"Bandits, 5o'clock!"
Belle's grin was of a bloodthirsty nature as she eyed the planes on the outskirts of her formation. "Go get 'em little friends!"
The Mustangs peeled off to engage their German counterparts. Belle always loved watching those dogfights. There was something about fighters that were just so graceful, it made her jealous! Half of their moves she could never do without tearing a wing off! The other half she looked like a lumbering cow instead of a graceful bird!
The Mustangs did their best, they always did. But it was inevitable that the quick propped Messerschmidt's broke through the defense and bore down on the B-17s. But the lumbering bombers weren't helpless.
It was a waste of ammunition but Belle's adrenaline was going and she didn't care! She let loose with a volley, seeing the tracers line up perfectly with the yellow noses of the bastards. They were just out of range. Just as they came within firing distance, they peeled off in a classic, over the top and down behind maneuver.
B-17's had a decent armament to them but they did have their vulnerabilities. They had no nose weapons and their top turret couldn't strike at anything above it, leaving them open to a dive bomb attack.
"3 fighters, 9o'clock high. Keep your eyes on them!"
"11 o'clock high, top turret can't reach them!"
...
Belle held her breath. Every mission they did this, it never got any easier. The helpless bomber could just sit and wait and pray she wasn't the target of their dive bomb attack. And once again, her luck held. She was left alone. She breathed a sigh of relief!
"Got another, 6o'clock high! I've got him!"
...
There was smoke from the Messerschmidt's right engine, indicating that he'd been hit. He spiraled downwards as the pilot baled out.
"Did I get him?" Belle asked.
"No, I saw Mother and Country's rounds strike." Ruth replied.
"Damn, first time out and they get a kill." Belle groaned.
Mother and Country couldn't help but look smug but Belle shot her a glare and she nodded. Don't revel, keep on task!
Belle saw a pair of Messerschmidt's fly right over her, ignoring her completely which would really pissed her off after what happened next! Stuck in formation, there was nothing she could do. Deep down she knew that. Utterly and completely she knew there was nothing she could've done that day that would've changed this.
At the start of the fight, the Nazis were focusing on the middle of the formation but now they changed tactics. With the Mustangs busy elsewhere, it was a perfect opportunity and they closed in for a kill!
For Windy City, the ride had been smooth even after the Nazis showed their ugly mugs! She'd been lucky. Her flight had been left alone, unusual since they were usually the first one's attacked. Take out the lead flight and they go down like dominoes. But the Nazis had been displaying a different tactic this battle. She should've known that old habits always died hard!
She never heard them coming. They came up from behind. Her blind spot where she couldn't see, hear, smell or detect them period! The pair got on their cannons and a pair of 50 calibers went straight into her inboard left engine. The pain was intense as the bullets sliced between fan blades, getting into the deep inner workings of the engine and causing all kinds of nasty damage. She would have to drop out of formation.
"I'm hit! C-Cups, you're taking over!"
"C-Cups copies, return to... OH MY GOD!"
...
And that's when her world blew apart!
Belle was directly behind Windy City the whole time, never more than a plane length away. She saw the first engine go out, trailing smoke, followed by the second engine on the same side. Windy City banked hard to the right, losing altitude in a standard "I'm out of formation, returning to base" maneuver. The Mustangs were due to return to England soon as well. Perhaps she'd get lucky and have an escort out of them. A wounded bomber on her own was easy pickings for even a rookie Nazi pilot and they'd likely have fun with her before she went down.
All those hopes vanished in one deadly, devastating instant. When Belle didn't see chutes, she had assumed Windy City was flyable enough for the crew not to bail out. And she could only watch in horror as her lead plane, wingman, parking-mate, drinking buddy, and all around best friend for 2 years became nothing more than a bunch of exploding debris. The sight would haunt Belle in the years to come. She still woke in a cold sweat sometimes. The only comfort was that it was quick. Windy City never would've known what had happened until she stood at the feet of Luft, seeking entrance into his starry domain.
Hot debris showed down on Belle as she was forced to fly through the remains. Something sticky and warm splattered on her nose and she knew without looking that it was Windy City's heart. Torn and shredded through by the explosion. She remembered what Windy City had set to her, the night before this mission. Belle had been down after hearing her navigator's desperate cries. Windy City had been the one to soothe her fears. She'd always been able to do that when no other plane could. The memories, once blurred through a haze of alcohol and cigarettes, now shown clearly like a reflection on a mill pond.
...
Belle's alcohol induced haze saw only Windy City, and she felt only pleasure at the younger plane's administrations. The two had always been close but it wasn't until two missions ago that they shared an intimate knowledge of each other. Since then, they'd spent practically every night experimenting. But this time was different. Different because it wasn't an experiment. Windy City's administrations spoke of love and affection, her field generating waves of healing concern to the plane beneath her.
Their wingtips pressed together, ampule feeding off each other and creating a discharge twice as strong which served to enhance both plane's efforts. Windy City and Belle had done a decent job of keeping their moments silent but now the muffled growls, harsh breaths and eager cries of planes at the height of their passions echoed across the base. None of the planes slept before a mission so the only thing the sounds did for them was arouse their curiosity. The humans on the other hand, weren't as amused. Try as they might though, they couldn't find the two culprits. Belle and Windy City had mastered the art of hiding. This time belonged to them and they intended to make the most of it!
After one intense discharge, Belle was still catching her breath as she looked up at her soon to be lead plane and mate of 4 months. "If the Nazis ever forced me to choose between my crew and you, I would always choose you."
"You know you shouldn't." Windy City replied, pressing her nose to her neck as she started again. Belle gave a soft moan. "I am an easier target and can be replaced. They cannot. So you keep going and you shove those bombs up Adolf Hitler's throat!"
"Nor can you. Not to me anyways. Fuck what the army says! They can get new planes yes, but it's not the same." She growled.
Windy City pulled back for a moment, getting Belle to look her in the eye. "Hear this now," she said sternly. "I will always come for you. Even in death, I will be with you."
"Fate is a fickle thing sometimes isn't she?" Belle asked. "Sometimes-sometimes I wonder why she chose me to live."
"I don't know. You are destined to return home, little Bella." Windy City replied, using her pet name.
"And what of your fate, Willow?" Belle whispered.
Windy City pressed their noses together gently, breathing softly as she spoke in a voice barely heard even by the speaker. "My heart will always belong to you."
...
Belle didn't realize she'd been daydreaming until she blinked. She was surprise to find her vision blurred and she blinked again. Something wet ran down her cheeks, cold and salty tasting. The blood of Windy City's heart remained on her nose. Never, in her wildest dreams, could she have imagined that Luft would take her mate's promise seriously. Of all the planes... why did it have to be her? Belle knew, even without the explosion and the remains adoring her frame, that Windy City was dead. The brokenness that settled in her heart told her all she needed to know. The bond was broken and even if Windy City was still with her, she was beyond Belle's reach.
The agony was more than she could bare and her lips parted as she elicited a sharp cry. It was painful in every way possible. Its pitch, its tone, the way Belle seemed to struggle as if she was trying to hold it back but couldn't. C-Cups, being the nearest, was the first to hear. She dropped back alongside.
"Let it out, Belle." She said.
Belle gritted her teeth, keeping her gaze fixed firmly ahead, not looking at the gory mess on her nose. She'd promised not to cry. Her only grief would be a payload of bombs dropped on target down those filthy krauts throats!
C-Cups wasn't having it though. "Memphis Belle, let it all out."
The use of her full name startled Belle enough that her fragile control slipped. Just a bit, but it was enough to break the dam and the trickle became a torrent. She was glad her crew was in command because there was no way she could fly herself right then. She was a mess! And a pitiful one at that! Every surface was shaking, every aileron taught with the tension brought by unimaginable agony. Screams replaced cries. Not screams of fear, but the screams of a broken heart and a shattered soul.
The entire flight, three hundred and six- three hundred and fifty nine planes moved as one unit, surrounding around one of their number. Memphis Belle. The most hurt, the biggest injury. It was instinctive, but Belle appreciated it nonetheless. C-Cups remained at her side, not even flinching as Belle buried her nose into the base of her tail. Both their crews took over flying, allowing the pair to remain close, clinging to each other's plating. Belle wasn't sure how many tears she cried that day. She never did care to find out. All she knew was she cried until she could cry no more. And not a single tear was ever shed again after that, as though Belle's tear ducks had dried up. And though she would grow and love again, watching over nieces and nephews, she would never have her own children or another mate, again.