“Check the sky for fighters”
“Little friends above us”
Aboard the Catalina the crew prepared for a long flight over the Japanese controlled islands.
Command wanted to know where the Japanese hid their aircraft and troops. The marines could only capture these islands if they managed to obtain total air superiority over the Japanese.
The crew was anxious because they would without a doubt draw enemy fighters. But that seemed not to bother their escorts who relished every change to fight the Japanese.
“Enemy fighters, 12 o’clock high!”
The Japs had found them, but the Corsairs above them were already speeding towards the Zero’s.
High above the Catalina, Peter pushed the throttle forward. This time he was flying wingman for Steve Zemke.
The two formations of Zero’s and Corsairs closed each other rapidly. In a blink of an eye the formations mixed up.
Zero’s turned as mad, trying to stay ahead of the Corsairs, while the American pilots made slashing attacks before climbing away, ready for another attack.
The Zero’s were so caught up in their fight against the Corsairs that the Catalina could sneak by the raging fight.
Peter’s wing leader Steve got onto the tail of a Zero. But the Japanese pilot pulled hard on the stick, outturning Steve. Put that put him right in the line of fire of Peter.
“I got him”, yelled Peter over the radio.
A quick burst of his .50 machine guns and the Zero was trailing fire. The aircraft rolled on its back and a dark figure fell out of the cockpit.
Peter followed the figure as it plummeted towards the sea. The Japanese pilot did not pull his parachute. Were the stories true after all that the Japs did not wear chutes?
“We're above the airbase!” called the navigator aboard the Catalina out to the rest of the crew.
“I would not have known”, replied one of the gunners sarcastically as the tracers of Japanese ground fire filled the sky around the Catalina.
Realizing that their base had been discovered the Japs were throwing everything they got towards the Catalina.
The pilot circled around the base so that the starboard gunner could take some pictures of the moored seaplanes.
“Sir, I don’t want to push our luck, but the gunfire seems to get awfully close.”
Bullets riddled the wings of the Catalina to stress the words of the co-pilot.
“Ok lets go home, little friends, this is big friend we got our pictures and are heading home.
But the Catalina was not out of danger yet. A pair of Ki-61’s had managed to take off and were heading towards the seaplane.
But in between them stood Peter and Steve. The two flights raced towards each other. Steve fired the first shots towards the Japanese wing-leader, missing him by inches.
But in the heat of the fight he failed to spot the Japanese wingman.
“Watch out!”, was all Peter could yell before the two fighters collided, melting together in a yellow fireball of metal and flesh.
Peter pulled hard on the stick, slipped to the right, glancing over his shoulder towards the Japanese wing-leader who had raced by him.
The Jap was already on his tail. Peter made a loop, pulling so hard that he feared breaking the stick. Vortexes swirled from the wingtips as the Corsair slid through the sky.
The Jap could not follow this neck-breaking manoeuvre. The two fighters circled around each other, each trying to gain the lead on its nemesis.
But the Ki-61 was not as nimble as a Zero. Gradually Peter gained on the Jap, who was foolish enough to continue the circle fight.
Peter pulled the trigger. The first shots were to low and passed underneath the Jap, who remained blissfully unaware of the danger.
Peter pulled a little bit harder on the stick, nudging the corsair’s nose a little bit sharper into the turn.
He gave another quick burst. The bullets hit the Jap. Peter kept pulling the trigger. A steady stream of bullets covered the Japanese fighter, until it dragged black smoke behind its tail.
Peter pulled alongside the burning aircraft. Its wings and tails were full of holes were the .50 bullets had ripped through the skin. In the cockpit the Japanese pilot sat slumped forward, killed by one of Peter’s bullets.
Peter rolled away and continued his course back home. Below him the Catalina crew had watched the fight and realized that if it had not been for that brave fighter pilot they now would have been dead.
The crew remained silent as the aircraft finally landed on the sea, splashing water and drifting towards the harbour.
“The catalina crew have recommended you for a medal, son” Boyington looked at the young pilot in front of him.
“I am sorry about Steve, Sir. I tried to warn him but it happened so fast”
“Don’t break your head on it, there was nothing you could do.”
Boyington did not want Peter to doubt about his capabilities, he was a promising pilot.
“Get some rest, lieutenant. You will have time to avenge Steve”
Peter saluted and left the barrack. Boyington sat back at his desk and took pen and paper from a drawer. He would have to write a letter to Zemke’s widow. The Black Sheep had their first fatality.