“Draft an order to that effect and have it on my desk in thirty minutes. Get me NATO HQ and confirm that the air zone over the fleet will be the Navy’s responsibility. I want to reiterate that I don’t care how juicy the targets are we don’t want any interference within our airspace. We just don’t have the communications and air-traffic direction capability, to control planes from the other services.”
05:15
Dover, England
Radar picks up multiple bogies coming in from the east.
It appears that the Soviets are stirring up a hornets nest. Hundreds of fighters and medium bombers, as well as thirty Pe-8 heavy bombers join formation over Brussels. It is clear that a major effort is underway. The weather is clear with temperatures in the low-70’s, Fahrenheit. The few clouds that appear, seem to be spectators, in what just might become the Battle for the English Channel.
U.S. Navy 8th Fleet/Royal Navy Home Fleet
Task Force 87 Flagship,
U.S.S. South Dakota
“Operation Louisville Slugger”
English Channel, off Le Havre
05:22
“GENERAL QUARTERS… GENERAL QUARTERS… THIS IS NOT A DRILL…” is heard over the ship’s loudspeakers, along with warning klaxons, as the ship’s bo’sun keeps repeating the message over the 1MC.
“What’s the story so far, Captain?”
“We’ve been alerted that the Soviets are making their move, Admiral. Ground reports of over 1,000 fighters and 30 heavy bombers vectoring in from the East-Northeast, from Brussels. Our radar has since picked up the bogies and this ain’t no drill sir! They are coming and they are coming in force. We have about 20 minutes before they hit us. It must be driving their fighters crazy escorting those heavies. They are virtually crawling towards us. I think a TBD can outrun ’em.”
“Alright, you know what to do. Reissue Standing Order 258 and get our CAP in the air. Remind all your flight leaders that under penalty of courts martial, they are not to leave our zone of air control. The Soviets are up to something and I think this heavy bomber attack is just a decoy. We will not be suckered. Do I make myself clear gentlemen?”
“YES SIR!”
Forward Headquarters,
Dover, England
05:26
“Scramble all available fighter aircraft. Remember to stay in your lanes gentlemen. The Navy has given strict orders not to venture into their Zone of Air Control. We don’t want any friendly-fire incidents. It’s hard enough to keep all the players straight as it is.”
“I’ve heard that besides our P-80’s there will be a squadron or two of Meteors flown by British pilots and to make matters a bit worse, a few former German Aces, flying prize-of-war Me-262’s, will be thrown into the mix.”
“You heard that right, Lieutenant; this is a maximum effort and we need all the help we can get.”
“I got a real bad feeling about this, Major…”
“Keep your thoughts to yourself, Lieutenant… unless you want me to call General Kenney, and tell him one of my First Lieutenants has a bad feeling.”
“No, sir… thank you, sir… sorry, sir.”
U.S. Navy 8th Fleet/Royal Navy Home Fleet
Task Force 87 Flagship,
U.S.S. South Dakota
“Operation Louisville Slugger”
English Channel, off Le Havre
05:45
“Admiral ground radar is picking up thirty more bogies that just appeared near the bombers. They appear to be traveling at a much higher rate of speed than the bombers.”
“DAMN IT! How much faster?”
“The fast-movers were clocked at around 400 miles per hour, and will be in range in fifteen minutes.”
“Shit! Must be some kind of missile! Captain, order a simultaneous turn to line abreast at flank speed, heading 345. Get Kenney on the horn, and tell him to tell his fighter-jockeys to hit the Pe-8 mother ships with all they’ve got. They must have some kind of guidance that we can knock out. Get that Brit expert up here and fire up those gizmos they used against the German guided bombs. Rig and brace for impact. All AA guns, scan to the east-northeast for targets. Keep our flyboys close by, just in case.”
’Blitz Bomber,’ Serial number 140312
96 meters above sea level
801 kph
Over Lion-Sur-Mer, France
05:56
The medium bomber that is slashing through the air at an unbelievable speed is a refurbished German jet bomber. The German ‘Blitz Bomber’ is a marvel of modern technology. It is a single-seater with the pilot laying on his front, flying from a prone position. His only defense is a rear-firing 20-mm cannon that is aimed by the use of a backward-facing periscope. The Blitz Bomber’s great speed assumes that the only possible angle of attack will be from the rear.[23]
This bomber has proven that it can easily survive in a heavy anti-aircraft environment. This plane was personally involved in the attacks on the Bridge at Remagen. It repeatedly flew through walls of flak-fire, without being severely damaged. The young pilot inside has been flying it for over four months and had been training for just such a mission.
This is it Yuri. This is what you’ve been trained to do. Six months and you’ve seen a lot of comrades die trying to perfect just what you are about to do. Keep the speed up. That is your greatest weapon… your speed. Be steady on the throttle. Watch for flame-out. No sudden acceleration, or large increase in fuel. Jumo engines catch fire easily. Only the Yankee Shooting Star can keep up with you. That’s why you don’t have any forward firing guns and just the 20-mm in the back. Every enemy will be behind you, but not for long, as you speed past their astonished faces… you hope. No need to worry. You were the best shot in attack school. No one can touch you in your Terror Bomber. The same does not go for Sirnove. He was a terrible shot, but the best dive-bomber pilot they have ever trained; to each his strengths. Keep it below 100 meters. No radar will tell of my arrival. Look at the faces of the trolls on the ground as you fly by. What’s the matter? Have you never seen death so close and moving so fast? You are an arrow flying straight into the heart of the enemy. The NATO pigs will pay for my brother’s death. They will pay today and for many more days to come. There is the coast… time to climb straight up and pounce, while their mouths are still gaping in astonishment. Ahhhh the force… don’t black out… just like you trained… breathe… Oh, you beauty, how you can climb! Damn… 2,000 meters, in just a few seconds! There is the target, nice and fat. Hello, Yankee pigs! Here I am. Here is death.
Naval Combat Air Patrol (CAP)
Red Flight
9,900 feet above sea level
514 miles per hour
Over Lion-Sur-Mer, France
05:57
“Jesus! Bogey at 12 o’clock low! What the hell is that?”
“Cut the chatter Red four, and dive on me… Red two, stay high… where did that son-of-a-bitch come from, and what the hell is it? Control, we are diving on what looks to be a bomber climbing from wave-top altitude, almost straight up over the fleet. Be advised, it’s a fast-moving jet-bomber; we can’t catch it… Dammit! I just spotted 10 more jet-bombers with him, control. I repeat, we can’t catch them even in a dive. Suggest you open up with every gun you got, and lead those sons-of-bitches by a country mile. Jesus! They’re fast!”