Last Flight of the Buffaloes - a World War II Story on the Fall of Java

Chapter 16 - The Great Escape (2)

As boots crunched on the steel, armored body of the B-17, Galveston popped into the navigator's chamber not long after. He knelt down, and amidst the turbulence, tried to dress him. He attempted to apply morphine first, but then, as he was about to give him the shot, the B-17 tilted slightly, causing the morphine shot to slip from his hand. Meanwhile, Franky bled worse, and his legs couldn't stop moving and kicking around, as he held the pain in.

"Hold him down, lieutenant! Hold him down!" yelled Galveston, as he reached for another morphine shot.

Jack went to his feet and sat on them, holding down his thighs with all the strength he had. Finally, Galveston struck him with the morphine shot, and Franky calmed down, though the bleeding still did not stop. Galveston, seeing that he needed a surgery, simply put some field dressing on Franky, then wrapping long sheets of bandage across his chest.

"Here he comes again! Take cover!"

Galveston and Jack then instinctively ran to anything they made out to be solid cover, and though they were skilled ground fighters, they knew absolutely nothing of B-17s. So they stuck to the ground and waited for the Zero to pass. The machineguns went wild once again, but the wildly rolling, acrobatic Zero was too swift for them, and he came in, firing off another long burst over the bomber. Lewis, clenching his teeth, squeezed the M2 .50 caliber machinegun over the portside, and launched a wild burst of fire against the Zero, but it was too late. The Zero had shot straight at Lewis' spot, as sparks went over his machinegun, causing a small blast that forced Lewis to step back, and he, too, collapsed. Looking down, thinking he had been utterly taken by the Jap, he saw that shards of glass instead of Japanese machinegun rounds had covered his body, but as some had struck his forehead, he came down with blood. He panicked for a moment, but Galveston, quickly coming over, calmed him down.

Jack looked behind. The fighting wounded he brought were covering their heads with whatever they had. The ones with helmets had a false sense of security; those without just went in a fetal position and prayed that this too, like the many Japanese air raid and shellings they had to face throughout the East Indies campaign, was soon too pass.

"They're coming back! Get ready! Get 'em this time!" yelled someone.

And they did. Turning around for another dive, they rushed towards the American bombers, and they were sure that this time, they would shoot this tail-end American bomber down. As wide grins came into the faces of the excited Japanese pilots, a sudden surprise came into play. Lieutenant Franky Drebbel, lying down with Galveston cradling his head, raised an arm and pointed forwards, to Lewis' ruined gun port. Several shapes that he could make out as more fighter planes materialized in the not-so-distant background.

They gunned their engines and roared, diving against the two Japanese Zeroes. Slowly coming into sight, the sound of American .50 caliber machineguns were distinct against the Japanese 7mm machinegun. The army green P-40 Kittyhawks dived against the Zeroes, taking one out quickly, breaking its wings with a burst from its six 50 caliber machineguns. The other Zero was chased down and destroyed not soon after, as a Kittyhawk caught him in a climb, quickly getting rid of the pilot and fuselage, setting the Zero on fire.

As the skies calmed down from the fires that had taken that calm morning by surprise, the American Kittyhawks, four of them seemingly on patrol, maneuvered and rolled by the tail-end B-17. Jack went on his feet and set his eyes on one of the sleek, sharply made Army planes, where on its nose a set of shark's teeth were painted. The American pilot, in aviator sunglasses, gave a thumbs up to him from his cockpit.

They escorted them for over half an hour, until amongst the clouds, they could see several airstrips below. Until then, the American P-40s fanned out, a final saying of goodbye and Godspeed to the newly-arrived American bombers.

They descended. The plane lowered itself from altitude and Jack felt the chilly weather of the skies turn into the warm sun's kiss of the tropics. The landing gears went down, and as if it was perfect, the bullet-ridden B-17, designated first to land, touched the ground and slowed down to a car's pace, then turning to a final stop.

Jack, having held on to a strap on the side, exhaled one, long breath. He looked at Franky, who had calmed down. He went over him and gave him an embrace. Corporal Galveston did the same, as the three cheered in the limited way they could, knowing that they had finally reached safety.

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