Authors: Mack Maloney
The techs decided to try their only other detection device—the electronic eavesdropping array. This could, under the right conditions, pick up airborne radio traffic within a 50-mile radius. Occasionally, if the techs were bored, they would turn on the device when the American bomber streams were going over and sometimes listen in on the panicky, even inebriated voices of the crews as they pushed further south to their targets.
What would they hear now?
They switched on the listening device—and the noise was nearly as loud as the warning buzzer which had knocked them out of their sleep. The squeal was so loud, the techs turned the volume all the way down and still the racket hurt their ears.
It sounded like 10,000 voices talking at once.
Which is what it was.
The German techs’ concern was growing at frantic proportions now. Something was happening here that they’d never experienced before. If the white effect was not a technical glitch—and with the sounds coming out of the audio sensor, it didn’t look like it was—then there had to be many hundreds of enemy bombers heading south.
The techs all looked at each other—panic was beginning to set in. Then they made a quick decision. They had to call south, down to London, and warn headquarters about the oncoming armada.
But just as they were trying to raise their superiors on the secure radio, they heard another sound. This was not emanating from a speaker system, but was coming from outside the station itself.
The techs opened the door and found the wind blowing at a high gale. The station was on a small cliff, the stormy seas below. But the noise they heard was not the wind or the sea. The noise was coming from a spread of six Mustang-5 jet fighters sweeping over the waves—and heading right for the station.
The techs ran back inside and began broadcasting a red alert on all frequencies of their emergency radios. The jets went over the station seconds later—the techs couldn’t believe they weren’t blown off the map at that instant. But on the first pass, the American jets held their fire.
This gave the German techs the time they needed to contact London and warn them that a huge bomber force was heading south and that a major attack could be expected somewhere in Occupied U.K. within the hour.
The American jets roared over again, rocking the radar station down to its foundations, but not dropping any weapons this time either. This gave the techs time to confirm, repeat, and reconfirm their panicky report and then open the trapdoor which led down to the rudimentary bomb shelter in the station’s basement.
But the five techs never made it. The American jets swooped in again, and this time, opened up with full machine guns and cannons. This first barrage killed all five techs instantly and essentially destroyed the station and everything inside.
Two more strafing passes followed, just to make sure. When the building caught on fire, the American jets finally pulled up and climbed back up to 27,000 feet. Here they rejoined the 40 or so other fighters leading the front of the massive bomber force now just 35 miles from the coast of Scotland.
Once the fighters had reformed, a general radio call went through the entire airborne force.
Five minutes later, the armada began a long, slow turn, not south towards targets in Occupied England, as the German High Command was now convinced, but to the east and south.
Toward Germany itself.
It so happened that a pair of advanced German jet fighters, having taken off earlier that day from a base in Germany, were just completing an hourlong shake-out flight off the coast of Occupied Denmark when they heard the commotion on their radios.
The planes were Me-999s, the latest long-range fighter in the German Air Force’s newly burgeoning inventory. The Triple-9s, as they were also known, were one of 12 new designs put into service by the German military in the last month alone. The aircraft was a two-man, swept-back design able to carry bombs for ground attacks as well as machine guns and cannons for dogfighting. The Me-999 was Germany’s first true dual-purpose airplane, a concept never really explored by either side before.
The pair of 999s had been trying out a new electronic package when they happened to pick up the very last vestiges of the emergency radio report from the now-destroyed radar station at Toe’s Head.
A thousand enemy bombers? Also many American fighters? The report didn’t sound real. In fact, the Me-999 pilots thought they had wandered into a drill of some kind, a doomsday training scenario being conducted by occupation forces in the U.K.
Still, they were within 100 miles of the enemy formation’s supposed position and to scoot there and back would give their double-reaction engines a fair workout. After discussing it between themselves, the pair of Me-999 pilots decided to give it a try.
Both planes opened full throttle, and rocketed away at nearly 1000 knots. Both pilots also turned on their long-range targeting radar, exclusive equipment inside the big dual-role jet fighter.
But like their crispy comrades back inside the Toe’s Head radar station, the German pilots thought their equipment was fooling with them. The Me-999’s radar systems indicated a huge blotch of something was heading right for them. Could there really be 1000 enemy airplanes coming this way?
The pilots relit engines and inside of three minutes, they saw with their own eyes what their radar screens could not convince them of. Breaking through a gigantic cloud bank, they found the horizon literally black with approaching aircraft. American aircraft. Bombers. Fighters. Even cargo planes converted to bombers. They were all flying southeast.
The German pilots were stunned. What the hell was this? An illusion? They’d never faced a situation like this before. Most of the Reich’s air defense fighters were stationed in the U.K., as they should be. These guys were just test pilots really. They knew very little about front-line combat.
Still, both knew they had to warn the German High Command that there were at least 1000 American bombers on the wing and that they were not heading for the U.K., but for the Reich itself.
But with the speed of the oncoming armada, there wasn’t much time to radio back to a secure link inside Germany—under normal conditions this would take several minutes at the least.
What should they do then? They knew they alone represented the first line of defense between the bombers and the heretofore unimaginable prospect of enemy planes bombing their homeland. They also knew there was little they could do to stop this many airplanes. But they had to do
something.
So they both powered up their weapons systems and began to climb…
Up they went, through 30,000 feet, through 40,000, up to 50- angels. Then, looking down on the wave of airplanes, they went right over the top of the bomber stream and dove down, angling for a position on the enemy’s rear. Here they found what they were looking for. Of the vast number of enemy aircraft, they knew—just as jungle cats know when stalking a herd—that there would be stragglers. Planes with engine trouble or other problems that prevented them from keeping up with the main group.
And indeed, three bombers were trailing the vast enemy airborne force.
It was these airplanes the Germans decided to attack first. If there was no way they could stop the entire enemy force, it was better to pick off these weaklings and at least return to base with something to show for their efforts.
The pair of German planes tightened up their two-ship formation and launched their first attack from the 10 o’clock position. The three prey were flying in a ragged chevron about 10 miles behind the main bomber force. So far the covering American fighters had not made a move to defend their wounded birds. This was fine with the German pilots, of course. It would make their job that much easier.
The attack came in straight and true and from the first few seconds of it, the German pilots thought they would soon have a huge B-24/52 to their credit.
But just as the first of their bullet streams began making hits on the selected target, both pilots noticed something. This did not seem to be a regular enemy aircraft they were shooting at. Instead, there was a line of windows stretching from behind the gigantic wing all the way back to the gigantic tail. And now they could see gun muzzles sticking out of every one of those windows. And now they could see extra gun mounts on the top, the belly, and in the tail of the airplane as well. And now, all of those gun muzzles were pointing right at them.
The combined barrage that erupted from the American bomber a second later was, in a word, frightening. Each gun was loaded with tracer bullets, the better to lead the fast enemy airplanes with. And the combination of more than two dozen guns firing in unison at the Me-999s was nearly blinding. And of course, unsuspecting and greedy in their bid to shoot down a straggler, the two German pilots weren’t at full power and thus stumbled right into the fusillade.
They tried to turn away, but only after it was too late. Both planes had more than 3000 rounds pumped into them within six seconds, perforating man and machine alike. The enemy planes did not explode as much as they just disintegrated. There was some smoke, some fire, and even some frozen blood drops blowing in the high winds at 27,000 feet. But the two airplanes simply ceased to exist seconds after the gunners on the bomber opened up on them. In all, only scraps of metal, rubber, wire, and bone hit the surface of the cold North Sea five miles below.
This was the only evidence left of the two spanking new Me-999s.
The newly-instituted In-Flight Protection Squadron—the gigantic flying fortresses reconfigured with many guns to protect the bomber stream—had claimed its first two victories.
The city of Bremen was the first target.
The city of 900,000 was selected as much for its geographical location as it was for its target value. If all went right, it would be the first major German city the American bombers would come close to. And if this bold plan was going to work, Bremen would be the first test.
The American air armada made landfall over the Reich itself at 0810 hours, exactly on schedule. The first piece of solid land the bombers passed over were East Frisians, a series of barrier islands which form most of western Germany’s coastline with the North Sea. The planes picked up some light, panicky flak from this region, but it was way too low and way too scattered to affect the bomber stream.
Once over land, the 1000 airplanes turned southeast again, passed over the Jade Busin area, and picked up the Aller River. Using this as a landmark, they steered directly south. Bremen was now just 20 miles away.
The city had air-raid sirens and a sizable civil defense force in place. But these things hadn’t been used in years. So when word of the approaching American bombers first reached the city’s defenders, they foolishly didn’t believe it. They asked for endless verifications and confirmations, and by the time they were convinced that an attack was coming, the American bombers were already blotting out the horizon.
The first bombs started dropping on Bremen at 0830 hours, again exactly on schedule. They rained down from 100 specially designated aircraft layered throughout the stream. The bombs themselves were known as ATX-30s, a mix of high-explosive, magnesium, and petroleum jelly. On contact, the bomb would explode, due to the HE, then the magnesium would be ignited, and the pliable jelly would splatter the flames everywhere. One bomb could cover a 1000-square-foot area with what was essentially burning glue, a substance which would adhere to wood and skin alike. Bremen was an old city, noted for its many wooden structures. It had also been an unusually dry winter season. The city was like a tinderbox.
The first 100 or so bombs started a fire in the city square which was raging out of control less than two minutes later. A second wave of bombs came down further east, hitting the city’s substantial riverside oil storage facilities, and igniting them as well. A third wave found kindling to burn in the city’s outlying yet highly residential Southforest sector. The fourth wave of bombs struck a huge military barracks on the southernmost tip of the city.
In all, more than 2000 separate fires had been started by just 100 planes of the bomber stream. Fires, it would turn out, that would rage all that night, all of the next day, and well into the third.
And still, more than 900 of the American aircraft had yet to drop their bombs.
By this time, bells were ringing all over the German War Command headquarters in Berlin. It was evident now that some kind of an American attack was happening, and it was aimed at the Reich itself.
But the sheer size of the attack and the audacity of it served to confuse the Germans. Did the Americans even have 1000 bombers left? More importantly, did they have 1000 pilots? The attack was so unexpected, many German high commanders still believed it was a fake, even though they were receiving reports that Bremen was burning to the ground.
Finally, though, German War Command stumbled into action. They postulated a probable flight path for 1000 American bombers and reckoned that if they were sticking together, they would mostly likely hit the cities of Osnabruck and Munster next, then swing west again and head back to their bases in Iceland. This was actually beneficial to the German defense forces because, by happenstance, there was a huge airfield just outside Osnabruck, and it contained a training squadron of Natter rocketplanes being readied for assignment in Occupied U.K. The bomber force would have to fly practically right over this base if they continued their present speed and heading. The Natters would eat them alive.
The German High Command immediately contacted the training field and told them of the oncoming American threat. The field commanders were ordered to get every available Natter ready for action and launch.
The scramble alarm was sounded immediately at the Natter base. Pilots were suited up and running to their rocketplanes by 0845 hours.
A vanguard of American bombers was spotted approaching Osnabruck five minutes later.
The Natter was a rocketplane, its forward propulsion effected by the mixture of two highly volatile chemicals called T-Stoff and S-Stoff blowing out the back.