1275psi
Posts: 7979
Joined: 4/17/2005
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5/10/43
War is a muddle. Seldom, if ever, do things go to plan. For 47th, today never has a truer statement been made.
They begin the day confused, fight confused, finish confused.
But they fight.
Its well before dawn when the pilot transport truck delivers him to his fighter, many kilometers from the main staging area.
Miyazuki is in a fowl mood –he has missed breakfast –sleeping in just 5 minutes too long has proven fatal today –the vast numbers of extra pilots and crewmen who flew in last night has overwhelmed the galley – it either eat, or miss the truck.
The mood improves somewhat when the ground crew meet him –his plane is ready –even polished today –and the chief –who knows his man –has a good lump of bread for him.
The crew bustle about in the pre dawn light, and Miyazuki drinks in the cool air –a good time of day before the heat begins..
Orders for the day –CAP –again.
But first Nakamura has decided to strike south again –already the distinct beat of the Helens warming up down the other end of the base travels to them.
Rabual stirs –it will be a busy day.
He signs for his plane, climbs in – so much bloody crap to wear nowdays……….
Radio check.
IT Works! – a miracle. Both he and the chief grin.
Around him, the Tigers begin to spin up – a steadily growing canopy of noise –now being drowned out as the Helens begin to rumble down the strip –deep throated roars, heavy loads being dragged into the air.
All eyes watch carefully –will any pile into the mess at the end of the strip today?, or join the growing artificial reefs in the bay?
NO –but at least two will barely get airborne –they will come about, and at least this time, safely get down.
Miyazuki runs his plane to full throttle, then satisfied, idles –the 50th is getting away –they will follow next.
The last bomber circles –heads south –he wishes them luck –there is a thick band of weather between here and Shortlands –and again he thanks heavens he does not have to try to fly through that.
All eyes are now turned east –looking at the small tower, waiting for the green flare –waiting for the word to go.
The sun breaks the horizon.
And then they wait –engines shut down –for some reason unconveyed, they wait.
And wait
And wait
They slowly cook, and wait
His stomach grumbles
The radio chatter begins – the raid –apparently, is suffering from the weather.
New voices on the net.
Alien
English
The Americans!
A runner arrives –frantic, streaming with sweat
“switch to channel 6! –the amearican carriers are nearby –standby, we are arming bombers!
Carriers?
The stomach flips –bomber escort?.
Its been a long time since they have done that – channel 6 is the bomber channel
If only nakamura would let them know what is going on
Then movement –4 bombers are moving down the strip –they taxi past, turn, line up –is that all?
Still?
Eyes turn to the tower – green flare –commence CAP –yellow –escort the bombers…
Miyazuki can see the tiny figure raise its arm on the tower –here we go again , another day of circles………….
The fare is red
Not green
The radio blares –frantic –a full stop to the thud, thud, bark, bark of AA guns breaking out all around them.
Red flare
Scramble!
Air raid red!
Adrenalin dumps through his body –a mixture of fear, excitement rush through him
He sits his goggles –waves his arms frantically-pull chocks!
Clear!
Canopy slamming shut
Throttle on, brakes off –the tiger leaps forqward –the chief sprinting at his right wing –he follows his every step –the great nose blocks all view –he must trust the NCO with everything.
STOP!
Brakes on hard –the tail lifts –and the Tiger comes periously close to digging her great blade into the strip –“BUKA!”
And Juni goes barreling past his nose –canapoy open –scarf blowing in the breeze –he looks so bloody correct………..
The chief signals go –go now!
Brakes off, hard left rudder –she bounces and bounces hard on the uneven surfaces, the edge of the strip comes under his right wing –and he guns her –the great beast howls, and she squats momentarily, and then the earth is rushing under –opposite rudder against the torque –tail up, steady, steady, airborne – oil good, fuel good, magneto’s god, manifold good –all taken in in a single glance, and he begins to climb swiftly, shadow chasing him now across the bay, gear , gear up –
The PBYb’s are flashing across the harbour at masthead height – already BELOW and BEHIND him!.
More curses –he banks hard, as hard as he can, the bombers –towers of water trailing behind them as the eggs seek Tama’s cruisers, flashing behind and below him
One bomber, however, is inverted –a blazing horror –it slams into the side of the volcano –its own miniature eruption.
The bombers are already gone, and the radio is incessantly repeating, FORM ON ME!, FORM ON ME! –and several Flares arc from the calling fighter –Juni is calling his flock.
Miyazuki unfreezes his arm –frozen on the throttle –tries to breathe –the shock of such swift action upon him
“BUKA!< BUKA!< BUKA”
The barsteds. Gutsy though –gutsy as hell.
47th, 85th, 65th, even some of the 50th, a swarm of fighters, are gathering over Rabual now- and now the muddle begins.
Who is escort?
Who is CAP?
Channel 6 bursts into life.
The commander of the ‘strike’ if 4 bombers can be called a strike, sounds old, old indeed.
“The enemy is 240 miles to our south. I am attacking. Those who are coming, come, otherwise $%^& off!”
he is 19years old
Miyazuki glances at his fuel gauge –almost full.
He will go
The muddle sorts itself out – 4 bombers escorted by 30 odd Tigers, 30 odd Oscars, equal numbers or Tonies
The Tigers settle in 1000 feet above and behind, the Oscars close in, the Tonies lurking 3000 feet above.
Not bad for a muddle.
The weather front, that has cause such chaos in the morning, is steadily shifting south, and now the allied task forces –for this is what recon now reports –task forces – have broken clear –and attack bombers are hitting gassamatta –hitting hard.
Rabuals recon is paying a heavy price today –few of these brave men will return –but while they live –they do their duty.
The Allied CV force is pinned to a metre.
“80 miles to target”
Juni comes over the air –“test guns men”
Some rookie reports
“My guns won’t fire”
“Sir, my guns won’t fire”
A long, painful silence
“Do you want me to come over and do them for you?”
One less plane, as the rookie turns for home
47th are on the right flank, 87th on the left –85th in the middle. 22nd further out to the left
10000 feet.
Ahead –bands of scattered cloud, steadily darkening on the horizon –here –bright blue.
The sea, green
“Bandits!” bandits, left flank!”
The hellcats –stubby, stocky, nasty –sweep into the formation from the left side , and the rookies of the 22nd begin to turn in, and begin to fall…..
The hellcat pilots have a new plane, a new attitude, they know what they fly –they know how good it is –and they attack with the confidence and the courage this knowledge gives them.
The first past is brutal –the sky filling with snarling, chattering fighters, Miyazuki wings over, rolls over, places himself on the tail of one of the stubby barsteds, throttle maxed, and it out turns him, out runs him, hitting another fighter even as it escapes his attack.
“CRAP!”
And now Miyazuki is wrenching hard at the stick as a deep blue fighter, the stars and stripes vivid on its tail, its pilot upright, and so, so clean looking, his plane so startling new looking, thunders under him –and his old bird bangs and groans in protest as he wrenches every rivet getting out of its killing way.
The fight seems to go forever –a great running brawl –the hellcats diving in, blasting, the Japanese rolling, banking, trying to avoid, then to attack.
It is no place for the unskilled, those that have to think –they die.
Trailing after the fight, the markers go down, Tiger, tiger, tiger, , then as the KI61’s get in, Hellcat, hellcat, hellcat –and then again, tiger, oscar, hellcat – it goes on, and on, no quarter given, nove expected
The bombers lose their nerve way, way out –they dive –drop at some way distant destroyer, and turn for home –no one see’s the cats home –type, size, who knows.
Its pilots fight –and that is all that matters.
They return, in ones, in twos, in ragged batches.
It will take ages to sort it out – the word Muddle again comes to mind –and it will be after midnight before nakamura knows the score
8 tigers all up lost –4 pilots –all rookies, gone
Their will be no ashes to send home, the ocean has claimed them.
Some Oscars, no tonies
11 confirmed kills –47th now at 57
A broken bomber force
2 carrier task forces only 240 miles to the south
And Captain Tama, frantically trying to refuel his ships in the harbour –trapped .
The war has arrived –one for one today
He will take that.
Rabual works deep into the night, what will dawn bring tomorrow?
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