The hot August sun beating on the canopy had removed any trace of the chill I had enjoyed when we were at altitude; the cockpit was turning into an oven. I made sure the vents were open all the way and the cockpit heater was off, I could feel hot air coming from it around my feet, I'd have to have Mac check it out, it didn't seem to be shutting off completely. I knew he'd try to get to it but it would be low priority, the constant pace of operations was starting to wear on us.
I led my squadron around the field, waiting for the 793rd to get on the ground. None of my girls had taken any damage today and they were all with me so it had been a good day, improved even more because we had bounced the Germans well. I had three more kills and even better I thought everyone in the squadron had gotten at least one kill, including the two newbies, and most of them had gotten doubles. I glanced behind me and saw the long string of P-38s following along behind me.
As we paralleled the runway I saw the last of the 793rd's fighters set down, whoever it was set down heavy and bounced a good five feet back up into the air. I knew we were all getting exhausted, we had had perfect flying weather for the past six weeks and we'd taken advantage of it, but people were starting to get careless. We needed a break, there were some clouds off on the northwestern horizon, a couple of days of lousy weather would be a god send.
I banked around for my final approach and dropped my flaps and gear and settled toward the runway. Just so I didn't repeat what I'd just seen I was extra vigilant on my approach and greased the landing. As soon as I slowed enough for it to be safe I popped the canopy latch and swung open the canopy. The air was still hot and muggy but it was better than baking in the greenhouse the cockpit became when the canopy was sealed up.
I taxied into my revetment and shut her down, Mac was on the wing next to me by the time the engines came to a stop, "Everything okay, Major?"
"Yeah, I think so. Oh! If you've got time check the cockpit heater, it doesn't seem to want to shut completely off."
"Yes sir, the other damage doesn't seem too bad."
I looked up at him, startled, "Other damage?"
"You've got some holes in your starboard boom and the tail on that side."
I twisted around and still couldn't see anything, then stood up on the seat. From that position I could see a scattering of holes punched through the elevator and then noticed a couple more in the right rudder. I shook my head, "Never even knew I got hit, wonder when the hell that happened."
"Did you get near the bombers?"
"Yeah, I chased an FW-190 past them, got the bastard but not until he shot up a B-17 pretty bad."
Mac nodded in understanding, "I think a waist gunner got a piece of you, the hits look like a single string…"
He trailed off, not having to clarify that the only single guns that were around were the waist and nose guns on a B-17. If the hits had been from a German fighter there would have been multiple tracks of hits and probably some cannon rounds also. I shook my head, "It happens… I really can't blame them they've got almost no time to react and they're just shooting at anything going by."
Mac nodded in agreement, "The Colonel stopped by; she wants to see you as soon as possible."
Buffy had been leading the group today but she had been one of the first to land, so she'd been down a good twenty minutes by now. "I wonder what she wants?"
Mac shook his head, "Haven't a clue, but Halloran was with her."
"Okay Mac, I'll head over there and see what she wants. Make sure one of the twins lets me know the status of the aircraft as soon as they've got it." Cherry and Sherry were still my dual maintenance officer, they handled the job well but had gotten a little possessive about the squadron's planes. They acted like they were their personal property and didn't always bother to update me on the status of the aircraft.
"Yes sir."
As I turned to go to headquarters Fingerly, a brand new member of my ground crew, came trotting up with a bottle of Coke held out to me. It was cold enough that the outside of the bottle was misted with moisture, "Major, thought you might like this."
Before Mac could say anything about the proper way to approach an officer I caught his eye and shook my head slightly, "Thanks, Fingerly, you were right."
He beamed and then remembered what he was supposed to do; he snapped to attention and started to salute, "Sorry, sir!"
I returned his salute, "At ease, private, we aren't quite that formal out here on the flight line."
"Yes ma… sir."
I nodded to the two men and headed off to see Buffy. A couple of minutes later I wrapped on the frame beside her open office door, she didn't raise her head from the paper she was writing on but she gave a sharp reply, "Come… door!"
I stepped into her office and closed the door behind me then walked up to the front of her desk, she continued to write on the form in front of her for another half minute and then she stopped. She looked over whatever it was she had done for several moments and then nodded to herself and sat back in her chair and looked up at me, a grin splitting her beautiful face. "Hi there, Barb."
I smiled back at her, shifting to the casual mode we got to use only on infrequent occasions, "Same to you Buffy," I cocked my head a little and examined her more closely, "You know the paperwork would wait long enough for you to take a shower after a mission."
Buffy's uniform was sweat stained and her hair was matted to her head, pulled back in a messy pony tail the long hair came halfway down her back. I don't think she'd cut it since we'd gotten to England. Red lines on her face still showed from where the oxygen mask had been clamped on it for the last six hours. The outline of her mask and goggles were highlighted by the dark mist of oil and grime that covered the sides of her face.
She shrugged her shoulders, "I could say the same to you… you aren't the freshest I've ever seen you."
I shrugged in return, "My lord and master has summoned me to her august presence, I can but obey such a command."
She snorted and pointed at a chair, "Sit!"
"What's up, Buffy?" I asked as I sat down.
"A couple of things, first off we got word from wing today that we can make some off the chart promotions, brevets for now but they'll accept them and put the paperwork through. If they're approved they'll get the back pay but at least for now they get rank."
Brevet promotions were outside of the normal promotion system. The promotion was also 'temporary' until approved by higher authority, and could stay that way. Once approved by the command, 8th Air Force in our case, the individual would get the pay for their new rank, but they could start wearing the insignia as soon as Buffy told them and if approved they would get back pay back to the date Buffy designated. Eventually the paperwork would work its way back to Army HQ and they would decide if the rank would become permanent or if the person would stay at the brevet rank only as long as they were filling a position that merited an officer of that rank. Or they could throw the whole thing out and order the individual back to their permanent rank, but that almost never happened.
This was the first time we'd been authorized to do brevet promotions, Buffy had put a couple of the girls up for promotion but we hadn't gotten anything official back on them. A lot of the girls had gotten the almost automatic promotion from 2nd Lieutenant to 1st Lieutenant that was supposed to come through a year after they were commissioned, but even those seemed slow, it was more like 15 to 18 months for the girls. I suspected it was bureaucratic resistance from the old boy network back at Army HQ. A couple of the early girls, girls from our class or other classes at the same time, had enough time and seniority that they had made Captain but nobody had gotten promoted to any higher rank.
"How many?"
"Two Majors, six Captains, and all the 1st Lieutenants we want as long as they've got 12 months in, also four Warrant Ones."
I smiled, "It's about time."
Buffy nodded, "I figured Tammie and Helen get their oak leaves and each of you get two of the Captains and one Warrant, the other one goes to Gunderson if he wants it or Halloran if not. I'm trying to get another Warrant so I can promote both of them but I haven't heard back yet. Who do you want to get yours?"
I thought for a moment, there really wasn't much choice but I knew they'd be insufferable for the next week but I was resigned to it, "The twins, of course."
Buffy chuckled, "You realize they're going to…"
I nodded my head so she didn't have to finish what she was going to say. One of them would have gone to Sally Metcalf but she hadn't come back from a mission two weeks before. Along with their duties as the squadron maintenance officer they had been covering as the XO, trading off as they needed to cover their other duties.
"I think Mac should get the Warrant." I thought Mac would like being a Warrant Officer, but I also knew that it would mean he wouldn't be my crew chief any longer; he'd be in charge of all the squadron ground crews and would take some of the load off of the twins. I'd have to think about it but I thought I'd designate Sherry as the squadron XO and let Cherry handle the maintenance, Mac would fill in the gaps that not having Sherry watching over the maintenance paperwork would create.
"Mac's been your crew chief since the 89th; you really want to lose him?"
"He deserves it, besides I don't think I'll lose him completely, he won't let it happen."
"Okay, I'll let Halloran know and get the paperwork filled out; we can have a little ceremony when we get back..."
"Get back?"
She grinned up at me, "Yeah… get back… up for a road trip?"
I looked at Buffy speculatively, "A road trip?"
She nodded, "They're having a conference this evening at 2100 at 8th AF headquarters, all fighter wing COs and XOs are supposed to be there, 'reply by endorsement if unable to attend'."
"I'm not the group XO."
"Yeah, well that's another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Sarah wants into a squadron, she feels she's served her time with me and deserves a break and I sort of agree with her."
I looked at Buffy skeptically, "So I'm losing mine?"
Buffy shrugged, "I'd like you to be the group XO, officially, and turn your squadron over to…"
I thought for a moment, "You really want to create a cat fight?"
Buffy thought for a moment, "I don't really think the twins will be that bad, especially if you make Sherry the CO. Cherry will reign herself in just to keep from undermining Sherry."
I nodded in agreement, "That's true, but the two of them together are liable to get the squadron into some hot water, maybe more than they can handle."
"That's why I was thinking it would be better to separate them a …"
"You have to be crazy!" I couldn't imagine the trouble they would create if we tried to separate the twins, but it would be something terrible.
Before I could say more Buffy held up her hand, "Hold on! I didn't mean separate them that much, I just thought that Sarah could be named the squadron XO, she'd be better at it than Cherry and I think Cherry would much prefer to be the maintenance officer."
I thought about it for a few moments, "Well… it could work… Sarah's going to have to be real tough not to get whip-sawed by those two…"
Buffy nodded, "She can handle it, and she needs to be forced out of her shell a little bit and learn to exert herself, the twins will make sure that happens or they'll walk right over her. So, I'll expect you to keep a close eye on her and give her some friendly advice if she needs it. But I don't think she will, she's been standing up to me pretty well lately, I think she'll do just fine."
I thought about it, I didn't think anyone in the squadron would have a problem with the change in command. The twins were popular and at the same time they were respected for their abilities, even if they were a couple of the youngest pilots in the squadron. They could outfly and out-shoot everyone in the squadron, myself excluded, and the two of them almost always presented a united front. I'd seen them hanging out with Sarah so I knew they got along.
I looked at Buffy and our eyes locked for a few moments, and then I nodded, "Yeah, that sounds like a plan, although I'm not real happy about giving up the 794th."
"I know, and I'm not real happy with what it means for me, either."
I looked at her quizzically, "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm going to need you to be more active in leading the group."
"Why?"
Buffy waved her hands at the piles of paper on her desk, "I've got to spend more time running the group. Not that I want to, this stuff is more deadly than flying combat. But I've got to get a handle on it and as long as the weather stays good I'm spending too much time on missions. You're going to have to fill in for me. And we need to get some of the other girls more used to leading the group, Tammy and Helen for sure but also the twins and even Sarah. I also want the squadron COs to start taking a back seat and letting some of their flight leaders lead their squadrons."
I looked at her for a moment, "Buffy, is there something going on that I'm not aware of?"
She shook her head, "Not that I know of, but at the same time they can only keep their heads buried in the sand for so long."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
She shrugged, "Barb, the 101st is a success, a success that they can't ignore for too much longer. We've got the 2nd highest kill total of any group in VIII Fighter Command, which means any group in the Army Air Force, or any allied command for that matter. And we're making kills at a higher rate than any group, we'll catch the 89th before too much longer and they've got more than half a year lead on us."
"The press is already starting to sniff around, Colonel Miller told me that both Life and the Saturday Evening Post want to do full articles on us and they're running out of patience with VIII Fighter Command. He brought it up because he had two reporters questioning him about us and wanting him to put in a good word for them. When he talked to HQ they told him to squelch it but he didn't think that was going to work for long, they knew too much."
"One of these days the dam is going to break and I don't know what will happen then. I suspect, maybe hope, that when it happens they'll come to their senses and that means we're going to have to start providing leadership for other groups, or new groups. So we have to start thinking outside of our little world, and that means we're going to have start… not start, we're already doing it… but we're going to have to focus more on developing our people."
I thought about what Buffy had said, it was easy for us to just live in the little world we had created here at Spilsby. She was right, at least on one aspect, it wasn't going to remain our own private little world for too much longer. But I was not at all sure that her little scenario was going to occur, I could imagine the alternative also happening. When the press, and the world, found out what was going on here we would all be cashiered as some kind of deviants, it would certainly satisfy the old boy network that didn't like women in the military. I could only imagine the apoplexy they were going to have when they found out we had men and women living together and sharing the heads.
Buffy glanced at her watch, "Barb, we need to get on the road and I'd like to have time to clean up. Can you arrange for a Jeep and get some food put together so we can eat while we're on the road?"
"Yes sir," I nodded and glanced at my watch, it was almost 1530, "Leave at 1600?"
Buffy nodded, "I've got another five minutes to finish off some paperwork before I can leave. You get the Jeep and the food and get yourself cleaned up and I'll do the same."
"What about the twins?"
"Don't say anything specific now; just tell them you'll be gone, maybe all night. We'll wait until the paperwork's done and then have a little ceremony for the promotions and reorganization."
"Yes sir."
Buffy grimaced, "Shoo… and screw the military courtesy on your way out."
I grinned at her, "See you in a bit, Buffy."
It was a long but very pleasant drive mostly through the English countryside to get to Bushey Hall. It was just past eight in the evening when we pulled up, it was still light although the sun was down and it was finally starting to cool off. We found out where the conference was going to be, shades of déjà vu, it was the same ballroom where Colonel Miller's Article 32 hearing had been held. He'd been cleared of the charges of negligent homicide, for the death of one Captain Buffy Summers, in part because she'd walked through the doors into the courtroom.
The room was deserted when we found it so we made our way to the Officer's mess for some coffee and so Buffy could see what kind of snack she could scrounge. The half dozen sandwiches I'd secured for our trip hadn't lasted half way through it, I'd had my share of one sandwich and Buffy had polished off the rest. Sometimes I wondered why nobody in the group seemed to notice how much their 100 pound CO ate. If anybody else had eaten like her they'd weigh a quarter of a ton by now.
We were back at the ball room by five till nine, the place was starting to fill up and denoting our most junior rank we secured a couple chairs at the back of the room. By the time 2100 came around there were half a dozen Brigadier Generals and a couple dozen full Colonels. There was a smattering of Lieutenant Colonels and a couple Lieutenants, but the Lieutenants all wore the insignia of aides, they were here because their Generals were. As far as I could see I was the only Major in the room.
At 2100 sharp a group of senior officers came through the door and Buffy's clear command voice silenced the room "Attention!"
Everybody came to attention while the group of officers made their way to the front of the room, I recognized Lieutenant General Spaatz, the head of the 8th Air Force and Major General Richardson, VIIIth Fighter Command CG. With a shock I realized I recognized the other Major General with them, Doolittle of the Tokyo raid fame.
When they reached the front of the room Spaatz stepped up on the raised stage, "Everyone take your seats!"
There was a rustle as everyone got settled in their seats, covered by the noise I turned to Buffy, "Do you see who's with them?"
Buffy looked at me questioningly, "I recognize Spaatz and Richardson but I don't know the other two star."
"It's Doolittle!"
Buffy looked at the front of the crowd but we couldn't see anything but the backs of their heads in the front row, she turned back to me, "I thought he was in North Africa!"
"I thought so to…"
Our conversation was cut short by Spaatz, "Gentlemen, you've been called here tonight because we must find a solution to the number of bombers we are losing to enemy fighters. We cannot sustain loses at the rate we've been suffering for long. General Morris of VIIIth Bomber Command has proposed a solution to the problem. General."
A slightly pudgy Brigadier General got up on the stage as Spaatz left it and took his seat in the front row between Doolittle and Richardson. Two sergeants came onto the stage from the side carrying a large easel and set it down beside the Brigadier. Once they got it positioned they flipped back the cover sheet exposing a diagram, it took me a minute to realize what was being shown.
After a moment I recognized the major components of the diagram. There were four groups of three large crosses arranged in a diamond pattern; each of the small groups of three formed a small triangle. I recognized it as the standard combat box formation for a heavy bomber squadron. Three groups of twelve were organized into a larger triangle - that represented a heavy bomber group.
On the large sheet of paper were three of the heavy bomber groups, but what was cluttering the paper were groups of smaller crosses. Looking more closely I could make out three groups of sixteen of the smaller crosses; those must be representing a fighter group. The problem was the fighter group was positioned between the bomber groups. They couldn't be serious; mixing fighters in that close with the bombers was silly!
Evidently other people were realizing what the drawings meant; I could hear mumbles and shocked exclamations. I looked at the bottom of the large sheet of paper, I realized that showed the same formations from a side view, the bombers were staggered in altitude as were the fighters, but the three squadrons of fighters weren't above and below the bombers as I would expect. Instead they were shown between the levels of the bomber squadrons.
I heard Buffy mutter under her breath, "Jesus, where did that idiot pull that formation out of…"
A sharp voice cut through the rising murmur, "Silence!"
The Brigadier stepped to the side of the easel and nervously cleared his throat, and then he started to speak.
"We've been suffering much too high a loss rate to enemy fighters because our fighters are not providing adequate protection. I've designed this scheme to maximize the protective potential of the fighters by placing them where they will do the most good. As you can see by this diagram any enemy fighter approaching the bombers cannot reach the bombers without our fighters being able to engage them."
He continued droning on about attack paths and reforming with the bombers between attacks while I sat, stunned by the implications of what he was expecting. He was tying us to the bombers like little kids to their mother's apron strings; we wouldn't be able to respond in any way! After about five minutes he wrapped up with, "Gentlemen, we at VIIIth Bomber Command are sure this will be a most effective scheme and want to work with you to get it implemented as quickly as possible."
The Brigadier stepped back and Spaatz stood up and stepped back on the stage. "Gentlemen, are there any questions about the new defensive arrangements 8th Air Force is adopting?"
I could hear some muttering but no one said anything, after a moment Spaatz continued, "Okay, General Morris has got briefing packets and a training plan outlined…"
I heard Buffy mutter under her breath, "Hasn't anybody in this room got a set of balls beside me?" Then she was on her feet and called out loudly, "General, Sir!"
Spaatz looked startled and it took him a moment to identify who had spoken, then his eyes found Buffy, "Yes Colonel Summers?"
"I have some questions."
"Brigadier, if you don't mind?"
The Brigadier General turned his attention to the crowd, his eyes finally found Buffy, "Yes Lieutenant Colonel?"
I could feel Buffy rankle beside me, the emphasis he had put on the 'Lieutenant' in her rank was clearly meant to cower her, the wrong tactic to use on Buffy, "How are we supposed to defend the bombers when you've got us penned in like sheep waiting for the slaughter?"
"Lieutenant Colonel – If you had been listening during my briefing I clearly explained how you would intercept the Germans, you will be in a perfect position to do so. May I suggest you take the time you need to digest the information and review the briefing packet carefully, I'm sure you'll be able to understand it, it's laid out quite clearly."
I glanced over at Buffy and could see her turning red, "Hold it in, Buffy!" I whispered quietly to her, trying not to move my lips.
I could see her take a couple of deep breaths before she responded, "Brigadier General Morris, if we're flying in formation with the bombers then that means we're flying at 180 to 190 knots, correct?"
"Yes," he sneered a little, "I'm sure everyone knows that is the cruising speed of the bombers."
"And do you know what the speed of the attacking German fighters will be?"
He looked startled; then he was clearly trying to come up with an answer and after several moments he responded, "Somewhat over 300 miles per hour I believe."
"Try closer to 400, and do you know how long it takes for a P-38 to accelerate from 180 to 400?"
"No, Lieutenant Colonel, I do not, but you don't have to accelerate to engage the enemy, they will be coming to you."
Buffy was clearly shocked by his response, "You don't engage enemy fighters when they're going 200 miles per hour faster than you, you try to survive the engagement but your odds aren't very good."
"Miss - I think you should leave the discussion to men who know what they are doing."
The room went absolutely silent as Buffy went white with shock but before she could say anything General Richardson's voice cut through the room, "General, may I remind you that Colonel Summers is the leading fighter ace we have!"
Before anything else was said General Spaatz said sharply, "Attention!"
Everyone popped to attention but I could see Spaatz, Richardson and Doolittle were having a whispered conversation. After a couple of minutes Richardson turned to Buffy, "Colonel Summers, do you have any additional comments or questions on this plan?"
Through gritted teeth Buffy snapped out, "Yes sir!"
"Would you care to present them to the group now or would you prefer to write a position paper."
Buffy only thought for a few seconds, "I believe I can present my concerns in short order and I believe the officers present will be able to understand and make any corrections to my logic that may be needed."
Richardson turned back to Spaatz and Doolittle, it looked like Spaatz wanted to end the meeting immediately but Doolittle said something that made him think, finally he nodded in agreement. Richardson turned back to Buffy, "Colonel Summers, you may proceed."
Buffy slipped out of the row we were in and walked up to the front of the room and onto the stage. Brigadier General Morris had left the stage while Buffy was making her way to it, I saw him move over to where a couple of Colonels were standing to the side and they started talking quietly. Buffy ignored them; she stood at the easel with the diagram and studied it for a moment. Then she turned to the crowd in front of her.
"I've got five basic concerns with this scheme, the first you've heard but I'll try to condense it: Locked into formation with the bombers and traveling at such a slow speed is going to put the fighters at a tactical disadvantage when they attempt to engage an attacking enemy fighter force."
"Second, flying at the bomber's cruising speed is going to significantly lower the effective range of our fighters. For P-38s that is going to be on the order of 10 percent below what we expect when cruising at our optimal efficiency. In addition, if the bombers are above 20,000 feet that speed is very close to a P-38s stall speed, to maintain that for long distance the fighters will have to fly with partial flaps which will make the fuel consumption even worse. As pictured the General has us in tight formation rather than the loose combat spread we normally use, maintaining that formation is going to also adversely affect our fuel consumption."
I could hear some mutterings around the audience as Buffy paused, from the ones closest to me they were agreeing with her. One Colonel directly in front of me whispered to his neighbor, "Our Jugs would be hanging on by their fingertips at that speed." I knew by 'Jug' he meant the new P-47Ds that had started appearing earlier in the year.
"Third, flying with the bomber stream means we've ceded the high ground to the Germans; ceding the high ground in any military operation is a major error. In air combat it is just as much an error."
"Fourth, putting us that close to the bombers is going to significantly increase the friendly fire incidents."
Morris interrupted her, "Lieutenant Colonel, your fighters should be good enough not to shoot at our bombers!"
Buffy turned to him, "I'm not talking about the fighters shooting at the bombers; I'm talking about the bombers shooting at us!"
"I think our gunners can recognize our own fighters!"
"They can when they have the time, but in combat they don't have the time. If they had to stop and make a positive identification every time before they shot they'd be coming home with 90% of their ammunition still on board."
"I can't believe you're trying to… to insult our men like that!"
"I'm not insulting them, I'm just stating the facts," Buffy shoved her hand into her pants pocket and then pulled it back out, she held up a cylindrical chunk of metal about an inch and a half long, one end of it smashed so it bulged out, glaring at Morris she almost spat out, "Do you recognize this?"
There was silence in the room, Buffy gave him a good fifteen seconds but he didn't respond, "This is a 50 caliber machine gun slug, it came from a waist gunner in a B-17 and it damn near perforated me! My crew chief found it when they were repairing the mess it and some of its friends made to my cockpit a couple of weeks ago."
"So, yes, there is always the danger of friendly fire incidents. But having us that close to the bombers and having us maneuver into and out of those positions, especially in the middle of a fire fight, is going to increase the number of such incidents and the loses attributable to them."
"Fifth, as soon as the Germans figure out what we're doing, and it won't take them long, they are going to be cutting both us and the bombers we're trying to protect to ribbons!"
Buffy's attention was focused on Morris and he seemed to cower under her glare. After a couple of moments of silence a new voice sounded across the room, I recognized Colonel Miller's voice immediately, "Colonel Summers, do you have an alternative?"
After a moment Buffy turned to her former CO and contemplated him for a few seconds, then nodded her head, "Yes sir, I've been thinking about how we could improve our escort tactics."
"We've already discussed and approved the new escort plan!" General Morris shouted, "We don't need to hear about some half-baked ramblings of a… of a junior officer!"
Colonel Miller turned on him, "Sir, I've known the Colonel for over a year now. I've yet to hear her propose anything that could be classified as 'half-baked'."
"Gentlemen!" General Richardson snapped, "We're here, now! General, this proposal of yours isn't going down so well with some of our most experienced personnel. Let's hear what the Colonel has to say, because from what she's said so far I'm beginning to have some doubts about how 'thoroughly' your plan was vetted. It doesn't sound like it's been commented on as much as you've lead us to believe."
He turned back to the stage, "Colonel, what's your proposal."
Buffy stood there for a moment collecting her thoughts; then she looked out over the crowd. "The first thing I would do is split the escort into two groups, in bound and out bound."
"That's going to give us half the coverage we've got now!" General Morris shouted.
Before anyone could respond Buffy continued, "No! It will give you about two thirds of what you've got now at any one time, but now you're starting out without cover and usually losing any coverage before you are completely clear of the continent. Fuel restraints are forcing us to head home too early."
"What I would recommend is that the 'in-bound' fighter forces meet up just as you cross into France, the Germans don't seem to like to tangle with us over the water so before that is somewhat redundant. Once with you the fighter force will fly above the bomber stream, about four or five thousand feet would be my recommendation, and about a mile off the flank of the bombers. Because of the higher cruising speed of the fighters we're going to be constantly overtaking the bombers, when a fighter group or squadron gets in front of the bomber stream they turn around and head down the flank, we'll alternate sides so a couple groups or squadrons will always be on either side of the bomber stream. These fighters should be about ten miles out, they'll be positioned to bounce any Germans trying to come in from the flanks and they'll have the altitude to make the intercept at their advantage."
"Any Germans that get through them or come up under the bomber stream of from above will be handled by the fighter groups over the bomber stream. Germans climbing to the bomber stream are going to be at a real disadvantage, they'll be coming up relatively slowly and our guys will be coming down hard and fast. This will take coordination between the fighters, we don't want everybody going for the first German to show his nose and be out of position for the ones following. But that is really no different than what we're dealing with now and it wouldn't be any different with General Morris' proposal."
"The second part of the escort force, the out-bound group, will meet up with the bombers as they come off the target. At this time the in-bound group will be released from the escort duties, those with fuel and ammunition left will sweep ahead of the bombers, looking for Germans trying to come up and attack the bomber group. The out-bound group will be arriving - fresh, organized, and fully armed – at one of the Germans favorite attack positions, coming into the bombers as they leave the target area. If we time it right our fighters will be arriving over their assembly points and will be able to break up any attacks they have planned. Because we'll be arriving together as an organized unit the fighter escort leader can control the number of planes sent down to deal with any Germans spotted and at the same time keep a sufficient reserve to cover the bombers."
"In addition, the in-bound groups can also be vectored in to the Germans if the situation warrants it. I realize this scheme will require tighter coordination between the fighter groups and the bombers but it certainly isn't any more difficult than what General Morris was proposing."
After five minutes of discussion and argument among the various group leaders in the room Spaatz broke everyone up into four groups, each group had both bomber and fighter group COs in it. Each group was given one of four tasks, to argue for or against the two proposals. We were given half an hour to prepare our arguments and then each group presented them. As the groups presented their arguments it became pretty clear there wasn't much to be said for Morris' plan.
The group arguing against Buffy's proposal actually came up with some good arguments and pointed out some potentially dangerous flaws. In the end Buffy was ordered to work with Colonel Uhle who headed that group, a heavy bomber group CO, to hammer out a briefing paper on an improved escort scheme. As the briefing broke up Buffy and I migrated over to a corner with Colonel Uhle.
He looked at us and shook his head and snorted, "Okay, Colonel, how do you want to do this?"
Buffy gave him a hard look for a moment, "Sir, if you'll just forget that my balls are on the inside instead of hanging in the wind we'll get along a lot better."
His eyes went wide with shock as a voice spoke from over my shoulder, "Dick, if you think that's bad wait until she's really pissed off."
I twisted my head to see Colonel Miller standing behind me, "Sir, that is not something that I wish on anybody, it's not a pretty scene."
Colonel Miller stepped up to our group, "Isn't that the truth." As I turned back to the group I saw Buffy's lips tightening, before I could say anything Colonel Miller continued, "Buffy, stow it for a while."
She stopped herself from saying anything immediately, after a moment she responded, "Yes sir, but would someone please tell me what the hell happened? Why on earth was I the one raising objections?"
I saw Miller shoot a glance at the bomber Colonel before he responded, "Spaatz and Morris had most of the senior fighter group COs here this afternoon, we raised most of the same objections you did but they shut us down and told everyone that discussions were over."
"What kind of brain…"
"Colonel Summers!" Miller snapped and Buffy snapped her mouth shut.
After a moment she looked at him steadily, "Sorry sir."
Colonel Uhle entered the conversation, "Okay, Colonel, let's not start our own war. Back to my original question, how do you want to handle it?"
"Sir, if it's okay with you I'd like a couple of days to get some thoughts down on paper. Then I'd like to give them to you and you could review them for a couple of days and then we could get together."
"Sounds like a reasonable plan, I'll get my thoughts down on paper and we can swap them. Where are you based?"
"Spilsby," Buffy responded, "and you?"
"We're at Alconbury."
Buffy nodded, "A couple hours south of us, we went by there on our way down here."
"So we'll exchange papers in a couple of days, say Friday?"
Buffy nodded in agreement, "I'll drop mine off Friday afternoon, late. Then we can get together either Sunday or Monday afternoon depending on operations, sir?"
"Good, I'll be waiting for your paper, Colonel."
I saw Buffy's eyes looking over my shoulder and she started to stiffen and then relaxed, I glanced behind me to see General Richardson approaching our group. Before I could react he spoke, "At ease, gentlemen… ladies and gentlemen."
We opened our circle a little to include him and his aide following along behind, he gave Buffy a long look and then glanced briefly at the rest of us before turning his attention to Colonel Miller, "Have you spoken to Colonel Summers about what we discussed this afternoon?"
"No sir, we hadn't gotten to that."
He turned to Buffy, "Colonel, you've got a decision to make and unfortunately I can't give you a whole lot of time."
"Yes sir."
"We're reorganizing our fighter groups, independently of what is going on here I might add, and we'll be splitting them into two types, tactical and strategic. P-38 groups and about half the P-47 groups will be designated tactical, the other P-47 groups and the new P-51 groups will be designated strategic."
"The tactical units will be primarily utilized as fighter bombers; they're going to be required to do a lot of direct support of army ground units so they'll be spending a lot of time training with ground units and they will also be doing a lot of raids against tactical targets in France and the Low Countries."
It made some sense; the P-38 could carry up to two tons of bombs on each of the two inner hard points on the wing sections between the engines and the fuselage. They could also haul another quarter ton of ordnance, bombs or rockets, on each of the two hard points outboard of the engines. Of course with the hard points filled with ordnance we couldn't carry drop tanks so our combat radius was significantly reduced but we could certainly reach most of western-most Europe. The P-47 could also carry a large amount of external ordnance. The P-51 Mustang was new and I wasn't familiar with her capabilities but she was supposed to be a hot fighter.
"And the strategic organization?"
"They'll be responsible for escort duties and for establishing air superiority over Western Europe."
It looked like we'd be part of the tactical force, but I wondered what he had meant when he said Buffy had a decision to make, Buffy vocalized the question, "It sounds reasonable, but what does that have to do with making a decision."
"We'd like to have more experience in the strategic units, all the P-51 groups are going to be coming over fresh from the States and they'll be green. Colonel Miller has already agreed that the 89th will convert to Mustangs; he recommended that your group be given the same option. After considering it I've come to agree with him, I think it would be best if you kept doing what you've already proven so capable of doing."
Buffy shot me a glance, after a moment I nodded; I'd rather stay up high and deal with German fighters. We had done some low level work but it felt to me like it was a lot more chancy, just like flak you either got hit or not by random chance, how good you were didn't have much effect. I'd never flown a Mustang, for that matter I'd only seen a couple of them, but the rumor mill said they were the hottest thing around.
Buffy turned her attention back to Richardson, "What would be getting?"
"The new 'D' model is in production, we've gotten some shipped over and we're supposed to have over a hundred by the end of the month. They were sent to equip a couple of the new P-51 groups that were going to be shipped over. Instead we're having them stay in the states until more planes come of the production line and then they'll fly them over here. Until then the ground personnel from those groups, that are already here, about half of their compliment, will be assigned to the groups that decide to convert to train them in the care and feeding of the P-51."
Buffy turned to me, although it was clear she was thinking more about the proposal than what she was saying, "Barb, what do you think?"
It only took me a moment to come to a decision, "I think we should switch."
"Because?"
I glanced around at the other officers watching us, "Because we're the best at fighting the German fighters and I think we should keep doing that. Ground attack, tactical support, that's a whole new ball game. I don't doubt that we could do it but I think it's a lot more random, sir."
She perked up a little at the sir and then seemed to come back to this world, she flushed slightly but before she said anything Richardson spoke, "Colonel, if you don't ask for honest answers from your XO you're not a good leader."
Buffy nodded, "Yes sir… We we're friends long before we were in the Army."
He nodded in understanding, "So, Colonel?"
Buffy thought for another moment, then nodded her head, "Yes sir, we'll convert."
Two weeks later I was standing in the shade under the control tower as Buffy swept around the field in the first of the new P-51Ds that we had been assigned. A half dozen more were going to be ready in two days but Buffy had gone down and picked this one up from the aircraft depot. She'd taken down an old P-38 that was on its last legs, we weren't letting it fly combat any more - it had gotten shot up too many times. For now she was going to keep her personal P-38.
The Mustang was a single engine, low wing fighter that looked like it was fast. Unlike our tricycle geared P-38s it was a tail dragger, when it sat on the ground it looked like it was ready to leap into the sky. I hadn't flown a tail dragger since we started flying with the 89th over a year ago, that was going to be an adjustment. When on the ground you didn't have a lot of forward visibility, the long nose slanting up prevented you from seeing anything in front of you. When taxing you spent your time hanging out of one side or the cockpit and then the other so you didn't run into something.
The P-51s were powered by a Packard built copy of the Rolls-Royce Merlin engine. The Merlin was the same engine that had powered the Spitfires we'd flown back at March, although the version in the Mustang was an improved model which produced almost 1500 horsepower; quite a bit more than the Merlins in the Mk IIs had. But it still sounded like a Merlin, I would recognize the powerful throaty howl it produced anywhere.
We had received two earlier B models a couple of days after she'd agreed to the conversion so we had been able to start familiarizing our pilots with the new aircraft. But the new D model had some major changes, the most obvious of which was the new bubble canopy that gave excellent vision all the way around, even better than what we were used to having in our P-38s and significantly better than the razor-back configuration of the B model Mustang.
I watched as Buffy swung around the airfield and turned onto her final approach, the aircraft dropping smoothly to the runway. Three small puffs of greyish smoke from her tires was the only indication that the plane had changed from flying to rolling on the runway. Damn that girl was good!
A few minutes later and Buffy was pulling up beside the hanger, a touch of throttle and a bit of brake and the Mustang spun on its left gear until it was facing out and then stopped. Moments later the engine was shutting down, I walked over to the plane and looked at her more closely. She was an interesting plane, somewhat slab sided but she had nice lines. The huge air intake under the wing gave her a somewhat pregnant appearance but altogether, she looked like she could do the job.
I came up to the left side of the plane behind the wing and watched Buffy step out of the cockpit and onto the wing, then turn and walk toward me until she dropped off the trailing edge of the wing to the ground. Her flying helmet was in her hand and her parachute hung from her slim frame, her hair was matted and her face dirty but her white teeth were clearly visible from her grin.
"You like her?"
Buffy nodded enthusiastically, "She's a beaut. Not quite as light on the controls as the Spits were but she reminds me a lot of them. Strange getting used to a stick again but after a few minutes I forgot all about it."
The Mustang had a control stick coming out of the cockpit floor and up between your legs, crudely called a joystick in Army slang for obvious reasons. Our P-38s were equipped with a wheel mounted on a post that came up the right side of the cockpit and then arced over your leg.
"She rolls a lot faster than the Lightning and she can turn tighter too, about the only thing she's slower at is diving. She doesn't want to go down all that fast, you have to give her more throttle to make her dive. But she accelerates a lot faster from almost any speed. She'll do just fine."
Three days later it was my turn, they had six more Mustangs ready for us at the aircraft depot south of London. We were to remain operational for at least another week so we weren't turning in our P-38s yet. Instead I collected five other girls - the twins, Sarah Harkens, Susie Dawkins and Cheryl Goodson – and we all loaded onto a truck to get a ride to the train station at Boston for the ride south.
As we walked onto the station platform the sun was just coming up, it was cool and patches of fog drifted around the station. There were several dozen civilians waiting on the platform. There was a stir among them as we came onto the platform but we just ignored it. I went over to the ticket booth and got tickets for us and then headed back to where the girls were standing on the edge of the platform looking up the line for the train. I was nearing a little girl, about 8 or 9, who was holding a young woman's hand, an older sister maybe, as she looked intently at me. I smiled at her and the little girl tugged on her companion's hand until she looked down and then asked, "Margie, why's that lady dressed up like a soldier?"
The teenager glanced at me, "She is a soldier; lots of women are soldiers now."
"But she has wings like Daddy!"
"Well, she must be a flyer. Maybe she helps move planes around."
Her comment brought me to a halt, I think some of Buffy is starting to rub off of me, I'm finding more and more I don't like the implication in a lot of things people say that women are in some way inherently less capable than men. I turned to them and then squatted down in front of the little girl, "Hi there, what's your name?"
The little girl glanced up at her companion who gave a little nod of encouragement, she looked at me round eyed and then ducked her head a little, "Amanda."
"It's nice to meet you, Amanda. I'm Barbara Thompson, although my friends usually call me Barb."
She looked at me from under her eyelashes for a moment, "Are you really a pilot?"
I nodded to her, "I'm a fighter pilot," I indicated with my head the other girls about clustered about twenty feet away from us, their attention now focusing on me and the girl, "we're all fighter pilots."
The little girl looked over at the five young women in brown leather flying jackets and khaki slacks, gold wings on their chests and officer's caps on their heads. The twins waved back at Amanda and she shyly raised her hand and waved at them.
I saw her companion's head turn and her eyes go round with shock as she saw the girls, then she was looking down at me, "I… I heard a year or so ago that a couple of American women had been flying fighters… but I didn't know there were more of you!"
I nodded, "There are quite a few of us now." I turned back to the little girl, "Remember, when you grow up you can be anything you want to be, don't let anyone tell you different."
She stared at me, "Even the prime minister?"
"Yes, even prime minister."
I heard a snort as I stood up and saw the look of disbelief on the teenagers face. I held out my hand, "Major Barbara Thompson."
"Margaret Roberts," she responded as she took it.
"You don't believe that you can be anything you want to be?"
"I don't believe there will be a woman prime minister for a very long time, certainly not in my lifetime nor Amanda's."
"I think you should re-evaluate your estimation of yourself if you hold women in such low esteem." I said as I gave her a steady look, then I turned my attention back to the little girl, "It was nice meeting you Amanda, and don't pay any attention to what your sister says, you can be anything you want to be, you just have to work for it hard enough."
"She's not my sister!"
"Okay… then your friend."
She nodded to me and I turned away and went on to where the girls were, as I came up Sherry asked, "Corrupting another little girl, Major?"
I glared at her, mostly in jest, and then said quietly, "Converting dear Sherry, just converting."
She and a couple others snorted in response. The blare of a train whistle snapped our attention back to the tracks where we could see a black engine coming toward us, hissing and smoking. The train rolled past us, slowing as the passenger cars approached. Suddenly I heard a voice shouting, "Major! Major Thompson!"
I looked up and saw Ben Franklin, an old squadron mate from the 611th, hanging half out a window waving at us. I waved back, as the car he was in rolled past he yelled, "Come to our car! We'll save you seats!"
The train slowed to a stop and Franklin was still hanging out the window, waving at us to come and join him. We trotted down the platform until we came to the rear of the car he was in and then climbed up the steps. On entering the car we were in a long hallway that ran down one side of the car, on one side of the hallway were windows opening to the outside. On the other side of the hallway sliding doors opening into small compartments were spaced about every ten feet. Each compartment had two benches facing each other, each bench wide enough for three people if you didn't mind sitting close. Racks over the benches were provided to stow your luggage. At the far side of the compartments were three windows, the middle ones operable.
As I stepped into the hallway I could see Franklin standing part way out of one of the compartments about halfway down the car, he was waving at us to come join him. I walked down the hallway with the girls following behind in single file. As I neared him he stepped back into his compartment to let some people get past coming from the other direction. The hallway wasn't all that wide and we had to turn sideways and sidle past each other as the other passengers headed toward the back of the car.
As I neared the door I could see another AAF pilot leaning out of the door of the compartment past the one Franklin was in. I got to the door and turned into the compartment, the blinds on the windows on either side of the door had been drawn so I hadn't been able to see into the compartment but I had expected Franklin to have stepped away back from the door so there would be room for me. Instead I walked right into him, his arms went around me and squeezed me in a hug and lifted me off my feet as he said into my ear, "God! Barb it's been months! What a sight for sore eyes!"
"Franklin! Put me down!" But I found that I wasn't completely immune to his greeting, I was hugging him back. Then I heard snorts and giggles from behind me and changed my hug to pounding on his back, "Put me down now!"
He set me back on my feet and let go of me and I staggered a little, his hands gripped my shoulders to steady me as he stepped back a little and looked me up and down, "You're looking good, Major!"
I looked at him, he'd been promoted since I last saw him, "You're not too shabby yourself, Captain. But your military decorum has sort of gone out the window… although I'm not sure if you ever had any."
He snorted and looked over my shoulder at the girls behind me, we were creating a traffic jam in the hallway, "I sent three of my guys to claim the next compartment forward, it was empty, so there's room for half your gals in there and the other half in here with us."
I looked behind him and saw two other officers standing awkwardly in the gap between the benches, both Lieutenants with pilots wings on their chests. I looked back at Ben, "You'll have to move out of the way if we're going to join you."
Ben stepped back and I waved him and the other two into their seats, there really wasn't enough room for six people in the little compartment if everyone was standing. I moved in and sat on the bench opposite the three men and slid over until I was next to the window; the twins came in and sat beside me. Sarah stuck her head in, "Next compartment forward you said?"
Ben looked up at her and nodded, "Yes mi… Lieutenant."
Sarah and the other two girls continued down the hallway to the next compartment, Ben turned back to us, "Captain Franklin," I said, "these are Captains Cherry and Sherry McMillan. Cherry, Sherry, Captain Franklin was in the 611th with the Colonel and me."
Ben held out his hand and shook each of theirs in turn, "It's a pleasure to meet you ladies, although I think the Major is going a little overboard on the military stuff, I'm Ben."
Cherry leaned into her sister and in a stage whisper everyone could hear said to her, "He called us ladies… he's got a lot to learn!"
Franklin looked at me, "Spawn of Buffy?"
I nodded my head, "You don't know the half of it."
Sherry turned to me, "And neither do we! One of these days you are going to explain to us what this secret is you and the Colonel think you know about us!"
I held up my hands and said as convincingly as I could, "I don't know any secret that Buffy and I have about you two." Cherry turned to look at me and she and her sister gave me a very disbelieving look. I ignored them and turned back to Ben, "And your mates?"
"Ah… Well now these are the great military flyers Lieutenant Robert Pearson and Lieutenant Ed Edwards, Ed here doesn't like to use his real first name which is Sibelius. Lieutenants, this is Major Barbara Thompson, late of the glorious 611th."
Pearson was gazing at me wide eyed as I shook his hand, "Ma'am."
I took Edwards hand and he smiled easily, "I think Bob's a little star struck, Major."
I released his hand in turn, "Let's relax gentlemen, and ladies, I'm Barb."
A thought struck me, "Where are you guys heading?"
"London," Ben responded, "we're going to pick up some new fighters."
"Mustangs?"
He nodded in agreement and then comprehension came to his eyes, "You too?"
I nodded, "Yeah, we're converting over also."
We had a pleasant trip to London although I thought Pearson and Edwards ended up a little shell shocked, the twins were in rare form and I only reined them in a little. We pulled into King's Cross just before 11 AM and we all got some lunch, fish & chips from a street vendor outside the station, while we waited for the truck from the air depot to arrive. Once it picked us up it was another hour ride in the open bed of a deuce and a half to the depot airfield.
I sat in the cockpit of the brand new P-51D and looked over the instruments and controls, familiarizing myself with the layout and trying to change the habits developed after a year of flying P-38s. I looked out the open canopy and saw five more Mustangs lined up beside me, I clicked the transmit button, "Falcon flight, radio check."
"Falcon two, loud and clear."
"Falcon three, ditto."
"Falcon four, got ya skipper."
"Falcon five, five by five."
"Falcon six, suitably luscious."
I shook my head; everyone had to be different, "Falcon flight, start engines!"
I checked around my aircraft, the ground crewmen were clear and standing by with a large fire extinguisher. I eased the throttle lever on the left side of the cockpit to the start position and gave the primer a couple quick jabs before pressing down on the start button. A high pitched whine emanated from in front of me and after a moment the big four bladed prop gave a jerk and then several more. A loud bang came from my engine and a puff of black smoke, more bangs followed until they blended together in a continuous loud roar and the propeller in front of me turned into a blur. I watched the instruments come to life and the engine settled down as it warmed up.
Once the engine was up to temperature I got clearance from the tower and we trundled down the taxiway, the girls following behind me like ducklings after their mother. I turned onto the runway and Sarah pulled up beside me, we stopped for a moment to do final checks. I looked over at her and she gave a curt nod. I reached up and grabbed the canopy and slammed it closed, double checking the latch to make sure it was locked in place.
I ran up my engine and released the brakes and she quickly accelerated down the runway. The barest forward pressure on the stick and the tail lifted clear and she accelerated even faster. She was light on the wheels and it only took a little back pressure and she lifted clear. I raised the gear and flaps and started a steady climb, turning to the west to clear the airfield.
Soon all the girls were with me and we continued climbing and heading west, we had plenty of time and lots of gas so we had decided to go play a little before we headed back to Spilsby. There was an exercise area where we could work the planes out north of Aberystwyth on the edge of the Irish Sea, out of range of any German fighters so we could practice without having to worry about getting jumped. We had a little ammunition loaded, we never flew around England without some ammo, but now was not the time to get into a fight.
Three hours later I lead the girls back to Spilsby. Buffy had been right, the Mustangs were a dream to fly. If I'd worked a P-38 as long and hard as I'd worked the Mustang this afternoon I'd be ready to drop. I was tired, but not as tired as I would have been. The controls were a lot lighter and she seemed to fly without as much effort. The P-38 was a big, heavy aircraft for a fighter and she required some muscle to get her to move quickly. The Mustang wasn't quite as light on the controls as the Spitfire but she was close.
I set her down at Spilsby and taxied up to the squadron hanger, outside I saw Buffy, Gunderson, and several other people in a group watching us come in. I got her parked and shut down and then climbed out of the cockpit, Buffy was waiting for me behind the wing, I gave her a smile as I walked down the wing.
'You like?" she asked.
I nodded, "She's a beaut."
"Well, treat her nice, she's yours. We got word today two dozen more are ready and waiting for us at the depot at Liverpool. And we'll get another two dozen next week, so what you guys got today are being assigned to you."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to go pick up one of the ones up at Liverpool tomorrow; we've got a C-47 coming in to give us a ride so it won't take all that long."
Mac had come up behind Buffy as we had been talking, sharp in his new warrant officer's uniform, and Markoff was with him, "Hey skipper, this going to be your new plane?"
"Yeah, think you can find someone to take care of her for me?"
"Yes sir, I'm going to assign Markoff to her."
I looked at Markoff, he was still the group's painter but he'd matured a lot in the last 9 months. "Ready for a plane of your own, Sergeant?"
"Yes sir, I'll get her marked tonight."
I thought for a moment, then shrugged my shoulders, what the hell, everyone had already gone nuts around here, "You remember that picture you showed me when we got Barbie Doll?"
A gleam came to his eye, "Yes sir."
"Let's use it; I think it will fit better on her. And her name is 'Barbie' not 'Barbie Doll'."
Buffy spoke up, "Aw Barb, what's wrong with Barbie Doll?"
"The way you giggle when you see it makes me suspect there is some kind of joke that I wouldn't appreciate about it. Plus, I've never really felt like a doll."
Buffy smiled at me, "You're right… Barbie's a good name for her."
