Damn Lucky by Kevin Maurer

Author:Kevin Maurer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

12

TWELVE O’CLOCK HIGH

OCTOBER 1943

As King Bee climbed, Lucky keyed his mic. “Copilot to crew,” he said over the interphone. “Take your positions.”

Tech Sergeant Alfred Loguidice, the radio operator, gave the gunners the signal, and they all headed to their positions. Staff Sergeant John Rupnick crawled into the rear bicycle-style seat in the tail compartment and manned the two machine guns. Staff Sergeants Angelo Licato and Edward Karamol stood behind the single .50-caliber machine guns sticking out of each side of the fuselage behind the wings. Tech Sergeant George Burgess, the crew chief and senior sergeant, left his perch behind the pilot seats and took his position in the top turret, swinging it around in a 360-degree arc before facing forward so he could protect the ship’s twelve o’clock. Staff Sergeant Morton Levine crawled into his position in the ball turret.

In the nose, Lieutenant Grady Moyle, the navigator, checked the cheek gun on his side, working the action and laying a belt of ammunition in the tray. Second Lieutenant Griffiths, the bombardier, crawled into the bomb bay and armed the two-ton payload of bombs by removing the arming wires from the fuses and sliding them into the pocket of his leather jacket. He was required to turn them in at the end of the mission to prove that he had removed them.

Over the English Channel, Lucky spotted the formation. The lead ship, Just-a-Snappin’—flown by Captain Blakely and Major Kidd—fired an orange flare. It arced into the sky. That was the signal to form up. The bombers fell in behind the lead in a staggered formation. Up ahead, Lucky saw Piccadilly Lily. He closed on her, taking a position just off center and slightly lower and behind. Off his left wing was Marie Helena flying slightly behind and above him. Sunny II was flying off his right wing, slightly behind and below Lucky.

Beatty was on the controls as the bombers closed in. Lucky kept one eye on the gauges and one eye on Beatty. So far so good. The young pilot was doing a good job flying formation, keeping his nerve as the bombers packed together for protection. Flying almost wingtip to wingtip frayed the nerves, but the closer the better was the creed for mutual protection and a better bomb pattern. But too close meant a slight mistake and one bomber was liable to take out another one.

As soon as the bombers packed in close, Lucky started to sweat. To calm his nerves, he scanned the other ships through the windshield. The contrails swept off the wings like the wake of a speedboat. He was so close just behind and below Piccadilly Lily he saw the ball turret gunner in the plexiglass ball and the waist gunners prepping their guns.

An hour into the flight, Lucky keyed his mic. Pilots and copilots usually used hand signals in the cockpit so they didn’t clog the airwaves. But this was the first time Beatty and Lucky had flown together in combat. He wanted to make sure Beatty knew what he was doing.

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