“Looks like it to me,” Sam agreed gleefully. “I admit, I figured we’d need bigger charges, but looks like you pegged it just about right.”
“Sure,” Al said expansively. “Water’s not all that compressible, ‘specially not with the river bottom so close and all. Doesn’t take a really big explosion to break a wooden ship’s back under those conditions, now does it?”
“How many did you get charges under?” Sergeant Buchholz asked in half-horrified awe.
“Actually, only half a dozen,” Al admitted. “It’s dark down there, Lizabeth. And cold, even with the suits. Six was the best we could do and still get out within the safety margin on the timers. On the other hand, I don’t ‘spect most of those ships are gonna take a chance on hanging around where we might do it to them again.”
“I think you can say that again,” Buchholz agreed, still shaking her head.
“Well,” Al said cheerfully, “when Admiral Simpson explained what he wanted, he did say that was the name of the game. Reckon he’ll be kinda pleased by how well it came out?”
KAAAAAAAA-BOOOOOOOM!
Chapter 45
Jesse felt the mist on his face and pulled up the zipper on his leather flying jacket as he walked past the aircraft toward the sea. Though the fog looked as thick as it had the last two days, he sensed a difference in the air, a slight freshening from the sea.
This stuff is gonna lift soon, he decided. About time.
For the past two days, he had chafed at the weather, knowing the enemy was out there somewhere, headed this way. While the fog wasn’t as dramatic as the storm that had almost killed him three days ago, it could be just as deadly to a pilot caught above it while trying to land. So they had all waited helplessly for the fog to lift.
That’s the problem with a seaside airfield, Jesse reflected.
Not that they had wasted the time. Jesse had carefully coordinated his reconnaissance schedule with the U.S. Navy contingent, making it clear to Lieutenants Cantrell and Wild that though he was the senior officer present, they were in charge of the defense of Wismar. The Air Force contingent was present in a supporting role, a fact he’d made abundantly clear to Hans and Woody, just as Admiral Simpson had made it clear to him. He might have his doubts about the naval plan, but he knew his duty. And right now, his duty was to get airborne and provide some useful intelligence.
Where is the invasion fleet? He wondered. He knew the Navy had a fishing vessel out there somewhere, but it couldn’t be very far from the coast. I’ll bet anything they’re approaching from the north right now while my butt is here on the ground.
Jesse looked up and saw the disk of the sun trying to burn its way through the fog. Rubbing his unshaven jaw, he made his decision and turned back toward the aircraft.
Lined up into the slight wind, Jesse thought he could already see a lessening in the fog. Visibility varied between a sixteenth and an eighth of a mile as the fog eddied. The sky was still completely obscured. He had chosen the Belle II because of the slight power advantage it had over the original Belle and, for the same reason, had removed the four rockets that had been loaded on it. He wasn’t taking much of a risk, probably, but after the near disaster of three days ago, he wasn’t in the mood for any sort of risk. As Jesse reckoned, even if the fog closed back in, he could contact the captain of the fishing boat acting as their picket to seaward, perhaps orbit for a couple of hours and then divert to Magdeburg. If the fog lifted, Hans and Woody could go on a familiarization ride in the Belle I, just as they had planned for the past two days, while he would land to refuel and rearm. The Belle I was already armed with four rockets. All he had to do now was get airborne.
Advancing the throttle, he started rolling through the fog toward the end of the field and the sea beyond. The fog whipped past as he accelerated, lifted the tail, and let the aircraft fly off. He was immediately on the turn and slip, glancing at the altimeter to make sure he kept a positive rate of climb. He knew better than to look out at the fog—he could think of no faster way to get vertigo and crash. No more than twenty seconds later, he emerged from the fog into a dull sky dimmed by successive, thin cloud layers. As he climbed, he saw that almost the entire bay was enshrouded in fog. As he passed four thousand feet, he could no longer see much to the west, due to another cloud layer. If he remembered correctly that was where the friendly fishing boat waited. Jesse momentarily thought about going to find it. But in the distance straight ahead, he saw open water, and so he continued his climb and headed north. Piece of cake.