Widow Maker by E. R. Johnson

Author:E. R. Johnson [Johnson, E. R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Llumina Press
Published: 2012-02-20T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

May 19, 1943, 8TH A.F. Headquarters, High Wycombe, England.

The immaculately-attired Brigadier General motioned the two worn-looking Majors to sit in the chairs in front of his desk. He proffered a small wooden case containing cigarettes and asked, “Smoke?”

They shook their heads.

The General leaned back in his chair, made a steeple of his thumbs and asked pointedly, “Suppose you tell me what happened?”

Major Vincent Spinelli frowned. He hated overly-broad questions and took a minute to compose his answer. “Sir, since only one aircraft returned from the mission, we’re not sure of the exact details; however, the debriefing of Captain Shaw and his crew indicated two primary factors: first and most important, the German defenses...both the flak emplacements and the fighters from Schipol...were ready for them.” He stopped to clear his throat. “And second, when they crossed the enemy coast, they were about 12 miles south of their intended IP, which gave the Germans more time to set up their anti-aircraft barrage.”

“What was the cause of the error on the IP?”

“Sir, according to Lieutenant Grattan, Shaw’s navigator, the reason was a stronger wind from the north than what was forecast in the met report.”

“Couldn’t they have compensated for the wind?”

“Well, sir, as you know, they were at minimum altitude ...the drift meters aren’t too reliable that low.”

“Do you know how many planes actually made it to the target?”

“No, sir, the lead plane with Colonel Ridley and Major Chase was apparently shot down by flak before they reached the target, so we have no record from the lead element, but Lieutenant Glowgower, Shaw’s bombardier, thought he saw two planes ahead of him before he reached the target, and Captain Shaw was sure one other plane from his flight made it over the target. We don’t know if any of the planes from Charlie flight ever made it to the target.”

“Have you seen the bomb damage photos?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You agree the damage was negligible?”

“Yes, sir, it looks like the two planes in Shaw’s flight were the only ones who actually hit the target.”

“Overall...a pretty sorry performance, wouldn’t you say, Major?”

“Sir?”

“I mean, they missed their IP, then made what appears to be a very disorganized approach to the target.”

Major Chester Edringtron, who had quietly listened to the exchange between Spinelli and the General, exploded.

“That’s a load of crap, General!”

“What?”

“The reason the mission failed is because you ordered them back too soon and the Huns were waitin’ on ‘em!”

“You’re out of order, Major!”

“No, sir, I’m not. This low-level stuff was ill-conceived in first place...a bad mission that was badly timed!”

“I’ll have you relieved; Major, if you don’t watch your step!”

Edrington stared at the General with contempt. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do with me, but I won’t stand still and let you blame the aircrews who died on this fiasco...one you planned yourself!”

“You better get yourself under control, Major, because your group’s going back to Ijmuiden again!”

“NO!” Spinelli jumped to his feet—his answer was a hoarse bellow.

“What do you mean...no?” the General hissed through his teeth.

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