CHAPTER 1
By Spring of 1944, the US Eighth Air Force was ready. Ready to bring the full force of American power down upon the heads of Nazi Germany. Over 2000 bombers and fighters of all types were to be unleashed to their full fury. Over a half a million men would be sent into the skies over Occupied Europe.
1st Lt. Aaron Williams would be one of them.
Aaron was a 21 year old 1st Lieutenant and pilot of the B-17 'Tantalizing Take-off" and already he and his crew had 5 missions under their belt. He had wanted to fly ever since his father took him to see a barnstorming tour when he was 10. He worked extra chores to get enough money and stole away one Saturday to go up in one of those rickety flying machines. He was grounded by his parents for over a month but his love affair with flying started then. He read up on planes every chance he got and by the time he was 17, he had his license.
School and sports, like flying came easy to him. Captain of the Princeton ice hockey and a top student, Aaron's rugged good looks gave him no trouble with the ladies either. He stood just under six feet with blonde hair and blue eyes and there were very few weekends he spent alone. He left the college after three years, saying there was a war on and his education could wait. Aaron joined the Army Air Force with the belief he'd be a fighter pilot. He just knew it. There was just one hitch.
In a hockey game his freshman year, he was hit in the right eye with a puck. No bones were broken and he had a beautiful shiner from it. It didn't seem like much but the vision in that eye was damaged. It was still good but not good enough.
"Sorry, son," the flight officer said. "You are most probably the best flier here but you know the rules. Your eyesight must be perfect and yours isn't."
Aaron didn't answer him but his disappointment was etched on his face.
"I can give you a choice," the officer continued, "You can stay here as an instructor. God knows we could use you or I can send you over to 4 engine school, you know, bombers."
It took only seconds for Aaron to decide. "If it is all the same to you, sir, I enlisted to fight, not teach, sir."
"I thought you say that. Very well then, you start tomorrow. Good luck, son."
Aaron passed 4-engine school top in his class and soon he was on his way to England. When he arrived at airfield at Henley Heath, he met the other members of his crew. They were a cross section of America ranging from Sgt. Russ Rousseau, the top turret man and engineer from Suncook, NH to 2nd Lt. Gene Martini, the bombardier from Spokane, Washington. Ten men, all depending on each to do their jobs and return safely on every flight.
Aaron hustled down the sidewalk of Duckworth, the local village just south of the base. It was his first chance at leave in three weeks and now he had 24 hours to enjoy. God, how did he need it. The last eight days were pure hell with each day worse than the one before. Five missions in eight days, each one deeper into Germany. What he saw would be with him forever. How he survived baffled him.
On the fifth mission, they were jumped by what seemed to be hundreds of fighters. They were everywhere. The sky was filled with burning Forts, parachutes, bodies, and exploding fighters. All he could was fly straight and pray.
One bomber drifted over in front of his plane, not 10 yards off the nose. The one wing was fully engulfed in flames and the fire spread to the fuselage. Suddenly it exploded. The force threw it up and right back over the top of them. Aaron could feel the searing heat as it disappeared behind them. More disturbing was the sight of a man falling out of orange-colored ball of flame. As he fell through space without a parachute he reached up in a desperate attempt to grab onto anything.
The "Tantalizing Takeoff" was one of the 3 planes of the 18 that took off that morning from Hedley Heath and returned that evening. Seven others landed at various other bases scattered through England. Still eight planes failed to return, meaning the loss of eighty men. Some were the same men Aaron had trained with and he grew to know. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to erase the terrible memories.
Mrs. Victoria Scottsdale use to love this time of year. Spring meant color and warmth. The bright colors of the new flowers and fresh grass filled the scenery. The days were longer and brighter and filled with the songs of returning birds. It had made her feel alive. She stood in front of small flower shop, flower pot in hand, eyes closed, her face lifted to catch the last rays of the sun.
It wasn't always that way. Vicki was bright and full of life all year round. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders and shone in the light. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle all the time. She could light up a room with her mere present. Every man wanted her and every woman envied her but both found her warm and friendly, easy to talk to, easy to like. Her wedding to Robin Scottsdale was the event of the year, not only in Duckworth, but in London social circles too.
It was a whirlwind romance and fairy tale marriage. Robin was an officer in the RAF and this took him around the world because of the level of respect he commanded. He was targeted for high places so he got to be stationed everywhere. Vicki was the perfect wife, not only in looks but she seemed to naturally understand the politics involved. Robin in his uniform and Vicki in her evening gown were welcomed at all the right places. To Vicki, every day was spring and for 4 years it was so.
Then came that day in May 1940 when that world ended for her. Robin was shot down leading his flight over the fields of France. At first there was hope that he had bailed out and was a prisoner but that faded quickly. By the end of June, it was believed he was dead and he wasn't coming back. Vicki returned to Duckworth to live with her mother and run the flower shop there. Her blue eyes lost their sparkle and she wore her hair pulled back. She dressed plain and simple, like the rest of the women of Duckworth and she didn't light up a room because there wasn't a reason too.
Aaron never saw her standing there. The two of them collided violently. Only his quick reflexes kept them upright as he grabbed Vicki before she fell. The flowerpot she was holding fell to the sidewalk and shattered.
