To Be Loved // Masters of the Air

24: Crashing Down

You didn't know how long you were flying for until Brady called through the mic that Flanagan's plane had been going haywire. Apparently the engine of his blew out, falling out of line just like another had done not only minutes prior.

The amount of gas the engines needed to fly wasn't enough, costing you a total of 13 ships left to make it to your target. You were losing numbers by the second. There were too many gaps between the tail and the leading group for the plane's, the latter getting far behind and away from you.

This only caused the jitters to settle in, not knowing when the Jerries could blow you up from the sky and shoot you down, dropping like flies. You needed to make it to the destination with more than just one plane intact.

"Hey Johnny, maybe it's time to get down to the nose and man that third gun, all right?" Egan yelled through his gas mask to Johnny, one of the gunner's this time around for Brady's fort. He's an exceptional gunner, being Brady's co-pilot before Egan had to take his place for the mission.

You could hear the muffled reply from Johnny to Egan as he got himself settled into the nose of the plane, sitting down to manage the gun. All you could do was heave a sigh as you seated yourself before your gun in the middle of the plane's compartment, next to a man whose face you didn't recognize at first.

Though, you could tell he knew what to do just about as much as you knew. Getting to the target was always the hardest part because no one ever knew what really lurked ahead.

From the side door, you could see the planes in front of you angling to turn away, knowing the rest of the way would be just you. Alone for the journey now. You let out a curse at seeing them drift away from you, as soon as Egan called through the radio to let you know. "Escorts are out of gas. They're headed home."

Even though they led you through the channel, it still meant everyone had to pass Flak and that had always been the most crucial part of getting through a mission. This was the worst of the worst. The situations that you didn't want to be in.

Without the escort, it made it much more difficult. Brought a higher risk for the bombers themselves. All it could take was one strike of a flak, and it could be over in a split second for any one of you.

You had to focus on the one thing that was within your control. Keeping yourself calm despite all of the factors that were against you. To stay ready to fire the guns when the time came.

"Flak dead ahead." Johnny announces from under the ball turret to you and the rest of the crew, your grip tightening onto the gun's handle, waiting for the moment to start shooting. You knew it wasn't going to be an easy flight, more lives would get lost and less men to bring home.

There was never a 100% chance to come out clean. But you would have to wait for the command to strike, trying to remain calm despite the possible death sentence in front of you, the inevitable sound of the flak.

Flak had been spotted at 6 o'clock from one of the men aboard, and only then did you turn your head when the other waist gunner yelled at you. "Hey! Have I ever told you I fucking hate Flak?"

"Nope." Your answer was simple enough, as the man was already cursing out at the flak. And that wasn't surprising, because who didn't hate the flak? It was a nuisance, and you always remembered the sound of it. The first thing before explosions and destruction.

All the more reason for you to stay alert during all of this, keeping your eyes open as you wait for the order to begin firing at any given moment. You were fucked. That's what you thought.

There was no way you weren't going to get out of this in one piece, or alive by any given means. The flak began to finish off the planes in the back of the line, blowing up the engines and ripping away their wings.