Two hours later, Oliver blinked the ache and burn from his eyes as he folded the letter he had finished writing to his mother and addressed it.
Soldiers were encouraged before every mission to make sure their wills, life insurance policies and family letters were up to date and in order.
Oliver put the envelope on top of a small stack of others and placed them in his wooden military issued foot locker that contained his personal belongings like his uniforms, a shaving kit and small knick knacks like a metal lighter, a favorite Life Magazine, spare boot laces and letters from home.
He stretched and yawned as he begun to undress and get ready for bed. He had done everything he could to prepare. Now, he just needed to survive. He had a "date, date" to come back to.
####
"Brakes?"
"Check,"
"Intercoolers?"
"On,"
Oliver went down the pilot checklist with his co-pilot, First Lt. Jim Reed as the rest of his crew went about their own checklists and preparations for take off.
Weather over the target had been forecasted to be partly cloudy, so the mission was a go.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon as take off time fast approached. The slight chill of the early morning made the heavy leather bomber jackets the crew wore a bit easier to wear. Once they breached 10,000 feet into the clouds the uniform would be further appreciated against the freezing temperatures of altitude that high.
The background voice of his radio operator, Sgt. Pete Dennis, testing the airplane radio with the control tower could be heard. "Tower, this is Victor, Romeo, 14, do you read?"
"Loud and Clear, Victor Romeo, 14,"
"All right, everyone check in," Oliver asked over the aircraft's internal radio system.
"Tail Gunner, check,"
"Right Waist Gunner, check,"
"Left Waist Gunner, check,"
"Bombardier, check,"
Oliver listened to the familiar voices of all 8 of his crew as they checked in. They were the best of crews. The best of men. He couldn't have asked for a more cohesive team to watch his back. He took a moment to run his hand along the metal that framed the panel that displayed his flying gauges and instruments.
He pressed his palm down on the cold surface and said a silent "thank you" to the plane that always took care of him, the "Green Archer." One more time baby, we've got one more mission and then you can rest, he quietly told her. Then you can rest. Oliver swallowed back the emotion he held for his plane and took a deep breath to center his thoughts. The image of a dancing, light hearted Felicity made him smile and calmed him.
A red flare was fired into the air by the control tower signally official commencement of the mission. Oliver sent out a private prayer for his crew, Tommy and all the men going into battle today.
"Jim, you ready?" Oliver asked, as he glanced over at his co-pilot in the right seat of their small, compact cockpit. Jim was a good friend and Oliver trusted his instincts as a pilot. You wanted a man like Jim going into a mission.
"Ready," Jim shook his head, yes, as they both proceeded to turn on the sequence of switches that would start the first of 4 engines.
"Crew, prepare for take off," Oliver directed into his radio mouthpiece as engine one started, than engine two and so forth. The entire plane shuddered and vibrated as the four massive engines roared to full strength. Raw horsepower of the Archer made adrenaline coarse through each crew member. A couple of them made the sign of the cross as others felt for their good luck charms to make sure they had them. Charms like a medallion, a scarf from a gal back home and even a rubber band wrapped exactly two times around a left wrist. As long as they had them, things would work out. That's why they were called lucky charms.
"Victor, Romeo, 14, you are clear for takeoff. Give 'em hell boys," came the voice of the tower operator into the official squadron radio channel.
Oliver pushed the throttles forward and the engine thrust pushed the Archer into her last mission over Europe.
39 fellow B-17s roared to life all along the tarmac of the airport including Tommy's plane the "Bird of Prey."
Flocks of birds flew overhead scared off by the intense noise and vibrations of the fortresses coming to life. The nearby farmers' fields of grain rippled in waves from the engine gusts as the bombers begun to move and form a line on the runway.
Oliver and the rest of his squadron would be rendezvousing with over 300 other B-17s from North and South Britain for a combined bombing mission to Germany. To try to confuse the Germans as to where the exact mission target would be; mass numbers of planes were sent out and routed in 3 different directions as they cleared Britain. The size of the bombing campaigns were tremendous.
####
"5 miles pass Brighton, Captain," the Archer's navigator's voice came over the intercom as the planes entered the English Channel and their rendezvous point.
"Roger that," Oliver acknowledged the message and put his oxygen mask on.
Thirty minutes into the mission and they had finally reached their cruising altitude of 10,000 feet.
"Crew, put on your oxygen masks and remember not to touch your guns without your gloves. Time to test your guns." Oliver commanded as the squadron settled into formation and gunfire could be heard.
Small, fast Allied fighter jets came into view soon after and settled in near the bombers. They would be a protective escort for as long as they could. The B-17s were a fortress that contained eleven 50-cal. machine guns mounted all around her fuselage as well as carrying up to 17,000 lbs of bombs to be dropped. Even with all that gun power they were bulky and slower compared to enemy fighters.
"Our little friends are here," Jim said over the internal plane radio as everyone looked out their windows and spotted the Allied fighter jets.
The lead B-17 of the mission, whose Bombardier would lead the squadron over the target and begin the drop of bombs, was named "The Liberty" and Oliver knew the crew well. Their Captain was known for his dry, quick humor.
"Captain can we listen to the AFN while it lasts?" Pete asked over the comms as he found the Armed Forces Network music coming through loud and clear. At least till they got too far out of range of the mainland.
"For a few minutes, Pete." Everyone keep your eyes open we're nearing enemy territory,"
The pleasant sounds of dance music came across everyone's comms and they were able to forget where they were for a short time.
"Bogie, 3 o'clock," was yelled, over the radio as enemy fighters were spotted. Gunfire exploded as a dogfight commenced all around them. Sounds of war and bullets and blood spilling filled the air. They remembered where they were now.
"Incoming, 5 o'clock," came from the tail gunner as he let out controlled bursts of bullets.
"3 at 9 o'clock," hundreds and hundreds of bullets spewed through the air as enemy fighters zipped in and around the bombers trying to take them down.
"Got one coming in fast, 1 o'clock high," came from the Archer's right side waist gunner.
"Come on, come on, closer...gotcha!"
Smoke came out from the tail of the enemy fighter as it was hit and lost control. It began its downward spiral towards the ocean.
As Oliver's crew watched the fighter go down it clipped the tail of "The Liberty" and broke the B-17 in half. Screams of the crew of "The Liberty" could be heard over the official squadron radio as their fortress dropped through the sky in two pieces.
"Oh my god,"
"Any parachutes? Call out as you see them," Oliver instructed his crew as they all watched in shock and waited to see if there were to be any survivors.
"Come on, get out. Get out,"
"I see two, there's two, Cap,"
"Pete, write that down in the log," Oliver instructed so they could pass that on to command for rescue information.
"Captain, that makes us the lead aircraft," Jim said, over the Archer intercom as he looked at Oliver stunned and shocked from the loss of friends.
Oliver took several deep breaths as gunfire continued all around and the pieces of "The Liberty" fell from view. He hated this war.
####
"Navigator, current location?" Oliver asked as he assessed the situation.
"That's the Third Reich down there, Captain," came the slightly shaky voice as the plane entered German occupied Europe and the allied escort fighters continued their dogfight and downing of enemy fighters. They drew the fighters back towards the water as the B17s continued advancing. The fortresses were now on their own.
"This is the Captain of the Green Archer, assuming lead aircraft position," Oliver said short and concisely over the squadron radio channel of the remaining armada of fortresses counting on him. Emotion had no place in that moment. The mission was the priority.
As the Archer took over as the lead aircraft, flak from ground anti-aircraft guns began firing into the air. The Archer shook from the massive force of explosions all around it. Black puffs of explosions caused massive turbulence as the B-17 took a beating.
The planes could not go higher than 10,000 feet if they wanted to be able to see their targets below, so enemy flak artillery was dangerous and deadly.
German fighter jets deployed by nearby German bases were now descending on the squadron once again. The fortresses were being hit on all sides. Two more B-17s were shot down as they fought their way to their target.
Neither of them were Tommy's, thank god, Oliver thought. He was still going.
"10 minutes to target, Captain,"
"Bombardier, prepare for assuming control over the plane," commanded Oliver as the crew prepared for First. Lt. Baker Brightman, BB, to take over flying the fortress as he looked through his scope to find the target and drop his bombs. After the Archer released her bombs the rest of the squadron would drop theirs in sequence. Hundreds of bombs would be let loose.
The Archer shuddered as flak hit the right side of her fuselage. Holes and bent metal were left behind.
"Assuming control…..now, Captain," came, BB's, calm clipped voice. Oliver hated the dangerous minutes where he had no control over his plane, but that was necessary for the precise and safe release of bombs over targets. They were all there to win the war, but not at the cost of innocent lives if at all possible. Bombardiers had the sole responsibility of locating the correct targets.
"There's too much cloud cover," BB said with nerves of steel. Oliver had to smirk at BB's resoluteness. He had the best crew.
"BB, we only have minutes till we're pass target range," Oliver said, reminding the bombardier of nothing he didn't already know. It would be incredibly dangerous to have the squadron turn around and make a second attempt. Too damn dangerous. Oliver closed his eyes to see a pair of beautiful blue grey ones smiling back at him.
"I can't see clear enough….wait, here we go," BB said, as a hole in the clouds miraculously opened and the two distinct rectangle buildings of the ammunition factory came into focus directly below.
"Releasing," BB said, as hundreds of bombs dropped and one after the other each B-17 released their payload on the enemy city of Bremen.
"Archer back to you, Captain," BB said, as he sat back and released the breath he'd been holding. He sat back and thanked god for the break in the clouds. Mission accomplished.
"Roger that, BB. Let's head home boys," Oliver said, as they corrected course to head back towards Britain.
The explosive flak was getting heavier as the fortresses made their way around the city they just bombed. The sky was literally black with exploding gunpowder. Three of the B-17s towards the back of the flying formation were lagging slowing behind from aircraft and or engine damage.
Everyone knew that the laggers were prey for predators. Once they could no longer keep up with the rest of the squadron formation, enemy fighters could easily go after them. Just like a predator stalking a herd of cattle. The weakest calf were always victims.
"Incoming fighters," came from the left waist gunner as he started firing 50 caliber bullets and the empty bullet shells fell all across the floor of the plane.
Enemy gunfire lit up the entire side of the Archer leaving holes and damaging engine one of the left side of the plane. The jolt was swift and the plane dropped in altitude.
"2 o'clock high," came the right waist gunner as more fighters descended on them.
Flak hit the right side engine and it caught fire.
"Intercoolers on Captain," automatically yelled Jim, as he immediately turned on the extinguishers trying to kill the fire in the right side wing. It didn't do any good, the flames increased.
"We'll need to dive, Captain," Jim said, as he looked to Oliver and nodded that it was the only way to kill the fire.
"Crew, we need to dive to put out the engine fire. Hold on," Oliver relayed to the rest of the crew who were busy firing guns behind him.
Oliver and Jim started the nose dive that would cause the Archer to accelerate straight towards the ground. Each second they fell through the sky brought them closer and closer to possible death. The flames started to stutter and go out, till finally they did completely.
"Up, up," Oliver directed as both he and Jim pulled their yokes back as hard as they could. The Archer shook in distress at the change in direction and acceleration.
They leveled off but the plane was damaged. With only two working engines and flak damage to the tail they limped their way behind the squadron formation that was already far ahead of them.
Before Oliver could formulate a plan an enemy fighter jet came at them. He was targeting their engines. Engine 3 on the right side was shot out leaving them crippled with only one engine and the plane began to drop immediately.
"He's too fast, I couldn't get him," called out the waist gunners as they tried their best to down the enemy fighter that may have just killed them.
Oliver could see the English Channel in the horizon. They were going to have to try and land in the water.
"Crew, we're losing altitude and speed rapidly. Throw your guns and everything of weight out the sides," Oliver needed to try and get the plane on the water. They had to lighten the weight of the aircraft as much as possible. Their airspeed was decreasing at an alarming rate.
"Mayday, mayday, this is Victor Romeo 14, I repeat mayday. Emergency landing, south of the English Channel over Holland," Oliver said into the radio. The plane wasn't going to make the water.
"Crew, assume ditching position, NOW,"
Everyone except Oliver and Jim ran to the radio room and hunkered down in a group on the floor and braced for impact.
It came fast. It came hard. And all went black.