The mass of scrap metal dropped like a stone. Di Mattino shifted painfully to watch it fall.
Nothing emerged from the aircraft that had fired at them, the pilot very obviously destroyed by the impact.
A rag doll detached from the second aircraft and tumbled away.
The air gunner watched fascinated, horrified, sickened, as the form descended, trailing useless cords from a useless harness.
Spiralling.
Falling.
Without hope.
The attacks were beaten off and the bomber’s mission completed.
In silence, the 401st had turned and, in silence, it was escorted back by the remaining six FW-190D’s of 16th Staffel.
At the allotted point, the fighters took their leave, the final words left with the senior American officer.
“Thank you 16th, and good luck.”
And, in silence, the two ravaged squadrons returned to their own bases.
The mission had been a massive success, Götz aside, the only problems being caused by those Soviet Air Defence response regiments that intercepted just in advance of the bomb zone.
On the ground, units of the 3rd Guards Army had been devastated, packed tightly as the intelligence suggested.
The 87th Guards Heavy Tank Regiment had been totally obliterated, its IS-II’s nothing more than expensive scrap metal. 140th Gun Artillery Brigade was so badly hit that it was withdrawn from the order of battle and its survivors used to fill gaps in other artillery units.
6th Pontoon Bridge Brigade lost much of its equipment but luck preserved over half of the qualified engineers.
However, it was the infantry of 22nd Rifle Corps that sustained the worst of it, with virtually the whole Corps written off.
In the most devastating single air raid of the war so far, the Red Army had lost over four thousand dead. The same number were wounded in various measures, but no-one who was under that attack came away unscathed, the psychological effects breaking many a hardy soul.
In the air, the La-7’s of the 32nd Guards Fighter Regiment had been decimated, the other Soviet regiments more fortunate but unable to engage close their prime targets, losing three Yaks to four Mustangs.
The Thunderbolts were not engaged, much to their annoyance.
The 401st lost more B-17’s than the rest of the force combined, six aircraft being lost with one, ‘Rock of Ages’, crash-landing on return.
Highest casualties were meted out to the Luftwaffe pilots of 16th Jagdstaffel. Including the unit commander, who crashed on take-off, seven FW’s had been lost, although the Jagdstaffel Intelligence officer was loathe to record seven losses and stated six, crediting the additional kill to Hauptmann Kreuger’s record before adding the simple and poignant word.
‘Gefallen.’
The report of the 401st’s commanding officer made its way up the chain of command and was acted on within SHAEF’s headquarters, the final approval resting with Eisenhower himself.
It was then forwarded to Washington, where other minds decided to decline its approval, given the full nature of the day’s events.
The matter was revisited under Eisenhower’s presidency, and he set aside time during his informal visit to Bonn on 26th-27th August 1959 to rectify the omission, at which time he presented the Medal of Honor to the wife and son of the still missing Hauptmann Walter Kreuger.
The ever-thoughtful Ike also ensured that the surviving men from the B-17 ‘Rock of Ages’ were all present, with their families, to complete the honouring of a very brave man.
Eisenhower heard the footsteps and looked up, his face carrying a pained expression.
“So, what do the council say?”
Bedell-Smith deferred to Bradley, as he had just finished a heated conversation with Donitz.
‘Or as heated as a conversation through an interpreter can be,’ though Smith wryly.
“He said he wasn’t surprised to find infiltrators, Sir.”
Bradley eased his collar a little, reliving the confrontation in his mind.
“He says that they have identified a number of these infiltrators, and more will be found soon.”
Eisenhower lit up a cigarette, knowing his man hadn’t hit the headline yet.
Bradley was quite clearly furious.
“Donitz says that we have to accept some issues, or withdraw the German forces completely, as he cannot offer any guarantees.”
Eisenhower nodded sagely.
‘Figures.’
He shrugged, his mind quickly reworking the problem and coming to the same conclusion it had some time beforehand.
“Well, we simply can’t take them out of the line, now that they have established in the Ruhr can we?”
He wasn’t asking so much as confirming his thoughts.
“What we can do, sure as hell, is make sure we don’t get that sort of repeat in the air. Make sure that sort of co-op mission is avoided in future. Let German look after German, then if there is a rogue, it’s them that’ll suffer.”
That made sense and Bedell-Smith noted it roughly on his pad, although he added, “Apparently, the German leader came good though Sir. It’s only a few rotten apples, that’s what the feedback says.”
Ike stubbed out his cigarette, his bladder suddenly announcing its needs.
“Maybe so, Walt, but if we can avoid cross-national groupings until they have their issues sorted then I will be happy.”
‘Happier, more like.’
“Now, reports from the ground are good. Recce will firm that up for us.”
Bradley was quite happy that a large amount of stuff painted with a red star was no longer his concern.
“So, before I pee myself, I am confirming the ‘Go’ order for Operation Casino. Let’s see if we can stop them dead for McCreery.”
Operation Casino, a near-copy of ‘Gabriel’, was an intelligence-led strategic bomber attack like that near Limburg, but on a larger scale. The full might of the RAF Bomber Command being called upon to deliver one devastating rolling attack.
There was one small problem.
The intelligence was mainly provided by a Leutnant Huber, formerly of the 21st Panzer Division, captured in Normandy by the 43rd Wessex Division, and subsequently trained and equipped by British Military Intelligence to remain behind the lines and supply information on Soviet movements during the uneasy peace.
The new war changed his status from persuaded agent to committed ally.
His Intelligence trainer and main liaison officer, posing as a Colonel in the Pay Corps, had been wounded early in the new war and the hospital he was in captured by the advancing Red Army.
He had been visited in Kirchgellersen by a senior officer of the GRU, who went away with more knowledge than she had arrived with. That knowledge now meant that Leutnant Huber spent every day in pain, responding to the whims of those who held lordship over his wife and life.
Operation Gabriel had been a huge success.
Operation Casino was to be the greatest disaster of the Allied air war.
Nazarbayeva had visited the enemy prisoner in the medical facility at Kirchgellersen and initiated the interrogation of the Military Intelligence Officer, the combination of her soft female voice and a Pentothal injection inducing indiscretion in a man already affected by anaesthetic.
All in all, the Englishman had betrayed twelve agents in place, nine of whom were now working for the GRU, the other three having made a more dramatic and terminal choice.
In the absence of Tatiana, the operation had been proposed by Lieutenant General Kochetov, using his former enemy’s assets to the maximum, Kochetov combined with Zhukov and Bagramyan, designing a trap from which the RAF could not escape unscathed.