The Last Mission

THE LAST MISSION

My Darling Wife –

It's easier to tell you about these things in narrative form, so that is what I'm going to do tonight.

It was all wrong, even from the beginning. It shouldn't have been Sunday, for I've always said that if I was going to get mine, it wouldn't happen on a Sunday, and yet deep down inside I'd said to myself – wouldn't it hand fate a laugh to send me down on a Sunday – You see, I'm not superstitious about anything else, just that. And then there was that kid calling us to briefing an hour early, and when we got there and I saw our Navigator's face, I knew we had just "had it". Hackney usually looks unhappy when it is a rough target, and rather smug when it is easy. This morning he looked like somebody had just revoked his pass, and sure enough, when they raised the curtain on the map there it was big as life, no, I can't tell you what it was, but I'll bet you can guess. I looked at Whitehead and he looked at me – our last mission, and a target like that.

Well, there's nothing to be done but sweat it out, and that we did, Metro said we would have a cloud coverage and that looked good – inaccurate flak and probably no fighters - and we were near the end of the bomber stream which usually means some burned out gun barrels for the Nazis by the time we would get there, but all the time it was building up – our last mission – on Sunday – worst target in Germany – we were flying off the lead ship (the boy the Jerries aim at) and then that blasted Metro. Sure, it was a 10-10 the coverage over the Continent, but we could see it in the distance – the target was visual.

Yep, there wasn't a cloud in the sky over that city, and there wasn't anything else to do except sit there and let that plane carry us over the target. Whitehead was flying, which made it rough for me. It's no fun to just sit there and watch that stuff getting closer with nothing to hide you but your own contrails – and us in the lead element, so I checked up on No. 3. It had been running rough all day, which kind of gave me the jitters, but at altitude it seemed to quiet down – which was a novel change from the way they usually act.

Like I say, it had all been building up, and the next thing in line was for us to get hit. Well, we weren't to be disappointed. They were aiming at the lead ship all right and they were just missing him – and hitting us. The first boy to get it was the other wing man – the fella flying on the other side of the leader. Bill and I saw his No 3 engine get it, and he dropped back with black smoke trailing off his right wing. Then it was our turn. The first burst hit the bulletproof glass on the front windshield and put a hole in it the size of a hen's egg. That scattered glass all over the cockpit and I got some in my eyes, but I was lucky at that for if that glass hadn't stopped the force of that flak I'd have had one less left shoulder to my name. The next burst hit underneath the wings and I held my breath for the supercharges and gas tanks, but that old oil pressure kept right on heading 20 lbs. About that time it happened, Thank God, we had got rid of the bombs. Bill had the controls and all of a sudden there weren't any controls. I saw Bill shake the wheel – he just shook it, and nothing happened – no response from the ship at all. O K I got scared.

The bottom of my stomach felt like lead. You can't imagine what a terrible feeling it is for a pilot to realize that he hasn't got any control over his Ship. We fly in alittle egg shell of safety over Germany. Crack that shell and we are completely lost. Destroy those controls and we don't get back home. That's what I was thinking about. Then No 48 Supercharger ran away. I took care of that while Bill fought those controls. It was the left aileron that had got it. It had been hit while we were in a turn so we just kept turning – down – down. By throwing in full trim on the other Aileron, which wasn't affected, and the rudder we managed to straighten it out momentarily. We held our breath, and then I saw Bill's feet jerk on the rudders. He turned to me, and I could see the expression on his face, even through his Oxygen Mark and he said "get your Chute on, Sully. The Rudder just gave way." Bill is a man, and he's knocked around this world quite a bit, but right then he sounded like a five year old kid who has just seen his puppy run over by an auto. I knew that he didn't think we'd make it. Yes, it was all building up – to the climax. One more ship in a tight spiral over Germany – nine more men missing in action.

It may interest you to know, Darling, that at that moment when my future seemed to be crashing around my feet that you and our child were the things uppermost in my mind.

"Waist to Pilot I just hit my head against the rudder cable, but the cable is O K - Sorry Sir" That report over interphone broke the spell, and rekindled what little hope there was left in the cockpit.

The rudder was holding, so was the other aileron, and all four engines were running smoothly, and gas – why we had enough gas to fly another mission. Bill and I are always awfully careful of gas. We started checking up. No one had been hit, but there were holes all over the ship. There were holes all over the wing, but the Ball Turret man reported no gas leaks. So we headed for home – God, it seemed far away. It isn't possible to hold your breath for three hours, but it seems to me now like I did it. We handled that ship like a new born baby, and prayed that the cables would hold the strain.

First Germany passed beneath us, then Holland, and finally the Channel. England sure looked good this afternoon. We didn't tell the crew how dangerous the landing was going to be, and we wouldn't have been able to convince them afterwards, what with the way Bill greased it in. It wasn't until we swung the plane around in the stand that it dawned on me that it was all over – the whole tour was over. Even finding out about my promotion to 1st Lt was an anti-climax after that. I was home, I was promoted, and I was finished.

Yes, it is a thin little egg shell world we fly in up there where Life is always hanging on a thread, like ours hung on a cable for three hours today. I made some pretty rash promises to the Lord up there today Honey, if He'd just me home to you. He kept His part of the bargain, and I swear I'm going to keep mine, because I'm not going to forget very soon when Bill turned to me and said "Get your Chute on, Sully. The rudder just gave way".

All my best love   Wes.