Prologue
June 15th...
1944...
Skies Of The Border Into Nazi Germany
The soft rumble of the skies made a group of four P-51 Mustangs, American fighters apparent in the skies. The gray clouds rumbling softly as the wing pressed against their wings, yet, they made good haste towards their destination. As they passed over American troops, they could hear the cheers of the gunners from tanks, and many of the rookies from below. Cheering for their Air Force. A soft chuckle rang through the comm until a deep, strict voice cut in.
“Mamba 1, this is Tango 5. You’re cleared for a low fly-by for recon. Stabilize the area so our guys can get through. Good luck you guys. We know we can count on you.”
The voice said as the P-51′s made a low fly-by over the tanks, raising a bit higher to avoid any surprise ambush of Anti-Air fire. The sleek, black Mustangs soon eased up.
“Affirmative Tango 5, this is Mamba 1. We’ll be clearing the area for you all.”
“Aha!, you hear that Cooper? Count on us?” A cheeky, almost goofy voice broke into the radio chatter of Mamba squadron. The third plane seemed to be the keeper of this voice as it sidled on Mamba 1′s left wing. “Oh, I heard it, Hopper, let’s hope Boss-man up there doesn’t get his wing shot off like last time!” A more, bolder, sophisticated voice cut into the comm. Coming from the wingman, the second plane on Mamba 1′s right wing. “Now now you two, I know my wing snapped off. But you really gotta blame it on me? Eh, you two always like to blame me when things go South. But don’t blame me this time if your canopy pops.” A deep, resilient voice cut through, humor invading the serious qualities in his tone. The first plane, Mamba 1. “Boss-man, seriously? Gee guys, I wonder who came up with that nickname...” Now, a calmer, unamused voice puckered in. The last plane holding in the rear of the diamond formation. " Tuck, come on. Stop being so boring. We got the whole damn sky to ourselves!” “Watch it, Hopper, keep it cool.” “Shut up Cooper.” The pilots seemed to joke around Boss-man inclined his right-wing, using the flaps to make the P-51 Mustang he flew in pitch right, as the other P-51′s coated in a beautiful midnight black, decorated with white scales on the flank of their planes began to dive. Soon enough, Hopper, Mamba 3, let out a sharp laugh. “Boss! Boss! They got Tiger’s down there! Pf ft! Let me give em a taste of the o’ Mamba magic!” “You got it, Mamba 3, let em have it.” As the third Mustang just on Mamba 1′s left wing dipped down, the bomb chamber opened right when Hopper lined up. “It’s gonna be a hit-or-miss! Luckily, I’m usually the lucky one in the squad!”
Hopper laughed, as the Germans piloting the Tiger seemed to realize last second that a bomb was whistling down, right for them. They had no time to climb out as the bomb made a direct hit, exploding as the Tiger was gone in its wake. “Gee, these 500-rounders really work wonders, don’t they?” Hopper seemed to snicker before another voice cut in. The 3rd P-51 slowly making it’s way up. “I suppose they do, Hopper. Let’s just hope they don’t explode when they try to leave the chamber.” Tucks annoyed tone managed to interrupt. His Mustang moving to make space for Hopper. Until Cooper cut him off as well. “Stop being a worrywart, Tuck.” Then, Boss-man suddenly cut it with an alarmed voice. His plane swerving as it straightened out.“All of you, pay attention, we got some units up ahead, Mamba 3 get back in formation! Mamba 2, get on right beside me, Mamba 4. I want you right behind me. You’re our last bomb-goer just in case ours don’t hit.”
Boss-man ordered as all 4 of them replied with “Affirmative!” And began to get into formation. If they had 6 units, the formation would’ve been recognizable, yet, as Cooper and Hopper sidled in, Cooper on Boss-man’s right, and Hopper on his left. With Tuck sliding in right on his boss’s tail. It was the Mamba squadron's famous T formation, usually used for practical bombing. “Ready? Mamba 2, Mamba 3, Break!” Boss-man snaps, as the two Mustangs on his sides pitch away from his wings, as Mamba 4 stays on his tail, the other two drop their bombs onto the bays where the Germans were scrambling to the anti-air artillery. As Mamba 2 and 3 were both dodging AA-gun fire, the bombs made a nice explosion as several bodies went flying. ” Mamba 4, drop your payload in 5....4...3...2...Dropping.” Boss-man said with satisfaction as he and Tuck dropped their bombs in synchronization, the explosions sending many flying, as the bay was weakened enough.
“Tango 5, this is Mamba 1, Bay and enemy tank destroyed. We’ve dropped out payloads. The enemy force is weakened enough for you to move in.”
“Affirmative Mamba 1, this is Tango 5. We’ll be moving in shortly. Head home, and get some good sleep.”
“Affirmative Tango 5, we’ll make sure to tell big-man to give you some of our rations for your hard work. See you on the other side.”
Prologue
End
