Or would it be? The plot showed the German attack on Hunter-Killer Group Sitka was getting close and the fighters he’d sent down to reinforce the jeep carriers were still heading down. There was potential there for another bloody bill.
“Admiral, 58.5’s heavy strike should be hitting the German carriers any minute now.” Halsey nodded absently; his mind still with the two CVEs to the south.
The 12 Ta-152F fighter escorts and the 16 Bearcats hit almost head-on in what was almost the traditional opening to an air battle. The Bearcat pilots were at a distinct disadvantage. They’d spent their careers hunting submarines and lumbering maritime reconnaissance. Aircraft. The pilots in the Ta-152s had always been fighter pilots who had some experience, even if it was very little by fighter standards. Half the Bearcat force was already fighting for survival, skidding all over the sky in an effort to avoid the heavy guns of the German fighters. Four of them didn’t make it. They’d left their evasions too late; the five cannon on the Ta-152s took them out. The odds were evened though, One section of four Ta-152s was so intent on hunting the Bearcats that they failed to notice a second section slotting in behind them. Within the first few second of the battle starting, eight fighters had gone from the fight.
This was the sort of war that only a white man could come up with. Formations of fighters hurled head on at each other with no regard for subtlety or finesse. Given his choice Lieutenant Simon Darkshade would be out on his own, hunting the enemy through stealth and ambush as his nation had always done, not this wild, furball where collision was as much a danger as anything else. He’d only just escaped the hammering of the German guns a few seconds earlier. Now he pulled the stick back and pulled a vertical bunt, leaving the Ta-152F behind. The Ta-152 was fast and agile when its boost was running. Even then, it couldn’t outclimb a Bearcat.
Darkshade rolled at the top of his climb, pushed the nose down and dropped. He plummeted in the way the eagles and buzzards on the reservation had shown him. The Ta-152 was still below him, he hadn’t reacted fast enough to the bunt. Darkshade swept his gunsight along the enemy fuselage. When it coincided with the enemy cockpit, he squeezed the trigger. His gunfire ripped the enemy pilot apart. The Ta-152 spun out of control and headed down.
Across from his kill, four more Bearcats pulled the same ambush on the last remaining Ta-152s. Four stubby little F8Fs had climbed out, positioning themselves over the battlefield. Four more had stayed down below. They engaged the German fighters, then extending so the Ta-152s followed them. That was the cue for the Bearcats above to plummet down and rake their enemy with bullets. A few seconds of slaughter and the fight between CAP and escort was finished. The Bearcats called in. Six of the original 16 were gone. The rest set off after the Ju-87s. Would they would catch up in time? It was debatable, the dogfight with the Ta-152s had caused them to drop far behind.
The Ju-87s closed up for mutual protection. The aft gunner’s twin 7.92mm machine guns might not be that effective individually, but the close formation allowed the gunners to mass their fire. That did the trick. The second group of Bearcats swept in to meet massed machine gun fire that sprayed their ranks. Two of the gray and white fighters spun out of control, and headed for the seas below. Two more broke off, their engines belching black smoke. The twelve survivors relearned the infuriating experience Lieutenant Pace had suffered before. The ability of the Ju-87 to slip sideways made it a difficult target to kill. With their first pass, the twelve Bearcats scored only four kills. One was Pace’s. He’d learned his lesson, he’d come up from underneath where the Ju-87 crew couldn’t see him, and killed them before they could dodge. The other pilots watched and noted. In their second pass at the formation, most of them tried the same trick. Eight more of the accursedly-evasive dive-bombers spun out or exploded as the .50 caliber machine guns picked them off.
Pace knew that the problem was; they were running out of time. There were still 14 dive-bombers left and they were approaching the anti-aircraft zone of Hunter-Killer Group Sitka. He also knew there was another formation of around twenty Ju-87s approached from the North. They were the survivors of the scouting line and they converged on the target they obviously thought was the American carrier group. Even while the thought ran through his mind, Pace swung around, hunting another Ju-87. Again, a pass from underneath. An eruption of black smoke signaled another Ju-87 dying. His third for this battle. Added to the one I shot down earlier that gives me four kills. Just one more and I’m an ace. Over the radio, orders called the Bearcats off, sending them to intercept the new formation that was coming in from the north.
Pace’s formation joined up with the survivors of the dogfight with the Ta-152s. He hit full throttle to try and engage the second formation of bombers. On paper, it was a one-to-one match but the Bearcats were running low on ammunition. Two passes, Pace guessed, that’s all. The accursed defensive fire from the bombers didn’t help. The gunners sent two more fighters out of the battle before it was even joined. The first pass was a complete bust. The two formations of Bearcats got in each other’s way, causing near collisions and lost sight pictures. Pace cursed. He’d had a beautiful shot at a Ju-87 but a Bearcat had lurched in front of him and blocked his line of fire. Chastened, the Bearcat pilots sorted themselves out and tried again. This time they got it right. The Ju-87 formation shattered. Twelve of the dive-bombers went down, either exploding, burning or just falling apart in mid air.
Pace wasn’t concerned with that. He’d got his fifth kill. He was officially an ace with the gun camera footage to prove it. He’d exploited the blind spot under the tail again and killed his man with style and finesse. The problem was that his burst had ended early as his guns ran out of ammunition. By the way the other Bearcats were behaving, he wasn’t the only one. Eight of the twenty dive bombers had got through. Pace guessed that wasn’t good. Then he looked up and saw a formation of 16 Corsairs diving out of the sun on the remaining Ju-87s. That would do it. Then Pace looked again. One group is behaving oddly; it’s as if they are coming straight at me.
Lieutenant Commander Frederick Kellen brought his 16 Corsairs down at maximum speed. That had burned inordinate amounts of fuel to get to the battle and his fighters were in critical condition. He took a glance at the formation below him. A small group of Ju-87s, eight by the look at it, surrounded by fighters. Straight wings, gray paint, radial engines, bubble canopy, Ta-152s. The strike must have had a heavier escort than we thought and they‘d beaten off the defending fighters. He did a wingover and lead the long dive that hit the unsuspecting fighters, achieving almost complete tactical surprise. The targets didn’t even try and evade as the Corsairs screamed down on them and the concentrated blasts of .50 caliber machinegun fire shredded them in mid air. Six spun out and started the long fall towards the sea. Amongst them was Eleanor, her pilot dead at the controls. Lieutenant Pace had been an ace for less than 15 seconds.
The American blunder had been a miracle. Captain Joseph Brandt believed the game was up when the wave of dark blue Corsairs had arrived. He had watched in incredulous amazement as they attacked the Bearcats. By the time the Americans had got themselves sorted out, the Stukas were approaching their target and about to go into their dives. Below them, the two carriers were clearly visible, surrounded by a ring of eight destroyers. For a moment he’d thought the ships were already on fire. They seemed ringed with orange flame, then he realized they were firing. Photographs that had escaped censorship showed the sides of the carriers were lined with anti-aircraft guns and it was rumored the battleships were even worse.