Defiant Heart (37 page)

Jon yanked open the door and found himself looking down at the City of Bremen passing 25,000 feet below him. The bomb bay doors were still open, though the bombs had been released. As Jon stepped out on the catwalk that led forward through the bomb bay, the only thing between him and the ground was the narrow width of steel on which he was standing.

On either side of the catwalk, there were two pairs of metal rails, one at waist and one at knee level. Gripping the upper rails, and telling himself not to look down, Jon stepped quickly across the gaping maw. At the far end, he grabbed the handle of the forward compartment door and twisted. The door immediately flew open, violently striking him in the chest and the side of his face. He was thrown backward several feet. His back struck the catwalk, and he immediately slid off. As he fell out into the open space of the bomb bay, Jon instinctively threw out his right arm, and his hand slapped the catwalk. He closed his fingers and just managed to catch the far edge of the narrow platform. With a sudden jerk, it arrested his fall, but left him hanging by one hand, his legs dangling out of the bomb bay. Through the panic, Jon realized he was not wearing his parachute.

Jon’s purchase on the edge of the catwalk slipped, and his leather glove began to slide across the surface of the walkway. He was a fraction of a second away from falling out of the plane. The instant before he lost contact with the catwalk, Jon did a scissor kick, lunged upward, and reached out blindly with his left hand, trying to grab the lower support rail. As his right hand separated from the platform, his left closed on the narrow rail. He dangled by one arm for a moment. Then he flung his right arm over and managed to grab the rail with his other hand. He was now hanging from the rail out into space.

He tried to swing his right leg up onto the catwalk. but he couldn’t get it high enough, and it dropped back down. He knew he couldn’t keep his grip on the support rail for much longer.

He gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and, with all the strength he could muster, he pulled hard with his arms to raise himself, at the same moment kicking his right leg up and over. The back of his shoe thankfully struck the catwalk. Hanging awkwardly now by two hands and a foot, he used the leverage of his right leg to bring his other leg up, and he planted his left heel on the metal walkway. Then he slid his right foot over, feeling for the far edge. He found it and hooked it with the toe of his shoe. With the last of his strength, he swung himself to the right and, using the purchase that he had with his right foot, threw his body onto the walkway. Shifting his right hand to the opposite support rail, he found his balance and stood shakily.

He knew he had two choices. Return to the radio compartment, strap on his parachute and jump, or try to reach the cockpit. He thought of Reyes and Roth. They would probably die if he made the former decision, though he had to consider the possibility they were already dead.

He wasted no more time. Fighting the blast of cold air rushing through the opening at the front of the bomb bay, he pulled himself forward along the catwalk and stepped through the doorway.

He looked toward the front of the plane, and the sight that greeted him was completely disorienting. The area below the cockpit, which should have been the nose compartment where the navigator and bombardier sat, was open to the sky. Kovalesky had been right. The whole front of the plane was gone.

Lying in two heaps at his feet were Reyes and Roth. Neither man was conscious. Jon did a quick check to see if their oxygen masks were attached and hooked to the supply. They were, and he could see that both were taking breaths, though they were very shallow. He realized that he had been unconnected to oxygen since he’d left the radio compartment. He didn’t know how long that had been, but he would certainly pass out soon unless he was reconnected.

Leaning into the rush of air coming through the gaping hole in the front of the plane, Jon lifted himself up into the cockpit. Blood had splattered the instrument panel. Below it, beyond the throttle controls and rudder pedals, he could see more daylight. Kovalesky had taken Roth’s seat. His head was darting back and forth as though he were reading the controls, but he did not have his hand on the yoke, nor did he appear to have his feet on the rudder.

Murphy was still strapped in his seat. A piece of shrapnel had almost decapitated him, and his body was soaked in his own blood. Jon reached across, unhooked Murphy’s oxygen hose and connected his own. He did the same thing with his interphone jack. As soon as it was plugged in, he was greeted by multiple voices.

“I don’t know,” he heard Kovalesky saying. “We’ve got to jump,” said Gooch. “Watch for fighters,” came Shim’s voice.

Kovalesky had noticed Jon and had turned toward him. “I can’t fly this thing,” he said.

Jon reached down and undid the straps still holding Murphy in the copilot’s seat. He put his hands under Murphy’s arms and pulled as hard as he could. The man’s body slowly slid out of the seat. He allowed it to drop down through the narrow passageway leading to the nose compartment.

Jon climbed up and into the blood soaked copilot’s seat. He looked down at the autopilot control panel. All of the switches were toggled to the “on” position, where Roth had set them prior to the bombing run. Despite the damage to her nose section, the plane was still flying straight and level, though, as Jon looked at the altimeter, he could see they were slowly losing altitude. They were now down to 18,000 feet, a drop of 7,000 from the mission altitude.

The remainder of the formation would have turned following the bomb run, the second plane in their element moving up to take the lead in place of the crippled Deuces Wild, all in accordance with operating procedure. Jon looked, and as he expected, he could see no other bombers.

The Deuces Wild was flying alone and headed deeper into Germany.

If they were to have any chance of survival, Jon knew, he had to turn the plane around. He put his feet on the rudder pedals and gripped the yoke with his right hand. With his left, he reached down and flipped the master bar on the autopilot control panel to the left, disengaging the autopilot. He now had control of the aircraft.

He banked the plane slightly to the left and began what he hoped would be a full turn. Compared to the Jenny, the response from the bomber was incredibly slow. He was relieved to see, however, that it did appear to be reacting as it should.

“Meyer’s flying the plane,” Kovalesky announced over the interphone.

After a moment, Gooch’s voice came over the system. “Jon, do you know what you’re doing?”

Jon wasn’t sure how to answer to that. His exposure to B-17 controls had consisted of a few minutes quizzing Tommie Wheeler. But, if ever there was a time for on-the-job training, he figured, this was it. Finally, he said, “We’ll see. In the meantime, make sure your chutes are strapped on. Be ready to bail at a moment’s notice. Keep your eyes peeled for bandits.”

Jon turned to Kovalesky. “Sir, you might want to man the top turret.”

Kovalesky looked at him blankly for a moment. Then it registered. He nodded, unhooked his oxygen and interphone, and awkwardly climbed out of the pilot’s seat. Jon did a quick check of the instrument panel. Number three engine was out, but the other three seemed to be ok.

Jon was surprised they hadn’t yet been attacked by any of the German fighters. He figured they must have decided the Deuces Wild was finished and stayed with the formation. The minute any fighter noticed the plane flying under the control of a pilot, all bets would be off. The Germans, of course, would have no way of knowing the pilot was a non-commissioned radio operator with less than twenty hours at the controls of a Curtiss JN-4 Jenny.

Jon knew the protocol for a bomber separated from its formation was to drop down to tree top level to avoid detection from both anti-aircraft gunners and enemy fighters. However, from that altitude, the men would not be in a position to bail out. Uncertain what he should do, Jon was about to poll the crew when there was an abrupt shout.

“Bandits, three o’clock, high.” It was Kovalesky.

Gooch chimed it. “I count two. Look like Ju 88s.”

After a moment, Kovalesky said, “I think they’re planning to come at us from behind.”

“Works for me,” Shim said.

Not that it was of much comfort, but Jon thought the German pilots were making a tactical error not attacking the plane head on. From the front, a lone bomber would be most vulnerable, particularly one whose nose had been blown off, taking away the two guns mounted in the forward compartment that the bombardier and navigator manned when not otherwise engaged in their primary duties.

Jon looked about for cloud cover. Below him at his eleven o’clock was a series of fluffy cumulus clouds, not the solid blanket he was hoping for, but better than nothing. He allowed the plane to continue turning until he’d lined the clouds up directly ahead.

“Radio operator to crew. I’m going to put us in a dive. Don’t panic. I’m going to try to get us into some clouds ahead and below us.”

“Good,” Gooch said.

Jon pushed the yoke forward. The plane’s nose, or, rather, the mangled stub that now passed for its nose, dipped, and they began to pick up speed.

“Here they come,” called Shim.

After a moment, Shim’s guns began to yammer. Jon could also hear Kovalesky firing bursts from the top turret. He saw tracer fire from the German fighters arcing over the left wing, and then the shells found the number two engine. The Deuces Wild shuddered from the impact.

The Germans passed directly overhead, apparently overshooting the bomber, and Kovalesky rotated the top turret, trying to bring fire to bear.

The oil pressure on number two engine began to drop precipitously. Realizing he had to act before he lost all pressure, Jon quickly reached over, shut the engine down and adjusted the pitch to feather the propeller as Tommie had shown him.

“The bastards are coming around again,” Gooch said.

The tips of the nearest cumulus cloud reached up and tickled the Deuces Wild. Jon flattened out the dive and gratefully eased the bomber into the protective cover of the clouds. The world around them went white.

“All right, Jon,” Gooch shouted. “Way to go.”

It was a short-lived respite. The bomber suddenly burst through the other side of the cloud and into the clear. Jon aimed for the next cloud, which appeared to be about a mile away.

Again, the bomber’s gunners opened up, and, again, Jon felt the plane shudder as the fire from at least one of the German fighters found the right wing and began tracing a path to number four engine. Then they were again in a cloud, and Jon immediately banked to throw the Germans off target, allowing the bomber to slip slightly in altitude before bringing her level again. It worked, as the shells from the German fighters stopped impacting the wing.

Jon looked anxiously at the dials indicating the status of the number four engine. He wasn’t sure he could get them back to England on two engines, but he knew he’d never be able to do it on one. The pressure and temperature seemed to be holding.

They slipped once more out of the clouds, but, almost immediately, they were back in. Jon noted their heading. They were flying almost due west. This course would take them across the Netherlands and out over the North Sea, assuming they were able to stay in the air that long. Their altitude was just under ten thousand feet.

“Radio operator to crew. We’re under ten thousand, so you can remove your oxygen masks.”

He checked his gauges. The oil pressure on number four had dropped slightly.

There was movement behind him. Kovalesky climbed down from the upper turret and crouched by the bodies of Reyes and Roth. Then he came forward and tapped Jon’s shoulder. Over the noise of the wind and the engines, he shouted, “They’re alive, but in bad shape. What do you think we should do?”

Jon pointed to Kovalesky, then up at the top turret. Then he brought a finger to his ear, indicating the interphone. Kovalesky nodded, and he climbed back up into the turret.

When he was confident Kovalesky was settled in, Jon keyed his microphone.

“Radio operator to crew. Here’s the status. Roth and Reyes are wounded badly. There’s no way they’d survive a jump. We’re down to two engines, numbers one and four, and number four is running rough. If we lose it, we won’t have a choice. We’ll have to bail and take our chances. I don’t know how long this cloud cover will last, but I’m inclined to stay at this altitude for as long as it does. If we lose the cloud cover, then it’s decision time. I can take us down to tree top level. Problem is, it’ll be dangerous trying to bail out from there, so, if we do drop down, at that point, it’s do or die with the engines. I’m prepared to take the chance, but nobody else has to. You don’t have to make the choice now. But if we pass into the clear, everyone will have to decide for himself. Jump or stay with the plane.”

There was a long silence. Then Gooch’s voice came over the interphone. “Waist gunners understand.”

“Roger that.” It was Shim.

“Understood,” Kovalesky said.

“Ditto,” Graham said.

They managed to stay in the clouds for about forty-five minutes, finally breaking out into a magnificently clear blue sky. Jon immediately nosed the plane down. As near as he could tell, none of the crewmen had elected to bail out.

Jon brought the Deuces Wild to the point where the plane was just skimming over the tallest trees. The land below them was, for the most part, flat, and Jon hoped it meant they were over the Netherlands. They were flying at about 150 miles an hour, and, at this level, Jon was truly able to appreciate the speed. She may be a big, ungainly thing, he thought, but she still moves almost three times as fast as the Jenny. Despite the tension, it was exhilarating.

They crossed directly over a couple of military installations, but they were moving so fast that no one on the ground was able to bring any weapons to bear. Then, with no warning it was about to happen, they were suddenly out over water, and Jon could see the white caps of the waves below them.