Rutherford G. Montgomery

“ Out on the dispersal area Colonel Holt could see guards watching the shadowy forms of the Thunderbolts. A jeep came chugging up a muddy street and turned off toward the mess barracks. At one-five in the morning the base looked peaceful enough. Sheltered by darkness, its mud ruts and half-finished buildings were softened by the gloom. Still scowling, the colonel strode away.
Several hours later, in a tunnel-shaped hut with a corrugated iron roof and a cement floor, two fliers sat near a wood stove. Stan Wilson was poking wood into the stove. ”

“ Stan said.
"When one is sure to be turned over to Colonel Glotz as a spy, one is apt to be quite successful as a mechanic, what?" Domber beamed.
"If I don't make good on this I'm to be shot?" Stan looked Domber squarely in the eye.
"I'm afraid so. It would be very painful to me, I can assure you. I do not like to see men shot. But we won't think of that. We'll have lunch and then we'll get at the job." He turned and spoke to his secretary in German, then shot a glance at Stan.
"He wants to see if I understand German," Stan thought. He did not show any interest and Domber smiled broadly. ”

“ The Mustangs spread out and made a circling sweep. They had been headed straight for Berlin and would be spotted as a nuisance raid group of Mosquito bombers. No fighters would try to intercept them. The Berlin defenders would depend upon flak, as fighters were useless against the fast Mosquitoes. By swinging sharply east the Mustangs would hit the fighter hangars.
The light was good as the boys roared along at treetop level and spotted the landmarks they had been briefed to expect. They flew in perfect formation. Stan was flying the tail slot along with O'Malley. ”

“ Stan grinned. He knew that Herman Goering's Air Ministry was wild with fear and grasping at every straw of help they could get for their fighter planes. They had to have something that would stop the Fortresses and Liberators, or their cities would be destroyed, and they had to have it quick.
"Haven't you ever thought that I might sabotage this job?" he asked.
"I think not," Domber said. "I am a student of the human mind. When I have studied a man I know just about what he will do. I know you do not wish to be turned over to the Gestapo and given the treatment they use to get information." ”

“ Splinters grabbed the container and unsnapped it.
"No, you don't," he growled.
"We have to make him talk," Stan said thickly. His head was beginning to feel light and his tongue thick. The corrugated dome of the Nissen hut was wavering and swaying.
At that moment the door burst open. "Sure, an' I told you the rat would come back here!" That was O'Malley's bellow. "And there the spalpeen is!"
"I say, old man, are you hit bad?" Allison's voice came to Stan through the dizzy haze closing in around him.
"Just nicked," Stan muttered and grinned. By some twist Allison and O'Malley had escaped. ”

“ He glanced at his temperature gauge and across his instrument board. The throb of his Pratt and Whitney engine hinted at power, though it was rolling over smoothly and effortlessly. Stan remembered other nights many months past when he had sat in a Hurricane waiting for the flash of the lamp and the order from the tower to go up through the blind alley between the barrage balloon cables to wage unequal war against invading Germans. Things had changed a lot since then. Now he was a part of the Eighth Air Force of the United States Army and was fighting for his own country as well as Britain. ”

“ The Old Man went on talking.
"You are to fly formation as planned. This will be strictly a team job. There will be no free-lance hunting. Understand?"
Everyone looked glum. O'Malley scowled. It was not his nature to like strict rules. He had learned what he knew in the days of the Battle of Britain and later in the South Pacific and then over Africa and Italy. O'Malley always had been a rip-roaring fighter who accepted battle against any odds. If trouble did not come his way, he went looking for it.
Stan wondered if that last warning was not aimed at O'Malley and himself. ”

“ Stan grinned. He knew exactly where his pal March Allison was flying. He was in left-hand slot, second flight, Second High Squadron, the hottest spot in a bomber formation.
Stan eased over a bit and shook O'Malley off his wing. Sim was waggling his wings, ordering the boys to spread out and get set for interception. Red Flight spread out but stayed in position like a football team moving into formation for a screen pass. The bombers roared on toward Germany, keeping tight formation so as to be able to lay out a deadly cross fire from their fifty-caliber guns. ”

“ Stan said, "we're going to be friends, you and I."
Swen looked scared. "Heil Hitler," he said. "I am not to be your friend."
"You won't get hurt," Stan said softly. "Just tell them everything I tell you when they question you tonight."
"They will kill you," Swen said in a low voice. "Herr Domber poisoned the other one. He will do the same to you."
"Tell me about it quickly. They won't be leaving us alone without a spotter very long," Stan said.
"I do not know how it was done. I heard the Gestapo men laughing about it. The British flier thought he was going to get away. ”

“ He said nothing, knowing the colonel would explain more in detail.
"You American swine are such fools, so easy for the German mastermind to handle. But you are the prize dummer of all. We gave you a chance to escape along with your friend Lieutenant O'Malley, and you had to get caught in spite of us." He leaned back and laughed loudly.
"Sim Jones was a spy?" Stan shot the question at the colonel.
"Sim Jones is no spy, but Herr Egbert Minter is a spy and a very clever one. He fooled you men into thinking he was Jones. You were trapped by a very clever actor, Lieutenant." ”

“ He grinned at Sim and O'Malley. Deftly he slit the paper with his fingernail and removed a strip of it, revealing a listening device. Taking out his pocketknife he neatly snipped one of the small wires.
"That will take care of that. Later we'll hook it up again so they won't be suspicious."
"They listen to all new men everywhere," Sim said. Suddenly he began to laugh. "But I have fooled them. I have worked out a way for us to escape."
Stan stared at him. He was not sure Sim was not still insane.
O'Malley said eagerly, "Spill it. Escape is what I'm lookin' for." ”

“ He was sure that at least one of the men hanging around watching him was a Luftwaffe pilot. No one interfered with his work or tried to tell him what to do. He was having as free a hand as though he had been working in a shop of the Eighth Air Force. Some of the men scowled at him, but most of them just watched with interest and with something else. Stan guessed they were eagerly waiting for the trap to spring. Then they could have a big laugh on the dumb Yank. ”

“ Domber said frankly. "If Minter's work is well done and we are able to smash a large part of the British and American air power, we will launch gas attacks upon the principal English cities and later make an invasion." He smiled slightly.
"You have the planes?" Stan asked.
"For one big blow. First we smash the air power, then we attack. We have endured much bombing to save air power for this." Domber had ceased smiling and for the first time his hate came to the surface. He shrugged his shoulders suddenly. "But we waste time. We will have a look at the P-51." ”

“ I'm dressed like a German business man."
"I say, old man, this is topping." Stan heard him shout to O'Malley.
"Is Sim Jones there?"
"Yes, he was here. I don't see him, but I'm sure he's around. Want to talk to him?"
"No, but either you or O'Malley keep an eye on him. Don't let him get out of your sight. If he leaves the mess, follow him!"
"I say, what's up?" Allison was clearly startled.
"Do as I say, and get Colonel Holt. Tell him to pick me up here at once. Even if he has to come himself. I'm about to be grabbed by a plain-clothes man. But I'll be at British Intelligence here at Ramsgate." ”

“ Sim ordered grimly.
"Go in!" O'Malley bellowed. "Why not give them birds a scare anyway?"
"We'll zoom up and scatter them," Sim said. "But any man who stays to put on a show will have to walk back."
Stan eased over and kicked on a bit more power. The Germans had the attack route well charted. They knew just how far the Thunderbolts would be able to penetrate. With a burst of speed Stan went up and over. Every Thunderbolt did the same, but O'Malley beat them all to it. He roared over Stan's head, almost ripping away his hatch cover. ”

“ Stan eased the nose down to hold his speed and began sagging down a long slope toward the channel. He scanned the choppy sea for signs of a British patrol boat. Several of the fast rescue boats should be patrolling the flight line, ready to fish Yank pilots and crewmen out of the water. He saw no sign of a boat.
Slowly the Thunderbolt settled down. Floating a fourteen-thousand-pound fighter in over a long distance is not like slipping along in a glider. ”

“ He met no German fighters and had a fair tail wind. But his gasoline supply was very low. The needle kept bouncing off the empty peg, riding clear, then dropping back. The English coast was a long way off.
Stan was flying at twelve thousand feet and that gave him a chance to drift a long way, but not far enough if his gas ran out. Steadily he drove toward the friendly shore. Below him the channel looked cold and choppy.
Thinking of O'Malley added to his gloom. When you work with a man in the air, you expect the day when he does not return with you. ”

“ They were the secrets of the new supercharger.
Stan plugged the valve opening with a wad of cotton waste and tucked the valve into his pocket. Of one thing he was sure, the Mustang's engine had to be hot if he expected to snap her out of that hangar. And in getting her hot he did not dare let her show signs of running smoothly. Climbing out of the fuselage, he called to Hans:
"We'll turn her up." He wiped sweat from his forehead. The air in the hangar was hot, kept that way to make engine starting easy.
Hans and his men wound up the Mustang. Stan climbed into the cockpit and got set. ”

“ Stan watched O'Malley as he roared after a Jerry.
"Come back, Irisher. They're just tricking you out of gas," he called.
"The spalpeens!" O'Malley roared, but he zoomed up and over, then tailed in after Red Flight which was heading for home.
Stan saw the Me's dive down to overtake and attack the Forts and Libs. He had a cold, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He still was not convinced that the big fellows could take care of themselves. They had a hundred miles more to cover before reaching their targets, and then another hundred to return before fighters could meet them. ”

“ Stan and O'Malley sat in the operations room looking at a big map. Colonel Holt stood before the map with his staff. The men leaned forward eagerly. For several days they had been practicing a new type of bombing with fighters, a skip method. The colonel pointed to the map.
"There are many flights going out at daylight. Ours is just one of them, but we have been assigned to destroy the largest of the fighter bases near Berlin. You all know the tactics. There will be thirty planes in your flight. This is a teamwork job." ”

“ Sim led them to the wall and along it until they came to a gate. It was open; Sim paused and Stan and O'Malley peered out. A small light burned above the gate. The light revealed a truck filled with cans. Stan grinned in the darkness. The truck was a garbage lorry. The night breeze carried that information to him. The truck smelled very strong.
"We hide among the cans," Sim whispered. ”

“ Behind the wagon came a motorcycle and sidecar. A German soldier sat in the sidecar, while another, with a rifle slung across his back, drove the motorcycle. The driver shouted at the German on the seat of the cart, but he did not stop him.
O'Malley began squirming. He was in the middle and could see nothing at all.
"Be still!" Sim snapped. "You'll shake hay loose and someone may become suspicious."
O'Malley lay still but he made Stan tell him what he saw. They passed other wagons loaded with slave labor going to the fields, as well as many farmers, both men and women, on the way to work. ”

“ Domber's face was red and his mouth was screwed into a snarl. Suddenly Stan felt sorry for Swen. He nodded to Hans as he climbed up.
Looking down he saw the mechanics with their bulging coveralls crowding in close. Several of them had ripped their suits open and had their hands inside. Stan eased back against the shock pad. The left brake was the one to kick down hard. He had shoved the chock out from under the right wheel. He had a momentary feeling that the builders of the Mustang should have extended the armor plate further forward. The men on the ground would have a clean shot at him. ”

“ When we locate a set of runways near a hill, we'll check. After the data is in we'll try Lieutenant Wilson's skip-bombing tactics. But we want to make a clean-up, for once we let them know how we do it they'll rig up a defense." The general rose to his feet. "I'll let you know, Colonel, what plans my office makes."
"You have pictures of the hangars?" the major asked eagerly.
"I'm afraid I forgot all about your cameras when I came in over the runway," Stan replied. "I was really looking for Sim and O'Malley."
"You fighter pilots always forget the cameras," the major said sourly. ”

“ When they came back over, the Germans were ready for them. Smoke makers were billowing thick haze over the scene and every imaginable sort of gun was slamming lead and steel into the sky. The air above the field was thick with flaming muck. O'Malley was out in front with Sim close off his port wing. He went into the muck low down. Stan came in a bit behind his pals. ”

“ Stan asked.
"Very rugged," Allison admitted. "Sit down while I order a pie for O'Malley."
The boys seated themselves and Allison described the mission. He loaded his pipe and sat staring into the fire.
"Not much like pushing a Spitfire or a Thunderbolt. You just plow along through the muck and hope the boys will bat down all of the fighters coming at you from every angle."
"How many did you get?" O'Malley asked.
"Six for sure," Allison answered. "The real fun started when we headed for home. We had been plowing through flak as thick as a swarm of bees but we had been lucky. ”

“ Stan leaned back.
"If we tell a lot o' brass hats, the Jerries will sure hear about it," O'Malley said sourly.
"I think not. We have to get permission to install the tanks, you know. This isn't the South Pacific where you just go to your ground crew and ask them to rig up something for you." Stan laughed as O'Malley screwed his face into a frown.
"I'll say it's not the South Pacific," he agreed. "We got so many rules here a fellow gets tangled up before he takes off."
"We have lots of time on our hands. We'll barge over and have Allison tell us what happened. He'll be back after a bit." ”

“ Two officers got out and moved stiffly toward the spot where Stan and Domber stood.
"Heil Hitler," Domber said. Then he opened up with an angry flow of German.
The officers snapped back at him and a heated argument raged. Stan gathered the officers were angry because Domber had taken Stan out without a proper armed guard. Apparently Domber won the argument. The officers saluted and made off.
"Such fools. They fear you would escape," Domber explained. "I have told them you would not get a hundred yards before you would be killed. No one has ever escaped from the Bloodhound." ”