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  WE SO FEW

  BOOK THREE

  OF

  THE FIGHTING TOMCATS

  BY

  M. L. MAKI

  ROSE HILL PRESS, OLYMPIA, WASHINGTON

  We So Few is a work of historical fiction and speculation using well-known historical and public figures. All incidents and dialogue are products of the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Because of the speculative nature of this work, we have changed some timelines of the present, such as the fact that the aircraft carrier battlegroup depicted in this book has never existed. Also, we have changed the historical timeline in the present to suit the nature of the work. Any resemblance to persons living or dead who are not historical figures is entirely coincidental.

  The views presented are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of the Department of Defense or the United States Navy.

  DEDICATION

  To Steven Pressfield

  You wrote the books that got us going and writing. I, Sofia, read the War of Art at least four times a year. We may not be perfect, but we are writing. Thank you.

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Contents

  Epigram

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Glossary

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  The impediment to action advances action.

  What stands in the way becomes the way.

  Marcus Aurelius

  CHAPTER 1

  LCDR HUNT’S BEDROOM, CONTROL BUILDING, ROYAL AIRFORCE BASE, ALCONBURY

  0515, 21 March, 1942

  There’s a knock on LCDR Samantha Leigh Hunt’s bedroom door. For a moment she’s confused. The white noise of ventilation is absent. The floor beneath her is not moving. There are none of the bells, whistles, or announcements so typical of life on the USS Carl Vinson. Her mattress is soft and wider then on the carrier. Then it comes back in a rush; they are in England and the carrier has left them. They are still back in time.

  The raid against P. I. Meeting Nimitz. The raid on Tokyo. The loss of Wake. The loss of two aircraft and their crews. Then the stop in Sydney for repairs and the dash around Africa. Then, docking the Vinson at Portsmouth and the air battle to save both. She shakes her head, muzzy with sleep, and the knock repeats, “Commander Hunt, Captain Holtz wants you in control.”

  “Yes. I hear you. Getting up.”

  “Ma’am, Papa is in the control center.”

  “Okay.” She fumbles for the light and groans, climbing out of the warm bed into the cold room. She quickly freshens up and brushes her hair, and in a few minutes is dressed and walking into her office. YN1 Cooper, her yeoman, hands her a cup of coffee and walks with her to the control room, “Good morning, Ma’am. Radar has picked up four fast movers over France, flying northwest. Gunner is up with Wingnut. We have Ghost Rider 333 up, and Swede and Hotpants are pre-flighting.”

  “Thanks, Radar. And, especially thanks for the coffee. I’m good.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” and he goes back to the office.

  As she walks into the control center, a woman says, “Black Knights in control.”

  Sam joins her detachment commander, Captain James ‘Papa’ Holtz. He’s sitting in a wood swivel chair on a mezzanine overlooking the map table below. Small tokens representing the various aircraft are being moved around with long sticks by women in uniform wearing earphones. She sits beside him, “You want me in the air?”

  “Let’s see what they’re doing. Your bird has just come back on line.”

  “How many of the German birds did the Brits kill on the ground. We did a pretty good job of running them out of fuel. They had to be scattered over half of northern occupied France.”

  “Not many. The propeller Luftwaffe came up to play. It’s an opportunity lost.”

  “Okay.”

  One of the phone talkers says, “Knight 211 and 212 are being pre-flighted.”

  Another says, “Naval Operations has requested a sweep of the approaches to Plymouth.”

  Papa says, “Launch Birds 701 and 621 and vector them to Plymouth as requested.” He turns to Sam, “Those Vikings ought to get the job done. Did you hear what they and the Fife did while we were fighting in the air? Five submarines, five. Damn.”

  She smiles, “Yes, sir, it’s an amazing accomplishment. I’m sorry to see her go.” She cocks her head, “Sir, 211 is my bird.”

  “I know, Spike. I don’t want to tip our hand yet. Two on four is doable and four on four, we should dominate.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Yesterday was rough, Spike. Are you okay?”

  “Papa, how are we going to hold off the whole German Airforce and get any rest for our crews?”

  “I don’t know, Spike. I don’t know.”

  Then on the radio, “Yankee control, Ghost Rider 333, Bandit one through four have turned north east toward Calais.”

  Papa smiles, “Let’s see if they’re watching.” To control, “Launch Knight 309 and 894 and vector them out at 040, NOE.”

  “NOE, sir?”

  “Nap of earth. The pilots will understand.”

  “Yes, sir,” and the order goes out. The sound of the S-3’s taking off reaches them as a muted roar. Then, a few moments later, they hear the louder roar of the F-14’s taking off.

  “Direct 626 and 224 to head south at full military.”

  A phone rings at Papa’s elbow and he picks it up. “Captain Holtz…No sir, I am moving them south to bait the Germans. If they take it, we know something of their radar capability…Yes, sir. Lt. Swedenborg and Lt. Houlihan can handle four Krauts if need be…No, sir, I don’t…Sir, yesterday we bled them hard. Now they will be cautious.”

  On radio, “Yankee, Ghost Rider, bandits turning southeast.”

  Papa hangs up the phone, and quietly says, “Marshal Dowding, he’s the fighter commander. He was afraid we would go galivanting into France or fail to face the four bandits.”

  “It’s going to be difficult getting used to these restrictions.”

  “I get their fears. They’re still wrapping their heads around our capabilities.”

  “Sir, can ten aircraft and eleven crews stop Germany?”

  “Halsey was right. We have to.”

  “I know that and they say failure is not an option, but we both know it is a possibility.”

  Papa looks her straight in the eyes, “We have to get it right every time. We have to fight them to our last, Spike, and it could come to that. In the end, whether we succeed or not is as much a matter of prayer as planes.”

  SOUTH OF ANUPUL, LUZON, PHILIPPINES

  Sergeant Clay stands tall along the jungle path watching the villagers stream past his unit. Several of the women press food into their hands as they head south.

  His lieutenant walks up with a platoon of Pilipino troops, “That’s the village. The Japs are about thirty minutes behind. Good job on the booby traps, Sergeant.”

  “Thank you, sir. What the hell happened?”

  “The Air Corps got caught
on the ground yesterday. That, and the last convoy got fucked up by Japanese subs. If the Navy and Air Corps would get their shit together, we could hold this place forever. As it is, the orders are for a slow withdrawal.”

  “Roger that, sir. Thank God, we’ve already evacuated the non-essential personnel to Australia.”

  His lieutenant nods, “So, we exchange land for time and trust the old man has a plan.”

  Sergeant Clay looks at the bread wrapped sausages in his hand, “Sir, we have enough food. Should we be taking this?”

  “Sarge, they’re saying thank you. Accept it. It’s their fight, too.”

  MAJOR FREDRICH LOUBROUGH’S MIG-29

  At 40,000 feet, Loubrough’s jet carves smoothly through the air. He can see the American jets on radar when he’s oriented towards them. As he was taught, he rolls his plane, turning a circle to check. “Damn it all, the Americans are staying near Dover. All I would need to do is a quick sprint and I could attack York!” But his orders are explicit. Draw the Americans over Calais where a surface to air missile could destroy them.

  Another circle, the cursed Americans are not playing to the plan. “Red Base, Red 2, the Americans saw us on radar, but chose not to engage.”

  “Roger, Red 2. Return to base.”

  UK COMMAND CENTER, SOMEWHERE IN LONDON

  0710, 21 March, 1942

  Winston Churchill finishes reading a report, “So, Sir Charles, these Americans have acquitted themselves quite well?”

  Air Marshal, Sir Charles Portal, the uniformed head of the RAF replies, “Yes, sir. In both engagements it was mostly the squadron they left with us. In the first, they shot down 18 aircraft and lost none. In the second engagement, they destroyed nearly half the attacking force and lost only one destroyed and one damaged. We are still sorting out the numbers, but it seems at least 35 German aircraft were lost to the possible loss of two American planes. That is quite extraordinary.”

  “Well, Charles, who is in command?”

  “A Captain James Holtz, US Navy, is in overall command of the detachment, sir.”

  “Yes, yes, Roosevelt said as much. Who commands the fighter squadron?”

  “Her name is Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hunt, Sir.”

  “Her name?” Churchill stares at Portal for a long moment. “What in God’s name are you going on about?”

  “Sir, VF-154, the Black Knights, is commanded by a woman. I was informed that she had 35 kills in the Pacific.”

  “No woman could…no woman would… This is preposterous, Charles. Are you certain?”

  “Quite certain, sir. I got off the phone with Flight Commander Maugham, my liaison, right before I came here. He met and spoke with her yesterday. As he relayed, her crew is quite fond of, and quite proud of her. Also, several of the officers and ratings are, well, of mixed ethnicity.”

  “Now what are you getting on about?”

  “Perhaps ten or even fifteen percent of the unit is of African, Hispanic, or Asian descent. There seem to be none of the race problems we have seen in other US units. It seems that by the 1990’s, race and sex are not the issues they are today in America.”

  “Indeed. Well, we shall have to put that into consideration. Now, how many fighting aircraft remain in Britain?”

  “Ten of the fighters, sir. I’m told that of the ten, six are airworthy.”

  “Only six, I see. How many do the Krauts have left?”

  “Between thirty and fifty, sir. We need to develop jet aircraft as soon as possible, sir. And the Yanks will be needing parts. Perhaps we can work something out. It’s likely the aircraft that landed on the road west of Portsmouth will be able to be repaired and flown back to Alconbury. Right now, the air crew is being put up in an inn. Landing such a huge aircraft like that on a dirt road was a remarkable feat of flying.”

  Roosevelt nods, “Who was the pilot?”

  Portal smiles, “Her name is Lieutenant Junior Grade Gloria Houlihan, sir.”

  “Another female pilot? And this one is Irish?”

  “An American, sir, of Irish descent.”

  “I see. Now, have we recovered the bodies of the two airmen lost outside of Portsmouth?”

  “Yes, sir. The bodies are in Portsmouth. I understand the University of Cambridge has donated land for a temporary cemetery.”

  “I would think the families would wish their loved ones shipped home.”

  “Perhaps later. You must remember, these airmen are from the future. They really don’t have families.”

  “Yes. Sad. Sad. Arrange it then. Full military honors.” He clamps his cigar fiercely between his teeth. “Yes, full military honors. Send our appreciation to Captain Holtz and Lt. Commander Hunt.”

  “Yes, Prime Minister.” Air Marshal Portal stands, salutes, and leaves.

  Winston picks up his phone, “Please connect me to Roosevelt.”

  The operator says, “Sir, it would be very early in Washington.”

  “Yes, I know, but you are quite aware we have war on, yes?”

  A few moments pass and he hears Roosevelt’s cultured voice, “Winston. So good to hear from you. I take it my Navy unit is acquitting itself well?”

  “Yes, Franklin, they drove off the Krauts in two air battles. I’m told they have already reduced the German jet force by one third or better.”

  “Very good. I’m glad. We must care for these aircraft carefully. It will be some time, I’m told, before replacements will be available.”

  “I am quite glad you brought that up. I had a thought that perhaps we over here might take advantage of the expertise of our guests in order to build them replacement parts and eventually our own jet aircraft.”

  “I think that is a phenomenal idea. After all you gave us that trunk of amazing technical information. I will pass it on to Admiral King and Admiral Lee to make arrangements. They will need permissions and such. That and we can’t let it detract too much from their primary mission.”

  “Good, with that settled, I have a question. Were you aware that the squadron commander you gave us is a woman?”

  “Yes, Winston. You asked for our most effective squadron, and hers is so, by a fair margin.”

  “The papers are going to have a field day with this.”

  “Really, Winston? I had thought your nation has served the occasional queen. Isn’t that so?”

  “It’s true, as you well know, however, Joan of Arc was quite French.”

  “The truth Winston is, we would just as soon she stay out of the papers as much as reasonably possible. It would only make her job harder.”

  “I will see what might be done about that. Tell me, Franklin, did the special device arrive?”

  “I understand it did. You should be briefed in the next few days. Winston, please know that one of your briefers will be Lieutenant Commander Hunt. Should it ever be used, by all likelihood, she will be dropping it.”

  “I take it, you have no concerns with female combatants?”

  “Winston, my friend, I cannot say I’m pleased at all with the prospect of young ladies being killed in the defense of our great cause, but as it stands, these women have unique and irreplaceable skills, and furthermore, they have quite ably proved themselves to me. When we are once again at peace, it is my hope to return to an all-male service, but as we have a war to win, I shall use every tool at my disposal with which to win it.”

  CHAPTER 2

  BRENDENMEYER AIRFIELD, GERMANY

  0905, 21 March, 1942

  Colonel Getz is inspecting a F-104 Starfighter belonging to Lt. Alexander Hoenstadt. The lieutenant has just flown in after field repairs and there are still several bullet holes in his plane. It’s clear the lieutenant is still shaken, “Herr Colonel, I was certain my aircraft was superior, but I could not turn nearly as fast or as tightly, and no sooner did I have one of them in my sights, but then another was shooting at me. I’m sorry I failed you.”

  “Lieutenant, you survived. Furthermore, your aircraft survived. You will learn from this
and be even more capable. Meanwhile, our enemies will lose their edge.”

  They see a black Mercedes drive up with Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering himself stepping out. They turn and face him, saluting, “Heil Hitler, Reichsmarschall. Good morning.”

  Goering motions to Getz, “Please, please, join me,” and he gets back in the car. Getz hesitates, then joins him. Goering asks him, “Is it a good morning, Herr Colonel?”

  “It has been difficult, Herr Reichsmarschall. We lost aircraft, but we killed many. I am certain that at least one Tornado broke through their defenses. I do not have the damage report from Portsmouth. The gun camera footage should be back soon. Most of the aircraft which ran out of fuel managed to land, refuel, and return. Overall, it is, I think, acceptable.”

  Goering tells his driver, “To the intelligence building.”

  Reichsmarschall Goering is silent until they are inside the intelligence building and sitting down. He looks at Getz, then, “Based on radio intercepts you downed two aircraft. Furthermore, you only faced ten or twelve aircraft from one squadron. It is their very best squadron and the difference in the skill level is obvious.”

  “Only one squadron, sir? Amazing. If you recall, I recommended more training before commencing combat sorties.”

  “Yes, yes. I understand, and it seems, you were quite right. Listen to this.” He nods to a technician who proceeds to play a recording of all the American radio transmissions.

  “Where did you get this?” Getz is stunned.

  “It seems we were able to recover a functional radio from one of the damaged American planes on the NATO base. Quite useful, yes? We are coming to the interesting bit.”

  They hear LCDR Hunt’s voice, “Felix 1, Knight 1, put flight 2 and 3 over Dover. Have them hit them going home. Beefeater, let the Brits finish off the prop planes. Make best speed to station Delta and Echo. Felix 1 and Knight flight 2 and 3 hit from the north and focus on bombers.”

  Getz turns, still in shock, to Goering, “A woman? A woman? She designated herself as Knight 1. That makes her the squadron commander, but perhaps she is the back seater for the commander. There are two aviators in an F-14, the pilot and the radar operator. It is the normally the radar operator who handles the communications.”