As promised - a new story!

[pauljmsn]

Well, the cancer fundraising went over $6,000 over the weekend. There's still a long way to go and I hope people will step up and help.

As promised, I present a new ferret story, which takes place during World War II. If I'd finished it earlier, I should have posted it on the 6th of June for obvious reasons. I've also posted a couple of stories, including "Pearl", on my personal website.

(A note on names: Up to now, the Skippys have gotten along with the two designations “Head Skippy” and “Second-in-Command Skippy”. Other Skippys were just called Skippy. But with the outbreak of World War II and the extensive participation of the New Ferrets in the war effort, the Skippy command system had to be more rigidly structured. Thus, the designations Skippy Three, Four, Five and Six. Skippy Three was in charge of ferret operations in the Pacific Theater, and Skippy Four in charge of European operations. The Head Skippy was, as usual, in charge of the Skippy Compound. Second-in-Command Skippy was placed in charge of a group of ferrets aiding humans on a top-secret project near Los Alamos, New Mexico, and Skippys Five and Six, respectively, were in charge of ferrets involved in equally top-secret projects in obscure places called Oak Ridge, Tennessee, and Hanford, Washington.)

Paul

[pauljmsn]

BOXCAR
By Paul E. Jamison

Old Buckenham Airfield, April, 1944

It was a fine Spring day. Which meant, in East Anglia in April, that it wasn’t raining at the moment. Otherwise it was windy and chilly.

There were no missions to fly that day, so the B-24 Liberators of the 453rd Bomb Group were parked on the grass in more or less neat rows, and the airplanes’ ground crews were taking the time to work on them. There were no major mechanical difficulties with the Liberators on the line – otherwise they’d be over at the machine shops for overhaul, if they hadn’t been grounded altogether. However, there were always the “gremlins” to look for – the balky doors; the gun mounts that would swivel only under severe protest; perhaps, at worst, the engine that might skip a cylinder to get the pilot’s attention. The mechanics would do what they could to track them down, but the gremlins were elusive critters.

Normally the crewmen wouldn’t pay attention to any animals that wandered on to the base. Many of the flight crews had dogs as mascots and there were some resident cats at Old Buc. Occasionally a fox or a polecat would make an appearance. But today, what looked like two polecats were making their way up the flight line, and just about every mechanic would stop what he was doing and watch them as they passed. Because these animals were walking on their hind legs and were wearing leather jackets.

Reactions were surprisingly mild. Some of the humans stared, others remembered that they’d heard something or other about these animals, and still others didn’t care one way or another, not with that blasted hydraulic leak to worry about. Mainly the ground crews shrugged their shoulders and went back to work.

The Dark-Eyed White ferret pulled his jacket more snugly around his shoulders. Bertram didn’t really need it that bad – he already had a built-in fur coat that was adequate. The extra comfort was mainly psychological. He was used to gloomy weather in Kansas, but not as much as he was experiencing in England. He said to his companion, “At least we’re not with Skippy Three in the tropics. I hear they have to shave their fur there because of the heat. I don’t know if that would be better or worse.”

Someone stopped tightening a bolt on a nearby B-24 and stared at the ferret that had just talked. Then he shook his head and resumed tightening.

The Cinnamon ferret didn’t reply for a moment, and then said, “I don’t know what to say about that. Yes, we’d probably have to shave, but on the other hand –” He turned to look at Bertram. “This is England.”

Bertram said nothing, but he nodded. It had been almost ninety years since David had met his grisly fate at the hands of a thoughtless human – a man of science – here in England, but the Skippys kept the Chronicles, and they made certain that the New Ferrets never forgot. Many of them never forgave.

Bertram gently said, “But we had to come here. We designed the mechanism, and the humans accepted it.”

Skippy Four said, “Yes, and it makes sense for us to install and test it in the field. That doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t. But we have to keep in mind – not all humans are evil. I’m not even sure that we can define what ‘evil’ is.”

Skippy Four looked down at the damp grass for a moment. “Maybe not. But the humans in Germany come pretty clos to defining it.”

Around his neck, Skippy Four wore a Star of David. Bertram knew that the Nazi invasion of Poland had affected his friend deeply.

Bertram held up the crucifix on the chain around his own neck and softly touched it to his lips.

Bertram let the crucifix drop and looked around. A mechanic was staring at him. Bertram smiled and waved. The mechanic looked at him for a moment, then smiled and waved back.

Bertram looked over the bombers as they walked by. Most of the New Ferrets loved airplanes and they each had their favorites. Like many, especially among those employed in the Wichita factories, he was a Boeing ferret. He liked the B-29, because he had worked on it before traveling overseas, but the B-17 Fortress had been his favorite since the prototype had flown in 1935. Still, the B-24 Liberator intrigued him. He knew it performed better than the -17. But it looked like it shouldn’t. The fuselage was one huge slab, with the belly slung low and close to the ground. No wonder it was nicknamed the “Flying Boxcar”.

One thing was certain: the big, boxy fuselage gave plenty of room for nose art. Skippy Four said, “You know, I like the decorating that the crews do to their planes.”

Bertram said, “Yes! I do, too! This one here is very good. That’s a great likeness of Bugs Bunny.”

“Well… The proportions are off a bit. But it’s still a good picture. This one over here – who is that?”

“I saw him in a cartoon last year. MGM studio. I don’t think he has a name yet.”

“I’m sure he’ll pick up a name soon. Sad-looking critter.”

“Yes, and this next one… oh, dear.”

After a moment, Skippy Four said, “You know, I don’t think I’ll ever understand the humans’ obsession with scantily-clad women.”

“It doesn’t look like she’s clad at all. The bomb she’s riding kind of hides parts of her anatomy.”

“That’s another thing. I don’t think I’ll ever understand the humans’ fear of nudity. It doesn’t bother us.”

“Well, we got fur.”

“There’s that. Actually, the anatomy is very good.”

“H’mmm… I think that’s supposed to be Betty Grable.”

Skippy Four looked at Bertram. “How would you know what Betty Grable would look like in that situation? They don’t have pictures like that in the movie magazines, do they?”

“No! Umm… I recognize the face.” Bertram looked at Skippy Four. “And how would you know what human anatomy was like?”

Skippy Four calmly replied, “Remember the books we bought at the estate sale a few years back? I found a book on human anatomy. I’m considering taking Figure Drawing classes when we get back.”

“What, human figure drawing? That would be novel – say, that plane over there has some interesting nose art! It looks like a woman from here.”

Skippy Four looked at the B-24 and nodded. “Interesting. It’s a woman, all right, but she’s sure not scantily clad. That dress looks over a hundred years old, in fact.”

“Not a provocative picture. I wonder why?”

“Let’s take a closer look.”

There were two mechanics working on the nose of the B-24 in question, one on the outside and one on the inside. At the sound of the odd little voices, the one outside stopped what he was doing and turned around.

The man stared at the two ferrets. That was to be expected. But he only stared at them for about two seconds before he broke out into a big grin and began pounding on the airplane’s nose.

The inside man looked through the nose glass and the outside man leaned close and said, clearly and loudly, “New Ferrets! Right here! New Ferrets!!” He pointed at Skippy Four and Bertram.

The inside man looked at the ferrets for the first time. They saw him burst into another big grin and disappear into the aircraft.

The outside mechanic turned to Skippy and Bertram and said, “Boy, are we ever glad to see you guys! We haven’t seen New Ferrets since we joined up and came over here! Hi, there!”

Skippy Four was as astonished as Bertram had to be. Then he got a real good look at the B-24’s nose art.

It was a young lady clad in an old-fashioned dress that was completely unlike the racy art on the other planes. She was obviously no shrinking violet, though. The lady stood, head held high and shoulders back, obviously proud and brave. And the plane’s name…

Skippy broke into a smile. “The PEERLESS PRINCESS! Of course! You must be from Kansas!”

The mechanic nodded his head. “You got it, pal! May I introduce myself? I am Raymond.” He stood up straight and bowed from the waist.

“How do you do, Raymond? I am Skippy and this is Bertram.” The ferrets bowed in return.

“A Skippy. Shoulda known. I worked with some of you at Beechcraft back before I enlisted. Best bunch of guys I ever met.” He bent down to shake hand and paw.

Three other mechanics left the PEERLESS PRINCESS by the open bomb bay and crowded around Bertram and Skippy. They were all quite pleased to the ferrets. And there was a reason why.

Raymond said, “Fellas, I’m not the only one from the Sunflower State. The whole crew of this fine plane, on the ground and in the air, is from Kansas.”

Skippy nodded. “And of course you’d be familiar with us.”

“Sure thing.” He patted the side of the plane. “And of course when we named the old girl, we’d call her something to do with our home state.”

“It’s a good name, and the artwork is fantastic!”

“I’ll tell Norman you said that. He’s from Kansas, too, and he’ll want to meet you guys!”

“Excuse me, what’s going on here?”

Two men wearing the peaked caps of officers were striding up to the PRINCESS. Raymond looked at them and said, “Oh, hello, Cap’n! We got a couple of visitors!” He indicated Bertram and Skippy.

The two men stopped and looked at the ferrets. The Captain was the older of the two officers, which meant that he was closer to his 30th birthday. After a moment, he said, “Well, I’ll be… New Ferrets. All the way over here in England. This is a welcome surprise!” He bent down. “I am very pleased to meet you. I’m Captain Jim Weiss, and this is Lieutenant George Courtney. We pilot and copilot this rig.”

The ferrets shook hand and paw. Skippy said, “The pleasure is ours, Captain. I’m Skippy and this is Bertram. And I think that the PEERLESS PRINCESS looks to be a fine plane.”

“Well, I think she has a very good ground crew.” Raymond and the other mechanics beamed at the praise.

Lieutenant Courtney said, “It is fine to see some New Ferrets here. What brings you folks to Old Buc?”

Skippy replied, “We’re here because of a new bomb release mechanism that we came up with.”

Captain Weiss said, “Really? Colonel Potts was telling us in the crew meeting a while ago that we were getting visitors that would help us install and test the new mechanism! Are you saying that you folks designed it?”

Raymond spoke up, “Begging the Colonel’s pardon, sir, but these are the Skippys. I wouldn’t be the least surprised if they did design some fancy new gadget for the planes. I’ve seen what they can do back home.”

Captain Weiss thought for a moment and nodded. “Of course. I’ve seen you ferrets do some remarkable stuff myeslf. From what Colonel Potts and Major Stewart said, this sounds pretty sophisticated.”

Bertram said, “Excuse me – Major Stewart?”

Captain Weiss replied, “Yes, Major James Stewart. He directs bombing operations for the PEERLESS PRINCESS and about four dozen other -24s.”

Bertram’s dark little eyes got big and round. “You mean - the James Stewart?!”

Captain Weiss kept a straight face. “Why, yes, I think that’s right.”

Raymond looked at Skippy. “Star-struck, is he?”

Skippy nodded. “Reads every new issue of Photoplay from cover to cover.”

“What, even the advertisements? My little sister never went that far.”

“Including the ones for human skin cream, which do us no good. Oh, he has it bad.”

Bertram was hopping with excitement. “I knew he was here! I read about his promotion in the newspaper! He’s only been here for a couple of weeks!”

Lieutenant Courtney said, “We know.”

Captain Weiss said, “Major Stewart is a good man. He’s good at his new job and he cares about the men under his command. I figure he’ll earn another promotion soon. Which he’ll deserve.

“Anyway, tell us a little more about what you’re doing here.”

“Well, we’ve done some work with B-29 assembly in the Boeing plant back in Wichita, and we had the opportunity to examine the current design of the bomb release mechanism. The design as it stands is good, but we thought we could do better.”

“I can believe it.”

“Thank you. And we came up with something that’s a little simpler and maybe will work a little faster. Plus we figured out how to build in some commonality with the B-24. It looks like an improvement on paper, but we can’t really test it full-scale back home. So, the head Skippy called up some folks that he knows in the War Department. The Boss would have gone directly to the unofficial government liaison with the New Ferrets, but the man is very, very busy right now.”

“Who’s the liaison? Anybody we know?”

Skippy Four smiled. “Maybe you do. Some fellow named Eisenhower. He’s way up the command chain here in Europe.”

The men were quiet for a moment, and then Captain Weiss said, “Yes, I think I know who you’re talking about. He’s got a lot on his mind. But you didn’t need to disturb him?”

“No, thankfully. Some folks in the War Department were interested enough to look further at our design. We originally asked for a spare B-24 that we could tinker with, but somebody in the Army Air Force did us one better. They arranged for us to test the design in the field. I think it helped that General Eisenhower has been saying some nice things about us.

“The War Department assigned us to two groups. One group under Skippy Three is working on B-29s in the South Pacific, and we’re here in the European Theater. Six of us came in to Old Buc awhile ago on a Goony Bird and we’ll be broken up into two groups of three to installing the hardware in two Liberators. The other four of us are off to see about our accommodations.”

Raymond spoke up. “Now that I think of it, I saw somebody working over in the residential area earlier with some corrugated pipes. I thought they were installing a drainage ditch or something.”

“That’s it. They’re erecting some ferret-sized Nissen huts. We’ve already talked with someone on the base that builds doll furniture as a hobby. He’ll help us furnish the huts.”

Captain Weiss said, “Sounds like this is gonna be interesting. How long will it take to install the stuff? We’ve been busy here and the planes can’t be down for too long.”

“We’ve thought about that. The design is such that we can work on it between bombing runs without disabling the old release mechanisms. We’ll be working around them, so to speak, and when we’re done it’ll be quick to switch over. Of course, doing it that way will take some time. We figure six or seven weeks.”

Captain Weiss thought about this and finally replied, “I see. There’s something else to think about. Have you heard anything about the Invasion?”

Skippy said, “Just rumors. Nothing much else.”

Bertram said, “I haven’t heard anything at all. Invasion of where?”

“The big Invasion. Of Fortress Europe.”

“…Oh.”

Lieutenant Courtney said, “It’s coming soon. Everybody knows it. The weather right now is lousy for that sort of operation, especially for crossing the Channel in boats, but hopefully it’ll clear up in a month or so.”

Captain Weiss said, “Hopefully. We’ll see. What it sounds like is that you guys will be finished with the installation just about the time of the Invasion. Think you’ll make it?”

Skippy Four replied, “I believe we will.” He and Bertram looked at each other, and he continued. “The thing is… when we’re done, one of ours will be riding along as an observer.”

All of the men looked at the two ferrets, and Raymond said, “Wow. You guys might be there to see the action!”

The ferrets nodded but said nothing for a few moments. Finally Skippy Four smiled and said, “We don’t know yet which two planes they’ll choose as guinea pigs. Maybe THE PEERLESS PRINCESS will be one of ‘em!”

The men were obviously pleased at the idea. Captain Weiss said, “And we’ll be proud to have a New Ferret on board if that happens.”

“And we’ll be proud to be there. Well, Bertram and I have to go check in with Headquarters. “He looked at Bertram and smiled slyly. “Maybe introduce ourselves with your group director when we get there.”

Captain Weiss said, “Sounds good. He was talking to a news correspondent the last time I saw him. Great to meet you guys!” He gave a brief salute to Skippy and Bertram. The ferrets waved at the other men and went on their way.

Just before they got out of earshot, the crewmen the PEERLESS PRINCESS were able to hear Bertram say, “Talking to the group director does sound like a good idea. I – uh…” He stopped for a moment and said, “Uh…” Then he ran to catch up with Skippy.

One of the men chuckled. Raymond said, “I was the same way.”

To be continued...

[pauljmsn]

Part 2

“The way I read it in the magazines, he started out by banning any press visits to the air base here. I mean, you can understand why.” Bertram was eagerly chattering away as the two ferrets walked along.

Skippy said, “Yes, I can. He obviously wants his privacy.”

“But somebody pointed out to him that the news blackout was hurting the men in the 453rd. People back home were hearing about the courage and heroism of other units in the Eighth Air Force, but they couldn’t get any news about the 453rd. That would be real hard on the men’s folks and the newspapers back home. So he dropped the ban.”

“That’s the sort of man he is.”

“Yes! But he still won’t grant interviews with himself. Maybe one or two statements, but that’s it. He wants the press to focus on the combat crews. He thinks they’re the real heroes!”

“And he’s right. In a way. The Colonel is a very modest man.”

“And that makes him a real hero, too, doesn’t it?”

The two ferrets had reached the main offices of the Headquarters complex. Bertram continued, “He’s a great guy, just like in the movies! He… uh… oh.”

Two men in uniforms had come out of one of the office buildings. One was a slim young man with a mustache. The other wore the peaked cap of an officer, with the insignia of a major on his jacket. He was tall and slim; the word “lanky” is overused nowadays, but it fit him quite well. He looked like the sort of modest young man that you’d expect from to come from a small Midwest town. The sort of modest young man the he’d already played in several movies already.

Major James Stewart was saying, “Now, Walter, I’ve enjoyed this little chat, but you gotta understand that this stuff is off the record. This isn’t about me – this is about the whole unit. These are great guys here, and the folks back home have to know that. That’s the important thing.”

The man with the mustache had a deep voice for someone so young. It was the type of voice you trusted. “I understand, Major, and I assure you it will go no farther. Now then – oh.”

“Something the matter – oh.”

The two men stood and stared down at the two ferrets wearing leather jackets and standing on their hind legs. In turn, the two ferrets looked up at them. The one with the Cinnamon fur was smiling, and the one with white fur looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

The Cinnamon ferret said, “How do you do, sir? I presume you’re Major Stewart?”

The two men raised their eyebrows at the sound of the high-pitched voice. Major Stewart, sounding very much like one of his movie characters, replied, “Uh… yes. Yes, I am.”

Then he pointed at the ferrets. “Wait a minute. I think I’ve heard of you folks before. New Ferrets, right? That’s it! You’re here about installing some test equipment on a couple of my planes, am I right? Colonel Potts mentioned it, and he talked about some ferrets, but I figured I’d misheard him.” He shook his head. “I’ll be…”

The other man said, “I’ve heard of the New Ferrets, too. The UP has some files on you, but not much.”

Skippy said, “We like to guard our privacy.”

Major Stewart said, “I can understand. This fellow, by the way, is Walter Cronkite. He’s a war correspondent with the United Press.”

“How do you do?”

“How do you do, Mr. Cronkite. This quiet fellow here is Bertram.”

The two men smiled at him and Stewart said, “How do you do, Bertram?”

Bertram stared and didn’t make a sound, though his mouth moved up and down. Finally he blurted out, “I liked you in The Pittsburgh Story!”

Skippy muttered, ”Oy vey.” He said, “Bertram, that was The Philadelphia Story.

“Oh! Yes! The Philadelphia Story! Philadelphia is a great town! Not that Pittsburgh isn’t! I haven’t been there but I’m sure it’s fine! I haven’t been to Philadelphia either, have you? Of course you have, sorry! The Pittsburgh Story would make a great movie, don’t you think? I mean – that is – I think –”

Bertram ran down until all he could manage was a single “squeak”.

Major Stewart looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Cronkite was very interested in something in another direction entirely. Finally Stewart crouched down and held out his hand. He said, “It’s very nice to meet you, Bertram.”

Bertram shook hand and paw and replied, “Squeak.”

Major Stewart said, “Is that a fact?”

Cronkite said, “Well, I have to go write a new release about the last mission for the 453rd.”

Stewart said, “Don’t forget to mention the boys on the HAPPY BOTTOM. Got shot up real bad, but all of them managed to come back in one piece. That’s the sort of bravery the folks stateside need to hear about.”

“Oh, certainly. They’re the ones I’ll focus on.”

Major Stewart looked at the two ferrets. “And I presume these folks don’t want you talking much about what they’re doing here.”

Skippy nodded. “Like I said, we guard our privacy.”

Cronkite sighed. “I figured as much. As much as I’d love to report on the New Ferrets, I’ll respect your wishes. Nice meeting you folks.” He waved at the ferrets and walked away.

Major Stewart said, “I like him. He’s a man of integrity. He won’t mention you in his dispatches.”

The Major looked at the two ferrets for a few moments, not saying a word, and he finally shook his head. He said, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I can hardly believe this. I’d heard of something called New Ferrets out in Kansas, but that’s just stories. Out where I work – before I came here – we tell lots of stories, and it’s hard sometimes to know what’s real and just… stories. But here you are. So the stories must be true.”

Skippy Four replied, “They are, sir.” He looked at Bertram, who said nothing but managed to nod his head in agreement. At least he didn’t squeak.

Major Stewart said, “And you must be here to test these gadgets on our planes.”

“Believe me, sir, if we could have tested them at home, we would have. But spare bombers are scarce. So are bomber crews.

“I can assure you, Major, that we know what we’re doing, and we have no intention of breaking your airplanes.”

“Well, that’s more than what the Germans intend, I’ll give you that. Colonel Potts gave me the details of your testing program, and it sounds painless enough. He said you won’t be too much of a bother. We can live with that, I think. I’ll be interested in seeing if these new doohickeys will make any difference.”

“So will we.”

“You’ve come at an interesting time, though. There are things we’re planning in a few months and it’s gonna get busy.”

“I think we know what you mean, sir. We’ve heard about the Invasion.”

“No doubt. I can’t really say one way or another. I certainly can’t talk about details.”

“We won’t ask about any, sir. But keep in mind, we are curious. Ferrets are like that. But we will not pry.”

Major Stewart nodded. “From what the Colonel said, you’ll likely be here when – well, when things happen. Can you handle that?”

“Yes, sir. I think we can.”

The Major looked at the two ferrets keenly. “More important, can this stuff you’ll be installing handle that?”

Skippy’s small dark eyes looked back just as keenly. “I believe that it will.”

“Very well. Colonel Potts and I have discussed the candidates for field testing and we decided on which two aircraft that’ll be assigned to it. One is going to be the PEERLESS PRINCESS. You folks are from Kansas and you ought to like that.”

Skippy smiled. “We will. We’ve already met Captain Weiss. Good man.”

Stewart nodded. “It’s a good crew. The other plane will be the PLANE JANE. It’s a good crew also under Captain Terence O’Malley. A good man – Brooklyn through and through. I’ve flown with him. You’ll get along with them just fine.”

Major Stewart stood up and said, “I have to be on my way. We’ll talk more about this later. It was good to meet you folks.”

Skippy replied, “And it was good to meet you, too, sir. We have to go check out our quarters.”

“That’s right, they were setting ‘em up. See that hut?” He pointed at a Nissen hut nearby. “Your quarters are at the far end of that row. They should have them up by now.”

“Mr. Stewart, sir?”

Major Stewart looked down at Bertram. “Yes?”

Bertram managed to blurt out, “It was real nice to meet you, sir!”

James Stewart smiled. “It was nice to meet you, Bertram.” He nodded at the ferrets and walked towards another office building. Bertram watched him walk away.

Skippy Four gently touched Bertram’s shoulder and said, “Come on. Let’s see our new digs.”

To be continued...

[pauljmsn]

Part 3

The semicircular Nissen huts that were used for crew quarters were about 24 feet wide and 30 feet long. They were made of corrugated sheet metal and looked like giant culvert pipes. At the end of one row of huts were smaller structures that had been made out of culvert pipe. Three half-sections of pipe two feet in diameter had been laid on the ground. Flat walls had been welded on the ends, with miniature doors and windows.

As Skippy Four and Bertram approached the miniature Nissens, a Sable ferret was carefully crawling around on the roof of the nearest one.

“Rudolph!”

The ferret looked up as his name was called. “Hi, boss! Checking the seams!” Rudolph scrambled down the side of the hut.

Once he reached the ground, Rudolph walked over to the other two ferrets. “That’s one thing the crews always complain about with the full-size Nissens. There are seams all over them and they leak like the dickens. These are more or less one piece, so we don’t have that much of a problem. Still, never hurts to check.”

“How about the edges around the front and back walls?”

“The human mechanics did a good job welding those on, but we should keep an eye on them, just in case. We can always touch them up.”

Skippy Four walked over to the front door of the hut and idly turned the little knob. The door opened and swung out easily. When he shut the door again, the latch gave a solid click.

Rudolph said, “The GI that makes doll furniture worked on the doors; guy named Duvall, really nice to work with. The windows open and shut real easy, too. He did a great job on such short notice.”

Skippy inspected the case windows for a moment, and then nodded. “Indeed he did. If his furniture is as good as this, we ought to be set up well.”

“I’ve seen it, boss. It is. He doesn’t have the proper tools to make metal furniture, so he can’t do that for us. But we can do that for ourselves.”

Bertram said, “We won’t need much metal stuff, anyway. Coat racks, maybe. Certainly a cabinet for our flight gear and our guns. Where is everybody else?”

“Blaze Skippy and Leander are at the airfield where out stuff is. They’ll be bringing our bigger tools and supplies over.” Rudolph pointed at the farthest of the three huts. “Our friend Duvall did an even better job on that one. The door’s three times as wide and the front windows are very slender. That’s gonna do great for a supply shed and machine shop.”

Skippy Four nodded. “Just like we asked. We’ll do a lot of fabrication work in the humans’ shops, but it’s good to have our own. Where’s Lulu?”

“Leander’s better half is with Mr. Duvall now, going over what we’ll need in detail.”

“Good. How about the interiors?”

Rudolph replied, “Not too bad. They look to be cozy. There’s plenty of room for us to move around inside; great headroom. If we need insulation later – no telling about that in English weather – we can install some. I’ve already marked the places in the roofs for the chimneys; we’ll cut them out when we install the stoves.”

Skippy Four pointed at the nearest hut. “Will there be enough room for four hobs to live together without driving ourselves crazy?”

“Looks like it to me. We all got along well on the flight over, so I don’t think we’ll clash.”

“And the hut next door is going to be plenty big enough for a married couple.”

Rudolph grinned. “I can’t say anything about them driving each other crazy. That’s nothing to do with us.”

Skippy Four did not grin; he was married. “It might if they start an argument in the middle of the night. Especially if they start throwing things. Hit the insides of these metal huts and you’ll get a nice, big echo-y clang, I’m thinking. It’d wake us up, all right. It might even wake the humans up.”

Bertram chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry. I’ve known Lulu and Leander for years. They’re not the arguing type of couple.”

“That must be nice. Well, it looks like we’ve got everything squared away. I’ll go over to the Mess Hall later to see about our meals. Would you guys like to come along?”

The other two ferrets nodded. Rudolph said, “I’ve heard they cook good meals here. We ought to be easy to cater to.”

Bertram said “I’m sure they do kosher.”

Skippy Four nodded. “I’m sure. If not.” He shrugged. “I can be flexible. Jewish ferrets are pragmatic about diet when we have to be.”

“Hey, there! I wouldna believed it if I hadn’t seen it wit me own eyes!”

The ferrets turned around. Walking briskly up to them was a man wearing an officer’s uniform and a big grin. “I thought they was kiddin’ me, but here ya are! Talkin’ weasels! I hadda come meet you guys!” The man stopped and said, “Captain Terence O’Malley at your soivice, gents!”

“Captain O’Malley! Yes, of the PLANE JANE! Pleased to meet you, sir!” Skippy Four held out his paw.

The Captain knelt down and shook hand and paw with the three. After the introductions, he said, “So you’re the little brainiacs that’re gonna be tinkering with my plane, huh?” He looked serious. “You’re not gonna mess it up too bad, are you?”

Skippy looked equally serious. “You have my word, sir, that we will treat your airplane as gently as we can. And we can treat mechanical things very gently, indeed. No brag, just fact.”

Captain O’Malley nodded. “That’s good enough fer me. The PLANE JANE has seen a lot of action and some things don’t woik as well as they ought. But she still flies good. She’ll get us there and back.”

The man looked at the miniature huts. “Nice setup we got for ya. You think they’ll do?”

“They ought to do us just fine. We’re arranging for the furniture now.”

“It can get cold at night here. Too bad we ain’t got stoves small enough to fit in these.”

“Oh, we thought about that. We’ve brought our own oil-burning stoves.”

“Really? You make ‘em yourselves?”

“Oh, yes! Many of us have worked for Coleman back in Wichita for years. We’ve learned a lot about heating and lighting equipment from working with them and can put together our own stuff now. And we do pretty good.”

“Huh! Imagine that! Sure wish our stoves worked better. They leak and don’t put out as much heat as they should.”

Skippy Four looked at the human for a few moments, and then he looked at the other two ferrets. Rudolph and Bertram looked back at him. They didn’t say anything, but the three ferrets must have been thinking the same thing, as they all nodded.

Skippy turned back to the Captain and said, “Sir, if you’d like, we can look at your stoves when we have the spare time. We might be able to fix them up some so they’ll heat better.”

Captain O’Malley looked at the ferrets. “You’d be able to do that?”

Skippy nodded.

“That would be great!” O’Malley looked at the Nissen huts behind him. He looked back at the ferrets and said, “Ya know, these things leak awful bad. Not that I’d want to impose, ya see, but you think maybe you… uh…?”

Skippy smiled. “We can look into it. I think we can climb up the side of a Nissen real well, and we can see trouble spots in the seams better than humans, I think. And we have our own welding equipment.”

Captain O’Malley grinned. “Guys, this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship! That kinda reminds me, what’re you guys doing tonight? You tired after flyin’ here?”

Skippy looked at the others before replying, “I don’t know, but I think we’ll be busy for a while settling in. After that, we might turn in.”

The Captain looked disappointed. “Aw, too bad. It’s movie night. I think you oughtta meet other crewmembers some time.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Captain O’Malley brightened up. “Say, there’s a do in the Officer’s Club a couple of nights from now! Not much – we bring some young ladies from Norwich along as dates for music and dancin’, that sort of thing. Might be a good occasion to get acquainted with folks.”

“Sounds good to me. What about you guys? Good? Okay. We’ll ask the others later, but some of us should be there.”

“Great! See you guys around, then!” Captain O’Malley waved and went on his way.

After the Captain had left, Bertram said to Skippy, “You know, boss, I like him. I think I’d like my crew to work on the PLANE JANE.”

“Fine with me. I’ll work on the PEERLESS PRINCESS, then.”

To be continued...

[pauljmsn]

Part 4

The day had promised to a wet one, and in the afternoon it had delivered a light rain. On the whole, nobody appreciates a day that keeps promises like that.

By evening the rain had softened into a light drizzle. The ferrets had removed the fleece lining from their leather jackets and, with the collars turned up against the damp, were now approaching the Old Buckenham Officer’s Club.

Lulu was a Silver Mitt with a dab hand at welding and a happy disposition that the weather didn’t dampen a bit. She walked along with her paw in the crook of her husband’s arm and smiled. She said, “Does anyone know how big this get-together is going to be? Did Captain O’Malley say, Boss?”

Skippy Four was leading the way. He looked back over his shoulder and replied, “The Captain didn’t say how many would be there. From what he said I’m guessing it won’t be all that many.”

Leander, another Sable, said, “Just as well. We’d get lost in a big crowd. It does sound like a nice way to get to know the people here.”

Lulu said, “But he mentioned music and dancing, right?” She squeezed her husband’s arm. “I do so want the chance to cut a rug!”

Leander grinned. “And you can cut a mean rug, sweetheart!” Lulu pecked him on the cheek.

Bertram said, “I wonder how many musicians they have here. It can’t be very many. Maybe one or two with instruments, I’m guessing.”

Blaze Skippy said, “Somebody was telling me about that. They’ve got one Army-issue piano in the Club. One of the officers is plays really well. Some other men here have guitars and will bring them. No big band combo, I’m afraid.”

Lulu said, “It will be enough.”

The Club was another Nissen hut, much wider than the living quarters. The ferrets had almost reached the front door when they heard, “Lor’, Lumme! When you told me yer friends was polecats, you didn’t half mean it, luv!”

The ferrets turned around at the sound of the woman’s thickly accented voice. They saw a young lady, her carefully coiffed blonde hair protected from the drizzle by an officer with an umbrella. The young lady’s eyes were wide with surprise.

The officer smiled and said, “Yep. My dear, meet the New Ferrets! Some of the best folks on God’s earth. Kansas born and Kansas bred, just like me!”

Skippy Four said, “Hello there, Lieutenant Anderson! Pleased to meet you, Ma’am.”

The young woman smiled wide at this and replied, “It’s actually ‘Ma’amselle’, but I do like your manners. I’m charmed, I’m sure.”

Lieutenant Anderson said, “This young damsel, friends, is Helen. She tends bar at the Patched Drum in Norwich. Part of the time she puts on overalls, wraps a cloth around her lovely hair and gets her hands dirty repairing cars in a garage in town. Quite good at it, too, and I’m not just dishing out the soft-soap.”

Helen nodded. “Gotta keep the autos we got running. Won’t get any new ones for quite a while. I’m doin’ my part for the war effort, I am, and proud of it.”

“I am so pleased to meet you, Helen! My name is Lulu, and I know my way around machinery myself. We ought to get together later and trade tips on repair work!”

Helen replied, “Oh, that sounds like a crackin’ good idea!” She leaned forward and turned very serious. “I could use some advice on tires and inner tubes. I see way too many tires come through the shop that’ve been patched more times than they can stand. I need to figure some way for the customers to get a little more mileage out of ‘em.”

Lulu thought for a few moments and looked at the other ferrets. Skippy Four cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow.

Lulu looked back at Helen and said, “Let’s talk later. I might have some tips.”

Helen looked at the ferret for a few moments and said, “You know, I believe you when you say that. I dunno why, but I just know.” She clapped her hands together and gleefully said, “Oh, I am so happy to meet you, Lulu! Thanks fer introducin’ us, George!”

She looked at her companion. “George, is there somethin’ wrong?”

Lieutenant Anderson sighed and replied, “Nothing’s wrong, dear. Far from it. It’s just… I’m remembering. I’ve met several New Ferrets over the years, and they have that effect on a person. They’re smart and good with their hands – um, paws. They know what they’re doing. And some people, when they do meet them, just take to them like nobody’s business.” He looked at the ferrets and said, “I trusted your folks from the first time I met one of you. When I heard some of you were going to be here at Old Buc, it boosted my morale a lot, I can tell you.”

Skippy Four replied, “Not all humans react that way to us. It’s good to meet some humans that we can get along with, but the other kind has given us no end of grief. You must know that, Lieutenant.”

“I do, Skippy. I’m sorry for that.” He turned to the woman and smiled. “And you take to them the minute you meet them. That says a lot of good things about you, hun.”

Helen looked thoughtfully at the ferrets before she softly said, “Blimey… It just seems the most natural thing in the world to talk with you. Don’t see nuthin’ wrong with it. But some people…?” She shook her head. “I don’t get some folks.”

Skippy said, “Don’t let it worry you, Helen. It’s a problem we have to face. And we cherish our friends. Our new friends, especially.” He smiled at Helen, and she smiled back. Their smiles weren’t very wide, but they were very deep.

Lieutenant Anderson said, “We ought to get inside where it’s dry.” He opened the Club door and held it for the others. As Helen and the ferrets entered, piano music could be heard inside.

Anderson listened and said, “Sounds like the Major is in tune tonight. Playing his favorite song, too.”

Bertram stopped on the threshold and looked at him. “Major…” Behind him, Rudolph touched his shoulder and they went inside.

There were about two dozen people in the Officer’s Club, lounging at the bar or sitting at the small tables. Several of the officers had brought girls from nearby, young ladies like Helen dolled up in their best for a night on the town. Thankfully the cigarette smoke was minimal. Ferrets can handle smoke-filled rooms for only so long. At one end of the room was the piano.

“He's a syncopated gaiter,
And you ought to hear the meter
To the roar of his repeater…”

The pianist was a tall, lanky young man that you’d expect from to come from a small Midwest town. Standing around the piano were three other men working on the lyrics. They filled in the gaps in their singing ability with their enthusiasm, and it was enough.

“Son of a gun from old Wyoming,
Ragtime Cowboy,
Talk about your cowboy,
Ragtime Cowboy Joe!”

Major Jimmy Stewart finished with a flourish on the keys and the audience applauded. The Major smiled and nodded his thanks, and then he noticed the ferrets.

He called out, “Hey, folks, it’s our new residents on the Base! Welcome to the shindig! Somebody get a table out here so our friends can get up where we can see ‘em!”

Someone set a table in front of the piano and the ferrets were soon standing on it, surrounded by a crowd of humans. A few people seemed apprehensive about talking animals, but for most they were a hit, and almost all of the women took to them immediately. The ferrets smiled and happily shook hand and paw.

After a few moments the furore had died down, and Major Stewart said, “So, tell me, fellas, can any of you sing?”

Skippy Four replied, “Oh, yes. I didn’t choose my crew for singing ability, but I think we’re pretty good.” He looked at the Major and cocked his head in a ferrety way. “Are you asking us to sing for you?”

Major Stewart didn’t answer. He couldn’t because the other folks in the Club answered for him and it got a bit noisy. Finally people quieted down and he said, “We usually ask anyone who’s here for the first time to sing something for us. Some folks say no, and we kid them about it.” He smiled. “But from the way it sounds, you won’t be able to get out of it.”

Skippy looked at the other ferrets, who nodded their agreement. He turned to Major Stewart and said, “Very well. You know any Kay Kyser?”

The Major frowned. “Kay Kyser? Any particular song in mind?”

“The one about the fishes?”

Major Stewart smiled and nodded. He sat back ran his fingers over the keys to limber up while the ferrets got themselves in line. Stewart began to play, and Skippy Four began to sing.

“Down in the meadow in a little bitty pool
Swam three little fishies and a mama fishie, too.
‘Swim’ said the mama fishie, ‘Swim if you can’
And they swam and they swam all over the dam.”

The other ferrets helped him on the chorus.

Blaze Skippy: “Boop boop”
Rudolph: “dit-tem”
Lulu: “dat-tem”
Leander: “what-tem”
Bertram: “Chu!”

Blaze Skippy: “Boop boop”
Rudolph: “dit-tem”
Lulu: “dat-tem”
Leander: “what-tem”
Bertram: “Chu!”

Blaze Skippy: “Boop boop”
Rudolph: “dit-tem”
Lulu: “dat-tem”
Leander: “what-tem”
Bertram: “Chu!”

Skippy Four: “And they swam and they swam all over the dam!”

It was a big hit. Major Stewart and the ferrets had to stop for a moment for the applause to die down.

The ferrets sang all four verses quite well, but there was a slight change in the program during the final chorus.

Blaze Skippy: “Boop boop”
Rudolph: “dit-tem”
Lulu: “dat-tem”
Leander: “what-tem”
Bertram: “Chu!”

Blaze Skippy: “Boop boop”
Rudolph: “dit-tem”
Lulu: “dat-tem”
Leander: “what-tem”
Bertram: “Chu!”

Blaze Skippy: “Boop boop”
Rudolph: “dit-tem”
Lulu: “dat-tem”
Leander: “what-tem”
Bertram: “Chu!”

Leander: “I want some SEAA-FOOD, MAMA!!!”

Lulu jabbed her elbow in her husband’s ribs, but the damage was done. The pianist collapsed in laughter, the ferrets were in hysterics and almost rolled off the table and the audience roared. It was several minutes before order was restored.

Major Stewart gave one last chuckle and said, “Well, you did a terrific job with that one, even if one of you strayed from the prepared text.”

Leander spoke up. “That’s the way Kay Kyser did it! If it’s good enough for him, it’s good enough for me!”

The Major nodded. “Can’t argue with that. Well, it was a great performance, and now I think it’s time for a little dancing. Any requests?”

Lulu piped up “Glenn Miller! I adore Glenn Miller!” This suggestion proved popular with the human women.

Major Stewart nodded. “Sounds good to me. I hear that Captain Miller is putting together an Army Air Force band and is bringing it over here in a few months. I guess I’ll have to do until he gets here. Will a piano be enough to dance to, folks?”

Lulu spoke for them all by saying, “It will be enough.”

“All right. How about starting off with In the Mood”?

People began to move the other tables back to clear the floor. Skippy Four climbed up on the piano and asked, “Mind if we sit up here, Major? So we can give the couple some room?”

The Major said, “Fine with me.” Soon everything was ready, and Major Stewart began to play. Six couples were enthusiastically dancing on the floor, with Lulu and Leander dancing just as merrily on the table.

Major Stewart played In the Mood as it should played, with the chorus repeated, more and more softly, then pausing at the end before really belting out the chorus one more time.

There were other dance tunes, slow one and fast ones, the Major Stewart played that night, and everyone enjoyed them all. The evening was a huge success.

To be continued...

[pauljmsn]

Part 5

Before they had left Wichita, the ferrets had looked over the bomb bay of a B-24 and had come up with a preliminary design of the release mechanism. This had been followed by a more detailed design and engineering calculations. Now that they were in the field, they took measurements of the bays of the PEERLESS PRINCESS and the PLANE JANE and set about precisely designing a mechanism to fit the dimensions.

It had been decided in Wichita that the best place to install the central mechanism was just above the ceiling in the aft left corner of the bomb bay. This – placing the mechanism far away from the Bombardier’s release controls in the nose of the aircraft – did not make much sense on the face of it, but that’s what the Engineering Shop in the Skippy Compound had decided, so that’s where the hardware was to go.

Skippy Four and Bertram and their teams began by fabricating the various parts that were needed, in their own little shop or in the Old Buc’s main machine shop, depending on the size of the part. When they worked in the main shop, the human mechanics were at first amused by the sight of such small creatures doing such work, and then were astonished at how well they did it.

In each of the aircraft, the ferrets cut an access panel in the bomb bay ceiling, and then they were began the main task of installing their release mechanisms. The work did not proceed steadily, interrupted by bombing missions, but it proceeded.

It was the beginning at May. The weather had warmed up somewhat, and there were a few sunny days. This was not one of them. The morning was rainy, with little wind. It was a good day for working on an aircraft.

Bertram and his team, Rudolph and Blaze Skippy, were working on the PLANE JANE. The unique roller doors of a Liberator bomb bay were open. A very tall stepladder had been set up in the aft portion of the open bomb bay, and the ladder’s upper platform was high enough that a ferret could reach the ceiling easily.

The access panel was open and Bertram was at standing on the stepladder, working on a linkage for the release mechanism. It was a simple linkage, but it controlled the release of all the bombs in the bay, so he was being thorough. Bertram was very mechanically adept, but he wasn’t a Skippy. The Skippys weren’t sure why he wasn’t a Skippy, and neither was Bertram. He just knew that he was good with his paws, and he had a good analytical mind. He just didn’t feel that “Skippy” was the right name for him.

Rudolph and Blaze Skippy were working in the forward part of the PLANE JANE. There was a loud clattering coming from the front portion of the bomb bay. A human mechanic was working on the door on the left side of the aircraft. The bomb bay doors on a B-24 Liberator fascinated Bertram. Back in Wichita he’d started out working on Boeing’s B-29 bombers, and he loved them. The -29’s bomb bay doors swung open like most bombers, but the B-24’s rolled open like a rolltop desk. He wasn’t sure if there was a mechanical advantage or an aerodynamic one. Well, if Consolidated Aircraft wanted to build them that way, it didn’t matter to him.

Bertram cut a bit of twine from the roll and tied down some wires to an intercostal. He stepped back to look at what he’d accomplished so far and decided that this was a good stopping point. He climbed down the stepladder to the bomb bay catwalk and called, “Hey, Skippy!”

“Yeah?”
“Yeah?”

The blaze ferret stood in the door at the forward end of the catwalk and looked at him. The human mechanic had stopped working on the roller door and was looking at him, too.

For the first time in almost 150 years, there was confusion about the name Skippy.

Bertram stared at the blaze ferret, and he stared at the human. Then he stared at the ferret again and at the human again. He finally said to the human, “You’re nickname is Skippy?”

The human smiled and replied, “Yep. Everybody’s called me Skippy since I was a wee lad. I’ve always been real good at tinkering, and Dad said Skippy was a good name for a tool nut.”

“Skippy is a good name for a tinkerer?” Bertram thought for a moment about the Skippys and said, “That might explain a lot. Anyway, I was talking to this Skippy right here.” He pointed at Blaze Skippy. “How are you and Rudolph doing?”

Blaze Skippy replied, “Coming along fine. We’ve finished installing a ferret-sized seat in the radio room for when one of us goes along to observe the bomb release. I’m partway through installing a port in the oxygen system that a ferret can plug his mask into. Next to that I’ll tap into the intercommunications system so we can talk and listen to the crew. I figure the next order of business is to install an extra oxygen port in the cockpit for one of us. Just in case we need to be there.”

“What about one in the Bombardier’s compartment?”

“Might be a good idea. I’ll talk to the Boss and look into it.”

“It’s an idea. Let me know what he says. So, Skippy…”

“Yeah?”
“Yeah?”

Bertram shook his head. “Okay, we’ve got to do something about this. Sir, I take it you prefer to be called Skippy?”

The human nodded. “You know it, brother. I do not like my real first name. Not at all.”

“That bad?”

“Oh, yes.”

Bertram thought about a good friend of his named Marion. He hated his name, too. “I’ll spare you the embarrassment of asking.”

“Much obliged.”

Bertram pondered. Finally he said, “I have an idea. Would it bother you if we referred to you as ‘Human Skippy’?”

The mechanic thought for a moment and smiled brightly. “I think I like it. Human Skippy I am!”

“Excellent! So, Human Skippy, what have you been working on?”

Human Skippy slapped the roller door and it rumbled. “These stupid doors have taken to acting up lately. Sometimes this one will stick. It’ll just refuse to open if it’s shut or shut if it’s open. Other times it works fine. I’ve been trying to see what I can do to fix it, but I’m not doing any more than just bangin’ on it. It doesn’t interfere with the flying any, and the JANE is in pretty good shape overall. But this bugs me, you know?”

Blaze Skippy said, “I know exactly what you mean. That sort of thing bugs me, too. Maybe we can look at it and help.”

Human Skippy nodded. “Maybe you can. Couldn’t hurt. It would truly be appreciated, pal.”

Bertram said, “Very good. Now it strikes me that this might be a good time for us to take a break.”

Human Skippy said, “I would say that sounds like a good idea. I could do with some coffee.”

“And we could do with some tea. Hey, Rudolph! Bring out our thermoses! I think our friend Human Skippy has one in there, too.”

Soon Rudolph staggered out of the radio compartment with a thermos bottle that was almost as large as he was. Human Skippy accepted this with a courteous thank you and Rudolph went back for the three smaller containers. Soon the ferrets and the human were sitting together on the catwalk and relaxing.

Human Skippy watched as Rudolph, sitting next to him, unscrewed the cup off the top of his thermos and pulled out the little stopper. A cloud of steam issued from the open container and suffused the immediate vicinity with a warm, minty aroma.

Human Skippy said, “Say, now, those are pretty nifty little bottles! You guys make them yourselves?”

Blaze Skippy replied, “Sure did! Back home in Wichita some of us work in the Coleman plant as well as the aircraft factories. We’ve learned a lot from the folks at Coleman.”

“I can imagine.” Human Skippy sniffed. “Nice-smelling stuff you have there. I assume you can’t drink coffee.”

“We can, but it has to be very weak. Even then it’s still more caffeine than we’re comfortable with. We came up with our own blend of tea. Might be too sweet for humans, though. “

Everyone sipped their beverage of choice for a few quiet moments, and Human Skippy asked, “So, how you guys liking it here?”

Bertram replied, “Not too bad. The work is interesting and the folks here have treated us well. Our kind has… an unpleasant history with England, but we can put that aside for now. The important thing is we’re here doing our part for the war effort.”

Human Skippy nodded. “We’re all in this together. You guys hear anything about the Big Push?”

“The Invasion of Europe, you mean? Nothing definite, any more than anyone else has. All we know is that it’s coming.”

“Yeah, everyone knows that. It’s not a question of ‘if’, but ‘when’. I figure it’s sometime soon, maybe only a month or so.”

Rudolph said, “It will likely depend on the weather. Possibly on the full moon.”

“Hadn’t thought of that. A full moon would help. But it’s gonna happen.”

“Agreed.”

Human Skippy poured another cup of coffee. “I think the $64,000 question about the Invasion isn’t ‘when’, but ‘where’. Where do we hit ‘em?”

Bertram sipped his tea and said, “That is a big question. A very important one.”

“Yes, indeed, real important. The big Brass must know where we’re goin’, but they haven’t told us yet.”

Blaze Skippy said, “That’s as it should be. Loose lips sink ships, as the saying goes.”

Human Skippy said, “Oh, yeah, you’ll get no argument from me! You ever see those Private Snafu cartoons? I know too many GIs that are blabbermouths just like that. I don’t know where we’re goin’ and I’m better off not knowin’.”

Rudolph said, “Well, we can at least speculate.”

The human nodded. “Oh, sure. So… where do you think?”

Bertram said, “We’ve been looking at the maps. We’re good with maps. The obvious place would be where the Channel is narrowest. That would make it the Pas de Calais. It’s only a few miles wide there.”

“That’s so.” Human Skippy waved a finger. “But that may be a little too obvious. That’s where the Germans might expect us to cross. Pas de Calais would be where they’d concentrate their defenses. So maybe we won’t cross there.”

Blaze Skippy nodded. “Yes… But maybe it’s too too obvious. Maybe because the Germans think it’s the obvious place, they won’t expect us to cross there, so we’d surprise them if we *did* cross in the most obvious place.”

The human stared at Blaze Skippy for a moment. So did Bertram and Rudolph. Finally Rudolph said, “Have you been working a little too hard lately?”

Blaze Skippy just smiled.

Bertram said, “I’ve heard rumors about Norway, but that’s way too far north in my opinion.”

Rudolph said, “Maybe not, if the invasion forces are going to be as large as I’ve heard. There’s been talk of thousands of troops. General Patton’s First Army Group is in Dover, so a landing at Calais is possible.”

Human Skippy said, “What it comes down to, guys, is that the Invasion could start from anywhere along the coast of Jolly Olde England, and it would end up anywhere along the coast of France. We’ll know when they tell us.” He turned his thermos over and the last dribbles of coffee rained on the ground beneath the PLANE JANE. “Don’t know about you, but I think it’s time to get back to work.”

Bertram drained his tea and said, “Agreed. Let’s get to it, guys. For the men going to France!”

################################################

The ferrets continued their work, when the planes were down. When the planes were flying, they did odd jobs like patching leaks in the human’s hits. All of the ferrets had their own pistols, including Lulu, and when there was spare time they all conducted target practice in the area behind their little huts. The sight of six cute little animals shooting toy guns at little targets amused the flight crews no end, except those that stuck around to look at the results. Skippy Four said in explanation, “Our domestic Mustelid cousins don’t have very good eyesight. We seem to be better off than them in that respect.” As if it explained everything. The humans looked at the bullseyes and were impressed.

But as May wore on, the humans were also distracted. The Invasion was taken as a given by everyone by now, and speculation over when and where was rampant. The consensus was that it had to be soon – within weeks – and that it would start from Dover. There were reports of troop movements and gatherings of ships in Channel ports, but no definite announcements.

On the First of June, after work was done for the day, the six ferrets were gathered in one of their miniature huts for the usual evening palaver.

Leander sipped his tea and said, “If you ask me, I don’t think it’ll be in weeks – I think we’re talking about days.”

Skippy Four said, “I think so, too. The only real concern the High Command has is the weather.”

Blaze Skippy said, “That’s true. The weather is warmer, but the invasion fleet will have to worry about what it’s like on the Channel. I keep these –” He reached up with his paw and flicked one of his ears. “– tuned to the BBC’s Shipping Forecast all the time. The Channel is pretty choppy right now. Auntie Beeb has been coy lately about long-term weather forecast – don’t want to tell the Germans much – but it doesn’t sound like conditions will be good for crossing for a few days.”

Rudolph said, “There’s something else, Boss. I just heard another rumor about the Invasion, and if it’s true, it’s not good.”

Skippy Four said, “Now what?”

Rudolph said, “Scuttlebutt I heard is that some German spy got hold of the invasion plans for General Patton’s First Air Group.”

Bertram said, “Uh, oh.”

“’Uh, oh’ is right. I’m not saying it’s true, but if it is, the Krauts know we’re coming.”

Skippy Four said, “Oy vey. That means they’ll fortify the area around Calais. It’s probably heavily protected as it is.”

Lulu said, “Oh, no… It’ll be a big trap, won’t it? And how many Allied troops will walk into it?”

Skippy Four said, “It’s too late now for the High Command to change planes.” Maybe they’ll get through anyway, but even so…” He shook his head. “Oy, vey.”

##############################################################

On the afternoon of June Fifth, Skippy Four and Lulu were walking toward the Communications Office. It was that time of day when the ferrets checked to see if they’d received any mail. Skippy Four had been keeping the Head Skippy back in Wichita informed of their progress, as best as he could with wartime censorship restrictions. The ferrets were also expecting the latest issue of the “Saturday Evening Post”. The office compound was busy, with several people walking from here to there, for various definitions of “here” and “there”.

That was when the announcement came over the tannoy. Skippy Four recognized the voice of Sergeant Major Eugene Lipp, the 453rd’s ranking NCO. Sergeant Lipp began with the usual, “Your attention please”. The ferrets and the humans stopped to listen.

“Your attention please – as of this moment, Buckenham Air Base is closed. This is on the specific orders from General Griswold, the Deputy Commander of the 2nd Air Division. Officers and enlisted men will be allowed to return to base, but nobody will be allowed to leave. I repeat, as of now, the base is closed. Further details will be given later. That is all.”

No one moved. There was silence for one second. Then the human personnel resumed their little journeys, walking a little faster, and conversations resumed, a little louder and a little more excited.

The two ferrets looked at each other. People somehow avoided them. Lulu said, softly, “This is it, isn’t it?”

Skippy Four nodded. “Yes. Yes, this is it.”

Then he noticed a human, tall and lean in an officer’s uniform, pass nearby in a rush.

Skippy Four called, “Major Stewart! Major Stewart!”

James Stewart, not so much a modest young man from the Midwest now as he was a very distracted man with a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, stopped and brusquely replied, “Yes, what is it?”

Skippy Four said, “Do you know anything about why we’re being closed down?”

Stewart impatiently said, “I can’t say anything about that. You’ll find out soon enough, along with everyone else.”

Skippy Four said, “Of course, my deepest apologies, sir. I wasn’t thinking. This is just so sudden.”

“Yes, I understand. Will your release mechanisms be ready?”

“Yes, sir, all of our installation work is done and all that’s left is the switch over to the new system. That can be done in ten minutes after we’re given the word.”

“Then I give you the word. Go ahead and do it. Now, I have places to go.” He turned to leave.

“Yes, Major, thank you.”

Stewart looked over his shoulder and he smiled slightly. “And for your information, it’s Lieutenant Colonel Stewart now.” He walked briskly away.

Skippy Four’s jaw hung open for a moment, and then he called out, “Congratulations, Colonel!” Colonel Stewart didn’t break his stride as he waved back at them.

Lulu nodded. “It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving man.”

Skippy Four nodded. “I think he’s going to go farther than that. Anyway, we still need to check our mail. C’mon.” The two ferrets continued to Communications.

The mail clerk was listening to a couple of enlisted men heatedly discussing nothing about the recent announcement when the two ferrets walked in. Skippy Four called out, “Hey, Curtis!”

Curtis waved at the two ferrets and held his finger up to his non-informants. “This’ll take a sec. – Okay, Skip, you guys got nothing today from back home, but you did get some official mail from some high muckity-muck at Allied Headquarters in London.” He reached for a cubbyhole behind him and took out a cream-colored envelope. He leaned down and handed it to Skippy Four. With a wink he said, “A really high muckity-muck, I think. The name sounds familiar.”

Skippy Four looked at the envelope, and Lulu looked at the return address over his shoulder.

Her little dark eyes got wide and she almost whispered, “Do you *know* him?”

Skippy Four nonchalantly said, “Oh… I met him a while back when he came through Kansas to talk with the Head Skippy.” He slid a nail under the sealed flap and took out a single sheet of folded paper. He and Lulu read it. It didn’t say much.

“As you can guess, I’m very busy right at the moment. But I wanted to take the time and write you a quick note to wish you and your folks the best of good fortune tomorrow.

Take care.

General Dwight D. Eisenhower.”

Skippy Four placed the paper back in the envelope and said, “Come on. Let’s wrap the work up on the planes.”

To be continued...

[pauljmsn]

Part 6

Bertram’s crew was finishing up the work on the PLANE JANE. Bertram was back on the stepladder, tightening the screws on the newly-installed access plate. Blaze Skippy was cleaning up a few parts on the ground and Rudolph was on the catwalk, winding up the ball of twine. They stopped to listen when Sergeant Lipp’s voice came over the tannoy again.

“Your attention please. There will be a meeting of all base personnel on the flight line. Repeat: there will be a meeting of all base personnel on the flight line. This will take place immediately. Please proceed to the flight line immediately. That is all.”

Blaze Skippy said, “I presume that includes us.”

Bertram replied, “I don’t see why not.” He put his screwdriver into his toolkit and said, “Let’s stop here, guys.” He started climbing down the stepladder. Rudolph put the ball of twine down on the catwalk and jumped down to the ground.

Already a crowd was gathering on the flight line. The three ferrets headed over to find a good vantage point.

##################################################

The ferrets had made several friends among the base personnel in the last few weeks. Fewer and fewer people would stare at them as they walked by, and more and more would smile and wave. But tonight, of all nights, almost nobody waved at them. It was understandable. These folks had other things on their mind.

Bertram listened to the voices as they passed. There were several low-level, excited conversations going on. Nothing stood out very clearly. He heard whispers of “Calais” and occasionally “Norway”. But there was a new note sounded. One or two people, sounding very confident in themselves, mentioned someone’s name – Norman. He didn’t know any Normans on Old Buc, and certainly not –

The ferret’s eyes widened. He knew where the Invasion was going to take place.

Of course.

There hadn’t been time to erect a grandstand or even shove a few tables together. The officers in charge of the meeting were at ground level, and the base personnel gathered together and faced them. People strained to look over shoulders, and shorter folks were allowed room up front. The six ferrets, the shortest personnel of all, were in the very front and got a very good view.

Colonel Ramsay Potts, the Commander of the 453rd, was in charge of the meeting. Among the other officers with him was Lieutenant Colonel James Stewart.

After a few minutes, Colonel Potts cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Excuse me! May I have your attention?” The hubbub among the men died down and he continued.

“As you may have guessed from the fact that this airbase has been closed down, the Allied Invasion of Europe is ready to begin. From what I understand, it was originally scheduled to start yesterday, but the weather prevented that. However, it has been decided that the weather today is good enough to make a crossing of the Channel possible. It will still be dicey, but we have a full moon tonight. And if we don’t cross now, we will not have favorable conditions again for several weeks.

“As you will understand, we could not announce ahead of time where the Channel crossing was to be made. That did not stop speculation among you men, of course. You have heard stories of maneuvers by General Patton’s First US Army Group near Dover, and most of you came to the logical conclusion that the target for invasion would be Calais.

“I can now reveal to you that that is wrong. Patton’s First US Army Group will not invade Calais. There is no First US Army Group. It was part of a plan to deceive the Germans concerning the Invasion, and the deception worked as planned. Calais will not be invaded. Nor will Norway.

“The Allied Invasion of Europe is to take place on the beaches of Normandy.”

Bertram nodded. He’d been right.

“I do not have the details about the Invasion, naturally enough, but I know it’s going to be big. It may well be the biggest invasion in history. From what little I know, there will an amphibious invasion coupled with an airborne assault which will land paratroopers. These will be preceded by naval and aerial bombardments. That is where the 453rd Bomber Group comes in. We will be part of the aerial assault. Our attack must disrupt the enemy’s defenses. I must emphasize to you men that the troops will be depending on us.

“I have two messages to read to you men. One is from General James Doolittle and the other is from General Dwight Eisenhower.”

General Doolittle’s message asked all personnel for extraordinary performance of duty that day. Bertram thought about this and wondered how many planes of the 453rd would return home that day. Then he thought of the invasion troops. How many of them would not return?

Then Colonel Potts read General Eisenhower’s message.

“Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force! You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months…”

Bertram had never met General Eisenhower, and he was enthralled. He liked the phrase “Great Crusade”. Yes, that’s what this was. A crusade.

“…I have full confidence in your courage and devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory!

“Good luck! And let us beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking.”

Under his breath, Bertram said “Thank you, sir” to a man that he had never met.

Colonel Potts folded the message and continued. “Your B-24s will begin taking off at 3:30 AM tomorrow, after which the four squadrons will rendezvous and head for the first target. The landings on the Normandy beaches are scheduled to begin at 6:30 AM tomorrow. For that reason, we want the first air attacks completed by 6:28. Now, Colonel Stewart –” James Stewart nodded. “– will be in charge of the mission instructional details. He will be working on your missions, starting tonight. After we’re done here, I strongly urge you men to have early dinners and get as much sleep as you can get.” He indicated Skippy and Bertram. “I make that recommendation to our two observers as well.”

The two ferrets gravely nodded.

“Very well. Dismissed, men. Get some rest.”

Skippy Four said, “We’ll stop by the canteen and grab a quick supper, then we’ll go get as much shuteye as we can. Let’s go, folks.”

###########################################

“Hey, Bertram!”

“Umph! Wstfgl?”

“It’s One-Thirty! Time to get up!”

Bertram let out an impressive yawn and opened his eyes. Skippy Four was standing by his bed. The Sable ferret was dressed in his leather flight jacket and held a small helmet and oxygen mask in his paw.

Bertram didn’t need to be told twice. He got up and walked over to the cabinet where the ferret’s flight gear was stored and he pulled on his own leather jacket. “We’re going today then? What’s the weather like?”

“I don’t know the details, but it’s overcast. I can’t see any stars, but I presume it’s good enough over France for bombing.”

Bertram put his flight helmet on. The leather helmet had two small openings, specially designed to allow for a ferret’s ears. “Well, the human weathermen ought to know.” He picked up his oxygen mask and snapped it on one side of the helmet. The mask with the attached tube and the earphone wires hung down his front.

Skippy Four said, “Don’t forget your gun.”

Bertram saw that Skippy was wearing his own holster. He said, “Are you sure? Do you think that we’ll need to be armed?”

“Probably not. Not much call for hand-to-paw combat up there. But you never know. The plane might get shot down behind enemy lines and we’ll be on our own.”

“Uh.” Bertram got his holster from the cabinet and fastened it around his hips. He picked up his gun and opened the breech. He made sure that it was loaded and he snapped it shut. “Going down isn’t likely, though.” He put the gun in his holster and looked at Skippy Four. “Is it?”

“Not very. But we should be prepared. Some of those planes aren’t in the best of shape.”

“I know. The PLANE JANE has its problems, but just a few gremlins. It still flies pretty well.”

“Where’s your tool kit?”

“It’s already on the JANE. I left it there last night.”

“Excellent. Are you ready?””

“Yep.”

“We’ll head over to the flight line, then. Hey, Skippy!”

“Umph! Wstfgl?”

“Get up and brew some tea! Meet us at the flight line with a couple of thermoses! I think we’ll be going through a bunch of tea today.”

#########################################

It was after 3 AM when Blaze Skippy and Rudolph reached the flight line. Floodlights did what they could to hold back the dark night. The scene was controlled chaos with people running around and barking orders. Actually, if you looked more closely, it was more control than chaos. There was little real confusion. Everyone had their job and they were either doing it or waiting to do it. The B-24 cockpit crews – Pilot, Copilot and Flight Engineer, with the Navigator from the plane’s nose – were off at a last-minute briefing on the first target and the recommended flight route. The bombs had been loaded into each aircraft and the ground crews were performing a few final chores. The remainder of the flight crews – the Gunners, Bombardiers and Radio Operators – were lounging around their aircrafts, chatting and downing sketchy breakfasts and steaming cups of coffee. They were quiet, relaxed for now; they’d be busy soon enough.

Close by the PLANE JANE was a Sable ferret in a flight jacket. Skippy Four saw Blaze Skippy and Rudolph and waved at them.

Blaze Skippy couldn’t wave back because his paws were full. “Hey, boss! We’ve got a couple of thermoses like you ordered! You won’t need ‘em yet, though. Rudolph here has some tea you can drink while you’re still on the ground.”

Skippy Four said, “Good. Hand me a cuppa, then, will you?”

“Sure thing.” Rudolph poured a steaming mug of the ferrets’ special tea and passed it over. “Where’s Bertram, by the way?”

“Here I am!” A Dark-Eyed White ferret in his own flight jacket walked up to them. “Father Score held Mass before the mission and I attended. He also heard my confession.”

Skippy Four said, “That was nice of him. I’m surprised you got away so soon.”

Bertram took a mug of tea from Rudolph and replied, “I talked fast. Oh, yeah, Boss, he said you should come with me next time. Father Score wants so much to convert at least one of the Heathen to the flock. His words, not mine.”

Skippy Four smiled and said, “He’s just jealous because kosher dietary restrictions are more interesting than what Catholics put up with. So you don’t eat meat a few days every year. Where’s the challenge in keeping to that?” He sipped his tea. “Besides, ferrets don’t gather in flocks; Father Score is thinking of seagulls.” Skippy Four frowned. “I’m not really sure what ferrets are, really.”

Blaze Skippy said, “Business. Domestic ferrets are in a business, so I suppose New Ferrets are, too.”

“H’m. Interesting. The Lawyer Skippys will like that.”

Rudolph held up a couple of boxes and said, “Speaking of diet, we’ve got some food for you, too. Bacon and eggs for Bertram here, and kipper for you, boss.” Skippy Four and Bertram proceeded to munch on their quick breakfast.

For the most part, it was actually quiet. The PLANE JANE’s crew talked among themselves and the ferrets didn’t say much of anything. The only noise was coming from the forward bomb bay. Someone was working on one of the roller doors. The work seemed to consist of taking a large wrench and banging on the door as loudly as possible.

Bertram looked over his shoulder and called out, “Hey, Skippy!”

“Yeah?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah?”

Bertram almost tossed his tea cup across the flight line. “Oh, for – HUMAN Skippy!! What gives? Is there something wrong with the door?”

Human Skippy banged at the roller door half-heartedly once more. “Yeah… Stupid thing is sticking something bad. This would happen now! This bird needs a serious overhaul! Maybe even grounding!” He grabbed the door with the wrench and pulled. There was a groan and a rattle and the door moved slightly. “There! Maybe it’ll close now.”

Sergeant Ferdinand, one of the gunners, said, “Did you get a chance to work on the ball turret? I was having problems extending it the last mission we were on.”

“Yeah, Sarge, you told me about that. We looked at it and maybe we fixed it, maybe we didn’t. No way to tell until you’re up there. I’d be real careful about letting it down. If you do get it down and can’t get it back up…” Human Skippy “flew” the palm of his hand just above the ground and went “skrreeeekkkkk…”

Sergeant Ferdinand made a face. “Right. Stuck inside the plane better than stuck outside. Gotcha.”

There was a commotion and a group of men appeared on the flight line and headed for the planes.

“Hey, Boitram!”

Bertram grinned and waved. “Hello, Captain O’Malley! Are we almost ready to go?”

The Pilot of the PLANE JANE was with the bomber’s Copilot, Navigator and Bombardier. “Yep! Coynel Stewart gave us our marching orders.”

“What’s the first…” Bertram had to clear his throat and start again. “What’s our first target?”

“St. Laurent. If that don’t go as planned, we’ll hit St, Lo or Caen. So, ya ready to go?”

Bertram handed his cup and empty breakfast box to Rudolph and took a full thermos from Blaze Skippy. “Yessir.”

“Excellent. Westboin!”

The Flight Engineer said, “Sir?”

“Give our obsoiver here a lift, will ya? Let’s load up, guys!”

“Yessir!” Lieutenant Westburn bent down and picked up Bertram. He looked at the ferret closely. “What is that you’re wearing?”

Bertram said, “What? Oh, that’s my gun!”

“A gun? That looks like a toy! What do you expect to do with that?!”

A high-pitched voice snarled, “It’s NOT a toy!” Lieutenant Westburn looked down at a very peeved Skippy Four.

“Oh, sorry. What do you expect to do with that, um, very small real gun?” He walked toward the PLANE JANE.

Bertram replied, “Well, honestly, I’m not sure. You never can tell, though. Being armed might come in handy.”

Skippy Four snorted. Bertram waved at his friends. They waved back and Skippy Four started toward the PEERLESS PRINCESS.

To be continued...

[pauljmsn]

Part 7

The B-24 Liberator had no access door. One got on the bomber by climbing up onto the catwalk that ran through the bomb bay. Four crewmen – the two Waist Gunners, the Ball Turret Gunner and the Tail Gunner – went through a door into the aft portion of the aircraft and the other crewmembers carefully made their way along the narrow catwalk to the forward portion.

As Lieutenant Westburn made his way along the catwalk, Bertram gazed at the payload on either side. Each B-24 had been loaded with 50 anti-personnel bombs. On each side were three stacks of six bombs each and a fourth of seven.

Bertram began to think. Anti-personnel. It didn’t take a genius to work out the specific purpose of these bombs. Yes, there were other types of bombs – blockbusters, incendiary – and they all caused destruction. That was the whole point of bombs. But the name for this type said it specifically. They were meant to kill personnel. Humans.

Ferrets had actually worked on the design of the release mechanism, so that these bombs could do what they were meant to do. Kill humans.

Bertram shook his head. No, he mustn’t think that way. This was war. People died in wars. Sometimes you had to fight back. Or else more people would die. And if the ferrets didn’t fight back, what would happen to them?

Bertram could see that this was necessary, but it still made him uncomfortable.

“Hey, what’s this here?”

Bertram looked down. “What – oh! That’s a ball of twine! We were using it the other day to tie off some wires in the bomb mechanism! I must have left it behind. Sorry. Give it here and I’ll put it with my tools.”

Lieutenant Westburn knelt down and picked up the twine. “Well, it’s not like it’ll be in the way here, but we won’t waste it. Here you go.”

Bertram took the ball from the Engineer and said, “Thanks.”

Just forward of the bomb bay was the radio compartment. Lieutenant Westburn set Bertram down on the deck and began to climb up into the upper turret. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to do much as an engineer or as a gunner. Sergeant Johnson, the radio operator, sat down at his console on the right side of the compartment and turned on the radio. The four remaining crewmen continued forward. Captain O’Malley would settle in the Pilot’s seat with Lieutenant Lane as his Copilot. The Navigator and Bombardier would settle in the very nose of the PLANE JANE.

Bertram had his very own seat installed next to the Engineer’s toolbox. On the other side of the seat was his ferret-sized pack of tools. Bertram opened the pack, checked to see that his tools were in order, placed the twine in and shut the pack again. He plugged his oxygen mask and headphones into the receptacles on the wall and sat down. He buckled his harness and made himself comfortable.

The radio set hummed as the tubes warmed up. Sergeant Johnson looked over at Bertram and said, “You ready for this?”

Bertram nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Sarge.”

“Not much of a view here. The best seats are up in the nose. Poindexter and Winkler can see where we’re going better than anyone else.”

“Maybe I can go up there later. Do they allow visitors?”

Sergeant Johnson shrugged. “As long as they don’t intrude too much. And you’re not built big enough for intruding, so they might not squawk. Nothing to see this time of the morning anyway.”

Indeed, with no window nearby, there would have been nothing for Bertram to see in the middle of a sunny day. But there was plenty to hear and to feel. Bertram could hear the intercom chatter as Captain O’Malley and Lieutenant Lane went through the takeoff checklist. Soon it was time to start the engines. Bertram listened as the Wright Cyclones began to cough and grunt and quickly settled into a loud roar. All four engines were soon running – not quite smoothly, but running – and the bomber shook with the vibrations.

Above the noise, Bertram thought he could hear the roar of other nearby engines. He imagined that Old Buc was awash in a sea of rumbling rotaries and propeller noise. Soon the B-24s would be flying over the Channel, part of a much larger fleet of Allied aircraft.

It didn’t take long. Shortly before 3:30 AM, Bertram thought he could detect movement in a few of the individual components that made up the overall background engine noise. Soon he figured he heard the noises of another airplane increase in pitch and rise into the air. The first bomber of the 453rd had taken off.

Shortly the PLANE JANE’s engine noise increased slightly in pitch and the bomber began to move. The plane rumbled along, bumping over rough patches in the grass.

Soon the ride smoothed out as the grass gave way to the tarmac of the main runway. The PLANE JANE stopped and slowly swung around.

“Tower, PLANE JANE ready for takeoff.”

Flight Control was not wasting any time, not this day. “PLANE JANE, you are clear for takeoff.”

The pitch of the engine noise rose and the bomber began to move forward, slowly at first, but it quickly picked up speed. The engine noise rose higher and the tires bumped along the ground, the bomber bouncing higher each time. Bertram clutched his seat harness and made the sign of the cross.

The aircraft nose abruptly pitched up and it felt like the bottom dropped out of the world. The PLANE JANE had started its first bomb run of the day.

It wasn’t long after they’d reached cruising altitude that a mechanical problem arose, and it was signaled by the Ball Turret Gunner’s swearing.

Well, technically it wasn’t swearing. If you were to transcribe his words and persuade a child to read them out loud in school, the most prudish teacher in the world wouldn’t even think of washing his mouth out with soap. No, the words themselves weren’t shocking, but Private Ferdinand’s use of them was very loud and very emphatic. Ferdinand’s brand of cursing depended more on the melody than the lyrics. His voice rang out over the intercom loud and clear.

“SON of a BUCK!!”

Anyone would be tempted to ask him to watch his language. Captain O’Malley instead said, “What’s wrong back there, Private Foidenand?”

“The DAGgone turret is stuck! It won’t extend down from the belly!”

“You tried cyclin’ the switch?”

“Yessir. Doing it now. No go. I won’t be able to shoot. I certainly won’t be able to spin around. Cry-min-ee!”

Bertram said, “Well, Private, it’s like Human Skippy said, better stuck inside the plane than outside.” He looked up at Lieutenant Westburn, and flew his paw close to the deck. “skrreeeekkkkk…” The Engineer grinned.

“Yeah, well, I won’t be any use if any Kraut fighters jump us.”

Captain O’Malley said, “We’ll worry about that when the time comes. If the time comes. We must’ve sprung a surprise on ‘em, guys; the Goimans may not *have* any fighters in the skies. Hang loose, Foidinand.”

“Yessir.”

Bertram said, “Ferdinand, can you at least look out the window on the turret? Can you see beneath the plane?”

“A little. If I scrunch down I can look along the belly.”

“Well, can I ask you to keep an eye out when we release the bombs? I want to know how the release mech works and some observation would be appreciated.”

“Sure will, Bertram.”


Bertram hadn’t expected to be bored. He quickly got used to the noise and vibration, and he knew that there was nothing to see before daylight. He thought it wise to stay out of people’s way, especially on the journey out. So there was nothing for him to do.

No, the exciting part would come soon enough, when they were over St. Laurent. That’s when he’d have to pay attention to what was going on. Until then, he dozed fitfully.

Soon enough, Lieutenant Poindexter said over the intercom, “Captain, we’re coming up on the target.”

“Doin’ good on time. Good navigatin’, Perndexter.”

“Aw, I just followed the other planes. We’re all navigating good today.”

“Yeah, but we’d still be lost without ya. Winkler, we ready to drop the boom-booms?”

“Yessir, Captain.”

“See anything?”

“Nossir. Solid cloud cover.”

“Hopefully won’t make no difference. Johnson, anything interestin’ from the radio?”

“No, sir, Captain. Nobody’s reporting any reaction from the enemy. No fighters in the air.”

“Captain, this is Goldberg in the tail. I don’t see anything. Just other -24s.”

“Well, we did take ‘em by surprise, didn’t we? Okay, Winkler, you got the airplane now. Up to you to drop ‘em whenever you see fit.”

“Yessir.”

The intercom chatter died away. He couldn’t have heard them anyway, but nobody wanted to break the Bombardier’s concentration. The time seemed to drag on forever.

Sergeant Winkler was not one to shout “Bombs away!” or even say it particularly loud. He simply pressed the release switch and announced “there they go.” Bertram heard a clunk when the first two stack of bombs were released, immediately followed by another clunk, then another and another. The PLANE JANE lurched with the abrupt decrease in weight.

There was a clunk of a different sort, followed by an abrupt draft of frigid air. Bertram and the two crewmen looked aft with surprise.

The small door in the aft bulkhead that led to the bomb bay had burst open and was now flapping in the cold air.

Bertram and the Engineer looked at each other. The ferret said, “Looks like another gremlin popped his head up.”

Westburn nodded and replied, “Something Human Skippy will have to look at.” The ferret grinned.

Ferdinand’s voice came over the intercom. “Bertram, you’ll be glad to know that it looked like a clean drop. No snags on the release.”

Bertram replied, “Excellent! Thanks for the report.”

Captain O’Malley said, “Okay, guys, we’re done on this run. Time to head back home and pick up more boom-booms. Then we get to do it all over again! Won’t that be fun?”

Westburn said, “Great fun, Cap,” as he crawled down from the upper turret and headed for the aft bulkhead. He fiddled with the door for a moment and the cold draft was quickly gone. He said, “That’ll hold for now.”

The Engineer walked back to the upper turret and looked out for a few moments. He said, “Dawn is coming up. I can see a little ways from here.”

Bertram said, “Can you see the Channel?”

Westburn shook his head. “Afraid not. Still a solid overcast below. Darned shame. I’ll bet the Channel is crawling with ships right now. Big ones and especially little ones.”

Bertram sighed. “I can just imagine. I was looking forward to seeing the Invasion fleet.”

“Yeah.” Lieutenant Westburn looked down at the ferret. “Actually, there is some stuff to see, if you want to. It’s in the sky. You want a look?”

Bertram’s little eyes got big and he replied, “Well… sure!”

Westburn smiled. “Fine. Let me give you a lift.” He knelt down and extended a hand.

Bertram undid his harness and grabbed hold of the Lieutenant’s jacket. Westburn cradled the ferret and crawled back up into the turret.

Westburn held the ferret up and said, “Look off to the right.”

Bertram had expected to see the other B-24s in their formation, but beyond them… He gasped.

The sky was still gray with the last of the night, but he could make out the other aircraft in the sky. And there were so many, flying above them and below them and at the same altitude. There were other heavy bombers and medium bombers, flying back to England after dropping their lethal cargo or flying to France with more bombs to drop. And there were fighters, flying to and fro as escorts.

But it seemed that most of the aircraft that Bertram could see by far were either C-47s – the Goony Birds – or gliders, and they were all heading for Normandy. He recalled that the Head Skippy had thought highly of the DC-3 for years and had expressed more than once the opinion that using it as a military transport – as a military anything, really – made tremendous sense.

A -47 zipped close by in the opposite direction and Bertram barely had time to notice the large open door in the side of the fuselage. A paratroop transport. Soon the passengers would be jumping out of that door, trusting to a packful of silk to get them down to the ground safely.

A little further away another C-47 passed by. This one was towing a troop glider, made of wood and crossed fingers. Soon it would cut loose from the towplane to head for whatever landing site it could find.

Bertram looked to the left and saw still more airplanes. The swarm extended for as far as he could see on either side. He finally said, “There must be hundreds of them!”

Lieutenant Westburn said, softly, “More like thousands, little friend.”

Bertram thought about this. He thought about it a lot. He thought about the men dropping down under parachutes and the men riding down in the fragile little gliders, into unknown territory. Bertram wasn’t too familiar with the French countryside, but he’d heard some humans at Old Buc talking about hedgerows and stone fences that could tear a wooden airplane to pieces. And would there be booby traps?

And he thought of the men below him, the ones he couldn’t see. He’d seen a photo of an invasion barge, a simple, rugged thing that could carry a few vehicles or a number of troops. How many thousands of those vessels were going to discharge their precious cargo on the beaches this day?

Bertram crossed himself and softly said, “Mother Mary, watch over these brave souls.”

Just behind him a human voice whispered, “Amen.”

###################################################

Back at Buckenham, the B-24s of the 453rd landed quickly and the ground crews wasted no time loading the next payload of bombs. Human Skippy had a quick palaver with Captain O’Malley and Sergeant Ferdinand about the balky ball turret. The general consensus was that the turret would stay where it was and that Ferdinand would still go along in case he was needed. Human Skippy gave the left front roller door a once-over and said it looked okay, and nobody worried about the door between the radio compartment and the bomb bay. Bertram stayed to one side, sipping a cup of tea, and waited until they were ready to take off again.

It didn’t take long before it was time for the 453rd to take to the skies for another run. This time the target was Caen.

The second bomb run was actually close to routine. The bomb release mechanism did its job well, and the door actually stayed shut. Bertram thought he could get used to this.

The third bomb run was different.


To be continued...

[pauljmsn]

Part 8

It was midday and the crews of the 453rd Bomber Group were taking a break between bombing runs to have an all-too-brief rest and an all-too-quick lunch while the ground crews loaded the planes with a third cargo and attempted to chase down a few gremlins. It was the first time since the early morning that Skippy Four and Bertram could get together to compare notes.

Skippy swallowed a mouthful of dried fish and said, “Any problems with the release mechanism on the JANE?”

Bertram shook his head. “Doing good so far, boss. No snags. Our turret gunner has reported clean releases both times so far. How about on the PEERLESS PRINCESS?”

“Same thing. Good releases. It looks like the mechs are working out fine…”

A series of very loud bangs were coming from the PLANE JANE’s open bomb bay, along with some salty language. Not Sergeant-Ferdinand salty, but the genuine wash-your-mouth-out-with-soap-young-man salty.

“… Which seems to be more than can be said for the rest of your airplane.”

Bertram sighed. “It’s the roller door again, boss. The plane has been having trouble with it all morning. It sounds like Human Skippy is having no luck whatever.”

“Well, we can look at it later when we have time.”

“Human Skippy would appreciate it.” Bertram quietly sipped his tea and said, “I’ve been thinking about the invasion.”

“I have, too. People have been saying that it’s still going on. Lots of troops are being landed right now.”

“Wow. This has been a massive operation, hasn’t it?”

“The BBC has been saying that it’s the biggest operation of its kind – ever.”

Bertram thought for a few moments and then asked, “How many of us do you think are involved in this, boss? On the ground, I mean?”

Skippy shook his head. “What are you talking about? None of us ferrets are involved in ground operations! We’re too small for combat!”

“I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean us, really. I mean the ferrets that live in France. The Skippés.”

Skippy Four simply said, “Oh.”

Bertram continued, “I know that most of the French furets are in hiding, but I’ve heard that many are involved in the Underground. Very deeply involved.”

“It makes sense. We’re small and can get into places that humans can’t.”

“Yes.” Bertram looked troubled. “But… I’ve heard more about what the Skippés – and the Skippées – are doing. The French Underground has been doing everything it can to sabotage the Germans. Everything. Boss, the ferrets have been killing German soldiers.”

Skippy Four looked at Bertram for a few minutes before he replied. Finally he said, “The French ferrets aren’t alone.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Remember, there are Jewish ferrets in Poland. I’ve heard stories. Most of them have hidden away, like most of the French ferrets. But a few have joined the Polish underground as well. I know what you’re talking about – the ferrets in the French Underground have been ruthless. But the Polish ferrets – they’re like the human Jews there; they feel that they have more to lose, and they’re fighting for it. I’ve only heard rumors among the Jewish community back home, but… yes… I think ferrets have been killing humans.”

Skippy Four looked into Bertram’s haunted, frightened eyes and said, “All I can say is – it’s war. General Sherman was right about it being the hot place.”

The bomb carts had been rolled away from the JANE some minutes ago, and the crews on the other bombers were in the final stages of the loading process. Flight crews were gathering back around their respective aircraft. It wouldn’t be long before they were in the air again on their way to St. Lo.

Skippy Four said, “Looks like I’ll be heading over to the PRINCESS soon. Say, the Colonel is coming over. And he’s heading this way. Looks like something is up!”

“What makes you say that – oh.”

Colonel James Stewart was indeed walking briskly toward the PLANE JANE. The last time that the ferrets had seen him, he’d been wearing the jacket and peaked cap of an officer. But now he was wearing a flight jacket and a cloth helmet.

The crew of the PLANE JANE stood to attention and crisply saluted the Colonel. He returned the salutes and said, “At ease.”

Colonel Stewart wasted no time. He said, “Lieutenant Lane, are you ready to give up your position on this flight, as per our discussion earlier?”

Lane replied, “Yes sir. I wish I could go along, sir, but orders are orders.”

“Good man. Captain O’Malley, are you prepared to give up the Pilot’s seat and take over the Copilot’s duties?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Shall we get aboard then?”

“Sir!” Lieutenant Poindexter saluted and continued, “Am I to understand, Colonel, that you’ll be flying with us on the PLANE JANE?”

“Let’s see… Poindexter, is it? You’re the Navigator? Yes, I’ll be flying along on this run. I’m going to be the Pilot, in fact.” He looked around. “If that’s okay with you fellas.”

After a brief silence, the crew of the PLANE JANE enthusiastically replied, “Yes, sir!” “Yes, sir, Colonel!” “Glad to have you aboard, sir!”

The littlest passenger on the PLANE JANE said nothing. The ferret with the white fur looked up at the movie star.

Colonel Stewart looked down at Bertram and said, “You’re not gonna go ‘squeak’ at me, are you, son?”

Bertram worked his mouth for a second and finally replied, “Squ – oh, no, sir! Not at all, sir!”

Colonel Stewart smiled and said, “That’s fine, then. Are we –?” The Colonel was interrupted by a particularly loud series of clangs from the bomb bay. Stewart walked over to the plane and called out, “Excuse me – is there something wrong?”

Human Skippy ducked out from the bomb bay and grumbled, “Oh, yeah, there is! It’s this –” He saw who he was talking to and hastily straightened up and saluted. “Sorry, sir! But… Yeah, it’s that left front roller door! It’s stuck open now and nothing I can do will make it shut again. If you want to fly this time, it’ll have to stay open.”

Colonel Stewart thought for a moment. “That’ll increase the drag, but the range isn’t very far. Gonna get really cold in the bomb bay. We’ll have to go with it and hope nothing worse happens. Okay, you’ve done your best. Thanks.”

Human Skippy saluted again. “You’re very welcome. Sir.”

Colonel Stewart returned the salute. “All right, men. Let’s get aboard!”

Lieutenant Poindexter picked Bertram up again to carry him, but the ferret didn’t take any notice. He watched as the tall, lanky man carefully made his way along the catwalk ahead of him. Bertram didn’t say “Squeak”, but he sure thought it.

########################################

The 453rd was flying above the cloud cover that hid the Invasion fleet, and sunlight was shining through the upper turret, but Bertram wasn’t paying attention. He was listening to the intercom chatter.

He was used to hearing the voice. In the movies, like in The Pittsburgh Story – no, The Philadelphia Story, it was an innocent, naïve drawl with a hint of the strength beneath. Now, as Colonel James Stewart piloted the PLANE JANE, there was no naïveté and plenty of strength.

Colonel Stewart had not flown with these men before, but he fitted in well with them. Stewart wasn’t a man that commanded respect from others – he just received it naturally.

And the voice did drawl. “Navigator, how are we doing? Are we where we’re supposed to be?”

Poindexter replied, “Yes, sir. On time and on the wire. We’ll be over St. Lo in about ten minutes, I’d say.”

“Very good. Bombardier, are we ready to drop when we get there?”

Winkler’s voice came over the intercom. “I see no problems, Colonel.”

“Fine. Men, I’ve been hearing reports all morning, and our planes have met only a handful of enemy fighters. But I want us to be prepared. Gunners in the back, are you ready?”

The Waist and Tail Gunners replied, “Yes, sir.” “Yes, sir.” “Yes, sir.”

“Turret Gunner – Sergeant Ferdinand, is it? Have you had any luck extending the ball turret?”

Ferdinand replied, “I’ve tried once since we got airborne, sir. No go. I’ve been afraid to try too much.”

“I can understand. Don’t risk it, Sergeant. We’ll hope nobody comes up from below. Engineer, you’re in the upper turret?”

Lieutenant Westburn replied, “Yes, sir. I don’t see anything right now beyond the other bombers.”

A different voice was heard. “Colonel Stewart, this is Captain Weiss from the PEERLESS PRINCESS. We’re here on your left. A little passenger on our plane wanted to pass along a message to your little passenger. Skippy says good luck.”

“That’s kind of him. I’m sure our little passenger wishes luck back to him.”

“Sir, Lieutenant Poindexter. We’re coming up on St. Lo.”

“Okay, thank you. Lieutenant Winkler, open the bomb bay doors.”

Bertram could hear the rattle through the aft bulkhead as the roller doors – the ones that hadn’t been open already – slowly clattered open. He could hear the whoosh of the wind whipping around in the open bomb bay. From what he understood, it actually didn’t get too windy in the bomb bay, even with the doors fully retracted. Noisy, though.

“Bombardier, you have the plane’s controls. Drop when you’re ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

This was familiar territory by now to Bertram. Soon he would hear the loud *clunks* as the bombs were released. He actually relaxed a bit.

“There they go.”

But there was no clunk.

Bertram heard a low thud instead, and the Bombardier uttered the worst words in the English language.

“Uh-oh.” Bertram heard that and thought about the thud.

Colonel Stewart said, “What’s wrong, Winkler? Did we get a drop?”

“No, sir! No indication of a bomb drop!”

“Well, keep trying! I don’t like the idea of going back with a full load!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Son of a buck!”

“Who was that? Ferdinand? What’s wrong?”

“I can see the belly from here, Colonel! We have a serious problem! The first bomb on the right-hand side is stuck! It’s hanging about halfway out!”

There was silence for a brief moment. The B-24’s belly was very close to the ground. Bertram’s heart dropped through his gullet.

Skrreeeekkkkk…

Colonel Stewart barked out orders over the intercom. “Bombardier! Keep trying on the release! Engineer! Go up front and see if you can help him!”

Westburn didn’t reply. He jumped out of the upper turret and rushed forward through the cockpit toward the nose.

“PLANE JANE, this is PEERLESS PRINCESS! What’s going on? We see something hanging out of your bomb bay! Repeat, what is going on?”

Colonel Stewart replied, “PRINCESS, that is a bomb hanging out. Our bomb release has fouled for some reason and we can’t drop our payload! We may have to head back for England with a full load!”

There was no reply from the PEERLESS PRINCESS, and there was no chatter over the JANE’s intercom. Everyone knew that the B-24 couldn’t land without scraping the hanging bomb on the runway, and that would be disastrous. There was only one alternative. No one spoke the word “ditching”.

“PLANE JANE, we will stay by your side all the way.”

“Thank you, PRINCESS. But we will stay over the target for now and see if we can do something before we head back.”

“Understood, JANE. You may not have much time. But we will still stick with you.”

Everyone had forgotten the littlest passenger.

Bertram was furiously thinking. He tried to picture what had gone wrong. How was this run different than the others?

One thing – yes, that had to be it.

Now, what could he do about it?

He realized that there was only one thing that he could do.

Engineer Westburn poked his head back into the cockpit. “No go, Colonel. Winkler and me have cycled the release switch, and I’ve looked it over. I don’t think anything’s wrong at this end. It must be the release mechanism in the bomb bay.”

Stewart swore under his breath. “Let me try something. Everyone, hang on. I’m gonna rock the plane! Maybe that’ll at least loosen the hanging bomb!”

Colonel Stewart twisted the wheel around and the heavy bomber began slowly to roll from side to side. He rocked the plane as much as he dared.

Finally Stewart picked up his radio mike. “PRINCESS.”

“Go ahead, JANE.”

“Did rocking the plane do anything? Did the bomb move any?”

“A little, but not much.”

“Thanks, anyway, PRINCESS. – Engineer?”

Westburn said, “Sir?”

“I won’t order you to do this, but I’m going to ask you to go out into the bomb bay. Look it over. Maybe you can do something; take whatever tools you think you need. It’ll be dangerous with the doors open. Do you think you can do it?”

Westburn hesitated. “I’ll do it, sir.” He headed for the radio room.

“PLANE JANE, this is PEERLESS PRINCESS.”

“Go ahead, PRINCESS.”

“Our little passenger is here with me. He wants to speak to Bertram. Maybe they can figure something out.”

“Worth a try, I suppose. Bertram, are you listening?

“Bertram?”

To be continued...

[pauljmsn]

Part 9

The radio compartment was noticeably colder; the door in the aft bulkhead had popped open again. Lieutenant Westburn entered and immediately discovered that the lid to his toolkit was open. He bent over and was surprised to see that two of his crescent wrenches were gone. He spent a moment trying to figure out where they could be, and then he noticed that the very small toolkit on the other side of the little seat was open, too.

And that made him realize that something else was missing.

The radio man was bending over his set. Westburn touched his shoulder.

Johnson turned around and Westburn asked, “Where’s Bertram?”

Johnson looked around. “I didn’t notice he was gone! Is he up front?”

Westburn shook his head. He and Johnson looked aft at the open door.

The two men looked at each other. Westburn ran for the door, closely followed by Johnson.

There were rivulets of turbulence in the bomb bay, but nothing that would impair a person’s movements. It was incredibly noisy, though. It would be very difficult for a person to make himself heard.

To Westburn’s immediate left, the lowest bomb in the forward stack was almost hanging vertically. He glanced over the clamps holding the bomb, but he couldn’t see anything wrong. That was not his concern right now. He looked around.

There. The aft stack of bombs on the right-hand side of the plane. He could see a white-furred leg ayop the uppermost bomb.

Westburn stepped onto the narrow catwalk. He could see Bertram now. The ferret was sitting on the bomb doing something to the ceiling directly overhead.

“Bertram…” But the man’s words were lost in the wind noise.

There was an abrupt clunk on Westburn’s left, and the hanging bomb dropped free, followed by the bombs above it. The forward stack of bombs on his right began to drop at the same time.

Immediately the next stack of bombs began to drop with another clunk.

Westburn looked up with horror. He shouted, “Bertram! Bertram, no!”

The ferret lowered his arms and smiled at Westburn. He was still smiling when the bombs below him began to drop as well.

They say that people perceive terrible events happening in slow motion. That sounds bad. But it is not the case; we see events happen in real time. We do, however, remember those events later in slow motion. That is worse.

Westburn was numb as he watched the bomb, with the ferret still straddling it, drop through the open bomb bay door. He continued to watch as the rapidly dwindling cylindrical object, with the leather-brown and fur-white object atop it, fell from the airplane.

The man could think of only one thing to do. He stood up straight and gave the smartest salute he could muster. He could already feel the tears gathering in his eyes.

But someone behind him rudely interrupted the moment by pounding on his shoulder.

It was Johnson. He was shouting something that Westburn couldn’t understand, and he leaned forward to point at the catwalk ahead of them.

Then Westburn saw it. Something on the catwalk was bouncing up and down.

It was – a ball of twine?

He looked more closely. One end of the twine had been tied to a structural support in the bomb bay. The other end was rapidly unwinding out of the open door.

Westburn’s jaw dropped and he looked down. The bombs were now falling vertically. The brown-and-white object was no longer straddling one, and it wasn’t falling anywhere near as fast as they were.

Westburn turned to Johnson. He didn’t try to make himself heard. He just pointed down at the roller doors and pointed forward. Johnson nodded and ran back into the radio compartment.

Westburn made his way as fast as he could along the catwalk – which was very fast – until he reached the ball of twine. He knelt down and grabbed it.

The brown-and-white object hanging from the plane quit dropping. Westburn began to pull up on the twine.

#######################################

Colonel Stewart knew what the abrupt change in weight and balance of the B-24 meant. He said over the intercom, “Bombardier, what happened? Did you manage to cut loose the payload?”

Winkler replied, “Wasn’t me, Colonel, but the bombs did drop! Somebody else must’ve done it!”

Colonel Stewart and Captain O’Malley exchanged looks of relief. Stewart said, “Very well, Mr. Winkler. Close the bomb bay doors and let’s go home!”

“No, Colonel!” Lieutenant Johnson rushed into the cockpit. “Don’t close the doors! Bertram did something to the bombs and now he’s hanging out of the bomb bay on a piece of string!”

Stewart and O’Malley stared at him and Johnson continued. “Westburn is reeling him in now!”

Colonel Stewart immediately said, “Winkler, never mind closing the doors! Our passenger is dangling from the bomb bay! Keep them open until further notice!”

“You mean that rat – yes, sir! The doors stay open!”

Captain O’Malley said over the intercom, “Foidinand! Is that true? Is Boitram out there?”

Ferdinand replied, “Daggone… Is That what that is?! I see something hanging down from the bomb bay. That’s Bertram?”

“Yeah! Man, he must be banging around all over the place!”

“Not as much as you might think! He’s hanging pretty steady, actually!”

Captain O’Malley looked at the Colonel. “He still must be having a terrible time of it.”

Colonel Stewart nodded. “Well, we’ll have to make it easier for him.” He began pulling the throttles back. The pitch of the engines began to drop and the plane began to slow down.

“JANE, this is the PRINCESS! Your speed is dropping! What are you doing? Is something else wrong?”

Colonel Stewart was too busy to answer. He was carefully working the throttles and the control wheel so that the bomber could fly more slowly without falling out of the sky. Captain O’Malley picked up the mike. “PRINCESS, this is PLANE JANE. You probably ain’t able to see it, but Boitram’s dangling out of the plane on the end of a string! We’ve gotta slow down!”

“What? – Skippy, calm down! They’re doing what they can! Calm down! – JANE, you ought to know that there’s been a German fighter sighted nearby. If he sees a slow-flying bomber, he’ll go after it. We’ll stick with you, but you’re sitting ducks!”

Captain O’Malley looked at his pilot.

Colonel James Stewart moved the throttles back a little bit more and said, “I am not going to leave one of my crew behind!”

#######################################

Lieutenant Westburn steadied himself against a structural support and pulled the twine up hand over hand as quickly as he could. The brown and white bundle at the other end was not vertically below him. It was hanging back away from the direction of travel, and swinging from side to side a bit. The air turbulence was knocking it around but not nearly as much as Westburn would have thought. In fact, it felt a lot heavier than he would have expected for a ferret. How had Bertram gained so much weight in so short a time?

A lot of twine had unwound before he could get to it. The brown and white bundle was so far down that Westburn could not make out details, but he was sure that he couldn’t see any movement. It was very cold in the bomb bay. That far away, with the swift passage through the air, conditions for Bertram must have been brutal.

He couldn’t hear much over the roar of the wind through the open doors, but Lieutenant Westburn thought he could feel the engine noise going down in pitch. They were slowing the plane down. Good. It should help Bertram.

Westburn was not plugged into the intercom, so he wasn’t privy to the news of a German fighter in the vicinity. But he soon could hear the clatter of machine gun fire.

#######################################################

“JANE, this is PRINCESS! Fighter at Twelve O’Clock! Looks like he’s gonna fly right between us!”

“PRINCESS, we see him! Gunners, fire at will!”

The Messerschmitt Bf-109 flew right between the PEERLESS PRINCESS and THE PLANE JANE. Indeed, he flew right by the Pilot’s side window on the JANE. Colonel Stewart had a very close view of the German pilot – a slight, quiet-looking young man – and especially the half-dozen or so American flags below the cockpit.

Flying between the two American bombers was a clever tactic. The waist gunners had to be very careful when they fired or they’d hit the other B-24. The gunners were able to get off some brief bursts, but they had no luck. The 109 flew past the two planes.

“Colonel, this is Smithee on the left gun! I can barely see him! He’s a ways back of us and I think he’s turning!”

“This is Goldberg in the tail! He is turning around! Looks like he’s gonna come back this way towards the JANE!”

Colonel Stewart said, “Keep an eye on him, Goldberg! Take him down if you can!”

“Roger, Colonel!” Goldberg watched as the 109 turned back toward the JANE and made a run straight at them. The bomber was flying as slow as it could, and the fighter wasn’t, so the closure rate was fast.

Goldberg fired his guns at the rapidly approaching fighter, without results. “He’s acting strange, Colonel. He hasn’t fired a single shot at us! And now he’s dropping! I think he’s going to pass right under us!”

Captain O’Malley looked at Stewart and said, “Coynel, he can see our ball turret ain’t down – he must be playin’ with us!”

Sergeant Ferdinand’s voice came over the intercom. “Cryminee! Bertram’s down there!”

#######################################################

By the time Lieutenant Westburn realized what was happening, it had already happened.

He was hauling up on the twine and suddenly a German fighter plane flew right underneath. He was never sure but he figured that the canopy must have missed the brown and white bundle at the end of the twine by only a few inches. Then, before he knew it, the brown and white bundle swayed to one side and the vertical tail did miss it by a few inches. There would be many an evening when Lieutenant Westburn would sit down with a beer and quietly consider what would have happened if he had been slower pulling Bertram up.

As it was, Westburn managed to haul twine even faster. As long as he’d been pulling, it seemed that the brown and white bundle didn’t get any closer. But now he thought it had grown a bit in size.

#######################################################

“Jeee-miny Christmas!”

“What’s goin’ on, Foidinand?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it! The Kraut plane came this close to hitting Bertram! But it missed! Flew right under him! And something else – does Bertram have a gun?”

“What? Does he – You know, I think he does! Little toy-looking thing! Why?”

“Because I think he fired at the plane when it flew under him! I swear I saw gun flashes!”

Colonel Stewart and Captain O’Malley looked out ahead of the JANE. They stared for a few minutes.

Finally Colonel Stewart said, “I don’t think that gun’s a toy.”

#######################################################

Not much further. The brown and white bundle was only a few feet below the open bomb bay now.

Lieutenant Westburn continued to pull up, and now he carefully guided the twine so that the bundle didn’t hit the airplane. Johnson was at the door to the radio compartment, watching intently.

Not much further now…

“Gotcha!”

Westburn cupped the bundle in one hand and straightened up. He turned toward Johnson, pointed forward and indicated the open bomb bay doors. Johnson nodded and rushed forward.

“Colonel, Westburn got him! He’s back in!”

“Good news! Bombardier, we have the ferret inside now! Close the doors!” Stewart began to advance the engine throttles.

Bertram was curled up in a tight ball of fur and leather. His arms were extended straight out in front, and he was still clutching his little gun in his paws.

Tied around the ferret’s waist were two crescent wrenches. That was how he’d added weight.

Bertram didn’t move. He was cold as ice.

Westburn held Bertram close as he moved forward along the catwalk. The engine noises were rising in pitch. Below him, the bomb bay doors clattered loudly as they all began to roll shut. Westburn snorted. Now the balky one decides to work right.

As the doors lumbered shut, Bertram looked down at the long loop of twine still tied to Bertram’s body; it was hanging out of the open bomb bay.

Westburn looked up. Johnson was at the door again. Westburn pulled the twine taut and held it out, mouthing the word “knife”.

Johnson pulled a penknife out of his pocket and opened the blade. He leaned over and with a quick swipe cut the twine a few inches from Bertram’s body. Westburn dropped the loop through the bomb bay door.

The two men entered the radio compartment, and Westburn could be heard again. He said, “We need to warm him up fast! Get his tea!”

“I got the thoimos, Westboin!” Captain O’Malley entered the compartment carrying the ferret-sized container. “How’s he doin’?”

“I don’t know yet, Captain. He’s frigid and not moving.”

O’Malley unscrewed the cup from the thermos and handed it to Johnson. He started prying the stopper out and said, “What was he doin’ in the bomb bay, anyway?”

Westburn replied, “When the one bomb got hung up like that, he went and did something to the release mechanism to clear it.”

“Fool thing to do, but I’m glad he did it.” O’Malley picked at the stopper. It was sized for ferret paws and was far too small for a human to remove easily. “And he really used that gun of his.”

Westburn had taken out his own penknife and was cutting the wrenches off of Bertram. “He must have. I think I saw the flashes. I don’t know if he did any good.” The wrenches clattered on the deck.

Captain O’Malley looked at the Lieutenant. “Oh, he did good, all right. He hit the 109! Captain Stewart and me watched it after it flew out from under us. It flew straight ahead – didn’t toin, just flew straight for a minute or two. Then it rolled over and went into a dive. He must’ve fired through the canopy and hit the pilot.”

Westburn and Johnson stared at the ferret. Johnson finally said, “My God… This rat brought down a German fighter!”

O’Malley softly replied, “Yeah… He did.” The stopper came out with a pop. “Hold that cup steady.” The minty aroma of the ferrets’ special tea began to fill the small compartment.

Bertram wheezed and began to violently shiver. Lieutenant Westburn held him out and the three men watched. They didn’t know what else to do.

The convulsive shivers subsided, and the little gun dropped to the deck. Bertram gasped and sighed. His nose made sniffling noises and his tongue flicked in and out of his mouth.

O’Malley filled the small cup and Johnson held it close to Bertram. When it was close enough, the tongue reached out and began to lap up the tea. Sometimes, a New Ferret is still a ferret, and he’ll drink like a ferret.

The lapping stopped, and a small voice said, “Mr. Johnson?”

The radio man said, “Yeah?”

“I’m not a rat.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“We’re – we’re related to weasels.” Bertram made grasping gestures with his paws. “More…”

O’Malley poured out some more tea and Johnson placed the cup in Bertram’s paws. The ferret brought the cup to his lips and took a deep, slow sip.

Bertram held the warm liquid in his mouth for a few seconds, then swallowed it and let out a deep sigh. He said, “Thank you. That feels a lot better.”

Captain O’Malley said, “Thank you, Boitram. You pulled our bacon out of the fire.”

“Well, I had to. The bomb release mechanism is our responsibility. And I was in charge of installing it.”

Lieutenant Westburn asked, “Do you know what went wrong with the bomb release, Bertram? Why did it go correctly the first two times and not the third?”

Bertram took another sip of tea and replied, “It was the open bomb bay door. That was the only difference between the three bomb runs. The interior of the bomb bay was exposed to the elements right from takeoff, and the inside temperature dropped on the way to altitude. The release mechanism got cold-soaked, and some parts shrank a bit. Not much, but enough to bind when Winkler threw the release switch.

“I figured that out when the one bomb got stuck, and I knew what had to be done to fix it. It had to be fixed right there in the bomb bay, onsite. So I went and fixed it.”

Johnson said, “You coulda said something to me before you went.”

“You were busy and I didn’t think I had time. Well… maybe I should have said something. I’m sorry.”

Bertram took another sip of tea. “We didn’t think about thermal contraction at altitude when we designed the release mechanism, so ultimately this is our fault. I’m sorry for that, too.”

Captain O’Malley said briskly, “Ain’t gonna have none of that! These things happen, Boitram! I wouldn’ta thought of it myself! Point is, you went out there and risked your life for us! That was very brave.”

Bertram was silent for a few moments, and then replied, “I had to take that risk. Someone had to. It was my responsibility.”

Lieutenant Westburn smiled. “Yeah, you took a risk, all right. And you tied yourself to the airplane to do it!”

Bertram let out a weak chuckle. “Well, I’m not suicidal.”

Johnson said, “And on top of all that, you took out a German fighter! That was really something!”

Bertram’s smile faded. “I know.”

Westburn said, not ungently, “It was either him or us, Bertram.”

“I know. It’s just… I know.” He snuggled down in Westburn’s arms. When they got back, he was going to have to talk with Father Scope.

Captain O’Malley said, “And now we’re on our way home. Guys, I gotta get back to the Main Office. Let’s get back to our places, everyone!”


To be continued...

[pauljmsn]

Part 10

A few minutes later, Captain O’Malley sat back down in the Copilot’s seat. Colonel Stewart looked over at him and said, “Is everything hunky-dorey now? How’s the little dangling fella?”

Captain O’Malley replied, “I think he’s fine, Coynel, but you can ask him yourself.”

O’Malley indicated the small white-furred creature with the leather jacket that he held in his arms. “I figured he could take the ride back home up here with us.”

Bertram said, “Hi”, and smiled.

Colonel James Stewart looked at the ferret and smiled back. “Sounds good to me. Hi, yourself. How you feeling, Bertram?”

Captain O’Malley was adjusting his seat harness to accommodate the extra passenger in his lap. Bertram replied, “I’m tired, Colonel Stewart. So tired and I don’t know if I’ll ever get warm again. But I think I’ll be alright.”

“That’s fine. I’m afraid I have to tell you that you’re grounded for the rest of the day. Maybe for the next few days, too.”

Bertram looked alarmed. “Oh, no, Colonel! I’ll be fine! Just let me rest for an hour or so and I’ll be ready to fly again! I want to fly again!”

Colonel Stewart shook his head. “I’m afraid it wasn’t my call, Bertram. I’ve just talked with the PEERLESS PRINCESS. Your boss grounded you after he heard what happened. Skippy was beside himself. Never heard anyone so excited!” The man smiled. “I wasn’t about to buck him!”

Bertram sighed. “Yeah, I see. Skippy can get that way. So, I guess I’m grounded.”

“Sorry.” After a few moments, Colonel Stewart said, “I’m going to make some enquiries when things settle down, Bertram. I’ll see if you can get an official kill for downing that German fighter.”

Captain O’Malley said, “The whole crew’ll testify on yer behalf.”

He felt the ferret shiver. Bertram replied, “I don’t want it. I don’t like the idea of killing a human.”

Colonel Stewart nodded and said, “Very well. I can understand that. But it’ll always be there.”

“I know.”

Bertram continued, “Thank you for slowing down while I was hanging out there. That helped some.”

Colonel Stewart replied, “You’re welcome. I’d do whatever I can to aid one of my crew.”

“But I’m not a crew member.”

Colonel Stewart looked over at Bertram and smiled. “I think you are.”

Captain O’Malley said, “We all do.”

Bertram could think of nothing to say.

The PLANE JANE flew on across the Channel. Close by her side flew the PEERLESS PRINCESS. Colonel Stewart was mildly surprised that he hadn’t heard from Skippy again. The other ferret must have calmed down by now. That was good. He wouldn’t do anyone any good by driving himself crazy.

Stewart would order a thorough inspection for the PLANE JANE once they got back. If necessary, the bomber would be grounded for the rest of the day. An overhaul might be called for.

The Colonel thought for a moment. Maybe the ferrets could do something about that. He hadn’t appreciated how mechanically-minded they were before now. The more he thought about it, the more impressed he became with these creatures. General Eisenhower certainly thought a lot of them.

He began to ask, “Say, Bertram –” He looked at the ferret in Captian O’Malley’s lap. “Oh.”

Bertram’s eyes were shut and he was breathing softly. Colonel Stewart couldn’t hear it over the engine noise, but he fancied that the ferret was snoring.

Captain O’Malley looked at Stewart and said, “Out like a light, Coynel. I don’t think you could wake him with a blockbuster.”

Colonel Stewart nodded. “Well, he’s been through a lot.”

O’Malley gently fastened Bertram’s mask to his helmet and plugged it into the oxygen receptacle.

To be concluded...

[pauljmsn]

There is, of course, an epilogue. No story simply ends. The consequences will continue to appear for some time. In some cases, years later.

Hollywood, 1955
Warner Brothers Canteen

The Cherokee warrior and the man in the somewhat bulky spacesuit made their way down the aisle with their trays, trying their best not to spill their glasses of iced tea. It was early in the lunch hour and they had a good choice for seats.

They passed by one table with only three people. At one end a lady-in-waiting from Queen Elizabeth the First’s court was sitting across from a juvenile delinquent who was somewhat older than his teens. The two were ignoring their respective meals – and the rest of the world, pretty much – and gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. It was that kind of couple.

At the other end of the table sat a man in his late 40s, with a receding hairline and glasses. He working on his Noodles Romanov and scalloped potatoes, and making notes in a tablet by his tray.

“Excuse me, you mind if I sit here?”

Billy Wilder looked up at the man standing across the table from him, and he smiled. “Jimmy! Of course you can sit here! I’ve been hoping to run into you!”

Jimmy Stewart smiled. It had been sixteen years since those days in England. He was in his 40s now. A little heavier around the middle, but not that much. A few lines in the face. But still the demeanor of a modest young man from the Midwest.

“Thanks very much.” Stewart put down his tray of corned beef directly opposite Wilder and sat down. “I knew you were looking for me, and I’ve been looking for you myself. Thought I’d ask, though.”

The director said around a mouthful of Noodles Romanov, “Of course you would. What did you want to see me about?”

Stewart sipped his coffee and replied, “I’ve heard back from my friends in Kansas – the ones you wanted to ask about Lindbergh?”

Wilder leaned closer. “Oh, yes. What did they say?”

“I wasn’t sure how much cooperation we’d get from them – not after what happened before the War. But they finally said that they’re more than happy to help. These guys are big on aviation. I told them about the picture and they’re very interested.” Stewart gestured with his fork. “Besides, they like your work out here a lot, Billy.”

Wilder smiled. “That’s nice of them.” He chuckled. “I’m thinking of all those little critters in a movie theater watching one of my pictures.”

Stewart smiled. “From what I gather, several of the theaters in Wichita have special nights for these guys to attend. Anyway, they said that they’ll start putting together a package of personal reminiscences and written articles about Lindy and send them to you.”

“Do they keep a lot of that sort of stuff?”

“Oh, yes! These guys write everything down! They have for – well, over a century! I’ve seen their records and it’s amazing! And there are still some of them around that were alive when Lindbergh first met them!”

Wilder’s eyes widened. “Really? They must live longer than I would’ve thought.”

“Oh, yeah, there’s a lot about them that’s different from what you’d expect.”

“Remarkable. They sound like the perfect subjects for a movie.”

“Well…” Stewart rubbed his chin. “I don’t think they’d really like that. Matter of fact, I think they’d raise a big fuss. They value their privacy. A lot.”

‘How much do they value their privacy?”

“Enough to buy out any studio that makes a picture without their okay. Believe me, Billy, they can afford it.”

“Ah.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen, may I join you?”

Wilder and Stewart looked up. The man was ruggedly handsome, and whoever had sculpted his features had thought that a dimple on the chin was a good touch.

Wilder said, “Mr. Douglas, I presume. I didn’t know you were working for Warner.”

Kirk Douglas replied, “I’m not right at the moment. I’m doing a cowboy picture for United Artists, but the meat loaf is better here.”

Stewart and Wilder looked at each other, and Stewart said, “We’ve got no objection. Sure, join us!” Nobody asked the lady-in-waiting or juvenile delinquent, but they didn’t care.

“Thanks!” Douglas sat down. “They keeping you folks busy?”

Wilder said, “Yes, they are. Jimmy and I are working on a picture about Charles Lindbergh.”

Douglas took a bite of meat loaf and began to chew. from his expression, he’d been right about the quality and it was a few moments before he could reply.

“Oh, yeah, I’d heard about that. The Spirit of St. Louis, right? How’s that going?”

Wilder said, “Well… It could be worse.”

Stewart looked uncomfortable. He muttered, “I still say I’m too old for the part. I think Anthony Perkins would do a better job.”

Douglas almost choked on his meat loaf. He said, “Oh, come on! You look a lot like Lindbergh – more than Perkins does! Biographies always play loose with things like age! I’m gonna be work in a biopic myself next year about van Gogh and I’m older than he was when he died!”

Stewart replied, “Not that much older.”

Wilder said, “Actually, you look a lot like him, Kirk.”

“That’s not the point! The point is the age won’t matter!”

Stewart said, “But what if the picture’s a flop? Some folks’ll blame me.”

Douglas briskly tapped the table and the glasses danced. The loving couple still didn’t notice. “So it might flop. So what? Does that matter if the movie’s good? I’ve just been reading a script from some young kid named Kubrick, and I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be a flop, but I’m gonna go with it, anyway.”

Wilder said, “Stanley Kubrick? He’s new on the scene, but I’ve seen some of his stuff and it’s pretty interesting.”

“I haven’t seen his other stuff, but I read the screenplay he showed me, and it looks terrific. I told him it won’t make a nickel, but I said we have to make it, and I’ll make sure we do. Box office success isn’t as important as we make it out to be. Sure, it pays the bills, but in the long run, it all depends on how good the picture is! And, Jimmy, I think you’re right to play Lindbergh!”

Billy Wilder said, “I agree, Jimmy. You’ll be good in the role. By the way, what do your friends in Kansas say about you playing Lindbergh?”

Stewart’s face turned red for a few moments and he looked very embarrassed. Then he smiled weakly and said, “They want me to do it. They said that all of their folks would go to see it.”

Wilder smiled triumphantly. “Well, there you go! We can count on at least one group to buy tickets!”

Douglas asked, “Who are these folks in Kansas? Anybody I know?”

Before either one of them answered, Jimmy Stewart and Billy Wilder looked at each other and, to Douglas’s surprise, slowly smiled. Then Stewart said, “Tell me, Kirk, have you heard of the New Ferrets?”

Douglas was bewildered. “New ferrets? What do you mean? I know about ferrets, but–” The he stopped and his eyes widened. “New Ferrets? Those New Ferrets?! Peter Lorre went on and on about them on the 20,000 Leagues set! I wasn’t sure if I should take him seriously! You mean they’re real?”

Stewart nodded. “Sure are. I met ‘em myself when I was flying bombers in the War. Fine people.”

“People?”

Stewart gravely nodded. “Yes. I think ‘people’ is the right word. If they like you, they’re some of the best friends a body can have.”

Wilder said to Douglas, “Some of them met Lindbergh back in the 20s. Jimmy here has been talking to them about getting me some stories about Lindy. To help me with the picture.”

Stewart looked somber. “The current Head Skippy – a lot of them are called Skippy, don’t try to understand it – is Jewish and I don’t think he’s yet forgiven Lindbergh for the stand he took before the War. But the Head Skippy still said they’d help. That’s the kind of folks they are.”

Jimmy Stewart’s eyes looked back to a different time. “Good folks. And brave! One of them flew with me on a mission over France and performed one of the most courageous acts I’ve ever witnessed. Some of my crewmates still talk about it.”

Douglas and Wilder looked at Stewart for a moment, and Wilder said, “Tell us about it, Jimmy.”

Stewart smiled and leaned back in his chair. He began with, “It was D-Day, and these little guys had installed some bomb release gizmos that they’d designed in two B-24s…”

Kirk Douglas and Billy Wilder said nothing and just listened. The Elizabethan lady and the delinquent also listened.

############################################

And the consequences spread.

Stanley Kubrick was a young man, not yet thirty, with dark hair, dark eyebrows and dark eyes. These would combine in the future with his reputation as a perfectionist to create the image of a brooding man with furrowed brow and an intense stare. Whether or not this was true was beside the point.

For now, he was certainly staring at the man sitting across from him, and the brows were now too high up on the forehead to be called furrowed. The effect wasn’t so much broody as it was surprise-y.

Kubrick finally said, “Let me get this straight. During World War II, on D-Day, over France, this ferret rode a bomb out of the bomb bay of a B-24?!”

Kirk Douglas nodded. “Yep. That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Do you think this really happened?”

Douglas thought for a moment and replied, “Well… This was from James Stewart. Wouldn’t you believe him?”

Kubrick smiled wryly. “You got a point there. But if it’s true… To actually ride a dropping bomb! That takes grit!”

Douglas nodded. “And the New Ferrets have got a lot of that. Lorre told me about his and Karloff’s experiences with them in New York during the War. They hold these creatures in awe.”

Kubrick thought for a moment. He looked up and said, “I wonder how they’d feel if someone made a movie about them.”

Douglas said, “I asked Stewart about that, and he said it would be a bad idea. These critters value their privacy highly. They’d come down on any studio like a ton of furry bricks. He says they’ve got clout, too. I mean money.”

The dark eyebrows went up again. “Do they, now? I presume they won’t give permission, either.”

“Nope. Some studios have tried, but the ferrets always turn them down. I’ve heard around that Republic Pictures called them up in Kansas recently. No dice.”

“Oh, well, if you’re talking Republic… But I see their point. If I were in their shoes – assuming they wear shoes – I’d like my privacy, too. Pity, though.”

“I know. I guess the best we’re going to get are Warner’s Freddie Ferret cartoons.”

Kubrick nodded. “They could do a lot worse than a cartoon series from Warner Brothers. Oh, well.” He picked up a large envelope. “I’ve been doing a few rewrites on the script for Paths of Glory. I thought you might like to look them over. I thought some parts needed beefing up. I’d like you to look it over and tell me what you think.”

Douglas took the envelope and said, “It’ll be my pleasure.”

“That’s the only copy so far, so handle it with care.”

Douglas stood up. “I certainly will.” He shook hands with the young director and left.

Kubrick had things to do. There were a few final tweaks he had to make to The Killing, but he sat back and took a few minutes to think about what Kirk Douglas had just told him about the New Ferrets and especially about that one incident in the War.

Riding a bomb. Like a bucking bronco. That was a powerful image. There had to be a way to work that into a film!

Not a film about the ferrets. It was the sort of thing that scamp Freddie Ferret would do, but cartoons were not Kubrick’s forte. No, it would have to be in a full-length picture.

It certainly couldn’t be a picture about a ferret. If they wanted to be left out of movies, he’d respect that. So, a human riding a bomb. He liked that better.

It would be a war picture, of course. Or maybe a movie about war, like he was going to make with Douglas. A World War II picture? Maybe not. If he wanted to have a human riding a bomb, it ought to be a bigger bomb than what they used back then.

Kubrick nodded. A modern-day bomb, then, and a modern-day bomber. A nuclear bomb. Of course.

He shook his head. It would have to wait a while. He had several other projects he wanted to work on. It might take a few years to get around to it, but he liked the idea. A serious, frightening picture about the prospect of nuclear war.

With a man riding a bomb out of a bomb bay.

It would be nine years before Kubrick’s picture about nuclear war was released, and the concept changed somewhat in the interim. He told nobody about his inspiration for the man straddling the nuclear bomb, and the New Ferrets never suspected. When the film was shown in Wichita, Bertram, a grandfather now, was sitting in the audience of ferrets and laughed just as much as everyone else. If he’d known Kubrick’s inspiration, he would have enjoyed it even more.

As it was, when the screen showed the man straddling the nuclear bomb, whooping and waving his cowboy hat as it fell to the ground, he nudged his wife and said softly, “I did that during the War.”

Tammy smiled and said, “I know, dear.”

Bertram watched the film for a few seconds and said, “He should have tied himself to the bomb bay.”

THE END

REFERENCE

Starr Smith, Jimmy Stewart, Bomber Pilot, Minneapolis, MN, Zenith Press, 2005. Foreword by Walter Cronkite. This was invaluable.

[dookcitygang]

Loved it Paul. Now publish, so I can have my stories in one place.

[dookcitygang]

Soon please.