"Fly as high as you can over Presov. Nazis may be hiding around there with artillery to shoot down Allied planes. And if the Ruskies spot us, they'd wonder what a B-17 with RAF markings is doing this far east."
"Especially if they're looking for a Lipizzaner foal in a haystack, like we are."
They flew in silence for some time, each with their own thoughts divided between the mission they were on and their reunion with its pledge to marry.
Barbara knew she didn't have to ask, but did. "You do love Tim and want to be his father."
"Almost as much as I love you and want to be your husband," Stephen replied.
She could have gotten no better answer than that. They were leaning over to kiss again as the bomber approached Presov when something exploded around them.
"Flack attack!" Barbara exclaimed. "Look, below!"
Stephen looked down through the clouds to see vivid red flashes erupt from the ground far below. Seconds later, 88-millimeter flak shells appeared, rising rapidly, then exploded again all around the bomber as Barbara took the B-17 up higher.
She knew that even a single burst of flak from ground-based anti-aircraft artillery could turn a powerful four-engine bomber into a huge ball of orange flame. Many pilots considered flak even more deadly than fighter plane bullets. In the previous year, 1944, she heard that German flak had destroyed over 3,500 American planes, nearly 600 more than Luftwaffe fighters.
"It'll be pretty cold up another few thousand feet, but that may put us out of range," Barbara said. "I knew we should have worn fur-lined flight suits. I just didn't think I'd look pretty enough in one. You could freeze your pretty buns off. At least, I think they must be pretty."
"Behave yourself, pilot. What happens if we get hit?"
"It depends. We could go down, or I heard of a Fortress flying over Berlin last year that took a flak shell in the bottom of the fuselage. It blew a hole three feet across in the top as it burst. Blasted the left wing gunner right out of the plane. But the pilot managed to bomb his target and bring the plane back home to London. Of course, he had some P-5l fighters and some Mustangs to help him get there."
"Speaking of fighters..."
Stephen saw some planes coming at them from the east.
"Sturm Staffeln," Barbara said. "They look like part of a squadron of FW-190A/8 fighters built specially to go after B-17s. If they don't shoot us down, they're supposed to ram us. I don't think our revolvers will do the job. Ever been a tail-gunner before?"