October had arrived but the extraordinary summer weather was continuing, which had not helped the tenuous Russian positions in the Caucuses. They seemed to be having more effect with their continuing attacks out of the foothills of the Urals toward Moscow, the latest reports indicated they had actually managed to encircle and severely maul one of the German's main offensive formations in Army Group Central. The Russian's had evidently unnerved the German's enough that they were siphoning troops from Army Group South to deal with the problems. The German's also seemed to be expending an inordinate amount of resources trying to capture Leningrad in the north.
The bombing offensive we and the Brits were trying to wage against the Germans seemed to be having some effect. By the numbers of German fighters we were seeing they didn't like what we were doing, it made for lots of good hunting. Unfortunately the good hunting applied to both sides. My old 794th squadron had taken it especially hard the last couple of weeks.
Two weeks ago on the same mission both the twins had gotten hit, Cherry got a cannon shell in her cockpit that punched a good sized hole through her calf. Fortunately it didn't detonate until it hit the cockpit floor, but both her legs got peppered with shrapnel from the exploding round. She managed to get her aircraft back home, flying most of the way sitting on the leg with the hole through it to slow down the bleeding. On the same mission Sherry caught two machine gun rounds in the abdomen, fortunately high up and on the side so there wasn't too much internal damage and she was healing nicely. But both girls had been out since they were hit and neither would be back flying for at least a couple more weeks.
I thought they should be grounded for another month but they were already starting to campaign to get back in the air even though Cherry was still on crutches and Sherry could barely sit up. Buffy and I had stopped by the previous evening and she told them that when they could run two laps around the runway she'd put them back on flight ops. I wouldn't be surprised to find them trying to run laps when we got back this afternoon.
Then Susie Dawkins, Cherry's stand in as squadron XO, had gotten hit and badly wounded, she managed to get back but I doubted if we'd ever see her again, I hoped she would survive. Then two days later Cheryl Goodson, the acting squadron CO, got nailed by a pair of Fw-190s, from the reports she'd taken a heavy burst right in the cockpit, her plane had fallen out of control but wasn't on fire and no one had seen a chute so we were pretty certain she had bought the farm. Her flight had taken it out on the two Germans, both went down in flames, and then they went on something of a rampage and nailed seven more before they returned home.
Buffy had temporarily reassigned me as CO of the 794th until we could groom someone else to take over or the twins healed up. Between loses and other operational demands we just didn't have enough senior people to go around. Today's maximum effort mission, a bomber escort to Munich, had stretched us thin to put up three full squadrons. Buffy had been torn between flying with us and staying behind to take care of the innumerable other things for which she was responsible. She was torn because she really wanted to fly but she knew she really should stay on the ground and take care of things there. In the end she'd opted to lead the back-up flight, we had managed to scrape up four extra planes to go with us in case anyone had to abort the mission.
We hadn't even gotten into the air and one of the back-ups had been called to fill in a flight in the 795th, someone's engine wouldn't start. I was going to have to look into that when we got back, an engine failure on the flight line was something that shouldn't happen. It could, you never knew when one of them would throw a rod or something else major happened but still… I needed to make sure it was really unforeseen or if there could have been something done that would have prevented it.
The group had gotten in the air and started for our rendezvous point with the bombers when two other planes had to abort, one from the 793rd because she couldn't get fuel out of one of her drop tanks and another from the 795th because two of her machine guns jammed when she test fired them and she couldn't clear the jams. She wanted to continue but Tammie, the group lead for the day, ordered her back, going into combat with a third of your firepower out of commission was stupid, especially since back-ups were available. I suspected the jam was caused because of some bad ammo, we'd been having a lot of jams and misfires lately and I think we were taxing the supply system; someone was getting sloppy in the production of ammunition. I'd seen some reports from other groups about problems with 50 caliber ammo so we weren't the only ones being affected.
I'd started to think Buffy would be able to skip the mission, the back-up planes returned to base when we crossed the coast of France if they weren't needed and we had almost reached the French coast. If there had been enough of them available when they turned back then they could make a short rhubarb flight, i.e. they could go find something valuable to the Germans and shoot it up before returning to base. I thought that that was what Buffy was actually hoping would occur but with just her I knew she'd return to Spilsby and not try anything alone. Buffy was good enough that she could have gotten away with it but it was not an example she was going to set for the rest of the troops. We'd been in a gradual climb since we'd left the airfield to stretch our fuel to the maximum; we passed through fifteen thousand feet as we crossed the French coast and went onto oxygen. Then my blue flight leader, Kelly Armstrong, radioed that her oxygen system wasn't working and she had to abort, Buffy took over as blue flight lead.
We had met the bombers just after we crossed into France. There were six B-17 groups, nearly three hundred of them, in a stream stretching more than ten miles across the sky. We had been in the air covering them for a couple of hours and hadn't seen anything of the Germans except for some light flak from some of the towns we passed over. We'd crossed the German border a little while before and I'd expected some to be waiting for us, but it looked like today they were going to wait until we were on our way out. It was not an effective tactical plan; it meant the bombers got to make their attack unmolested except for the flak. But as a strategic plan I could see its merits, our formations were likely to be scattered and less coherent after the bomb run.
Buffy's proposal to have second group of escort fighters meet the bomber stream as they were leaving the target area had not been approved. There were too many concerns about missing the rendezvous or other problems developing. Also, it turned out that the new Mustangs had the legs to stay with the bombers from beginning to end. Instead of providing a second set of fighters for escorts when we had extra fighters available they were being sent out to hunt. We had gotten a couple of free hunting missions and they were fun, you could almost always find some Germans and since you weren't tied to the bombers you got to bounce them whenever you were ready. And since they weren't getting ready to attack the bombers they weren't always expecting to get attacked, we'd managed a couple very successful bounces.
We, the fighters that is, didn't like to go over the target with the bombers, it wasn't sensible to unnecessarily expose ourselves to that much flak. But it meant we had to join back up with the bombers and try to set up the coverage again, invariably it wouldn't be as good as it was right now. The Germans would also know exactly where we were and where we were going, as long as we were inbound we might be making a feint and change our course to a different target. With the relatively limited range of their fighters sending them up in front of us to make the intercept and then have us change course could end up with a lot of empty fighters without enough time to refuel and get back to us. It was a cat and mouse game we were constantly playing with the Germans. Sometimes we went straight in to make our flight time and distance as short as possible, other times we would head for one plausible target and then change course at the last minute to hit someplace else.
My favorite tactic, when possible, was to make it look like we were heading for a target deeper into Germany than we actually were and then reverse course and hit the real target on the way out. Not only did it mess with their interception plan it also tended to screw up their flak batteries, they weren't used to us coming from the east. But today that was not possible, there wasn't any reasonably convincing target beyond Munich, at least not one that the Germans would buy as a target for a force the size of ours. So this was going to be a straight in and out mission.
Now it looked like the Germans were going to try a new tactic of their own. At least I didn't think they were dumb enough not to have figured out where we were going and messed up their interception plan that badly. They'd certainly never been that dumb before. When we were outbound there wasn't any question of where we were going and it was unlikely the bombers would make large deviations in their course. Waiting to make organized attacks after the bombers had made their attack, if you had the nerve and were willing to be patient and take the first hit, could be an effective tactic.
We were using the protection scheme patterned on the one Buffy had initially proposed back in July. We were a couple thousand feet above the bomber stream and our higher cruising speed was slowly bringing us toward the front of it. As the squadrons passed the front of the bomber stream they turned right or left and cruised down the flanks about ten miles out. I started checking time and distance and realized we'd be the last squadron over the bombers before our normal breakoff when they made their turn at the IP (Initial Point) for their bomb run, assuming everyone was on course and things were going as briefed. Tammy Nelson was leading the group today from her position as lead of the 795th squadron, she was a couple miles in front of us; the 793rd was about the same distance behind us.
"Falcon lead Eagle lead," I radioed.
"Falcon go," I heard her respond.
"We're going to stay with the bombers, Osprey lead copy?"
"Roger Falcon lead," Helen Carson responded, "we'll stick with you also."
Both Helen and Tammy were bright and probably worked out the same thought I had, or at least they did when I told them what I was going to do. Tammy came back on the air, "We'll break-off and meet you on the other side."
"Roger, Eagle lead," I replied, "Falcon flights, let's get a little higher."
By climbing not only would we reduce our forward progress to nearly that of the bombers, we would also separate ourselves enough from the bombers that it was unlikely the flak the Germans would be unloading on them would bother us. It was just as unlikely that they would adjust the altitude they were setting their shells to detonate at to our higher altitude; the bombers were their priority target. There would probably be some long rounds just to keep us on our toes, but a mile in altitude was a long distance for an artillery round. The climb would cost us some fuel but we had plenty, the mission was well within our range and we had had an easy flight so far. I started us up and glanced behind to make sure everyone was staying in formation, they were and as I looked behind I could see the 793rd was climbing with us.
We reached the altitude I wanted us at and leveled off at the same time as the bombers made their turn at the IP, the lead group was just in front of us and I led us in a long slow bank to keep our position just behind them. We'd slowed our speed to match that of the bombers, I extended my flaps 10 degrees to provide some additional lift, at this altitude our stall speed was perilously close to the bomber's cruising speed. The flaps seemed to help and Barbie felt a lot steadier, I sent out a terse order to the squadron, "Falcon lead, flaps 10."
Below and in front of us the sky exploded in dirty black and brown puffs as the first flak barrage went off. I was glad to see it was well below us, but not happy that they seemed to have the bombers altitude about perfect. For the next three minutes I watched in fascination as the heavy bombers slowly plodded toward their target, flak constantly bursting in and around them. I saw two planes drop back with smoking engines but it seemed like they were still flying, I hoped they didn't become stragglers and easy meat for German fighters. One bomber disappeared in a massive explosion that even we could feel, the flak round evidently got its bomb load. One of its neighbors got caught in the explosion and was spinning toward the ground out of control. I saw a couple of chutes blossom around it but that was all, the other seven or eight crewmen went down with the plane. Behind us I could see a half dozen or so more smoke trails of bombers going down, the deadly flak was taking its toll.
The lead B-17s started to bounce up as the tons of bombs they were carrying in their bellies were suddenly dropping free, moments later the entire lead group made a long wheeling turn to the right until they were headed back to the west. I held us in the same relative position for another minute; heavy flak was still exploding around the fleeing bombers and I knew it would be a couple of minutes before we were clear of the area and out where the German fighters might be. Then I decided it was time to get ready and radioed to the squadron, "Falcon lead, normal cruise."
I retracted the flaps and advance the throttle slightly to get us back to our normal cruise but kept us high, I still wanted to stay well clear of any stray flak. The flak was just beginning to taper off when I heard Buffy, "Falcon Blue Lead, bogies, eleven o'clock low."
I looked off to the left of our course and after a moment spotted a cluster of black dots, "Falcon Lead, got 'em!"
As I watched they seemed to coalesce into two groups, one of slightly larger dots below and smaller dots above. I was reasonably sure the larger dots were Me-410s, twin engine heavy fighters the Germans liked to use against our bombers because of their heavy weapons. The smaller dots would probably be Me-109s acting as escorts for the 410s because they were sitting ducks for us. It was possible they were Fw-190s but I doubted it, the Focke-Wulfs liked to go after the bombers themselves and I didn't see the Germans holding them back as escorts.
As we'd crossed over Munich cloud cover had started to increase and we were right at the base of the clouds, sometimes whipping through wisps of them that hung down, the cloud cover over us was almost solid. I hoped the Germans didn't spot us up against the grey clouds, if so we could get a good bounce. I held us where we were for another couple of minutes, pulling in front of the bomber stream. The Germans had reached our nine o'clock when they turned and headed toward the bombers. I held us high for another thirty seconds and then radioed, "Falcon Lead, Tally ho! One pass through the top cover and then hit the 410s!"
The girls were all quiet behind me as I rolled onto my wing tip and then dropped in a steep dive, I'd waited until we could come down in a curving course and slash through them from above and behind. I checked our relative positions and then ordered, "Falcon Lead, Blue, Green, spread double, Yellow down one hundred."
Blue and Green flight, on either side of my Red flight in our diamond formation, spread out doubling their distance from us, Yellow flight increased their dive slightly to get further below us. I could see the Germans clearly now, fifteen 109s in a diamond formation, three flights of four and one of three. A thousand feet below them, just above the level of the bombers, it looked like two squadrons of 410s, although one of the seemed to be missing an entire flight, there were only three flights of four in the rear group that I could see. I curved the formation a little tighter and lined up on the lead flight 109s.
The lead plane was filling my sight ring, just as I was about to open fire the 2nd element lead and his wingman jerked over in a hard bank, spotted at last! But it was too late for the leader and his wingman; I pushed the MG button and watched the six streams of tracers, three from either side, flash out from my wings to converge on him, hits sparkled on his fuselage and then condensed on his wing root. There was the flash of a gasoline explosion and he was tumbling through the air, his plane breaking up. His wingman was spinning down trailing a long streamer of flame and smoke courtesy of Francine, my wingman's fire.
I risked a quick glance behind me, it looked like everyone was still there and I saw nine other smoke trails from downed Germans. Four trails originated from where Buffy's Blue flight would have been, it looked like she'd gotten another perfect intercept. I changed my concentration to ahead and decreased the angle of our dive. I decided to go for the lead group of Me-410s, I didn't especially like being in front of the trailing group but I didn't think they'd do a lot of shooting at us with their comrades in front of them.
They were starting to jink, they knew we were coming but they were continuing on their course for the bombers. We would reach them a little before they got to the bombers but if we stayed with them we'd be subject to fire from the bombers, "Falcon Lead, one pass and then hit the rear group!"
We were rapidly closing on them when I saw tracers start to come toward us from the turrets on either side of their fuselages. I jinked the squadron over some and then curved back, masking one of the guns in each of the Me-410s from our approach. I lined up on the lead flight and hoped my squadron mates were doing the same, the flight leads could usually handle it without direction and I didn't have a good enough grasp of the relationships to direct them. I was reassured as I heard the crisp calls of the flight leads positioning their elements and occasionally the individual wingmen, but the orders were terse and the airwaves were quiet for the most part. The 410 filed my sight ring and I pressed the button on the top of my control stick and the roar of my guns started again. Hits flashed on the left wing and I applied just a touch of pressure to the stick and the fire marched up the wing to the engine nacelle. There was a flash of exploding gasoline and the engine started to windmill, the German plane fell off on the damaged wing and I walked my fire over to the cockpit. The cockpit glazing shattered into thousands of gleaming shards and the Me-410 nosed over into a steep dive. I let up on the firing button, it had been a long burst, almost five seconds, but she wasn't going to recover.
I pulled the rest of the way out of the shallow dive I'd been in and rolled into a vertical bank, turning to head back toward the rear group of Me-410s. I risked a quick look behind and saw Blue and Green flights were reforming on me, behind them seven or eight smoke trails marked downed Germans. I didn't spot Yellow flight immediately and then saw them; they were well below us and just starting to pull up from a steep dive. They were just passing two more smoke trails, I saw further below them the spinning, burning remains of two more 410s heading for the ground. The flight they were after must have tried to get away. I saw Yellow Lead adjust her course and her flight formed on her as she spotted us and started to climb back to rejoin. The bombers were getting close but our curve was taking us away from them again, I just hopped none of them started shooting at us.
Ahead the last group of Me-410s started to scatter, one flight turning and diving away from us while the nearer of the other two flights turned toward us and the lead flight continued toward the bombers, "Falcon Lead, Red flight is taking the attackers! Green, Blue – take the lead group, Yellow get the runners!"
My girls kept their radio discipline; the flight leaders snapped a terse acknowledgement, "Green," "Blue," "Yellow." Other than that there was only the hum of the radio carrier wave in my ears.
I didn't want a head on pass into the heavy frontal fire power of the Me-410s so I pushed my stick forward and started a dive, building speed at the same time. A quick check on Blue and Green flights and they were curving wide to avoid the attacking 410s and get to the lead group. Whoever was leading the attacking flight made a bad decision, or he thought we were running, because he started to turn to protect his lead flight from my other two flights.
I pulled Red flight up, turning our dive into a zoom climb and they came in range almost immediately. Red four was out of position, she was on the wrong side of her element lead but that was my fault not hers, the rest of us all had clear shots at the bellies of the 410s. We all opened fire at almost the same instant, Francine's target immediately exploded, pods under the inner wing section that I didn't recognize going off with such force that the 410 simply disappeared. My fire was going into the fuselage on my target but I saw the same pods on the aircraft I was shooting at, I tapped my rudder and my fire tracked across the belly and into one of the pods. It immediately detonated with enough force to blow the 410's wing and engine clean off. I shoved my stick forward to stay under the wreckage and cleared it with only a couple of minor pings.
I looked around, all of Red flight was with me and three pyres marked the falling German planes, the fourth plane was diving away from us and the bombers. I didn't think he would be back. Thoughts were flashing through my mind, those pods were sure touchy! They reminded me of rocket pods, but what the hell were they doing carrying rocket pods when they were going after bombers? Those were ground attack weapons. Maybe they hadn't had time to remove them? That didn't make a whole lot of sense.
I swung red flight around, catching sight of Blue and Green flights just before they reached the lead flight of Me-410s. I didn't want us to get separated any more than we had to, it made it tougher and took longer to reform. I looked around for Yellow flight and finally spotted them far below us, a couple smoke trails marked two more downed Germans but I couldn't see any sign of the other two 410s from the fleeing flight. Yellow flight was climbing back toward us, I was glad to see Cherry hadn't gotten carried away and broke off before they got too far away even if it meant letting a couple of the Germans get away.
One of my flights, Blue I thought, was just about to open up on the last group of 410s when smoke and flame suddenly appeared below the wings of all four of the 410s. The damn things were rocket pods and the Germans were firing them at the bombers! I didn't know if they could hit any of the bombers, but it would only take one of those rockets to down a bomber. The grey smoke trails were streaking toward the bombers and then the 410s finished their firing and banked sharply and tried to dive away but they were too late. I recognized Buffy's plane and knew it was Blue flight, they followed the fleeing Germans around and all four of her planes opened up at the same time, seconds later three 410s were flaming wrecks and the fourth was spinning out of control toward the ground far below.
I looked back at the B-17s and saw one was spinning toward the ground, half of its wing missing. Another was dropping back quickly, two engines with flame streaming from them, chutes started to appear behind it as the crew bailed out. I hoped they could all get clear before it went completely out of control. It looked like those damned rockets could be effective, the 410s had never even gotten within range of the bombers guns when they'd fired.
I turned red flight around, we'd ended up heading southwest - the opposite direction the bomber stream was going. I slowed down to normal cruise to let the other flights catch back up, by the time everybody was back and we were reformed the last of the bombers had passed us and were receding in the distance. I looked around and no one appeared to have been damaged, "Falcon flight, any problems?"
"Falcon Green Four, Falcon Lead, I took some hits but everything seems to be working fine."
"Roger, let us know if anything comes up."
I looked around but couldn't spot any more Germans in the area, "Falcon flight, lets rejoin the bombers."
"Falcon Lead, how about a rhubarb?" I recognized Buffy's voice.
I looked at the receding bombers, it would take us a while to catch up to them and I know she thought it was more effective if we went hunting on our own. I was weighing our options, fuel and time to rejoin versus what we could find crossing Germany on our own. I also knew I was getting low on ammunition and I suspected a lot of the other girls were too. I had just about decided to go for the rhubarb when my world exploded.
Four or five massive explosions sent my plane tumbling and spinning out of control. I was thrown violently against the cockpit side as Barbie went into a vicious spin, my head cracked against the canopy and all I saw was stars for several moments. I shook my head and looked out; smoke and flame were wrapping around the canopy and then momentarily blew clear as we spun toward the earth. I caught a glimpse of my wing and it looked like the outer third was completely gone! I wondered if I'd been hit by those damned rockets but then thought better, if I'd been hit by four or five rockets there wouldn't be anything left of Barbie - or me for that matter.
I struggled to get hold of the stick, the force of the spin was pinning me to the cockpit wall but I finally managed to grab it and shove it forward. Barbie dropped her nose in response. I tried to use some aileron to counter act the spin but nothing happened, then I remembered the missing part of the wing was were the aileron was. I managed to reach the flap controls and jerked them back, I heard a loud grinding but she started to slow a little.
I pulled back on the stick and she started to pull out of her dive although she continued to roll slowly. I looked out and could see flames spewing from both my wings but the immediate area of the canopy was clear. I hit my harness release and reached up and pulled the canopy emergency release and was surrounded by screaming freezing wind as the canopy flew off. I continued pulling on the stick and Barbie miraculously stopped rolling and slowly started a loop. I jerked the E&E bag from beside the seat, it was attached to my parachute harness and I didn't want it hanging up and tying me to the plane.
"Hold on, baby! Hold together just a little longer!" I whispered fervently to Barbie. I pulled my feet onto the bottom of the seat and crouched there. I unsnapped and jerked off the oxygen mask and pulled the radio connections out and made sure nothing else would hold me in. Barbie made it to the top of the loop and I pushed off the seat, diving out of my plane, as I fell clear I yelled back to her, "Bye, girl, you've been a dear!"
I was out but spinning uncontrollably, I got the impression of trees and ground not too far below me and frantically grabbed for the D-ring, my fingers went around it and I jerked it out of its pouch and pulled on it until the two feet of wire and clips came free. Moments later a massive jerk snapped me around, the harness squeezing the air out of me and I was sure giving me a wonderful set of bruises. I was hanging; actually it felt more like I was sitting, under the parachute. I was oscillating wildly back and forth, ground and sky alternately passing under my feet. From the glimpses of the ground that I got I thought it was rushing toward me awfully fast, a brief thought flashed through my mind, 'should I really be falling this fast with a parachute?'
I saw a line of trees and rocky ground below me and then the ground came up with a rush. I hit hard and tried to fall like they had told us, a sharp pain shot up my right leg, damn it why did I keep hurting the same damn leg! I was on the ground, stunned by the impact and the sudden quiet after hours in a roaring fighter, the last ten or fifteen minutes with the additional noise of rattling machine guns and bursting explosions. I heard a deep, heavy 'whumph' and felt the shock through the ground, Barbie must have crashed not too far from me.
A wind was blowing and my parachute started tugging on me, threatening to drag me across the rocky ground. I reached up and grabbed one set of shrouds and started hauling them toward me, the chute collapsed and I pulled it to me, wrapping the shrouds around it to make an ungainly bundle. Then I laid on my back and looked up at the sky, it was blue with only a scattering of clouds. Silently I thanked Barbie, she had saved my life, again, but this time at the cost of her own. I know it's ridiculous to anthropomorphize what was basically a mass of aluminum with some other odds and ends thrown in but I couldn't help mourning her end.
I felt my leg, it hurt but it didn't seem to be broken. Then I reached my ankle and gasped in pain, I felt it gingerly for a few moments, I was reasonably sure it wasn't broken but I'd sure sprained it pretty bad. I left my high boot laced up tight, I knew if I took it off that ankle was going to swell like crazy and I'd probably never get the damn thing back on.
I looked around, I was in a rocky, grassy field, and the land sloped sharply down to a line of low, gnarled pines twenty or thirty yards below me. Upward I could see only more rock and scrubby grass, mountain peaks were nearby, I must be on the side of a mountain right at the timber line. I couldn't see down very far but I could see heavy smoke rising in the air not too far further down the mountainside. I could also smell wood smoke mixed with gasoline, Barbie must have started a forest fire when she hit.
I knew we were south of Munich, so on the other side of these mountains was either Austria or Switzerland, depending how far west I was. I started to inventory what I had, the clothes I had on which included long underwear, heavy wool pants and shirt, my heavy sheep-skin lined leather jacket, a reasonably good pair of heavy boots, one of which was currently holding my sprained ankle together. I had on my flying helmet and my goggles were on the ground near me where I'd dropped them when I'd started looking around. In a shoulder holster I had my forty-five with three extra magazines, twenty nine rounds total. I had the M3 Trench Knife we'd been issued a couple months before strapped in a sheath on my right leg. I had my parachute, the rope shrouds and the silk of the canopy would probably both be useful. I had my first aid kit, and I had my E&E bag.
The Escape & Evasion bag was another idea of Buffy's from her past life, where she had seen or heard about it I had no idea although it was probably from 'Xander's tapes', that had seemed where she'd gotten most of her knowledge concerning the military from. She'd explained to me how you could get movies on 'VHS' tape and play them on your 'VCR' to watch on your TV. I'd seen an article about the new 'television' system that they were working on, predicting it would be able to provide home entertainment like a radio except with pictures in a couple of years. I guess it had improved a lot by her time, to the point where just about everybody had them. I just thought of it as a fancy home movie system and let it go at that.
The E&E bag contained a week's worth of emergency rations plus some chocolate bars and other food. It had a more extensive first aid kit and it had smaller scale maps and a better compass to supplement the ones we carried in our flight clothes. There was additional room in the bag and we could put in whatever we thought would be useful. I knew several girls who carried basic make-up supplies in them; they wanted to look 'nice' if they ever got shot down. Mine didn't, I had some extra food and a small mess kit. The E&E bag was attached to our parachute harness by a heavy line, we were supposed to jump with it but then let it hang free once our chute opened. I'd never gotten a chance to let go of mine, I'd held it to my chest the whole way down.
I looked around; I had to decide what I was going to do. I could stay where I was and let the Germans find me; if not today then tomorrow sometime. I knew they would send a patrol of some kind to investigate the crash. If I let them capture me I was reasonably sure I would survive, at least for a while. We'd heard back from four girls that we had lost and had ended up being captured; one was pretty severely wounded but was being treated in a German hospital. The other three had all ended up in the same prison camp; we'd gotten a couple of postcards from them. One had reported, using some secret keywords we'd come up with, that she'd been raped when she'd been captured but the other two had reported being treated decently.
Alternatively, I could try to make my way to Switzerland and get interred for the rest of the war. I'd be safe, and reasonably comfortable, if I made it. It was a nice day today but it was October, I didn't know how much longer it would be until the winter storms hit. I could end up trapped in the mountains and dying of starvation or freezing to death. Or I could make it through the mountains and end up in Austria and be captured by the Germans, a lot of work and risk for not much gain.
Finally, I could try to make my way west, out of the mountains and out of Germany and into France. In France I might be able to contact the French resistance and actually get back to England, or I could be turned over to the Germans.
If my ankle wasn't injured I wouldn't be thinking about the alternatives, I'd be making my way west while trying to stay as close to Switzerland as possible. If I could make it to France I would go for it, otherwise I'd make sure it was Switzerland I was north of and turn myself in to them.
After another minute I decided what the hell, I wouldn't know how far my ankle would carry me until I tried so I might as well get started. I could always give up to the Germans if there wasn't any alternative to dying, but that was a last resort. I didn't have much interest in spending the rest of the war, however long that was, in some prison camp. I had even less interest in seeing how I enjoyed being raped, so I thought I'd give escaping a shot.
I wanted to keep the parachute with me, both so the Germans wouldn't have a starting point for their search for me and because I could use the material. I spent several minutes packing it more tightly, I didn't try to repack it for a jump but I did get it mostly contained in its bag, tied up with a couple of shroud lines.
I got to my feet and found I could manage a stumbling limp; I worked my way down to the tree line and spent a couple minutes looking for a good branch I could use as a walking stick. I had to go thirty or forty yards inside the tree line before I found a dead branch that was suitable, then spent a couple of minutes cutting it free and cleaning it of smaller branches and rough spots.
I was aware the smoke of the forest fire was getting heavier; I needed to get a move on it. I started my hike and quickly realized going through the forest, even as small and sparse as it was near the tree line, was going to be tough. I worked my way back up until I was above the tree line; I decided to head west and parallel it until I was well clear of where Barbie had crashed. It looked like before I went too far I'd curve around the side of the mountain I was on and I'd have a better view of what lay to the south. Then I might be able to figure out exactly where I was.
I had only made it about a hundred yards when a voice called from behind me, "HEY! BARB! WAIT UP!"
