Authors: Anthony G Williams
THE FORESIGHT WAR (45 page)
‘Belgium – or Denmark even, from Norway?’
‘The beaches are inadequate in Belgium and they’re strongly defended. Denmark is of course an entirely new possibility to me, but I think we should include it in our diversionary programme. If the Germans are certain where we’re going to land, they will, without any doubt, be able to concentrate their forces to push us back into the Channel. They have over forty divisions in France, and we can put five across in the first wave, with another five shortly afterwards. We need to sow as much uncertainty in their minds as possible, not just concerning where in Northern France we’re going to land but also the prospect of landings in Southern France,
Churchill nodded soberly. ‘This will be very much a throw of the dice, with a lot depending on it. From our viewpoint, it would be much better to delay the invasion until Germany has been so weakened by bombing and the battle with Russia, that there would be little opposition to a landing. Sadly, we can’t afford to wait that long: Russia’s situation has been critical for months, and it’s touch and go whether or not they can hang on, even with the support. Even so, I’m very worried, very worried indeed, especially after your graphic description of all of the things that went wrong in your time. In this case, to try and fail would be infinitely worse than not trying.’
‘We do have some ideas for reducing the problems the Allies experienced in my time, which we’ll go into later.’
Churchill raised an eyebrow and enquired, with a touch of irony, ‘have you decided on the date yet?’
Don wasn’t falling for that one. ‘Well
sir, that
will of course be a matter for yourself and the President. However, bearing in mind the importance of avoiding stormy weather, the need for a high tidal range to make it easier for the landing craft to get on and off the beaches, and the usefulness of a full moon to aid the night-time airborne attacks, that gives us three possible target dates: the twentieth of April, the nineteenth of May or the eighteenth of June. The first date could be too vulnerable to spring gales, the last will give us little time to expand the invasion area before the end of summer, so that leads us to the nineteenth of May next year, give or take a few days.’
Churchill nodded. ‘That confirms the views of the more orthodox bodies. Now let’s have another brandy and talk about these ideas you have…’
It was, indeed, a very long night.
Spring 1943
U.S.
JOINS
BATTLE
OF
GERMANY
;
NON
-STOP AIR WAR PLEDGED
Don glanced at the headlines and passed over a penny for the newspaper.
After almost a year of preparation, the Americans were in action at last. The picture on the front page showed a squadron of B-17s, bristling fiercely with multiple gun turrets.
Much good will it do you, he thought, when the
Me
262s get amongst you.
At least they couldn’t say they hadn’t been warned.
He walked on, feeling saddened.
He might have been surprised to learn that the Americans had heeded some at least of the dire warnings and predictions that the British had been so keen to make.
The crews certainly felt confident enough as the huge formations gradually coalesced in the clear morning air.
Each wing of fifty-four aircraft formed one immense defensive system, consisting of
Each box consisted of three squadrons in staggered formation.
The entire battle formation was over a mile wide, half a mile deep and six hundred yards long.
Any enemy fighters attempting to attack would face the concentrated fire of scores of heavy machine guns, whichever way they came.
Six miles behind came the next combat wing, then the next.
One hundred and sixty aircraft headed for north Germany, screened from above by an equal number of the new Merlin-engined P-51 Mustang long-range fighters and some supporting squadrons of RAF Reapers, whose apprehensive pilots in no way shared the enthusiasm of their inexperienced allies.
The B-17s bore little resemblance to the sleek Manchesters other than in the number of engines, and could not match their speed, altitude and bombload performance.
But then, they were designed for a different purpose.
While the British bombers fought in darkness, relying on concealment and speed for their survival, the big, tough, Boeings went in under the glare of the sun, challenging the enemy to come,
returning
fire with fire.
‘You have to balance the rights and wrongs of the situation.
So a few thousand German civilians get too close to our primary targets for their own good.
What’s that against the millions being slaughtered in Russia?
And the millions more who’ll be killed if we don’t stop the Nazis as soon as possible?’
Peter was defending his beloved RAF, as usual.
Inevitably, it was Mary who rose to the bait.
‘Just because the Nazis are committing horrible crimes, that doesn’t make it right for us to follow suit.
What are we fighting this war for anyway, if not to preserve decent values?’
‘Mary, if we fight this war with our gloves on when the enemy is wearing knuckledusters we’re likely to lose, and that’d do far more damage to our “decent values” than anything we could think up. Besides,’ added Don, looking somewhat uncomfortable to be arguing against his wife, ‘it’s not just good for our public’s morale to see us hitting back, it’s essential to reassure the Russians that we’re doing our best.’
‘I know, I know, we’ve been through all that before.
But as far as public morale is concerned, you should see the results of the latest survey.
The strongest supporters of bombing live miles away from the action.
Our people still living in the blitzed cities are much more reluctant to visit the same fate on the Germans.’
‘However you look at it,’ commented Peter, ‘it’s working.
We know that German industry is being turned upside down to disperse itself across the country, on top of which an increasing percentage of their research and production is being diverted to anti-aircraft measures.
What Bomber Command has achieved is being added to by the American Eighth Air Force, because now the Luftwaffe
is having
to bring back their day fighters as well’.
‘What’s more, Hitler’s determination to strike back means that still more effort is being put into reprisal attacks against England,’ murmured Charles, as usual appearing to enjoy the heated debate.
‘Which ever way you look at it, we’re taking some pressure off the Russians.’
‘Furthermore,’ Peter added, ‘our decrypts show that we’re succeeding in undermining the Lufwaffe’s defences altogether.
They’re already fully stretched and beginning to skimp on their training.
Every time the Americans send in
a daylight
attack they down a few more of the Luftwaffe pilots.
And every replacement will be less experienced, so will be an easier target the next time round.
It doesn’t even matter if we bomb nothing, just by forcing the Luftwaffe to attack the bombers, we can wear them out in months.’
Mary cast a look of exasperated appeal to Don, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
‘I’m afraid he’s right.
With our Empire Air Training Scheme we’re assured a constant stream of well-trained pilots from abroad, more than we can use, actually, and our American friends are doing much the same.
The only problem is the new German jets.
We have them as well, of course, but they don’t have the range to accompany the bombers deep into Germany.’
Peter nodded.
‘Correct. Those Me 262s gave us a real scare at first, but they seem to be tricky and difficult to handle – they’re losing a lot of pilots to accidents.
And we’ve got their bases pinned down.
They’re easy enough to kill when they’re low and slow.
Not much fun when they get among the Fortresses, though.’
The Gruppe Kommandeur sat in the cockpit, the familiar trickle of tension running through him.
He heard laughter far away, near the accommodation blocks, where the off-duty staff were relaxing, and shivered slightly despite the warmth.
The Gefechsstand had ordered Sitzbereitschaft – cockpit readiness – over an hour ago, and still no word.
The Americans would be coming, all right, he had no doubt of that; the only question was exactly where and when.
The Me 262 had a limited range, so it was important to hold them on the ground for as long as possible.
Far above, the fast Fw 187 Fühlungshalter – master fighters – would be hunting the bomber formations, not to attack but to follow, radio their locations and report on the weather.
Once battle was joined they would report the results of the attacks, giving the commanders on the ground a constant appreciation of the progress of the battle.
That is, if they managed to avoid the attention of the escorts, the Kommandeur thought grimly.
He tried to relax, stretching as much as he could, tensing and relaxing each muscle group in turn.
Fighting
he
never minded, but this waiting…
He tried to distract himself by running a mental checklist over his aircraft.
First, the guns.
The four three-centimetre Rheinmetall-Borsig MK 108 ‘pneumatic hammers’, two with eighty rounds each, two with a hundred, each capable of firing at ten rounds per second.
Eight seconds of firing with all four guns, another two seconds with two guns, provided that the ammunition belts weren’t broken by any violent manoeuvres as they so often were.
The muzzle velocity was low at only five hundred metres per second, but the jet’s attack speed added another two hundred to that, and the Minengeschoss shells were devastating.
The techs had calculated that only three or four hits were necessary to bring down one of the American bombers, compared with fifteen or twenty hits from the two-centimetre guns.
They had gone on to calculate that only about two percent of shots hit their target, so only one-fifty to two hundred three-centimetre rounds needed to be carried for each kill, instead of nearly a thousand two-centimetre.
He smiled wryly.
Those were average figures.
Anyone in this crack Gruppe unable to do a lot better than that would soon find himself on other duties.
Then there were the engines.
The young face of the Kommandeur creased slightly.
They were a brilliant design, no doubt about it, but he had heard from a Junkers engineer that a shortage of nickel and chromium had resulted in inferior alloys being used, which severely restricted the reliable life of the jets.
It was also important to avoid making violent throttle changes, which could lead to flame-outs. He consciously relaxed again.
Either they would last through the sortie or they wouldn’t.
There was nothing he could do to affect that, so there was no point in worrying.
He put his mind into happier channels.
Now those new guided missiles they were testing, they would really make a difference…
The alarm sounded a few seconds later.
The bomb-aimer peered down through the nose of the B-17.
A scatter of individual clouds and below that, a continuous thin haze, the ground invisible.
He sighed in frustration.
The magnificent Norden bombsight on which so many
hopes
had
been placed would be no good, as usual.
The Air Force had not properly appreciated that not everywhere enjoyed weather like
Still, as he wasn’t the lead bomber that wasn’t his responsibility.
His job was simply to drop the bombs when the leader did.
In ideal conditions the entire combat wing would drop its load to an accuracy of a few hundred yards, but if the leader was depending on the H2X bombing radar they would stand no more chance of hitting the target than the RAF’s night bombers under similar conditions.
He looked around at the rest of the formation, and grimaced.
Contrails streamed from the engines, like giant white arrows pointing at the aircraft.
Once the defending fighters got above the cloud, they would have no trouble finding them.
Higher still were the escorts; not that they did much escorting, he reflected, mulling over the arguments over tactics.
All the fighters did was
chase
the German fighters, leaving the bombers to deal with any which got through.
He could understand the argument for that, but it still would have been mighty comforting to have the ‘little friends’ around them.
Five kilometres behind the bombers and two thousand metres above them, the Kommandeur assessed the situation.
His aircraft and the other three of his Schwarm had been accurately placed by their ground control radar, helped by the lurking Fühlungshalter.
Focke-Wulf 190s of their neighbouring Geschwader had covered their take-offs, engaging the attacking Allied fighters so the jets could climb safely away.
Considerable cost and effort had been expended to place them exactly where they were.
Now it was up to them.
He gave a brief command and the long attack dive commenced.