“Jesus Christ!” Dooley said, disgusted, then excitedly added: “The C-54 just crossed the border!”
“We heard.”
Communications had turned out to be much better than anyone had dared hope they would be. The Rhein-Main control tower could talk to the truck-mounted control tower at Helmstedt, and once the C-54 had landed at Tempelhof and put its control tower in operation, Helmstedt had communication with Berlin.
Whatever Rhein-Main wanted to say to Tempelhof—or vice versa—had to be relayed via Helmstedt, but it was not necessary to relay messages between any tower via aircraft. And, of course, the airto-ground communications were also far better than expected.
Dooley asked Frade: “Then why did you just begin a turn? Aren’t you going to Berlin?”
“This is Rhein-Main. Clear this channel.”
“Yes, Mother,” Dooley said.
“South American Airways Double Zero Four, Rhein-Main. How do you read?”
“SAA Double Zero Four reads you five by five, Mother.”
“Rhein-Main Area Control clears SAA Double Zero Four direct Tempelhof U.S. Army Airfield Berlin on a heading of forty-eight-point-four degrees at ten thousand feet. Visual flight rules. Report to Helmstedt Area Control using Air-Ground Channel Two when crossing U.S.-Soviet zone border. Be advised that there are numerous USAF P-38 aircraft and possibly some Soviet aircraft operating along your route. Exercise appropriate caution. Acknowledge.”
Clete repeated, essentially verbatim, the Rhein-Main clearance.
“Double Zero Four, Rhein-Main. Affirmative.
“Mother, SAA Double Zero Four beginning climb to ten thousand and course change to forty-eight-point-four at this time.”
Since they were already at ten thousand feet, all von Wachtstein had to do was change course. He made the course correction as a fighter pilot, rather than the captain of an airliner, would—he shoved all four throttles forward as he cranked the yoke just about as far as it would go.
“SAA Double Zero Four, be advised the correct nomenclature of this airfield is Rhein-Main, not Mother.”
“Mother, SAA Double Zero Four, say again. Our pilot has been giving our passengers a thrill, and with all that screaming, I couldn’t hear you.”
Clete looked out the window at Archie Dooley.
Dooley signaled that he was going to fly ahead. Clete nodded and gave him a thumbs-up.
Dooley’s P-38, in a shallow climb, moved out.
Clete was still watching him pull away when he looked out his side window and saw another P-38 pull alongside. And then, through von Wachtstein’s—the pilot’s—side window, he saw a P-38 out there, too.
“Helmstedt Area Control, South American Airways Zero Zero Four.”
“Go ahead, Zero Zero Four.”
“Helmstedt, be advised that South American Airways Zero Zero Four, at ten thousand feet and indicating three-fifty airspeed on a course of forty-eight-point-four, is departing the American zone at this time. Acknowledge.”
“South American Zero Zero Four, Helmstedt acknowledges you making three five zero at ten thousand on a course of forty-eight-point-four and departing American zone. Be advised that both American and Soviet fighter aircraft are operating along your route. Exercise appropriate caution. When possible, contact Tempelhof Area Control on Air-Ground Channel Four.”
“Zero Zero Four understands Air-Ground Channel Four.”
Frade then experienced a feeling that for a moment he didn’t recognize. And then he did.
It was the same emotion he had experienced flying out of Fighter One on Guadalcanal—when, although he couldn’t see anything at that moment, he knew that the enemy could appear at any time.
With the great big difference being that then I was flying a Wildcat and could defend myself.
Now I’m flying an aerial bus with absolutely nothing to defend myself.
“All things considered,” von Wachtstein announced, “and apropos of nothing at all, I love the Connie. But right now I’d rather be flying a Focke-Wulf. Or even what Archie and his guys are flying.”
“Oh, come on, Hansel,” Clete said, then looking out ahead blurted, “Oh, shit!”
Three rapidly growing black dots were headed straight for them.
“What are they, Hansel?”
“YAK-3s,” von Wachtstein said.
Frade radioed: “Archie, where the hell are you?”
And then they saw something else.
Three P-38s appeared in front of the Constellation, moving so fast that Clete knew they were coming out of a full-power dive, with their airspeed indicator needles pointing to the red tape that meant If you go any faster than this, the wings will come off.
The three P-38s lined themselves up with the incoming YAK-3s.
What the hell are they going to do, play chicken? Frade thought, then said, “Jesus, I hope those Russians blink first!”
Suddenly, coming from the rear on both sides of the Connie, there was a burst of tracer fire—four red lines arching across the sky—and then another, and finally a third, single line of tracers, brighter than the first two.
“Ach du Lieber Gott!” von Wachtstein said.
“Not to worry, Hansel,” Frade said. “What they’re doing is testing their guns.”
“For Christ’s sake, I know tracers when I see them,” von Wachtstein said. “What was the last single burst? The bright one?
“That came from the Hispano-Suiza 20mm machine cannon,” Frade said. “The parallel tracer lines came from the four .50-caliber Brownings. You didn’t know that?”
Frade looked out his side window. The P-38 pilot who had tested his guns had pulled up next to them. He waved and grinned cheerfully.
Clete could see enough of the YAK-3s now to know that he had never seen one before. He looked at the leading edge of their wings waiting for the flashes of their weaponry.
They never came.
All of a sudden, the noses of the Russian airplanes lowered and they dived, quickly becoming smaller and smaller dots.
“I think the decision was made not to shoot us down,” von Wachtstein said softly.
“They would have had to go through Archie and his guys to do that. I wasn’t worried.”
I was scared silly, is what I was.
Terrified. About to wet my pants . . .
Frade reached for the radio control panel and switched to Air-Ground Channel Four.
“Tempelhof, this is South American Airways Zero Zero Four.”
“Double Zero Four, Tempelhof. I read you five by five. How me?”
Thank you, God!
“Five by five, Tempelhof. We are approximately sixty miles out at ten thousand, indicating three-fifty. Request approach and landing.”
“Double Zero Four, maintaining present course, begin to descend to five thousand feet at this time. Report when you have the field in sight.”
“Understand descend to five thousand and report when I can see you.”
“Affirmative. Be advised there have been reports of Soviet aircraft operating on your course.”
“Tempelhof, be advised my Little Brother and his pals chased the bad birds away. Beginning descent to five thousand at this time.”
“Tempelhof, Zero Zero Four. At six thousand and I have the field in sight.”
“South American Double Zero Four, maintain present altitude until over the field. Then commence descent in ninety-second three-sixty-degree turns. Report when at fifteen hundred.”
“Understand when over the field, commence ninety-second circular descent to fifteen hundred.”
“Double Zero Four. Affirmative.”