit, Ive been shot at and nearly blown up, Ive had icey piss splash me and watched a few friends die today, No."The PRO had a false smile plastered on his face and turned to Chris. Before he could open his mouth Chris pointed at his Colt .45 and shook his head.His beady eyes went to Danny boy who just stared at him until he looked away.

The PRO finally nodded, '"Thank you gentlemen, good job today" He waddled off to bother Garman, he would talk. Chris looked at the rest, "Im hitting the showers and grabbing some Z'ss."

Jimmy waved as he walked down the runway and towards the BOQ. Grays smiled and called out to him, "Hey Chris, you going to give Diana a call?" Chris raised his hand and raised his middle finger. *******************

The showers hot water worked the cold and stress from his body and Chrsi loved the feeling. He had decided to call Diana and have her meet them at the pub in town. Krebs had told everyone that the gun footage would be ready later that night and to be at the pub no later than 20:00 hours. Chris felt his stomach clench and leaned forward, tossing up that mornings coffee and bile. He shook a little as he remembered how close he came to buying it today. If that ME had gotten a better angle his ass would be toasting on some french farm field, like Lopez's. He waited a few minutes and stepped out of the shower, toweling dry and getting his pants and undershirt on. He slid into bed and thought that he had never felt something so cmfortable as the rough sheets of his bed.