Chapter one
The night is cold, we walk back to our barracks after some chow and a post op debrief. The RAF costal command is really hammering at the Nazi war effort with a brand new plane, the DeHaviland Mosquito. It will carry a variety of armament, but the preferred choice is four .303 caliber machine guns and 6 pound cannon in the nose, as well as 60 pound rocket projectiles under the wings. The not so preferred choice is an HC 4000 "cookie" four thousand pound bomb and no other armament. I am lucky enough to be a pilot on a gun armed Mosquito. I call to my radio man and tell him not to forget the briefing at 0600 hours tomorrow, then breakfast. I stagger into the barracks and the wind and cold wake at least three men and tell another two that they have been playing cards for a bit too long. I pull off my flight suit, reminisce over a few shrapnel scars, and haul my ass into bed. I wake at first light, around 0530 hours, great, I only have a half an hour to shave, shower, and get dressed, and this will be a close call. I stumble into the briefing room at 0555 hours and sit down at my desk, five minutes later the commander in charge of our squad gives us the news that no one wants to hear.
"we will be raiding a merchant convoy today, we will be accompanied by beaufighters to help with the attack, as well as blenheims and wellingtons to clean up any ships left floating, be careful boys, don't let your guard down. The escort is shown to be three heavy cruisers, five light cruisers, eight destroyers, nine destroyer escorts, two high value submarines, twelve torpedo boats. As for the content of the raid, it will be ten light barges, thirty light cargo ships, five tankers, and a large freighter carrying planes, the main objectives are to hit the submarines and the ship that is holding the planes. Anything else is fair game to anyone who wished to attack it. We will take off from runway three and scan the channel for the ships in parallel search columns. Once they are sighted hit the submarines first, do not let them dive, then sink the plane freighter at any cost. After that, your main interest should be destroying the warships in order to clear the way for the bombers, if the submarines dive, there are wellingtons armed with depth charges and rockets in order to help with the undersea craft. Watch yourselves; all of the ships are carrying different types of anti-aircraft artillery and the skies will be thick with flak. Now go boys, get some feed before the run."
At breakfast I ask my radioman if he had any drink last night, he says no, and I am thankful, he is the only the person I know that will convince the commander that he is okay to fly with a hangover, and then five minutes later he will change his mind, usually right after changing his stomach. We shovel down our food, a sausage, a bit of egg, some tea, and a few scraps of bacon. I finish early and walk out in the early morning sun, the weather is nice, and I may take advantage of that if I come back. I fear for the bombardier in the plane behind me, he will likely catch a lot of the crap intended for me. I catch my wingman with a tear in his eye and a clay pipe in his mouth; he is thinking of his brother again, he died on the sinking of the HMS Carlisle. I ask him if he was okay to fly, he says "no, command has transferred me to another base, see you guys at the end of this all".
I walk back to the hangar, where the final ammo drums are being loaded into the nose guns, and the rockets fixed under the wings. "Glad ye could make it" comments the chief engineer, he is grubby with grease and sweat, and I tell him to take a bath soon. We do all of the preflight safety checks and then we hop into the plane. No turning back now, we have to fly this one. I taxi out onto the runway, and I am greeted by an overly cheery man in the control room. "Alright boys, in case you get shot down, you should know how to jump out of your planes by now, if you don't then stay back and get the refresher course." Hmm, Rex is in command of this mission, Captain James "Rex" Smith, he is such a child some days, "sod off, ya cheeky bitch" greets our ears as a random pilot shouts at him, probably Jonathan "jonnie walker" Kevin, best drinker in the squadron, and useless without his morning whiskey.
I grunt into my mic to stifle a laugh and begin the takeoff routine, we fly for close to an hour in search of the freight convoy, in absolute radio silence. I scan the channel looking for the ships and sight them bearing 6 degrees east, and 75 degrees north. I call to the formation and I notice a beaufighter right next to me, time for some fun. I call to the pilot "hey, how about a game of chicken?" "On that submarine?" "Yeah, rockets only, four holy Moses each" "good shit, fire in three… two… ONE" I bump the fire button and four of my rocket projectiles shriek out from under my wings they all find a mark, but I am faced with the fireball growing from the torpedo room on the submarine. I am lucky that I fired after him, and I pull up just a split second after him, too. "Hah, tally one kill, how's the other submarine coming?" "By the looks of it, we have killed both." "Good, onto the plane freighter, I will hit the bridge with my rockets, and someone else should pound it with a 4000 pound "cookie" bomb, and there go my rockets." I hear catcalls of "bombs away boys" and "flood 'em lads" as torpedo armed beaufighters and bomb armed mosquitos sink the ship, I move on to a destroyer with my six pounder and my machine guns I fly low to avoid flak, and pound the torpedo tubes in the center of the ship, it explodes quickly. I bring up the nose of my plane and loop around for another pass and I see my friend in the beaufighter strafing the ship as well, he releases four rockets near the funnel and disables the ship with his strikes. I call to him "want to run another game of chicken?" "Sure, all guns right?" "Yeah, run it the long way, see what you can hit, I will follow you up with another run." "Don't get yourself killed on my flak" "hadn't planned to, now go" during the run he takes one main gun, three AAA posts and a smoke maker during mine I take two main guns and a depth charge rack I call to him again, this time saying "let's finish it off, hit it at the water line, near any fire" and we zoom in together I see our bullets and shells combine to sink the stricken vessel, after that we work together on a destroyer escort, four patrol boats, a tanker, and two barges. "Good work, now signal the bombers, and get out" says my radioman; I shoot my signal flares at a patch of oil and accidentally light it on fire "can you see the ships now?" I ask the bomber crews as I fly off, my return is punctuated by the sound of explosions as the bombers level anything they see. I land at base with a large hole in my left wing, no wonder the return seemed so slow. I hop out of the plane once it is in the hangar and I watch the repairs commence, long time until next raid.
Chapter two
I walk out into the freezing cold morning air and contemplate a smoke; my last mission nearly took my plane and I need to lose some stress. My beautiful beast is sitting on an ice paved runway and I look upon it fondly. I light up one of my rationed cigarettes and puff on it lightly, I have not done this in a while, mostly because I hadn't the need in a while. I am part of the third soviet ground attack squadron, my plane is an Il-2 sturmovik, I have it fitted with two fearsome 37 mm cannons, and three 100 kilogram bombs. Aside from that I carry fragmentation bomblets and armor piercing rockets under the wings and a combination of machine guns and light cannons in the wings and nose. I will be assigned a new close air support mission today; my plane has armor like a tank and enough weapons to kill many of them, so I may get sent over to the woods and blow up the tigers and panthers. I feel a tap on my shoulder and see the sniper that saved my ass in Stalingrad; I was shot down, and trapped. He not only burst the Germans that were trying to kill me, but he also shot the cockpit release lever from the outside. I pass him a few smokes and a small flask of vodka, he and I get along well, and he is being assigned to the same area as I. If the mission goes right I may be able to repay his kindness. He speaks "you should really be getting yourself into the plane, the assault will begin soon." "Yeah, I guess so; in I go, see you there".
At this we part ways and I prime my engine. I take off ten minutes later and watch the ground race by below me. I check the tree line, seems a few panthers thought it was a good day to mess with our lines; I swoop down with my 37mm cannons punching holes into the five machines. I hear bullets whiz by and look to see anti-aircraft vehicles as well as heavy tanks and troops. I pull up and hit them with a rocket run that ends with my three heavy bombs. They are shaken and most of the tanks are dead so I finish off the run with my fragmentation bombs and kill any remaining ground troops. I stabilize and swing around for any strafing opportunities. I spot a ghillie suited figure being surrounded by Germans, and I bring my guns to bear against their ranks. Fifteen soldiers, two half-tracks, a stug, and three jeeps fall victim to my fire, the rest are dealt with by friendly soldiers. I had expected more of a fight from the Germans, they were really ferocious three months ago, but that was when they had food, and it was not snowing. So, they must have died off from lack of supplies I think, and then I see the full line advancing. "Get out of the forest, I am marking it for artillery and heavy bombing". "I cannot retreat, my back is against a wall" "I will get you out with my guns, stay still". I fly by him and perform three strafing passes, after which I am all out of ammunition. He runs and I see him safely out of the woods before I hit the German lines with a smoke marker.
"Coordinates 239 whiskey tango Zulu, hammer and sickle 135 is out, danger close full strike package on the green smoke, say again full strike on green smoke" I see my comrade running away from the woods. He gets away fine and I hear the first bombers showing up to strike. The shock wave does not hit me for a second or two, but when it does I am nearly deafened by the sound, and once the bombing run is done I see the artillery start mashing the lines even more. Shells streak over my head and I do not dare go any higher, as it would risk my craft and life to friendly artillery units. I turn around to assess the damage, it is total, and not a single tank or soldier is still alive. I fly back to base and skid to a stop on the ice strip. I find my sniper and we embrace, "another close call, huh" "yeah, I flew at least ten feet from the blast wave" I am free of my debt to him and we share one more laugh before a shot rings out to restore order. No gambling tonight, we are to keep watch for a retaliatory strike.
I look upon my plane, it is a shame, one wing is practically shredded, the other has an infamous eighty-eight hole in it, the tail and tail boom are studded with flak scars, and the engine is almost on fire. My fuselage is in shambles, and the glass around the cockpit has its fair share of bullet holes. I see my repairman limping over to me. "so I see you brought me a challenge then, it'll be done in two weeks' time, due to the engine, just lay low for now" I nod my compliance and shuffle off to the mess hall.
Chapter three:
I spent a bit too much time relaxing in the sun and I notice my skin turning a slight pink where I meant it to be tan. I hop up and see the ocean tide is almost at my feet and I know that it has been at least an hour. I can still make lunch if I hurry, so I pull up my pants over my makeshift swimsuit, or as they are more commonly known, boxers. I run barefoot across a coral paved runway, a bad idea, I get to the mess hall with my feet all cut up. I get to my table with my feet stinging and a trail of blood following me. I ask about food, the reply is "only a bit left, get over here if you want to eat." I walk over to the line; grab a blob of oatmeal and a biscuit and a small cup of coffee, and eat fast. I walk out onto the runway and I see my plane in all of its glory, a B25 PBJ bomber, outfitted with eight "fifty cals" and a "seventy five" in the nose, as well as twelve rockets under the wings. I look at my wingman's plane; it is outfitted with four blockbusters, four demolition bombs, and a twenty four inch torpedo. We attack side by side, I suppress the flak, and he kills the ships. Our target is the destroyer "kongo" and we are to at least disable it. I pull on my boots, and climb into my plane, the "flying shark", and check the systems and call to my crew for takeoff. My copilot smacks the back of my head and says "what took ya so long" I simply ignore him and start to take off. The flight will not be long.
I sight the ship, just as it sights me. The flak hits me like a wall, I reply with my nine gunned nose, the seventy five millimeter cannon hits the ship like small bombs. I use my rockets to disable the bridge and I gun down many flak cannons with my nose guns, I empty all of my cannon ammo and at least half of my machine gun ammo. My strafing pattern lightens up and I see my friend come in for a bombing run, his four demolition bombs smash the deck, he wheels around and makes a second pass with his blockbusters. The total bombing causes the ship to start on fire and the torpedo run starts it listing to one side, I watch as it sinks, we head home.
Not two minutes back and we sight an enemy craft, zero by the make, we concentrate our defensive fire on it, but it is nimble and it simply weaves around the hot copper and lead. My tail gunner gets lucky and snags a hit in the zero's engine and sends it flaming down, directly at us. I move to avoid collision, but that just makes it worse, the plane hits my tailfins and ailerons, killing the tail gunner instantly and wounding two more crew. I watch the altimeter fall as we plummet like a stone into the South Pacific Ocean, the two wounded men, and the radio operator are claimed by our stricken craft, which still leaves four of us, me, the copilot, the navigator, and the dorsal gunner. We are fortunate that our wingman saw the crash, maybe a passing black cat raid will pick us up.
We are set adrift on our life raft, man I really should have worn a shirt today, now all I have is my spare in the small kit that all pilots are required to carry. Hmm, a carbine, a sidearm, some signal flares and signal smoke grenade, a frag, a white phosphorus grenade, a jungle knife, an E tool, a day's water, a 24 hour ration, a small medical kit, and a small bedroll, I hope we get home soon, japan sets up outposts on many islands, I might have just washed us up on one right now.
We set up shelter to get out of the heat; it is miserable and does little. We open a ration pack and start to nibble at bits and bobs, trained operators can make these last for two days, not just one. Alas, we are not trained operators, and we probably will not make it through the night. I go hunting for fresh food or water and find, fruit trees and coconut trees, as well as a small stream that seems to be coming down from some sort of elevated area; we can set up camp at the top. I return to the beach and retrieve my team from the beach and we begin the mountain climb, the only automatic weapon in our squad is an m1a1 Thompson submachine gun, the rest of us carry m1 carbines. We walk in the sunset up the mountain and reach the top before nightfall and set up our camp, no Japanese on this island.
I walk to the edge of the cliff and look at the sea below, I see a small expanse of jungle and a few huts with a small group of guards outside of it, and perhaps I was wrong about the inhabitants of the island. I walk back to the group and I do an equipment check, we are all armed to the best of our abilities, carbines, side arms, grenades, and a submachine gun. Our group will assault the enemy compound and perhaps get rescued tonight.
I send one group down the front, the copilot with the Thompson and the dorsal gunner with a carbine; they will go in from the left, lay down suppressive fire and burn the camp with a thermite grenade once the navigator and I have swept in from the right and secured the buildings with our grenades and carbines. I wait a few hours until sundown and I lead the assault team down the mountain. We have eaten a bit and we are well hydrated, no liquor for us tonight. I prep my men with a few inspiring words "get in and kill the bastards that took our four friends and our plane". The response is a resounding "OOH-RAH!" I split the teams now and we lead the navigator to the right side of the camp. We both throw down our white phosphorus grenades to cover our entrance. We open fire immediately. The guards are killed quickly and I hear the guns from the other side of the camp ring out in response. I shout "grenade!" as I toss the frag from my belt and I see a shack explode into a pile of shattered timber and debris, my friends shout the same thing as they lob two more into various places, the copilot with the submachine gun has a satchel charge and the thermite grenade, he will be burning the camp. I hear cries of fear as a small barrack of soldiers is opened and fired upon, in total the camp had twenty soldiers, the Japanese, unfortunately, rather die than face dishonor, so we are forced to fight to the bitter end, killing twenty Japanese soldiers for a loss of zero Americans, I absolutely hate this damn job, in hindsight I am glad that I did not make the marines. We find a small bunker and our copilot tossed his satchel charge into it, the entire room is collapsed, the thermite takes good care of the rest of the camp, and for now we have a good signal fire. We set flares and signal smoke everywhere, we will not be lost.
chapter three follow up
I ask the commander for a weekend pass, my girlfriend said she had to show me something, I start to beg for it, and I am almost not surprised when he says "no, rescue op tonight, covered by a black cat raid, hit the convoy with the others but break off after the first pass, use all of your underwing stores in the attack, you will need all of the speed and maneuverability you can get" I walk to my craft and see the armaments being loaded, this will be a short raid, or just a cover op.
I enter the newly outfitted black cat; it is just as spacious as the previous models, except it has some different features, a hatch with a machine gun in the rear instead of a loading ramp, and a beetle eye turret sporting twin fifty cals and twenty millimeter cannons. As well as a new bombardier's station, it is a beauty. I hop in through one of the teardrop gun blisters and I prep the entire craft myself, checking all of the parts, control surfaces, bomb releases, guns, and instruments. I call the crew, they are all shitfaced drunk and in no shape to fly, I call the secondary crew, they are inexperienced, but they will fly as good as the rest.
We took off an hour ago; the upside of the backups is that they talk a lot. My ears are graced with stories of past loves, of family events, and of sports teams for the entire time since we left the ground. I listen to the stories with longing; I decide to open with my own. "Hey, how many of you guys have been to Europe?" I am greeted by a resounding silence, "So, in Europe, they have this thing they call a pub, it is like a bar, but instead of last round they have last call." "In Scotland they get all mad about it, I even heard one guy say during the last call 'I can't go home now, I will remember everything, what will the point in coming out have been?', they get one last drink for the evening in Europe, but just in Scotland they get two last drinks" the group is laughing by now. "It is true, they have even developed a way of talking without using their hands, they just nod and gesture with their heads, I have seen it, they always have two drinks in their hands, if they are bent over the toilet and puking, one of their friends comes in and says 'fuck off, you're having two' before they give them a cup of ice to ease the headache." The team is in hysterics by now; I somehow calm them down before they get killed by Hirohito's flak guns.
I hear loud calls and I swing into the bomb aimer's hatch. I see a ship below us and drop our two five hundred pounders on it. I then lend an aerial torpedo, or a "tin fish" to another. A third ship, a light cruiser by the look, gets the thousand pound bomb and it sinks easily. I fly off in the moonlight and I watch the convoy disappear behind me through the bombsight.
I see light on my left through the bug eye turret and I direct the pilot to turn to the island and sure enough it is the missing crew, at least what is left of it, only four out of the eight are alive and a Japanese camp is on fire. I hop off and find the missing group on the beach "come on, boys, let's get you out of here" I call to them, they accept my aid and hop on our plane for a ride home.
Chapter four
"Alert, Alert All pilots to craft and be ready to mount for intercept." Comes the klaxon horn's warning. I run up to my plane, an M e 410 Hornisse that is armed with two thirty millimeter cannons and four twenty millimeter cannons, as well as two airburst bombs, for destroying formations of bombers. My wingman and I have the same type of armament. The other two planes in our formation are armed with machineguns, rockets, and a fifty millimeter cannon each, they will also be aiding in the bomber interception. I am filled with pride in these craft, they can burst open a Lancaster bomber without any trouble.
We are briefed by a commandant about our mission; he says "a small enemy bombing raid has been sent to assault the Samur railway tunnel, find them, blast them, and make sure that they do not get to the zone." "You boys know what to do, right?" I reply "you mean, shoot at people in our sky without even asking who they are?" "No, you smartass, we… yeah, we do that."
We take off and find the bombers, they are Lancasters, and they all carry a large bomb underneath that is too big for the bomb bay. I pull up with my wingman and the other two planes dive below the formation. They start hammering the formation from below with their fifty millimeter cannons and machineguns; we take the queue and make the situation ironic by dropping our airburst bombs onto them. When the bombs detonate on the unsuspecting formation, the enemy bombers are hit by rockets from below. We then empty our cannon shells on the formation and we are almost out of ammunition after we have made a few passes on the bombers. I see the target, the railway tunnel is now in view, we cannot lose this mission, and the tunnel is needed to move reinforcements to Normandy.
I take what I can get; I finish off my cannon ammo and tell the rest of my boys to do the same. I watch all of the ammunition get spent to no avail, even the rear barbette guns are emptied at the bombers to try to destroy them. I watch in horror as the bombs start to fall, there is no way to stop it now, I see the tunnel collapse in a pile of rock and dirt, I turn home, mission failed. It is my turn to take shit from command; no doubt I will lose my rank, maybe my plane
Chapter five
A blue sky today
The war is far from here
Not a cloud in sight
I finish my haiku and walk to the airfield, my GA4 m bomber sits on the first runway, bombs being winched into the belly. I see the rest of my squadron, dive bombers, torpedo bombers, more heavy bombers, and fighters. In the past few months the Allied air force has taken a toll on our Imperial Japanese air force.
I turn to face the General in charge of my squadron; his face is as grim as when he is sending men on Kamikaze missions. I ask what my job is today, his lips part as though he was going to speak, but he just closes his mouth a few seconds later. "Have I been selected for a Kamikaze mission?" I ask "no, no, you are bombing the main United States' battle fleet today" is his reply, I am devastated, those missions never come back, those missions are why we lost so many planes in these past few months, that and midway, that was disastrous.
I ask "why are you sending me there?" he replies in a monotone as to not betray his emotions "I am sending you there because you have the best accuracy record and survival rate out of all of the pilots here". I still find why he could do this to his best pilot, not only that, but his younger brother flies in my plane. I promise to bring his brother back home alive, even if I have to give mine to save his. This is a promise that I intend to keep, but I am totally dependent on the US navy's flak guns to keep it.
I enter my plane and prepare for my last ride, I tie a cloth around my forehead, and I ask a solemn prayer for my aircraft and crew. I take off, there is not much to say, the fly over to the target is uneventful, the flak wakes up my dozing crew and helps me to focus on my target. I have been loaded with twelve fifty kilogram bombs, as well as a single eight hundred kilogram weapon as secondary ordinance; I intend to take a ship with me if I go down.
I watch in horror as twelve of the fifteen fighter escorts are taken out of the sky, followed by four torpedo bombers, and eight dive bombers. The angel of death is rumored to sit in the sky above the United States' naval vessels. We are down to me and four other heavy bombers, two dive bombers, six torpedo bombers, and three fighter escort planes, whatever this attack had been sent to do, it was not going to accomplish.
I find a target, a small aircraft carrier, I empty my main weapons onto the vessel, and immediately following I see a dive bomber crash into the deck, it was a kamikaze attack, and I was just not included. My main theory on the attack is to avenge the slaughter of one of our spotting bases on a covert island; all twenty people there were killed by an elite team of combat experts sent in by our enemy's air force, maybe it was the new unit that they call the "spec ops", no clue why. A five inch gun sends flak shrapnel into my left wing, hitting the flaps, fuel, and engine. My wing is in flames, I move, as best I can, above a destroyer. My bombardier was killed in the cannon shot; I call to my radio operator, or the general's brother, to take his place. "Hold the plane steady!" I hear a shout ring from the nose. "Make fast your gob!" I reply he simply empties the secondary payload in reply. "Good shot, I think I saw someone fly off of the deck of that craft" I shout, right as a group of 20mm shells from the ships below us strafe the nose, presumably wounding my secondary bombardier, possibly killing him.
I never found out, my left wing explodes and half of the plane is pulled off, into the ocean, along with many of my war long crew members, I have not lost a single man this entire war, no matter the mission, not until now. I realize all too late that my entire crew except for me was on the other side, I will die alone. I cut my seatbelt with the standard issue katana, and jump out of the plane, without a dinghy or a parachute. "The situation that I am in could not get any more disastrous" I think to myself, right before a 40mm cannon shell cuts me in half, the pressure wave collapses my lungs and pushes blood out of my ears, my death is quickly following that in the form of a sudden impact with the sea, then I wake up, and I realized that I had dozed off while playing war thunder, damn I need more sleep.