The Blue Nosed Bastards of Bodney [Gunther/Minime]

[Gunther]

Bodney Airfield, 35 Km West of Norwich, England
The pilots of the 487th Squadron gathered in their ready room to receive the morning's briefing. Most had their white mugs of hot coffee steaming in front of them and a few were puffing away on Lucky Strike cigarettes. Major Meyers, the squadron commander stepped up in front of the room.

"Good morning gentlemen," JC Meyeres addressed the pilots. "The group is protecting bombers of the 34th, 91st and 93rd bomb groups heading for Cologne. Their target is a ball bearing plant just south of the city. Since the target is only 150 miles from here, we will be able to escort them all the way to the target and back."

On most of the missions the 487th received, they had to turn back halfway to the target. The B-17 could fly twice the distance than the P47. Many of the pilots were conflicted about turning back, but knew the P-47 didn't have the range to fly all the way to the target, engage in the German fighters and return safely to England. The American pilots preferred to make the entire trip and hopefully save some of the bomber crews from their fate. Unfortunately the Thunderbolt didn't have the stamina to go the distance. Today, at least they were only flying a short distance and would be able to cover the bombers all the way to the target and back.

Major Meyers, who already had five air victories against the Germans, the only P-47 ace in the squadron continued with his briefing. "The 328th will provide lead coverage from 30,000 feet, the 486th will be middle coverage and our 487th will cover the tail, all at 30,000 feet. When we hit the RP, we'll divert to the north and engage any enemy fighters Jerry sends up against us. Be aware that Cologne has several Flak batteries encircling the city. We will be under constant observation once we reach the Dutch coast. I want everyone to keep their eyes open and be aware of the enemy. Watch your bombers, watch your flight mates and keep an eye open for the enemy. Once we are over the North Sea, stay off the radio unless you spot the enemy. We'll maintain radio silence except for the necessary stuff. You all know the drill. Now get out to your birds and get 'em cranking! Take-off is in twenty minutes."

Lieutenant Sharkey flew wing for Captain James McCann who was commonly referred to as "Canman". The two of them were Sharkman and Canman" and Captain McCann was a "Can Do" pilot with a "Can Do" attitude. The pilots arrived on the flight line just in time to see the crews starting up the aircraft for them. The pilots did a walk around each aircraft looking for anything that might be wrong, that could keep the aircraft on the ground. The most common was leaks. A spot of hydraulic fluid, fuel or oil on the ground was enough to ground the Jug. For Canman and Sharkman, they were good to go.

Lieutenant Sharkey climbed into his cockpit, put on his leather flight helmet and goggles. The goggles would rest comfortably on his head. His Mae West stood out stark yellow against his tan flight suit. He attached his oxygen mask and allowed it to hang away from his mouth. He then checked the gauges in the cockpit and worked his rudder, ailerons and elevators with the help of the ground crew. Everything was good to go. The crew chief, an NCO from North Dakota gave him the thumbs up.

Sharkman looked over at the Canman. They both exchanged a thumbs up and were ready to go. Next, they waited for Major Meyers to roll out. All eyes watched the CO's aircraft.

At 0630, the first P47 of the 487th began rolling down the run way at Bodney, England and lifted into the air. Sharkman opened his throttle and released his wheel brake. He and Canman rolled down the runway in tandem, the wingman about eight feet behind his flight leader and to the right. The two P47s slowly ascended into the air. They drew their landing gear up and rose to keep up with their squadron leader. Ten of the twelve squadron aircraft were airborne. Two of the aircraft were in the repair shop, unable to fly.

By 0700 hours, the squadron was at 30,000 at the Initial Point (IP) with the other 352nd FG squadrons waiting on their "Big Brothers" to escort to Cologne.

[Minime]

Second Lieutenant Kenneth Maine grinned when the Major announced they'd be escorting the bombers to and from the target. For too long Maine and his pals had to turn tail and leave their fellow aviators right when they would be in the most danger, but no longer! Kenneth would personally see to it every bomber under his wing was able to drop it's load, turn and safely return home. He hoped the Germans had a good supply of coffins ready, for on this mission, Kenneth wasn't going home without a few kills!

"From the rear?" The Lieutenant mumbled as Meyes stated his squadron would provide security in the back. His spirit plummeted; how would he shoot Jerry down from the back? By the time he got to the fight, it'd halfway be over! In addition, the flak guns that were reported to be in the area they would be flying over was of little concern to Kenneth. From what he heard, the Germans couldn't hit the broadside of a barn, let alone the aces of the 487th.

"In other words, we nothing to worry about." Kenneth told his wingman, Lieutenant Homer "Troy" Rivera, once they were dismissed and well on their way to their fighters.

"Right and your saying this from your own experience as a veteran?" Homer snapped. They had never been able to get along well with each other, likely because their mindsets were completely different. Whereas Kenneth saw the glass half full, Homer saw the glass as half empty. Whereas Kenneth saw a chance at adventure and fun, Homer saw a chance at disaster and gloom. Whereas Kenneth saw an easy-going escort mission, Homer saw their deaths.

"Relax, everything will be fine! I'll see you in the air!" He shouted to his friend-enemy as they departed for their own respective Thunderbolts. As cocky as ever, Kenneth assumed all was well with his craft and hopped into the plane without so much as a glance to his mechanic. The ground crew, though reluctant to do so without him personally inspecting his Thunderbolt, gave him the thumbs up to take off.

Within the hour Kenneth had taken off with the rest of his squadron and had made his way to the initial point, waiting for the bomber unit to link up with them. It was at that moment, thirty thousand feet in the air, the American began to have his doubts.