It was ten o'clock before General Eisenhower got a call back from MacArthur. "This is Eisenhower, General. Do you have any more updates?"
"What the hell's going on, Eisenhower? My aides tell me the whole island is in an uproar. I told you not to sound an alert! You may have just single-handedly brought this whole country into the war."
Ike knew he was getting bawled out in that unnerving way his superior had of screaming without raising his voice. "But, General, the enemy is attacking. We've already lost some planes!"
"You think I don't know what's going on? You think I'm just sitting here sipping tea? Of course we lost some planes. That hot dog Doolittle sent our boys buzzing over their base like a swarm of bees. You think the Japanese aren't going to react? That act of his may have been enough to incite the enemy to attack. I'll have his hide when things settle down!"
"But, General. There have been reports that an invasion force is crossing the strait."
"Listen, Eisenhower. We don't know what's going on. It could be maneuvers or routine patrols. It would not be in the interest of the Japanese to invade here. I want you to prepare all air and ground defenses only. Do not bomb their bases on Formosa. That's an order, General. Do you read me?"
"Yes, General. But…" He heard the click of the receiver being slammed down. Ike cursed silently. Immediately, the phone rang again. Eisenhower quickly picked it up. "We must have been cut off, General MacArthur. I was going to ask…"
"Hold on, Ike. It's Jimmy. You sound like you've been getting your ass chewed!"
"That's an understatement. We've been ordered not to bomb Formosa. Can you believe that?"
"That's not gonna be a problem, Ike." Doolittle's voice was on the edge of hysteria. "From the reports my boys have been sending in we're in no position to attack their bases. The fog cleared and ever since, their airfields have been busier than a two-peckered goat. Our pilots claim the skies are black with Jap planes. I'm sure some formations are being reported more than once but from what we can figure, there's probably a couple hundred planes on the way. Sounds like an equal mix of bombers and fighters. Our patrols have been ordered to get the hell out of there and prepare to defend our coasts."
"What about our bombers?"
"All but three B-17s are in the air. It took longer than I promised but most are loaded with bombs and waiting for orders. The three on the ground are gonna stay there because we don't have the parts to make 'em fly, dammit."
"I'm afraid all we can do is order the flying ones to safer fields in the south while the Japs tear up whatever is in their range. Let's get every fighter armed and airborne, Jimmy. We can't stop them but at least we'll make sure they don't have a cakewalk."
"Listen, Ike. If we just sit here and wait the whole country will be overrun in no time. We've gotta try and stop the invasion force."
"I agree, but how the heck are we going to do it? Patton doesn't have enough men and tanks to do more than slow them down for a little while. I'm afraid we have to start getting ready to pull out."
"You know this position is the key to the Pacific. We have to hold out at all costs."
"You have a suggestion?"
"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.