“Very well. Let those two be the last. We will have a truce here. Until things are better known we will have our own peace you and I. You will go your way and we will go ours and we will be careful not to see each other. And we will be careful not to fight. Perhaps this really will be the end.” The German looked curiously at the Delisle hanging on Newton's shoulder “What is that?”
“It's a Delisle carbine.”
“Ah I have heard of those. Or not heard them. May I see it?'' Newton flipped the action open so it was safe and handed it over. The German officer took it and whistled. “You would like to see mine?” Newton nodded.
The German had an Stg-44 with an infra-red nightsight. Newton looked through it; he could see clearly. Not only could he see but the position of each of his men was clearly marked by the infrared searchlight mounted on one of the vehicles. If it had come to a firefight, he would have been slaughtered. The two men returned weapons and saluted. Then they went their separate ways.
CHAPTER TEN WELCOME HOME
Flight Deck, B-36H Texan Lady, Approaching Kozlowski AFB
The return trip across the Atlantic had been anything but routine. Number six engine was out, it would need replacement. The two jets on that side were out, the entire unit would have to be replaced. Number five engine was giving out, losing power slowly but surely. They'd throttled the engine right back and that had slowed the rate of power loss but it was still there. That left them dependent on engine number four. In fact, a B-36 could be flown with three piston engines and two jets out but not all from the same side. So losing number four meant losing the aircraft. About halfway back, they'd started losing oil from both number four and five, probably the effects of wing damage. Gordon had gone out into the wing, topped up the oil tank from the 55 gallon drums stowed in the aft compartment for just that purpose and tightened the seals and joints in the oil system. That had cured that problem.
Navigation hadn't been hard. Colonel Dedmon had elected to make a great circle approach back, skipping a refueling over the Azores. Most of the bombers did that anyway, a weather system up north made a southerly flight path a bit more attractive so they'd planned to hit the coast at New York then fly up. Fuel wasn't a problem, Texan Lady's vast fuel tanks saw to that. They could even have managed without the refueling on the way out but the damage to their wing would have left them very tight. As it was, they had reserves enough. Then, he'd gone back to the aft compartment and got some sleep. A few hours at least.
When he woke, they'd already spotted the glow hundreds of miles out. When they got in, it looked like every light in New York had been turned on. It had. Searchlights were sweeping the sky, every light in every building was lit, every curtain thrown open to allow the glare to stream up. Even the commercial advertising floodlights and billboards were on. The city fathers had guessed there would be bombers limping back across the Atlantic, systems down, engines down, dead and wounded on board and given them a beacon for home they couldn't miss. As they'd crossed the coast, the radio had come on,
“New York here. Aircraft crossing coast, identity please.”
“This is B-36 Texan Lady, 100th Bomb Group out of Kozlowski, Maine. We have onboard damage, three engines down one sick. No casualties to crew,”
“For your information Texan Lady, every airfield on the East Coast has been cleared to receive damaged aircraft. Just let them know you are coming, then go straight in. And Texan Lady, Welcome Home. New York Out.”
Now, as they flew up the East Coast, they had started the long descent into Kozlowski. After a while, people on the ground could hear the curious rhythmic throbbing snarl that was the B-36s signature. It must have been quite a night for them; the B-36s would have been coming back in an almost continuous stream. In Connecticut, a small town had rigged a light display, probably the High School football field or something. As they heard Texan Lady approaching they started to flash the lights. They read “Welcome Home”. Dedmon wondered if anybody on the ground stopped to think what the night was like in Germany. Behind them the lights went out then started to flash again, Must be another B-36 following them.
Hartford-Springfield was brilliantly lit, the runways clearly defined. It was the biggest airfield in Connecticut and a primary divert field. They were low enough down now to see a B-36 parked in the dispersal area, lit up and with vehicles all around. Somebody had trouble. “Hartford-Springfield, this is B-36 Texan Lady.”
“Welcome Home Texan Lady, come on in if you need. The runway's clear, the food is hot and the beer's cold.”
“Thanks Hartford-Springfield. We have to get back to Kozlowski, Momma's calling. But you have a 36 down there?”
“Affirmative Texan Lady, she's Death and Taxes from the 35th, out of Macdill. Diverted to us with casualties and damage. We'll pass your best wishes.”
“Thanks Hartford Springfield, please do that for us. Texan Lady out.”
Still dropping, now passing over Massachusetts. It wouldn't be long now before they were making their final approach. Still a couple of hours until dawn. Time to secure everything. They were down below 10,000 feet now and engine temperature was an issue. Number five was still cranky and they didn't want to push her too hard. They'd been airborne for almost 44 hours now and Dedmon didn't want to lose it at the last minute.
Eventually, they slipped into the traffic pattern at Kozlowski AFB. Dawn was just beginning to lighten the eastern edge of the sky now but it was still a night landing.
Dedmon saw the brilliant lights and huge runways of Kozlowski on his left. OK, he was on the downwind leg now. Airspeed 150 IAS, altitude 2500, extend landing gear, set flaps to ten degrees, set TBS at zero. Now swing around, a 90 degree turn, the damaged port wing was dropping from the asymmetric power. They completed the leg across the end of the field and were now down to 1500 feet, flaps 20 degrees. Dedmon read the landing checklist, got the crew answer-backs then another 90 degree turn, now they were heading parallel with the runways again, this time with them to their right. Flaps 20 degrees, maintain 150 IAS. Another 90 degree turn, engineers confirm that landing configuration was set. Engines 2600 rpm. Final approach now, 90 degree turn, drop to 1000 feet. Flaps 30 degrees, 90 degree turn, and line up with the flarepath. 500 fpm descent rate established. Now for the tricky bit. “Full power number five engine.”
The engine surged and the drooping wing leveled out, engine temperatures climbing fast, almost immediately the power from Number Rive started to drop again but they were almost in now. Speed 135 percent of stall, and - touchdown. “Full reverse power on three and four”. They were supposed to use reverse thrust on all six piston engines but the asymmetric load would spin them. So they'd have to make do with two. It had been raining up here and the runway was coated with water. The reverse thrust was throwing up a cloud of spray and mist that formed a ball around Texan Lady, as she shot down the runway. It was a surreal picture, the first light of dawn illuminating the ball of spray with just the nose and tail of the aircraft emerging from it. At 50 miles per hour, Dedmon locked the controls and waited for Texan Lady to come to a halt. She did so and Dedmon sneered to himself. AM the Hollywood films of damaged aircraft landing had them stopping on the end of the runway. They'd got that wrong as well, there was at least 50 feet of runway left. Still, Texan Lady was home, safe.