War in the Air by Stephen Coonts

Author:Stephen Coonts [Coonts, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History, Military, General, Technology & Engineering, United States, 20th Century, Military Science, Aviation, Fighter Pilots, Air Pilots, Aeronautics; Military, Air Warfare
ISBN: 9780743464529
Google: Ww1S71HCsssC
Amazon: 0671881914
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1996-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

The story of Christmas Day, 1943, that follows is a little gem that lets us meet the man who flew the plane. And we find that we like Pappy--like him a lot--revelation that would come as no surprise to those who knew him as a comrade.

Don't ask me why it had to be on a Christmas Day, for he who can answer such a question can also answer why there have to be wars, and who starts them, and why men in machines kill other men in machines. I had not started this war, and if it were possible to write a different sort of Christmas story I would prefer to record it, or at least to have had it occur on a different day.

Come to think of it, there was undoubtedly some basis for my feelings this day, for as far back as I could remember, Christmas Day was repulsive to me. Ever since my childhood, it had always been the same. Relatives were forever coming to our house and kissing my brother and me with those real wet kisses children dread so much, and making a number of well-wishing compliments that none of them ever seemed to believe.

And then it started after everybody had a snoutful of firewater, fighting and speaking their true thoughts. All Christmases were alike, my brother Bill and I ending up by going to a movie. And even after I was old enough to protect myself, I did the same damn thing, leaving the house and celebrating the occasion with people I didn't know, in some bar.

I was leading a fighter patrol that was intended to intercept any enemy fighters that followed our bombers, which had preceded us to Rabaul. We saw them returning from their strike at a distance and saw that Maj. Marion Carl's squadron was very capably warding off some Zeros, and before we got within range I witnessed three go up in flames from the

.50-calibers triggered by Carl's pilots.

We caught a dozen or so of these fighters that had been heckling our bombers, B-24's. The Nips dove away and ran for home, Rabaul, for they must have been short of gasoline. They had been fighting some distance from their base, with no extra fuel because they wore no belly tanks. They had not expected us to follow, but we were not escort planes and didn't have to stay with our bombers.

Nosing over after one of these homebound Nips, I closed the distance between us gradually, keeping directly behind his tail, first a thousand yards, then five hundred, finally closing in directly behind to fifty feet. Knowing the little rascal couldn't have any idea he was being followed, I was going to make certain this one didn't get away. Never before had I been so deliberate and cold about what I was doing. He was on his way home, but already I knew he would not get there.

Nonchalantly I trimmed my rudder and stabilizer tabs. Nonchalantly I checked my gun chargers.

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