But strange things were still happening. The power failures throughout the ship were continuing; they'd had to shift steering to make use of an alternate power supply. The automated fire detection system was continually giving false alarms, alerting the crew to fires in compartments where there were none. Damage control had to check each false alarm out and that was taking men away from the main fire perimeter. It was the power system again of course; fluctuations were setting the equipment off. The diesel auxiliary generators had hit problems as well, one of the rooms had been flooded forward and another had been abandoned when thick black smoke had threatened to choke the crew.
But, a good deal was on the plus sign of the ledger. The avgas system forward had been drained and inerted. That was good because the electrical faults with the fire detection system were hitting that area as well; in Central Station, the area that monitored the gasoline system, the incessant clanging of the alarm was driving the damage team there mad. Another good thing, the smoke-filled areas of the ship had been evacuated and the men put to work on the firefighting teams. Nobody was going to be suffocated down below if Captain Madrick could help it.
The Admiral was still on the bridge, a few minutes before he'd called down, asking if Madrick wanted to slow the Task Group. Madrick had refused then, he was certain the column of smoke could be seen from shore by now and if the Germans knew there was a carrier hurt out here, they'd be coming out to finish her off, regardless of the cost. So. 24 knots had made sense. But now there was a balance to be struck, speed was keeping the fires aft, away from the forward end of the ship but was also fanning them and keeping them going. The bombs that had hit the hangar deck hadn't done that much damage but the deck had been crowded with people sealing it down. They were being treated in an emergency station at the forward section of the hangar deck. That was a point that needed checking.
“Any report from Surgeon-Commander Stennis Howarth?”
“A few minutes ago sir, he said that the smoke from the fires and the water and power problems were causing problems. He said they had a lot of casualties and things were a bit tricky sir.”
“Sounds as if he has the situation in hand.”
“Respectfully, no sir. Remember Surgeon-Commander Stennis is seconded from the Royal Navy. He's a Brit. When he says things are a bit tricky, he means they are damn near critical. I respectfully suggest we move the clearing station as soon as possible.”
“Why can't the English speak English like the rest of us. Ask Stennis to get his patients ready for transfer to, to Samoa. She's alongside helping with firefighting. Ask him to set up his casualty station on Samoa. The Kittyhawk and her group are on their way in to provide assistance. She's a search-and-rescue carrier so she has enhanced medical facilities. Oh, and tell him since he's in the US Navy now, it’s going to be Doc Stennis and no more understatements.”
Madrick returned to Command Station. The air in the CIC was getting thick and hot now, there was the same indefinable haze in the air as he'd noticed an hour earlier on the way down from the bridge. “Aft Engine Room, what's your current situation?”
“We lost a high pressure line over number three sir, some of the men thought it was a main steam leak. We've got that straightened out. The power problems are affecting us badly sir, we're losing ventilation and the temperature is rising. Also, we have a smoke problem here. Not bad enough to evacuate yet but unless we can sort the power problems out. we may have to.”
That settled it. Madrick flipped the communication system to the Admiral's Bridge. “Admiral Newman sir? I believe the situation on board makes a reduction in our speed desirable. I request that the Task Group reduce speed to eighteen, that's one-eight knots. I’ve ordered Surgeon-Commander Stennis to prepare his patients for a move to Samoa. We have the situation under control sir, the fire is has been contained and is being driven back. We are getting the water and power problems under control now. The upward spread of the fire had been stopped by Samoa sir, she's pouring water into us. We're pumping clear now and dewatering as necessary. I don't think we can operate aircraft, but otherwise I think we're on top of the situation.
Dijon, France. Abandoned base of JG-26 Schlageter
“Sir, we can have Green Eight ready in about six to eight hours. We've managed to salvage a complete left wing assembly from Green Three and the tail repairs are going well.”
“Thank you Sergeant Dick. We will need as many spares and as much support as we can get. Scavenge the base and get whatever you can find into whatever transport you can find and take it all over to the Vossie base at Pontailler.” Schumann had learned a long time ago to leave Sergeants to do what was necessary undisturbed. “There will be a labor unit moving in soon to try and repair this base. No point in leaving anything for them. As soon as Green Eight is ready, I will fly it over to Pontailler.”
Schumann looked around at the wreckage of the base that had been his home since he'd finished his last tour in Russia. It had been a good home, especially compared with Russia. Then the Amis had bombed and blasted and burned it. He shook his head. Time to leave.
Flight Deck, B-36H “Texan Lady” 49,500 feet over France
“'Will you please shut up? And that ***IS*** an order.” Major Pico had been driving the entire fight deck crew mad for over an hour now, continuously whistling “When Johnny Comes Marching Home”. Eventually Dedmon just couldn't take it any more.
“Sorry sir, the tune just seemed to fit somehow.”
“You'll fit on a Mark Three if you're not careful. Sitting on top of one while we drop it. If you want music, Comms can pipe in a radio station. Anything good, Connorman?”
“I can get us Soldatensender Prague sir. I could get us Frankfurt but they won't be on the air after Bimini Baby and her friends get there. Reception isn't very good up here sir. I'll find the best music station I can and pipe it through.”
Colonel Dedmon relaxed. So far The Big One had been a cake walk. Texan Lady was behaving herself, even their oil consumption was way below normal. They had all six piston engines running now and had fired up the jets for the climb up to 49,500 feet. A bit higher than the original flight plan called for, but aircraft commanders had considerable discretion in such things. The huge formation of SAC bombers had dispersed, the front broadening as the bombers set course for their targets and deepening as the aircraft with farthest to go pulled ahead of the pack. Texan Lady was well in front of the main bomber group now, as one of the deepest penetrating aircraft, her Hometown had steadily forged ahead of the main body.
In fact, there were only a handful of bombers with them, the Hometowns targeted on Dresden, Danzig, Konigsberg, Stettin, Breslau, Schwerin and a couple of others. Then ahead of them were the RB-36s. The strategic reconnaissance version of the B-36, their job was to plot out the enemy defenses, identify the enemy radar frequencies and pass the information back to the bombers behind them. They also had the job of making last-minute meteorological checks and determining wind patterns over the targets. The B-29 raids had failed, largely because of the dispersion due to winds when bombing from 30,000 feet had proved excessive. The B-36s would be bombing from 50,000 feet and over. The answer had been to gather wind data and relay that back to the bombers so it could be programmed into the K-5 radar bombing system. It had been tested on the long training missions and refined to the point where the B-36 could bomb more accurately from 50,000 feet using radar than the old B-17s could do using their famed Norden sights from 20,000.