When Heroes Flew: Where the Dawn Comes Up Like Thunder by H.W. "Buzz" Bernard

Author:H.W. "Buzz" Bernard [Bernard, H.W. "Buzz"]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn River Publishing
Published: 2025-02-11T00:00:00+00:00

13

Over China

Seventh Seal returning from raid on Yawata

June 16, 1944

Nestor issued a rapid-fire succession of succinct commands. In less than a minute, the smoke ceased, the engine had been shut down, and the prop, feathered.

“Nav,” Nestor said, “give me our position. As soon as we get out of occupied territory, locate some emergency landing fields for us.”

“Roger that,” came the response.

“Engineer,” Nestor next said, “give me our fuel consumption every fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Radio, as soon as you get the word we’re over Free China, broadcast our position and an emergency landing signal.”

Click, click. The informal interphone signal that the radioman understood Nestor’s request and would comply.

I realized we’d stumbled into a bit of trouble. The huge plane now flew on three engines instead of four. That meant the engines still running would be sucking up gas like a teenager swilling soda pop on a blistering day. The odds of us making it back to one of the airstrips around Chengtu had dropped significantly.

“Radio here,” came a call over the interphone. “Small problem. Our radio is kaput. I can’t broadcast our position. But I’m gonna crawl back to the racks and see if I can find a burnt-out tube or something.”

“Get on it, Johnny.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then came a call to Nestor. “Engineer to pilot. Fuel consumption is way up. We got maybe two hours left to fly.”

Nestor called the nav. “How far to Chengtu?”

“We’re probably four hours out, sir.”

“How long before we’re out of Jap territory?”

“I’d guess one and a half, maybe two hours. But it’s hard to know for sure, ’cuz we don’t know exactly where the front lines are.”

“Got it.”

Nestor gripped the yoke with a stranglehold. He appeared to stare straight ahead, perhaps processing our options. I knew there weren’t many. Unless we could find a friendly airfield, which seemed doubtful, we seemed destined to crash-land or be forced to bail out. And whether that would be over enemy territory or someplace controlled by the Chinese, we had no way of knowing with any certainty.

Nestor turned to look in my direction, then motioned me forward. I stepped into the cockpit and put my head next to his.

“You ever crash-landed, sir?” he said, raising his voice and not using his mike.

I snorted a derisive chuckle to myself. “I dead-sticked a C-46 into Kunming about nine months ago. No landing gear, so I dumped it into a rice paddy.”

“Nice. A good landing, then?”

“Absolutely. We walked away from it. Well, waded away.”

“The plane had a full load?”

“Stuffed with fifty-five-gallon drums of avgas.”

“No fire?”

“Not in a rice paddy.”

“Whaddaya think, then? Set Seal down in a paddy? Or try for an open field?”

Good question. I pondered the variables. “In a field, you never know what the surface will be like. Smooth? Rough? Rocky? Trenches? Ditches? In a paddy, you know exactly. It’ll be watery but shallow. That should help prevent any fires.”

“I guess paddy it is, then.”

“You know the bird could still break up?”

He looked away from me, then turned his head back. “Recommendations?”

“Don’t put the landing gear down, obviously.

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