As many folks know, I'm a sucker for WW2 aviation history, and I try to bring that into the game as much as I can. I like to imagine CorkyJr, 38 parts distributor, back in 43-44 hard at work trying to survive and have a laugh at the same time. The latest AH silliness/drama was the inspiration for the following. My apologies in advance
March 28, 1944, a forward airfield, somewhere on an island in the Southwest Pacific
80th Headhunter CO, CorkyJr leaned back in his chair in the Ops building and sighed, wondering why he’d gotten up so early. Outside the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. The sounds of Allison engines being run up could be heard as the ground crews readied the 80th P-38s for another day’s hunting.
In front of Corky was his desk, piled with stacks of papers he’d been ignoring for days. Request forms for 38 parts, duct tape, medicinal alcohol and blender parts awaited his signature. A stack of conscientious objector status forms sat in another pile, returned to him after being rejected by 5th Fighter Command. Ever since his first request had inadvertently put him in charge of the 80th, he’d been trying to right the wrong.
Corky sighed again and opened the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a bottle, pondering if 6:00AM was too soon to start drinking. Convincing himself that it was just fine, Corky poured himself a glass and reached back and turned on the radio that was on a table behind him. It was always fun to listen to the radio this time of day.
“This is Tokyo Rox coming to you in the morning with all the latest war news and music to get you through those early morning flights.”
Corky laughed. The Tokyo Rox show was his favorite. The blend of comedy, propaganda and good music made for good listening.
Tokyo Rox’s sultry voice continued, “As usual the war news is nothing but good news for our forces. The combined Army, Navy and Air forces continue to advance on every front, capturing 475 bases in the last month. Our overwhelming might has met little resistance and has yet to be stopped. Enemy casualties are high, while our losses are minimal. It is safe to say that things have never been better for our men with troop morale sky high.”
Corky laughed again, wondering what war Tokyo Rox was referring to.
“In related news, the nest of spies that plagued the homeland has been removed. Letters from our soldiers all across the front praise our efforts to eliminate this scourge. Ultimate victory will be ours!”
Corky wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol working on an empty stomach, or the radio broadcast, but he was now having a hard time not giggling at every word.
Tokyo Rox’s voice began to rise. “And a special message for the 80th Headhunters and the other pilots that oppose us! You will be smashed with our mighty fist! You lying, spying dogs will be assassinated! Your defeat is inevitable!
Corky was laughing so hard that his sides hurt. There was nothing like good comedy in the morning. He wondered when the mighty fist was going to appear. He laughed again. It would happen probably about the time he got a brain transplant.
“Tokyo Rox’s voice dropped again, almost to a whisper. “But enough of this war talk. Here’s a tune just for those evil 80th Headhunters. It’s your favorite 4F Crooner, Frank Sinatra singing a Cole Porter favorite, ‘I’ve got you under my skin’.”
Frankie’s voice replaced Rox’s, as the song began to play.
I've got you under my skin
I've got you deep in the heart of me
So deep in my heart, that you're really a part of me
I've got you under my skin
I've tried so not to give in
I've said to myself this affair never will go so well
But why should I try to resist, when baby will I know so well
That I've got you under my skin
I'd sacrifice anything come what might
For the sake of having you near
In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night
And repeats, repeats in my ear
Don't you know you fool, you never can win
Use your mentality, wake up to reality
But each time I do, just the thought of you
Makes me stop before I begin
'Cause I've got you under my skin”
Corky stood up, still laughing and headed for the door, the lyric’s of the song lingering for a second. Clearly the Headhunter’s had done their job. He could see the 38s of the 80th clearly now as the sun had risen above the horizon. The other pilots of the squadron were headed for their planes.
It was time to fly
