"Well. We do have the bombers."
"I told you. We can't touch Formosa."
"We don't have to. What about hitting their ships?
Eisenhower paused for a few seconds. "You're talking about using B-17s to attack troop transports. Can that be done?"
"Why not? We'll have to come in real low, maybe fifty feet, and most will miss, but if any hit…"
"Their fighters will be all over us."
"I didn't say it would be a free ride, Ike. I don't know how many of ours will make it back. But what else can we do?"
"I don't know. It's a pretty big sacrifice."
"I'll take that as a yes. And listen, Ike. I'm going up to direct the whole thing personally. I'll take my own squadron as part of the escort. If it looks too hopeless I'll call the whole thing off."
"Carry on, Jim. And may God watch over you."
Colonel James Doolittle eased up on the throttle of his personally modified racing P-38 and signaled for the other eleven planes in his squadron to do the same. He was anxious to try the new planes in combat. Because of his aviation record he managed to get the first dozen P-38s made for himself and his hand-picked squadron. The rest of his fighter pilots had to fly the P-40s except for the poor bastards stuck with the P-36s. Below the sparse cloud ceiling he could see the entire Jap transport fleet. He picked up the radio transmitter to contact the lead bomber pilot. "Eggbeater. This is Thunderbird One. Over."
A clear voice responded. "I got you, Thunderbird. Any luck?"
"I'll say. The whole school of fish! Their position is about twenty-three miles from you at heading one-four-niner. No sign of mosquitoes yet but I know they're out there. Signal the others to begin their approach. And be prepared to abort if things get too hot."
"Yeah, sure thing. We'll just fly home, sit in the cabana and guzzle beer, while the doughboys get plastered all over the beach."
"Just keep an ear open for my orders, smartass."
Doolittle held his squadron back, not wanting to alert the enemy before the bombers came into view. It wasn't long before he could see them down below, diving even lower. "All right, boys. It's off to the races! Thunderbird Seven through Twelve, break right. The rest, follow me." With that, he pressed the throttle and sped toward the fleet.
It wasn't long before the action started. The excited voice on the radio squealed out, "Thunderbird One. This is Thunderbird Seven. Looks like about six mosquitoes heading right for our bombers."
Doolittle responded with a calm voice. "We'll get 'em Thunderbird Seven. You just keep your eyes peeled for the main flock. Now that we've been spotted they'll be showing up any minute." He wobbled his plane to signal the rest of the squadron, then put it into a power dive heading straight for the lead enemy fighter.
Four minutes later he was circling to gain altitude. He tried not to feel too invincible as he watched the last Jap plane crash into the sea. "Thunderbird Seven. This is Thunderbird One. Enemy planes have been neutralized."
"This is Thunderbird Seven. You guys could have left some for the rest of us. Hoooweee, they sure do burn bright when they catch fire!"
"Don't worry Thunderbird Seven. That was just a scouting patrol. There'll soon be plenty for everybody. Just keep your eyes… holy shit!"
Doolittle could see two large groups of Japanese fighters coming in low from the north. "All pilots. This is Thunderbird One. We got about forty Zeros coming in. Try to stay in formation but from here on we're pretty much on our own. Protect the bombers! Let's go!"
The first group of enemy fighters dove for the bombers while the rest broke into smaller groups to attack the American fighter escort. He ignored the second group and dove straight for the first. He intercepted them just before they hit the lead B-17. A short burst from his guns started a Zero smoking; he pulled up fast to avoid a pair of enemies on his tail. He would have been a goner but at the speed he was traveling he quickly outpaced them.
Doolittle turned his plane and saw the first two B-17s being swarmed by Japanese planes. One of the American bombers already belched thick black smoke from one of the engines. He did a quick barrel roll to the right to elude the new fighters on his tail and swooped right into the thick of the fray, taking care to stay out of range of the bomber's tail gunner. He sent another Zero plummeting toward the ocean before he was able to catch his breath and assess the battle.
His fighters seemed to be doing okay so far. Although they were badly outnumbered most of the Jap fighters were concentrating on the B-17s. Of course the Zeros going up against his squadron were shocked at the speed and maneuverability of his expert flyers. The American bombers were also knocking down a few enemy planes but, for the most part, were getting hammered. At least two were down and two more were in trouble. But they were making their final runs now and it looked like most would get to drop their loads.
He gunned his engine and raced to protect the lead B-17. He shot down another Zero but three more closed in and the bomber exploded. Doolittle watched the next well-escorted B-17 drop its bombs. Great geysers erupted in front of the Jap troop ship but it remained undamaged. "Dammit!" he cursed. Then, as he watched the bomber begin to regain altitude, he realized what had to be done.
He screamed into the radio, "All Thunderbird and Blue fighters. This is Thunderbird One. Cease escort after the birds lay their eggs. Repeat. Protect only loaded bombers!"
"Jesus Christ, Colonel! Do you know what you're saying?" came an unidentified voice.
"Just do it!" He turned his plane around and headed for the B-17s that were still making their bomb run. He could see some of the Jap fighters going for the now unescorted American bombers. He knew they wouldn't be able to resist.
A series of loud explosions drew his attention downward and he saw a troop ship break in half. The dogfights were still furious but, with a number of the enemy drawn off, the odds were a lot more even. Again and again bombers were able to score hits which were always kills on the light transports. Doolittle watched in horror as a dying B-17, hounded by Zeros, made a lumbering turn and crashed right into an enemy ship.
The colonel downed another plane before the last B-17 dropped its load, scoring a direct hit, instantly demolishing a troop ship. "All planes back to base!" he screamed into the transmitter. "All Blues and Thunderbirds. Cover bombers. Come on boys, let's discourage them from chasing us." He then led a savage attack on the Zeros continuing to harass the bombers. Oh, Christ! he thought as he scanned the sky and counted the few survivors.
General Eisenhower paid no attention to the bouncing jeep as his driver negotiated the potholes. He welcomed any distraction to keep his mind off Doolittle's suicide run. When they approached the next checkpoint he could see a sergeant waving him down and his heart started pounding.
"Message for General Eisenhower."
Five minutes later he was on the phone. "Jimmy. This is Ike. Thank God you made it!"
"Yeah," came the somber reply. "But I don't have a lot of company."
"And the mission?"
"I think we knocked out about half their troops. There were a lot of smoking wrecks in the ocean when we left, Ike, but they weren't all ships."
"Well done, Colonel," Eisenhower offered.
"You might not think so when you hear the bill."
There was a brief pause. "How bad?"
"We lost fourteen fighters. Most of the P-40s from Blue squadron. But we downed between thirty and thirty-five fighters."
"And the bombers?"
Now Doolittle paused. "The B-17s took eighty percent casualties, General."
"Dear God," came Eisenhower's reply.
The pilot continued. "I take full responsibility. I ordered the fighters to protect the planes that hadn't unloaded."