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If you've been to war, you'll have stories
to tell. Not always happy stories. Often
very strange stories.
Like the one about what happened to a British
bomber and a German nightfighter over
Hamburg in '43. And to the UFO.
Oh, haven't heard that one? Here it is...
.
.............................................................................................
.............................................................................................
.............................................................................................
.............................................................................................
Nota Bene: This story takes obvious liberties with a few Real World
things. See End Note.
............................................................................................................................................
❱❱❱❱ NOTA BENE: This copy is in an improved, better-readable font, and can only be read on
CYAN background screens.
The Standard text copy that's readable on dark screens is here: BETTY HEAVY -- Standard text
............................................................................................................................................
............................................................................................................................................
Ummph... Ouch! Me tail...
Pass me that pint, son, will y'? I'd get up but...
Ah, 'at's right nice. Ta. You're a good grandson. I'll miss Guinness, I will a' that.
Damn lung cancer.
So maybe I'd better tell y' now. No one left to say now. All gone to that great
Bomber Command in the sky. What happened to us coming back from that arful
night over Hamburg.
You can believe me or not. Won't matter to me soon anyway.
Nah, now don't dip those ears and look sad, son. Y' gots to be strong for your Ma
and Grandma. You climb your paws up on the bed and get comfy and I'll tell you the
story.
We called her Betty Heavy. We loved that Lancaster more than our girlfriends.
She could drop seven tons of HE down any chimney in Germany. Kenny on the
bombsight was a right wizard, he was. Cat fur like you and me. Good eyes, y' figure?
He also had charge of the nose gun.
Then there was Mackie on the top turret, and if there was ever a British Bulldog
who could shoot straight it was him. He got a lot of practice.
Gordie was our flight engineer, this little Scottish Terrier who was a bulldog
when it came to engines. Something about the Scots and machines? Dunno. Betty
always flew smooth thanks to him.
Thompson was our wireless operator, and almost uncanny with the gear too. He
spoke German, and part of his job was to listen to Luftwaffe radio traffic and give
warning if he could. On some bombers the WOs had jamming equipment to play
with. He was a bunny fur, and if you think he took a lot of jokes about the big ears
you'd be right.
Brendan the tail gunner was good with paint and did the nose art picture, just
under the cockpit. Fat, blonde, sexy as the day is long, and she carried a big club in
one paw. A hippo, actually. Brendan captured the soul of that bomber.
Used to have a picture to prove it, him mugging for the camera, doggie fangs
open to bite where you'd think on her.
Yes, there. 'Course she was starkers, boy. You're old enough to imagine. Naw,
and I won't tell your Ma y'asked if y' don't tell her I said.
What was I saying? Oh yes, the Hamburg run.
You can't know what it was like for us back then and I pray you never find out.
It was all stone 'orrible, all the time. None of that comic book war stuff. We was all
exhausted all the time, and we knew Jerry was going to find our number sooner or
later.
Was our 15th mission, y'know. And I won't tell you how many crews never came
back from their first.
Just empty spots on the field where there used to be a bomber parked. Brrr.
Y'know I was the copilot. But on that run I had to do most of the flying. Thing
was, Carter our navigator dropped his maps 'n gear on the tarmac as we boarded.
And Captain O'Malley was right religious and superstitious, y'see. Took it as a sign
and chewed Carter out fiercely loud. Fox furs and badgers just don't get along, for
some reason.
So we wasn't off to the best of starts that night.
We checked everything and got ready, Betty roared to life, the signal came, and
O'Malley lifted us off with a load of incendiary right sweet-like. That fox loved flying,
I'll say that. His takeoffs was always perfect. But then after we got formed up with
the rest of the mission, he sort of pulled into hisself and turned the wheel over to me
for the whole trip.
Said he didn't trust his luck this time. Said he'd just get us lost.
And I wouldn't? 'Pon my soul, I was scared. I was only nineteen, just a skinny
kit of a lad. Oh, knew how to fly Betty all right, just like making love she was so
easy.
But when the Captain of the ship abandons the wheel, you bet that spooks the
crew some nasty. And that we was. O'Malley pulled out the beads and started rolling
them around like to wear them out and muttering prayers as we flew on.
Well of course I'm not skinny now. Don't be disrespectful, little furball. I'm
trying to tell you something important.
The night was black as coal and stormy, bumpy as a Lancashire road. We all
sighed in relief when we got above it and into the moonlit sky. Full moon: A bombers
moon, we called it. Some 88mm ack-ack searched for us over the French coast but
was way off.
We was near the back of the formation, skidding over the cloud tops, in and out
of them. The clouds broke once to let us see the leaders sweep a couple of night
fighters aside.
But not before one of them made a pass and got one of us. Just a flare of a
whole bomb load going off that lit up the sky, then gone. Not a sound.
O'Malley wasn't the only one who crossed himself, but we just flew on, hoping
we could stay hid in the thunderheads that loomed all around us.
Then the trouble started. About a hundred miles out from Hamburg, a whole
hornets nest of night-fighters came up from underneath and ripped into us. Not a
blink of warning. Later found out they had radar in their noses.
Nah lad, we didn't have it. Not like today's bombers. Radar was right new and
strange back then.
Anyway, three Lancs died in three more flashes. The whole formation broke up
wildly in chaos as Jerry looped back over for a second pass and began the bloodbath.
Y'see boy, when a bomber fleet loses it's formation, stops flying all in order and
rows, it's every plane for itself. We lose the protection of all our guns going at the
same place.
We lost two more. So I dove Betty down and tried to lose the fighters in the
clouds. O'Malley was praying a blue streak.
We went too far down. We broke through the cloud deck and right into the
searchlights around Hamburg. Caught us like a bug and wouldn't let go. We all knew
what was coming next.
It came: A smashing blast of ack-ack that knocked out two engines, hurt our tail
and killed Brendan instantly. We was tossed across the sky like Betty weren't no
more weight than a moth.
I screamed at Kenny to unload everything, just get rid of the lot of bombs and to
hell with aiming at anything, but he was already doing it.
There was a huge clatter as they rushed out the bay, then Betty bounced up like
she was on a spring with all that explosive gone.
Had to have been what saved us. Think the girl knew that one more second
would have flown us right into the barrage from the next ring of guns.
It exploded below us and blew shrapnel through Betty's belly in a sleet of hot
steel. If the bombs had been in there...
Betty filled with smoke as I threw her around, dodging and jinking, and trying to
climb back into the clouds. A stray shell went right through the bay an' out the top
but didn't go off.
Lucky? Oh my boy, that weren't the word I used at the time and I won't repeat it
to you. Y' Ma would skin and stuff both of us. Then she'd get mad.
Just say Betty was hurt real bad but she kept on flying. Mayhap O'Malley's
praying helped? Wasn't much else he could do, or me for that matter. We was in the
paws of the gods.
Although it turned out there were more than gods in the air that night.
So the boys got the fires out, and me and Gordie fussed over the two remaining
engines--O'Malley just had to hold the wheel, not fly--and we got Betty flying level
through the clouds. We got some altitude and finally got above the clouds, but our
instruments was dead. The radio too. Thompson had to cry at that.
That's right, boy, we was hopeless lost after all. But we were still alive to be
scared, so that was at least something. Carter climbed into the cockpit to try his
eyes and make out some stars. We might at least be able to aim for England and
hope.
Then Mackie in the turret shouted something at the same time as bullets raked
the cockpit. Mackie let off a quick volley, but the ME-262 fighter that dove on us was
quicker.
Carter took one in the head and fell bleeding all over the Captain. Kenny was
wounded in the leg and the nose gun was smashed. No idea why the ammo didn't go
off.
Oh my, much quicker, oh my yes. He was a jet, y' see, one of the first ever the
Nazis threw at us. I saw the glow out of his engines as he raced away, like two
beady red eyes in the distance.
Then they vanished, and I knew he was turning around to run at us head on. I
shouted to Mackie to get ready. I knew what we had to do, but it had to be done just
so.
If the moon hadn't glinted off the jet's windscreen I wouldn't be here. I saw him
just in time, rammed Betty's nose down, and Mackie was able to get his guns to
bear. He fired!
And he got him!! Gor, but that dog was good! I saw sparks flying off, then a big
flame as one jet engine blew out. The 262 howled over us in a deafening roar and
trailing orange fire. Missed us by just enough to part the hair between my ears (all
of which was pretty much standing straight up by that point).
'Course I don't have any hair now. Or much fur for that matter. I've been on
chemo for half a year, you know that. Don't interrupt me or I'll never get to the
important part.
Well you won't be bored when I tell you what happened next.
Mackie yelled that the jet was still flying, and he had turned, and was coming up
on us fast and low on the port side. What I had to do was give Mackie an angle for a
shot. So I shouted to everyone to hang on and tipped Betty on her wing.
And you better know you're not really supposed to do that to a wounded
Lancaster with only two engines left. She could have come apart right there.
Oh yeah, I can just see it, me flying over Germany in my seat with just the
wheel in my paws, wondering where my bomber went.
Hee, hee, hee. Yeah boy, that is funny. Didn't happen, though. There was a long
stream of fire as Mackie gave it everything he had, then silence.
He'd run out of bullets. Can you believe it? Damn Bomber Command anyway.
They never gave us enough bullets for our guns.
But apparently the Luftwaffe made the same mistake. Mackie yelled that the 262
had stopped firing too.
Betty was starting to lose altitude (she was still on her side, y'see), so I yelled
at O'Malley to for Gods sake put down the damn rosary and help me get her level. A
little sacrilegious maybe, but it did the trick.
Me and O'Malley fought with Betty for what seemed like forever. She finally let
us have our way and we were flying level again.
And wouldn't you know, that 262 pilot had the sheer brass to cruise up just off
our port wing.
O'Malley and I just stared in utter amazement at that plane in the moonlight, so
sleek and sweet and deadly, even with one engine obviously blown to hell.
Despite it almost killing us, I have to admit, the Messerschmitt company got that
fighter right.
Then the guy waggled his wings at us. Guess he knew the battle was over, I
suppose. He couldn't hurt us and we couldn't hurt him. Carefully, I waggled Betty's
wings back, half afraid they'd fall off on us.
So there we was, a British bomber and a German fighter, both pretty badly shot
up, and both of us wondering what to do next. Leastwise I was.
Then there was a flash, a burst of blue light, and above both of us was this...
this...
PAGE 2 OF 2 >>>
to tell. Not always happy stories. Often
very strange stories.
Like the one about what happened to a British
bomber and a German nightfighter over
Hamburg in '43. And to the UFO.
Oh, haven't heard that one? Here it is...
.
.............................................................................................
.............................................................................................
.............................................................................................
.............................................................................................
>>>>> Betty Heavy <<<<<
By Fred Brown, May 22, 2002 (rev. July 21/2011)
https://www.furaffinity.net/user/fwbrown61/
Copyright 2002 All rights reserved, all commercial
infringements prosecuted, website display permission
available upon request. Non-personal distro is infringement.
Disclaimer: No characters are intended to resemble real
people, living or dead, and any such similarities are pure
coincidence. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Nota Bene: This story takes obvious liberties with a few Real World
things. See End Note.
............................................................................................................................................
❱❱❱❱ NOTA BENE: This copy is in an improved, better-readable font, and can only be read on
CYAN background screens.
The Standard text copy that's readable on dark screens is here: BETTY HEAVY -- Standard text
............................................................................................................................................
............................................................................................................................................
Ummph... Ouch! Me tail...
Pass me that pint, son, will y'? I'd get up but...
Ah, 'at's right nice. Ta. You're a good grandson. I'll miss Guinness, I will a' that.
Damn lung cancer.
So maybe I'd better tell y' now. No one left to say now. All gone to that great
Bomber Command in the sky. What happened to us coming back from that arful
night over Hamburg.
You can believe me or not. Won't matter to me soon anyway.
Nah, now don't dip those ears and look sad, son. Y' gots to be strong for your Ma
and Grandma. You climb your paws up on the bed and get comfy and I'll tell you the
story.
We called her Betty Heavy. We loved that Lancaster more than our girlfriends.
She could drop seven tons of HE down any chimney in Germany. Kenny on the
bombsight was a right wizard, he was. Cat fur like you and me. Good eyes, y' figure?
He also had charge of the nose gun.
Then there was Mackie on the top turret, and if there was ever a British Bulldog
who could shoot straight it was him. He got a lot of practice.
Gordie was our flight engineer, this little Scottish Terrier who was a bulldog
when it came to engines. Something about the Scots and machines? Dunno. Betty
always flew smooth thanks to him.
Thompson was our wireless operator, and almost uncanny with the gear too. He
spoke German, and part of his job was to listen to Luftwaffe radio traffic and give
warning if he could. On some bombers the WOs had jamming equipment to play
with. He was a bunny fur, and if you think he took a lot of jokes about the big ears
you'd be right.
Brendan the tail gunner was good with paint and did the nose art picture, just
under the cockpit. Fat, blonde, sexy as the day is long, and she carried a big club in
one paw. A hippo, actually. Brendan captured the soul of that bomber.
Used to have a picture to prove it, him mugging for the camera, doggie fangs
open to bite where you'd think on her.
Yes, there. 'Course she was starkers, boy. You're old enough to imagine. Naw,
and I won't tell your Ma y'asked if y' don't tell her I said.
What was I saying? Oh yes, the Hamburg run.
You can't know what it was like for us back then and I pray you never find out.
It was all stone 'orrible, all the time. None of that comic book war stuff. We was all
exhausted all the time, and we knew Jerry was going to find our number sooner or
later.
Was our 15th mission, y'know. And I won't tell you how many crews never came
back from their first.
Just empty spots on the field where there used to be a bomber parked. Brrr.
Y'know I was the copilot. But on that run I had to do most of the flying. Thing
was, Carter our navigator dropped his maps 'n gear on the tarmac as we boarded.
And Captain O'Malley was right religious and superstitious, y'see. Took it as a sign
and chewed Carter out fiercely loud. Fox furs and badgers just don't get along, for
some reason.
So we wasn't off to the best of starts that night.
We checked everything and got ready, Betty roared to life, the signal came, and
O'Malley lifted us off with a load of incendiary right sweet-like. That fox loved flying,
I'll say that. His takeoffs was always perfect. But then after we got formed up with
the rest of the mission, he sort of pulled into hisself and turned the wheel over to me
for the whole trip.
Said he didn't trust his luck this time. Said he'd just get us lost.
And I wouldn't? 'Pon my soul, I was scared. I was only nineteen, just a skinny
kit of a lad. Oh, knew how to fly Betty all right, just like making love she was so
easy.
But when the Captain of the ship abandons the wheel, you bet that spooks the
crew some nasty. And that we was. O'Malley pulled out the beads and started rolling
them around like to wear them out and muttering prayers as we flew on.
Well of course I'm not skinny now. Don't be disrespectful, little furball. I'm
trying to tell you something important.
The night was black as coal and stormy, bumpy as a Lancashire road. We all
sighed in relief when we got above it and into the moonlit sky. Full moon: A bombers
moon, we called it. Some 88mm ack-ack searched for us over the French coast but
was way off.
We was near the back of the formation, skidding over the cloud tops, in and out
of them. The clouds broke once to let us see the leaders sweep a couple of night
fighters aside.
But not before one of them made a pass and got one of us. Just a flare of a
whole bomb load going off that lit up the sky, then gone. Not a sound.
O'Malley wasn't the only one who crossed himself, but we just flew on, hoping
we could stay hid in the thunderheads that loomed all around us.
Then the trouble started. About a hundred miles out from Hamburg, a whole
hornets nest of night-fighters came up from underneath and ripped into us. Not a
blink of warning. Later found out they had radar in their noses.
Nah lad, we didn't have it. Not like today's bombers. Radar was right new and
strange back then.
Anyway, three Lancs died in three more flashes. The whole formation broke up
wildly in chaos as Jerry looped back over for a second pass and began the bloodbath.
Y'see boy, when a bomber fleet loses it's formation, stops flying all in order and
rows, it's every plane for itself. We lose the protection of all our guns going at the
same place.
We lost two more. So I dove Betty down and tried to lose the fighters in the
clouds. O'Malley was praying a blue streak.
We went too far down. We broke through the cloud deck and right into the
searchlights around Hamburg. Caught us like a bug and wouldn't let go. We all knew
what was coming next.
It came: A smashing blast of ack-ack that knocked out two engines, hurt our tail
and killed Brendan instantly. We was tossed across the sky like Betty weren't no
more weight than a moth.
I screamed at Kenny to unload everything, just get rid of the lot of bombs and to
hell with aiming at anything, but he was already doing it.
There was a huge clatter as they rushed out the bay, then Betty bounced up like
she was on a spring with all that explosive gone.
Had to have been what saved us. Think the girl knew that one more second
would have flown us right into the barrage from the next ring of guns.
It exploded below us and blew shrapnel through Betty's belly in a sleet of hot
steel. If the bombs had been in there...
Betty filled with smoke as I threw her around, dodging and jinking, and trying to
climb back into the clouds. A stray shell went right through the bay an' out the top
but didn't go off.
Lucky? Oh my boy, that weren't the word I used at the time and I won't repeat it
to you. Y' Ma would skin and stuff both of us. Then she'd get mad.
Just say Betty was hurt real bad but she kept on flying. Mayhap O'Malley's
praying helped? Wasn't much else he could do, or me for that matter. We was in the
paws of the gods.
Although it turned out there were more than gods in the air that night.
So the boys got the fires out, and me and Gordie fussed over the two remaining
engines--O'Malley just had to hold the wheel, not fly--and we got Betty flying level
through the clouds. We got some altitude and finally got above the clouds, but our
instruments was dead. The radio too. Thompson had to cry at that.
That's right, boy, we was hopeless lost after all. But we were still alive to be
scared, so that was at least something. Carter climbed into the cockpit to try his
eyes and make out some stars. We might at least be able to aim for England and
hope.
Then Mackie in the turret shouted something at the same time as bullets raked
the cockpit. Mackie let off a quick volley, but the ME-262 fighter that dove on us was
quicker.
Carter took one in the head and fell bleeding all over the Captain. Kenny was
wounded in the leg and the nose gun was smashed. No idea why the ammo didn't go
off.
Oh my, much quicker, oh my yes. He was a jet, y' see, one of the first ever the
Nazis threw at us. I saw the glow out of his engines as he raced away, like two
beady red eyes in the distance.
Then they vanished, and I knew he was turning around to run at us head on. I
shouted to Mackie to get ready. I knew what we had to do, but it had to be done just
so.
If the moon hadn't glinted off the jet's windscreen I wouldn't be here. I saw him
just in time, rammed Betty's nose down, and Mackie was able to get his guns to
bear. He fired!
And he got him!! Gor, but that dog was good! I saw sparks flying off, then a big
flame as one jet engine blew out. The 262 howled over us in a deafening roar and
trailing orange fire. Missed us by just enough to part the hair between my ears (all
of which was pretty much standing straight up by that point).
'Course I don't have any hair now. Or much fur for that matter. I've been on
chemo for half a year, you know that. Don't interrupt me or I'll never get to the
important part.
Well you won't be bored when I tell you what happened next.
Mackie yelled that the jet was still flying, and he had turned, and was coming up
on us fast and low on the port side. What I had to do was give Mackie an angle for a
shot. So I shouted to everyone to hang on and tipped Betty on her wing.
And you better know you're not really supposed to do that to a wounded
Lancaster with only two engines left. She could have come apart right there.
Oh yeah, I can just see it, me flying over Germany in my seat with just the
wheel in my paws, wondering where my bomber went.
Hee, hee, hee. Yeah boy, that is funny. Didn't happen, though. There was a long
stream of fire as Mackie gave it everything he had, then silence.
He'd run out of bullets. Can you believe it? Damn Bomber Command anyway.
They never gave us enough bullets for our guns.
But apparently the Luftwaffe made the same mistake. Mackie yelled that the 262
had stopped firing too.
Betty was starting to lose altitude (she was still on her side, y'see), so I yelled
at O'Malley to for Gods sake put down the damn rosary and help me get her level. A
little sacrilegious maybe, but it did the trick.
Me and O'Malley fought with Betty for what seemed like forever. She finally let
us have our way and we were flying level again.
And wouldn't you know, that 262 pilot had the sheer brass to cruise up just off
our port wing.
O'Malley and I just stared in utter amazement at that plane in the moonlight, so
sleek and sweet and deadly, even with one engine obviously blown to hell.
Despite it almost killing us, I have to admit, the Messerschmitt company got that
fighter right.
Then the guy waggled his wings at us. Guess he knew the battle was over, I
suppose. He couldn't hurt us and we couldn't hurt him. Carefully, I waggled Betty's
wings back, half afraid they'd fall off on us.
So there we was, a British bomber and a German fighter, both pretty badly shot
up, and both of us wondering what to do next. Leastwise I was.
Then there was a flash, a burst of blue light, and above both of us was this...
this...
PAGE 2 OF 2 >>>
Category Story / All
Species Housecat
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 25.7 kB
Hmmm. Interesting observation. Story seemed to demand leaving
the kid completely out of the dialog. If those transitions got
noticed (as you did), that's something to revisit.
Commentary is coming soon; watch the Journal stream. This
piece comes with a curve ball. Hint: look at the date written.
Glad you liked. Damn proud of this one, actually.
the kid completely out of the dialog. If those transitions got
noticed (as you did), that's something to revisit.
Commentary is coming soon; watch the Journal stream. This
piece comes with a curve ball. Hint: look at the date written.
Glad you liked. Damn proud of this one, actually.
Sorry so late replying. Download trouble? Just tried, worked fine.
Do I guess you tried to dnld page two? Ah ha! The whole story's in the file attached to
this page. Try it again.
The file attached to pg 2 is just an empty blank. Doesn't make sense to break a story
up into a bunch of files, one for each page. Especially since I've got some huuuge stories coming.
Owe you a thanx. Should *say* that at the top of each page: dnld and fave from page
one. Shall be done.
Glad you liked this; v. proud of it. May be more military stuff coming. Two stories in progress
about armoured combat. And one big one that could give us some space combat.
Yes, I'm having fun. Does it show? :- )
FB.
Do I guess you tried to dnld page two? Ah ha! The whole story's in the file attached to
this page. Try it again.
The file attached to pg 2 is just an empty blank. Doesn't make sense to break a story
up into a bunch of files, one for each page. Especially since I've got some huuuge stories coming.
Owe you a thanx. Should *say* that at the top of each page: dnld and fave from page
one. Shall be done.
Glad you liked this; v. proud of it. May be more military stuff coming. Two stories in progress
about armoured combat. And one big one that could give us some space combat.
Yes, I'm having fun. Does it show? :- )
FB.
Comments