The Mitchell groaned as Elias shoved the throttles forward. The Japanese fighters dived, their tracers stitching lines across the wings. A medium bomber's greatest defense was its speed and its ability to hug the terrain. Elias banked hard, threading the bomber through a narrow river valley, the wingtips nearly clipping the ancient trees.
The plane jolted as the weight fell. Behind them, the airfield erupted in a series of daisy-chained explosions. But the celebration was short-lived. "Zeros at six o'clock! High!" the tail gunner screamed. Medium Bombers of World War 2
Unlike the heavy B-17s that droned at high altitudes, the Mitchell lived in the "dead zone." They flew fast and low—so low the salt spray sometimes smeared the cockpit glass. The Mitchell groaned as Elias shoved the throttles forward
By the time they hit the open ocean, the remaining fighters had turned back, low on fuel. The Gray Ghost was riddled with holes, its hydraulic fluid leaking into the bay, but the engines held. Elias banked hard, threading the bomber through a
"Twenty minutes out," Elias crackled over the intercom. "Gunners, check your belts."