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Updated: April 30, 2025
The Jerries don't get near London any more, and I heard a rumor that the Forts and Libs are able to shoot down ten fighters for every one the Thunderbolts get." O'Malley snorted. "Bombers shoot down Me 109's and FW 190's! 'Tis jest propaganda put out by the brass hats to fool the Germans. I'll have to see it done, me b'y." "From what I hear we'll probably have a reserved seat for the show.
The FW's had been joined by five Me 110's, but the Jerries did not close with him. Stan headed for home as fast as the P-51 could travel, which topped four hundred miles per hour by a wide margin. He was roaring along with no opposition in sight and a clear sky around him when he suddenly spotted a plane in his mirror. It was overhauling him rapidly. Suddenly Stan grinned.
A flight of Focke-Wulf 190's broke out of a big cloud and roared in on them. "Break for action. Cover specials!" Sim called. The formation of Thunderbolts broke up and the fight was on. As usual the Jerries were not aiming to close with the Yanks. They were willing to pick off a cripple or a plane cut out from the flight but not to make it a real battle.
"I can stand a Nissen hut jest to be flyin' one o' them babies. We'll meet up with plenty o' Jerries." O'Malley grinned eagerly, his homely face lighting up. "Remember how we used to mix it with them Jerry bandits tryin' to blitz London?" "That was a long time ago, as wars count time," Stan answered. "We've been away a long time.
Up above, the Jerries cut loose and the Yanks got a crack at them as they tried to filter through. For five minutes the sky was a battlefield, then the Thunderbolts up above had to leave. They broke off and headed for home. Behind them they left the wreckage of eleven Messerschmitts and Focke-Wulfs. With the bombers, O'Malley was putting on a show which reminded Stan of the old days.
The Jerries had pulled away and gone back to their fields for more ammunition and more gasoline for the interception of the Forts and Libs on their return trip. Looking about, Stan saw nothing of O'Malley's ship. He headed for home with a grim frown on his face. Everything went well until he reached the channel. He met no German fighters and had a fair tail wind.
The Superintendent, who went round with us, had been a noted punster in his time, and well known in the business-world, but lost his customers by making too free with their names, as in the famous story he set afloat in '29 of four Jerries attaching to the names of a noted Judge, an eminent Lawyer, the Secretary of the Board of Foreign Missions, and the well-known Landlord at Springfield.
"Wilson, sorry I couldn't handle all three Jerries. You'll have to go back with our flight." Stan scowled. Sim appeared well pleased with the idea. "I'll use my own judgment," Stan snapped back. "Name a leader and go back," Sim barked. "That is an order." "Sorry," Stan answered. "I'm taking the boys on through." Stan overtook his formation and dropped into place.
Grimly Stan dived and then zoomed. The two Focke-Wulfs gleefully tore in upon him. Stan gave one of them a burst but missed. He was caught like a clumsy float plane and knew it. Up he went and over, using every evasive trick he knew. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Sim had banked sharply and was coming back to help him. He also spotted the cloud the Jerries had used to ambush the flight.
He had stabbed at a Jerry coming in far to the side. Kicking his rudder, Stan went into action. The Jerries, seeing their chance, had cut him off and now he would be sucked into a fight. The Thunderbolt responded awkwardly. Stan reached for the tank release, then his hand froze. If he kicked loose his tanks, the Jerries would be wise to the trick. They would radio the information to base.
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