Post by tomt1999 on Jan 7, 2024 17:13:38 GMT -8
TEN-HUT!
The low hum of conversation in the squadron operations hall was quickly replaced by the scraping
of wooden folding chairs on the cement floor. Two-hundred or so men jumped to their feet as XO
of the 80th Bombardment Squadron (Heavy), Captain Frank DeLozier, strode to the platform at the
far end of the room.
"Be seated gentlemen." DeLozier looked out at the assemblage. "And thank you for attending this
voluntary mandatory formation lecture." A ripple of laughter floated across the room.
As he waited for silence to replace the snickers, he pulled aside the curtains behind him. Groans
came from the men. "Combat Box"? "Again"?
"That's right, Combat Box." DeLozier was using his command voice now. "Now I know we've trained
on this both Stateside and here, but we're just not good enough - yet.
"This formation is designed to provide increased protection for every ship; more than an individual
aircraft could provide itself."
He tapped the formation chart behind him. "This is not some pretty geometric shape gentlemen.
This is what will save your lives."
He had their full attention now. Walking to a corner of the platform, he looked out over the men
and said, "Casey. Yes you, Casey. What's the wingspan of a B-17?"
"Uh, s-s-sir, uh," Casey fumbled. "I guess it's about 100 feet, sir."
"That's close enough Casey. It's one hundred-three feet." He walked back to the center of the
platform. "And half of that is about 50 feet. Just how far is that?"
DeLozier looked to the back of the room. "You men at the back. Stand up if you think you're about
50 feet from me." Several stood up in five different rows.
"And how about you here in the front - stand if you're 50 feet from the back wall." Once again,
several men from several rows stood up.
"All right, have a seat." He paused for a moment. "This room is 90 feet long. I measured it." He
stepped off the platform and walked up the aisle.
Stopping about the middle, he said, "This is about 50 feet. These men in the middle are the ones
who should have stood - both times!"
He regained the platform. "It's our perception that needs trained, gentlemen. We need to be able
to judge distances accurately."
He revealed a chart of a three-aircraft Flight. "50 feet" He tapped the chart between the left and lead ships.
"50 feet." He tapped the corresponding area between the right and lead ships. He tapped again between
the lead ship and the trailing ships. "50 feet. If you are trailing the lead ship, you should be 50 feet back
from his tail and 50 feet off his wingtip." He tapped the chart again.
"I know that looks too close when you're in the air. All that space in the sky and you're cramped up
against a bunch of other airplanes full of explosives. I feel it too." He walked back to the chart. "But
that's the optimal distance to provide optimal gunnery coverage."
Moving to the center of the platform, he continued, "When we're all lined up to take-off, we're about 50
feet apart. I suggest you take a good look the next time we're flying." He looked at his watch. "Which is
in one hour and fifteen minutes." Hopping off the platform, the attendant groans were stifled by the "Ten-Hut!"
of the sergeant-major as DeLozier strode to the exit.