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B-17 Flying Fortress: The Mighty 8th
Redefines Air Combat Simulations As We Know Them
by Joe "Impaler" HighmanReveille! Reveille! Off your Hocks and grab your Socks!
0330. What a miserable hour to be awake at! That noisy jeep from Operations pulled outside our officer’s quarters and a young Sergeant entered the hut. He shined a flashlight in my direction. “Mornin’, sir. Your crew gets the nod, sir.” Outside, the air was unusually balmy for January 10th, 1944. My young crew already had 4 combat missions under their belts, although we never expected so much action so quickly.
This target intel might not be entirely accurate!
I read through the mission-briefing booklet and carefully studied the target intelligence. Brest Harbor, eh? Just off the northwest coast of France. The problem I had learned with the target intelligence is that it became obsolete so quickly. How long ago did these jokers at S2 get this data, I wondered. A tall lanky boy rolled a reconnaissance film of the target area. I watched as plumes of black smoke filled much of the view screen as anti-aircraft batteries swatted angrily at the modified P-38 Lighting recon aircraft. Cameras instead of guns . . . those recon pilots have guts and then some!
Even A/V geeks joined the Army
My copilot briefed the crew while I readied the ship. Within moments, all four engines were roaring with life and the order came to initiate our taxi. Engines thundered and brakes squealed and the base came alive as twelve B-17G Flying Fortresses, each with a ten-man crew, rolled to the end of the runway. Our ship made the final turn and then set brakes. A last minute check of all controls and we were underway. The 65,000 pounds of steel, high explosives, and young men rushed down the runway until the ship gracefully lifted itself into the air. We were on our way.
65000 pounds lifts gracefully into the air
We cautiously circled the field, constantly on the lookout against a mid-air collision that could so quickly ruin our whole day. Gingerly, each plane maneuvered into its assigned position. Once both squadrons had all six of its planes formed up, the navigator read off our bearing and the entire group set course.
The Radio Operator in action
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