82nd FG and 91st BG Friday night, was very fun.
<S> To all those involved; friend and foe.
This is by no means historically accurate, and possibly riddled with spelling and grammar mistakes.I did use spell check so blame Micrsoft, and i'm not the best writer in the word; you can blame my english teacher.
Lt. Charles E. Adams, a wing commander of the 82nd Fighter Group is sitting in his plane awaiting the ground crew to give him the go to crank he engines up.
Adams has served a while in the USAAF as a flier of the 82nd Fighter Group. This was one of his last missions in to Nazi Germany. An escort detail, not much expected resistance. The 91st Bomber Group (Heavy) is bombing factories producing German aircraft that day, it is their 25th and last mission before they can leave the war once and for all. Many of the crews are weary and apprehensive to set foot inside their B-17G "Flying Fortresses" that day knowing they may never step out.
Adam's plane, Judy Anne, is heating up on the runway with her engines on. The flight lead calls "roll" and he firewalls the war torn P-38 off the runway, and into the air.
Judy Anne has gotten Adams out of thick and thin in and over Italy, and now over the retreating Germany war machine. He is an excellent pilot, scouring 3 kills while over Italy in 1943. He flashes back and forth to the images of burning, falling Macchi 205s ... and B-17s with crews bailing out fifty miles behind enemy lines.
His four man flight is tasked to escort a hefty package of B-17s to a target inside Germany. Resistance is expected to be light, therefore only the four of them are assigned to a full squadron on bombers.
The pilots of the 82nd are no green airmen straight out of basic flight training, they have over 200 hours of stick time in the P-38 "Lightning", a cutting edge fight aircraft capable of reaching speeds near the speed of sound.
The pilots switch out radio frequencies, the fight is going to start soon. There are only a few short hours until they will be over the Rhine river, and into enemy flak fire.
The hours pass shortly, the flight of four breaks off to standby in their wingman pairs.
They hang 3x3, 3,000 meters above and to the 9 o'clock of the bombers, going in at 31,000 feet.
Then it starts, puff...puff...puff. Deadly 88mm flak fire pierces the air. They look like small harmless puffs of smoke, but slinging out a shower of shrapnel makes them a premier plane killer.
After a few minutes the flak fire stops, this can mean only one thing. Enemy fighters are nearby. The P-38 drivers arm their external drop tanks that they have used to get this far and drop them.
The engines begin to roar as the pilots open the throttle and gain energy.
Screams come over the radio channel, Komets...the allied airmen start to sweat, so much for the "light resistance" that was expected. It has turned into an all out brawl.
The Me-163 Komet, was a rocket with wings. Allied pilots feared this plane, twin Mk. 108 30mm cannons can tear any plane to shreds.
The 82nd pilots firewall their machines and dive in after the rockets, they are unable to catch them as they start to loose control of thier aircraft in compression.
Adams sticks high, having encountered Komets late in 1944, he know he will have a chance to kill one if he catches him zooming out of the bomber formation, and then he looks up...
A Komet is turning into him, quickly he chops the throttle down 50 percent, rolls the plane over and cranks down the flaps. Everything rolls perfectly, Judy Anne
seems to glide through the air like a feather falling to the ground.
Adams fires a burst of deadly MG and cannon rounds into the Komets fuselage. Adams stares up...the flaming wreck of a plane is floting the air with no wings, no tail, not even a pilot. He has made his first kill of the day. But, he isn't out of the woods yet.
The gunners of the 91st are already running low on ammo and morale, they are hurling rounds of machine gun at the Me 163s, but to little avail.
Already, many of the bomber pilots and crews will not be making it home, or be able to stencil on a 25th decal on their plane's nose.
Through all this commotion, Adams sees another Komet closing on his 6 o'clock. He quickly reverses going parallel with the Luftwaffe pilot's plane. Adams looks up and can see the glint of his opponents visor 200 feet away from him.
This is no ordinary pilot, he is well trained. Able to turn with Adam's lightning at 350 miles an hour. They quickly enter a long and drawn out rolling scissors.
Stall horn blaring in Adam's face, he pulls his plane around to meet his enemies guns again, he cannot get around fast enough. The rocket pilots fires, Adams braces himself...nothing. He quickly realizes that the German pilot missed, he whips the planes nose around on the verge of a stall at 82 miles per hour.
He holds down the trigger, seconds later the Komet falls out of the sky; with a wing missing, leaking fuel.
More shouts over his radio, his number two is in trouble. A Komet has saddled up on him, opening up his throttle once again he screams earthward. Plane shaking, palms sweating he squeezes off a long burst on the Me 163. A 20mm pieces the fuel tank full of hazardous rocket fuel and instantly ignites causing an explosion of great magnitude.
The few bombers that made it past the first wave of attackers, drop on their targets. The 91st Bomb Group is renounced for their accuracy even bombing upwards of 28,000 they hit their targets dead on.
Headed for home the attackers head back the way them came. Planes battered, crew members wounded, planes trashed.
The 91st has lost many of its planes. But, as the bombers fly home, they see two silver glints of light on the horizon. Judy Anne, and Pudgy are cruising at 31,000 again sweeping over the bombers yelling "Lucky 25" over the radio.
Low on gas, the lightning pilots lower their throttle and cruise home with the bombers, another day gone by, another fight finished, another step taken towards Berlin.
As they are taxing into their planes on the tarmac, Adams flashes back to the image of that Macchi over Italy, two years ago. It was his first kill. The Komet flashes in his head also, then he realizes, he has become an ace.
There are flocks of people on the tarmac. Ground crews, pilots, bombardiers, medical staff, and officers look onward to see the battered "Ragged Irregulars" land. It is their 25th mission, although they have lost a lot of excellent men they have also served their duty and will be released to go home.
Through all of this, Adams walks off quietly into the officers club, when he is asked how many kills he has gotten, he replies "three", then softly says "The only thing the Luftwaffe has done for me is made me an ace".
