“You done?” the Captain asked.
Jeffers smiled. “Yes, sir.”
Rhodes nodded. “Captain Bollander, take these men and secure them in their spaces. Put on a double guard. I don’t even want them to think before I know about it.”
The men were escorted from the wardroom and everyone let out a long breath. Rhodes turned to Jeffers. “You’re a handy guy to have around. What did you say to them?”
Jeffers told him. “I insulted their officers and consoled the enlisted about their stupidity. It will wound their pride. Most of the enlisted guys wouldn’t do this on their own. But they are scared to death of their superiors. One word from them and when they get home things could go bad for them and their families. I doubt anything else will happen, especially since word will get around fast on what happened.”
“I believe you’re right. Anyway, the officers won’t be getting out of the brig until we offload them,” the Captain said. He turned to the others. “Nice work, people. Now let’s get some shuteye. We will be at our target about 0900. It’s time to sink some trains and bridges,” he said.
Slowly, the men left the room and went to their staterooms. Jeffers looked at the few things he hadn’t unpacked and decided it could wait until tomorrow. It would be his first gunshoot.
Major Vasiley was disgusted. It had taken a month to get replacement bombers and pilots. What had come looked as if it came from the third world country. The pilots were mostly around twenty and totally wet behind the ears. Most had fewer than ten hours flying the SU-34. That meant they barely knew how to get the thing off the ground. Not that that mattered. The aircraft that had been ferried in were barely complete. Vasiley had inspected his new aircraft the minute it arrived. It looked nice, with a new blue camouflage paint job, but in the cockpit, wiring was hanging from under the instrument panel. In a few places he could see holes in the side of the aircraft where the rivets had not been completed. All along the body were rivets which had not been ground down to be flush with the surface. It was much like some of the old planes from the Great Patriotic War — everything rushed to get equipment into service.
“How do they expect me to go up and win air battles with something like this?” he asked his maintenance chief.
“They are all the same,” the chief told him. “Number 27 flamed out when it was landed. It turned out the engine hadn’t even been installed properly and disconnected itself from its own fuel line. It’s a wonder the thing didn’t come out and slide along the runway,” he complained.
“Vasiley spit on the ground. “First they tell me to kill our own people. Now they want to kill us by putting us up in inferior equipment. These new pilots won’t know what to do when something goes wrong. They’ll end up digging a deep hole in the ground,” Vasiley said in disgust.
“They’re also scared to death,” said the chief. “My guys had to clean out four of the aircraft where they had vomited their guts out. And this was a routine flight,” he said.
“I can’t let this happen,” Vasiley said.
“What can’t you let happen?” asked Colonel Chenik, walking up beside the aircraft. He was their commanding officer.
“Did you see these planes? My son could build better with those little plastic blocks. It will take at least a month to get the aircraft ready and another month to train these new pilots. If they go up it will be like a death sentence,” Vasiley snarled.
“Yes, I saw. And I agree with you. If the Americans don’t kill them, these planes will. I was about to go to the wing commander. You want to come along?” asked Colonel Chenik.
“Yes, indeed!” said Vasiley.
The two men made their way to the administration building and went into the office of General Giorge Fedinko, commander of the bomber wing. They were immediately escorted into his office. Fedinko sat in a huge overstuffed chair resplendent in his formal uniform. He looked up from the papers on his desk.
“What do you need, Colonel?” he asked sternly.
“General, the aircraft they sent us are in a terrible state of disrepair. Most are barely able to fly, and the pilots are going to need a lot more training to get them ready to take on the Allies. The Major and I fear we will need at least a month to get everything up to some acceptable level,” the colonel reported.
Fedinko gave him a withering look. “These squadrons have been down for more than a month. Our forces need us in the air and on the job tomorrow. It’s your responsibility to make that happen. If you can’t do the job, I will find someone who can,” he growled.
“General, you were a bomber pilot like the rest of us. You know that sending these fresh pilots out right now will almost mean sure death. With the state of these aircraft, we may find that tomorrow night we will be down for another month,” pleaded Vasiley.
The general rose from his chair, his face beet red. “Yes, I was a pilot and I always followed my orders. We had to overcome many things in my career, and you will have to do so as well. We also knew the risks. It makes no difference how much training they have. This will give them hands on experience in combat, which is much better than playing around in a simulator. The first mission will be tomorrow morning. If you need to work on the aircraft, I suggest you have your lazy aircrews work all night. Better yet, you work alongside them. These new pilots will need to know their aircraft anyway. Now get out and never come complaining to me again!” Fedinko screamed.
The two men came to attention and saluted before turning and leaving the room. Vasiley looked up at his superior. “This is murder, and that man is an idiot. He forgets I have been up against the Allies and it will take more skill that I have to win a victory.”
“I’m afraid you’re right, but we have to get these guys as ready as we can. Why don’t we take them up with the few planes that are acceptable, and get at least a little training in. You up for that?” the colonel asked.
Vasiley nodded. “Not that these few hours will make a difference. At least I can give them an idea of what to look for,” he said with a sigh.
They found six aircraft in good enough shape to fly. Vasiley took three up at a time. The first three had difficulty using their radios and came back down. The second three achieved altitude but when they began aerial combat maneuvers, two of the places simply fell apart leaving two smoky plumes to mark the place where their pilots had died. Getting the one pilot left on the ground was a chore. His brother had been one of the pilots killed. Upon landing, Vasiley went to the colonel’s office and closed the door. The discussions lasted nearly three hours.
“Patriarch, we are hearing from a number of Army units that have been called back to reform. I understand there is general mistrust in the ranks for the senior leadership. We were able to spread some of your words to those units,” said a young monk.
“Ahhh, so it is true the things we have heard,” said the Patriarch.
“Yes, and they have confirmed the terrible losses by our forces. One sources told us that the Army has lost another 250,000 men just in the past month. The men and women are scared. They long for a change. Many are vowing never to return to the front,” the monk relayed.