Walking up to the flight line, the new guy... I was it. A row of shiny P47s was ready and waiting for us. Guys I've just met, some I've heard about, others as faceless as myself. I wonder who will make it back.
Our mission was to escort a wave of bombers to some port whose name escapes me. The Germans would be waiting, my palms are sweating.
Finally, we load up and launch. I form up with Frenchy trying hard not to get lost. After a few minutes, I get comfortable as it's going to be a long flight. I wonder where the bombers are??
We arrive over the coast at 25,000 feet, well above the clouds that have the target blanketed. How will the bombers ever SEE the target??
Frenchy keeps our wing high above the clouds looking for any sign of enemy contact. I see a dot below me!! I roll my Thunderbolt on her side for a better look and whatever it was disappears into the clouds below. I level again, where's my wingies?? Oh great, separated in a plane I've yet to become familiar with. I spot some dots in the distance, WOW!! A whole squadron of bombers are inbound.
Radio chatter starts about enemy fighters here and there and the bombers are looking for escort... OUR escort! I immediately head to the bomber stream and see a FW190 knife through the stream of tracers thrown up by the valiant gunners. I look and another FW190 is setting up HIGH above the stream, near him are my misplaced wingmen. They engage the 190 briefly as I attempt to even the odds to 3-to-1
The 190 does the smart thing and dives for the cloud deck, I do the dumb thing and chase him taking a snapshot whenever I can. The pilot is rolling wildly and it's working. I break through the clouds over a huge city complex, I can see smoke from where the bombers have had some successes.
Before I realized where I was, I saw the anti-aircraft tracers. I imagined the smile on the 190 pilot's face as the tracers started arcing toward me. I did the only thing I could do... firewalled the engine and shut my eyes heading west.
Unfortunately, the legendary ruggedness of the P47 failed me this day through no fault of it's own as cannon shells from the ground tore the right wing from the fuselage. I barely managed to bail out due to my low altitude but German sentries still spotted me on the way down.
For now, I will bide my time in this camp under the control of a German officer named Klink, poised to escape at any minute as I am anxiously awaiting another mission.
