Short Story – The Bombing Run
The wheels of the B-17 Flying Fortress lifted from the runway and headed southeast towards France. The trip from Bushy Park, the headquarters of the U.S. Eighth Air Force, to the fighting front in France would take less than an hour, and the sun would be coming up not long before the bomber arrived over its target.
The bombardier waited until the plane leveled out over the English Channel, and then he unbuckled himself and walked back to the bomb bay in order to make one final check of his cargo. There were ten bombs - ten cylinders which would be released over the French countryside at 20,000 feet.
Each of the bombs was set correctly in its rack. All that was needed was for the navigator to confirm the target area, and the bombardier would open the bomb bay doors. By the time the bombs exploded, the Fortress would be turning back to England and a hoped-for safe landing.
There were four other bombers on this run, and a squadron of British Spitfires to provide fighter support. This was a precaution, as today, on D + 14 - or two weeks after D-Day had begun - Allied air dominance was nearly complete, and German fighters rarely came out to attack Allied sorties unless the Allies went much farther into eastern France. The Allies controlled the air above the fighting front and they were taking full advantage of that fact.
Twenty minutes later the crew of the Fortress could see flashes of fire on the ground. No doubt these were early morning exchanges of artillery fire by Allied forces and German units, and these barrages and counter-barrages presaged another day of bloody fighting on the ground.
But the Fortress was flying past all of that. This plane and this crew had a mission which had nothing to do with the units which would be battling it out for territorial gains on this particular day.
The navigator signaled to the pilot that they were only two minutes from their target, and the pilot radioed the bombardier through his headset. The bombardier gave the 'thumbs up', and he gave his cargo one last check. He was ready.
A minute later they arrived over target - a medium-sized town in northwestern France - and the bomb bay doors were opened. The bombs were released, one bomb at a time, so as to give maximum dispersal of the cargo.
The plane inclined upward as the weight of the bombs left the craft, giving more lift to the wings.
Down the bombs went, each of them falling from twenty thousand feet to two thousand feet. And then, as each cylinder reached two thousand feet, a Monroe detonator went off as planned, sending eighty thousand leaflets scattering over an area a mile in length. The ten leaflet bombs scattered a total of nearly a million flyers over an area which encompassed a population of tens of thousands of French citizens.
*
Jacques Collet, age six, looked up into the sky at seven o'clock in the morning. He heard the sound of the American bombers, but could barely see them, they were so high up. As they headed away from his village, he saw pieces of paper falling, sailing, drifting toward the ground. He ran across the field behind his family's farmhouse and he managed to pluck one of the flyers out of the air before it floated to the ground.
His father had come out onto the porch to listen as well, and he saw Jacques running towards him, holding the printed flyer in his outstretched hand.
"Voila!" exclaimed the boy, as he handed the flyer to his father.
Julien Collet studied the flyer printing intently. The words were directed to the citizens of France:
"The hour of your liberation is near. Allied forces, along with French Resistance fighters, are battling the Germans only a few miles from your home.
"Now is the time for all patriotic Frenchmen to do what they can to aid in this effort. Report all movements of German units to your local resistance leaders.
"Give assistance to the fighters of the resistance: food, shelter, medical assistance. Do everything you can to keep these men in the fight.
"Volunteer to work in the local hospitals. There will be many wounded civilians in the coming days, and you can be of great help to the medical staffs.
"Protect your families. Provide a refuge for your families in the event that fighting takes place near your home.
"Finally, give any aid you are capable of giving to the soldiers of the Alliance who are advancing toward you. If you find American or British soldiers who have fallen in battle, give them a decent burial.
"You have waited years for this moment. Now is the time for all sons of France to join the fight."
Julien Collet held the flyer as though it were a sacred document. He could hardly comprehend the meaning of this moment.
"Que veut dire ce papier, Papa?"
He heard his son speak. What does this paper mean?
He looked at his son. "Ce papier...?" he asked. "This paper means life."
He led his son into the farm house. "This paper means freedom."
He led his son over to the old family bible, the only book in the house. He carefully placed the flyer inside the front cover of the bible. "This paper," he said at last, "means everything."
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