Shadow of the Condor
Posts: 394
Joined: 2/9/2004 From: Chicago Status: offline
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24 May 42 Wx: Partly Cloudy 0720L…onboard B-17E “Lefty”…codename Bulldog-Four… Tim Greer adjusted his seat and reached for the strap to adjust his seat harness. Ever since take-off from Garbutt airfield, his shoulder had been complaining. At about 240 miles out from the base, clear weather allowed his crew a virtually unobstructed view of the water’s surface. Muttering to himself, and playing with the buckle, he finally released the strap and he could feel his shoulder sigh in relief. Leaning back, he relaxed a bit. A veteran of 10 search missions, he knew the day’s flight was going to be long. One had to fight the boredom and ever-unchanging view outside the plane that threatened to lull one to sleep. Glancing rightt, he spoke to his copilot. “Thanks, Phil. I’ll take her ba……” A voice over the intercom cut off Greer. “Sir…Jenkins. Dead ahead …ships.” Greer scanned forward, and saw the dots on the surface of the ocean. His bombardier in the nose of the plane called out four ships he could make out through his bubble. “Look alive guys…” Greer knew where there were ships, there were usually also planes. Throughout the interior of the bomber, 7 men began to once more check their .50-caliber machine guns. The eighth, radio operator Sgt. Wilson, got out his pad, strapped it to his thigh and got ready to copy the contact report. Greer dove towards the ships. There was nowhere to hide on such a clear day, so he decided to get the best look as possible at these ships. Wakes became visible north of the ships, who were coming into focus in the classic wedge shape of a task force. Jenkins began calling off types as best he could. He counted four cruisers, one battleship, and several escorts around the perimeter of the force. Greer confirmed the contact report through the intercom and Wilson began keying the transmitter. Explosions started to occur around the bomber, and Greer vectored the big aircraft away from the ships at a ninety degree angle, trying to give the ships as little of a target as he could. Two shells did hit the bomber, but its massive bulk simply absorbed them and continued away while the airspeed climbed towards, but tantalizingly close to 300 mph. Greer climbed up to 35,000 feet as the crew donned oxygen masks and turned on their suit and compartment heaters. He wanted to be above any fighters that happened to show up. He knew they would. 0744L…Townsville Command Center… Major Jefferies showed his ID to the guard at the steel doors, and received a salute and entry into the Center. Walking through the airlock of this building always gave him the shivers. Claustrophobic at heart, he didn’t care to be anywhere where there weren’t at least windows. Shoving that thought aside, he descended the stairs and entered the plotting room. A large sheet of Perspex showed the immediate area of the city, as well as the approaches offshore. About 240 miles out from the shore, he saw a large red arrow… “Jefferies!” The colonel handed him the contact report. “From one of your “bulldog” aircraft on search. It looks like a bombardment group headed this way – maybe even the same one that blew the ‘ell out of the chaps in New Guinea.” “Was the bomber intercepted, sir?” Jefferies knew what the bombardment force could do, but knew Townsville was in better shape to repel the force than Moresby ever could have been. “No, he reported some ack-ack, but no fighters. He’s trailing force now.” They were both interrupted by an announcement and a corporal making another red mark on the clear map. "Enemy gound forces at Cairns." Jefferies watched the corporal make the second red arrow further west along the coast road, and picked up the phone himself. 0747L…Aitkenville Weir airbase…near Townsville… The klaxon had been going for some thirty seconds by the time Lt. McGee had clambered into his P-39D. While he was being strapped in by his ground crew, he ran through his orders mentally…not that there was a lot to them. “Hit the nips while they’re out at sea. I don’t know why they sailed in this close. Maybe someone on their side screwed the pooch. Maybe we got lucky…I don’t care. You can bet your backside they’re going to try and high-tail it out of there now that they’ve been found.” McGee looked left and right. With his engine running and the ground chocks cleared, he began to taxi towards the runway. The rest of the 36th Fighter Squadron’s “Flying Fiends” followed him. 1010L… engaging enemy task force…200 miles north of Townsville… McGee led his section in at 100 feet. At this height, it was hoped he would remain under most of the enemy’s guns, yet still be able to hammer the ships with a variety of 50 caliber machine guns along with 20mm and 37mm cannon shells. Unfortunately for McGee, and the others, the ships they targeted were heavy cruisers, designed to withstand assaults with armored decking. Still, they were there, they had bombs, and they pressed the attack. The squadron had trained for this kind of mission, and would strafe the target until they had to rise up to lob their bombs at the ships. McGee’s wingman, who had just joined the squadron two days earlier, pulled up too early, and drew the fire of almost every AA gun on the cruiser, with predictable results. This did, however give McGee an almost free pass as long as he did not fly to the other side of the ship. He banked and released the bomb a split second later. He vectored away from the ships at low altitude for a count of fifty, then climbed back to 6000 feet. Amazingly, no fighters were on hand to interfere with the planes. The bombs, however, did not produce spectacular results. Hits were scored, although none of the bombs found their way to the vital innards of the ships. Still, two ships were set afire, and one had slowed considerably. The planes reformed and flew back home, hoping to get another chance at the ships while light was still available. 1400L…Aitkenville Weir airfield…near Townsville… McGee had counted noses when he returned, and found two missing. His wingman, who had been blotted out of the sky when he exposed his underbelly to every AA gun on the cruiser was one. His plane had been reloaded and refueled, but this time, when he tried to start the aircraft nothing happened. Cursing loudly, he waited while the ground crew tore apart the plane searching for the reason for the failure. Finally, the crew chief clambered up onto the wing and leaned in the cockpit. “It’s no good, sir…The shaft has been hit, and it warped against the housing. She won’t turn.” “Fix it now man, I need to get airborne!!!” But the chief had already hopped off the wing, and was motioning the crew to put the chocks back on the wheels. McGee yelled after him, but the NCO never looked back, running to another plane whose tire exploded while taxiing. McGee fumed while the others in his squadron were taking off. He never got out of his cockpit until they returned… 1700L…briefing room…operations building…Noumea, New Caledonia… “Troops ashore at Cairns, another expeditionary force. Not this time, tho. We have an entire brigade waiting for them. Enemy strength estimate less than a company ashore. I guess they figured we left Cairns as well.” The admiral wasn’t looking at the Australian coast on the map. His eyes went from the action reports back to the map. Finally, he asked the obvious question. “The enemy ships had no fighter cover?” A young commander spoke a little too quickly. “No sir!! And the Army’s aircraft hit them good! One cruiser was seen to have slowed considerably, with two more on fire. They may have even blunted the attack. We anticipate this was a bombardment TF, ordered to hit Townsville to protect the invasion forces at Cairns.” “With no fighter cover?” The admiral tried to keep his voice level. “I don’t think so. Barely 200 troops in an enemy landing…I don’t think so at all.” Another admiral in the room picked up on the thought. “Pretty expensive bait though, sir.” “Yes it is. So expensive we would be foolish to think it was anything other than a main threat axis. But I just don’t think so. It’s too easy.” The young commander in the room wondered just what he had said that was so wrong…… The CR: AFTER ACTION REPORTS FOR 05/24/42 Weather: Partly Cloudy Air attack on TF at 13,55 Allied aircraft P-400 Airacobra x 14 P-39D Airacobra x 21 P-40E Kittyhawk x 16 Allied aircraft losses P-400 Airacobra x 1 destroyed P-400 Airacobra x 1 damaged P-39D Airacobra x 1 destroyed P-39D Airacobra x 1 damaged Japanese Ships CL Yubari, Shell hits 4 CA Aoba CA Myoko, Shell hits 20, Bomb hits 6, on fire CA Kinugasa, Shell hits 24, Bomb hits 2 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Air attack on TF at 13,55 Allied aircraft P-400 Airacobra x 10 P-39D Airacobra x 3 Allied aircraft losses P-400 Airacobra x 1 damaged Japanese Ships CA Myoko, Shell hits 12, Bomb hits 1, on fire CL Yubari, Shell hits 4 CA Aoba, Shell hits 8, Bomb hits 1 CA Haguro, Shell hits 8 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ground combat at Dobadura Japanese Deliberate attack Attacking force 441 troops, 0 guns, 0 vehicles Defending force 0 troops, 0 guns, 0 vehicles Japanese assault odds: 9 to 1 (fort level 0) Japanese forces CAPTURE Dobadura base !!! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
< Message edited by Shadow of the Condor -- 5/9/2004 8:49:39 PM >
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