rising and falling with the swell. The limitless depth of the sea beneath the ruptured aluminium frame filled him with foreboding.
‘Exit door’s jammed!’ Corrales shouted back to them. Dalinsky, right behind him, gave it an almighty kick and it sprang open with a grinding of bent metal. Water poured in as the aircraft dipped in the waves. Harry felt the icy blast of the sea, but nothing was going to stop him leaving the aircraft.
He plunged into the freezing water and was immediately submerged. His heavy flying suit dragged him down into pitch-black water, where he didn’t know which way was up. Pull your cord , a voice inside his head said. He fumbled for the cord with clumsy gloves and the life vest filled with compressed air. At once he found himself rising to the surface like a cork, but almost immediately his head hit something hard. He was still underwater and realised he was trapped somewhere under the plane. In his panic he couldn’t find his way free but then felt someone tugging him by the arm.
Now he was above the surface, drawing in gasping lungfuls of air.
John was there by his side, holding on to his arm. ‘Harry’s out,’ he shouted.
Harry realised now that he had come up under the wing. Dalinsky was already up on it, swaying unsteadily in the swell of the sea. Corrales was crouching on the edge, holding the tethers of both the life rafts.
Dalinsky dragged Harry and John out of the sea. So far the B-17 was still level. ‘Who else is out there?’ said Corrales. Cain dragged himself up the wing, and then Skaggs, LaFitte and Bortz followed.
‘Well, that’s most of us,’ said Bortz. ‘Where’re Holberg and Stearley?’
Dark though it was, there was still enough moonlight to see the pilot’s cabin. The right window was closed – a bad sign. That was one of the pilots’ emergency exits. Cain dived into the sea and reached the rear exit in a few quick strokes. Bortz shouted, ‘Come back, Warren. She could go under at any second.’
The water level was already up to the door.
Cain levered himself up and peered into the dark interior.
Harry said, ‘I’m going to help him,’ but Bortz held him back.
‘Friedman, you stay here. This plane is going under any second. There’s no point wasting both your lives.’
Even as he said it, the Fortress’s nose dipped down lowerin the swell – enough for the rear exit to nearly clear the surface of the sea. They all felt the wing tilt, but then the Fortress seemed to steady itself. Harry knew he couldn’t just stand and watch. Bortz had let go his arm, and without another word he dived back into the water. When he reached the hatch, he pulled himself up, his waterlogged clothes hanging heavy on his body.
Peering down into the darkened interior, he realised his task was hopeless. What happened next startled him. The lights inside the plane came on.
Wading through the waterlogged interior, Harry reached the cabin to find Cain and Holberg wrenching at Stearley’s harnesses. The co-pilot had passed out and was trapped in his seat. ‘Warren, get me the toolkit. Just by your table.’
Cain wrenched off his bulky life jacket and threw it to Harry, then squeezed through the narrow passageway beneath the pilots’ seats. As he opened the small wooden door Harry saw freezing cold water gush around his legs. There must be at least a foot of it swilling round in there. They all felt the B-17 dip lower in the water as Cain’s weight shifted the centre of gravity. Within seconds he had found the tool case and quickly returned to the cabin.
‘What do you need?’ he asked.
‘Hacksaw.’
Cain handed it over and Holberg began to desperately saw at the tough canvas strap. Stearley started to moan and then struggle. ‘Hold still, Curtis,’ said Cain, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘We’ll get you out in just a second.’
‘You deadbeat,’ said Stearley, with sudden wide-eyed aggression. ‘You got us into this frigging
‘Exit door’s jammed!’ Corrales shouted back to them. Dalinsky, right behind him, gave it an almighty kick and it sprang open with a grinding of bent metal. Water poured in as the aircraft dipped in the waves. Harry felt the icy blast of the sea, but nothing was going to stop him leaving the aircraft.
He plunged into the freezing water and was immediately submerged. His heavy flying suit dragged him down into pitch-black water, where he didn’t know which way was up. Pull your cord , a voice inside his head said. He fumbled for the cord with clumsy gloves and the life vest filled with compressed air. At once he found himself rising to the surface like a cork, but almost immediately his head hit something hard. He was still underwater and realised he was trapped somewhere under the plane. In his panic he couldn’t find his way free but then felt someone tugging him by the arm.
Now he was above the surface, drawing in gasping lungfuls of air.
John was there by his side, holding on to his arm. ‘Harry’s out,’ he shouted.
Harry realised now that he had come up under the wing. Dalinsky was already up on it, swaying unsteadily in the swell of the sea. Corrales was crouching on the edge, holding the tethers of both the life rafts.
Dalinsky dragged Harry and John out of the sea. So far the B-17 was still level. ‘Who else is out there?’ said Corrales. Cain dragged himself up the wing, and then Skaggs, LaFitte and Bortz followed.
‘Well, that’s most of us,’ said Bortz. ‘Where’re Holberg and Stearley?’
Dark though it was, there was still enough moonlight to see the pilot’s cabin. The right window was closed – a bad sign. That was one of the pilots’ emergency exits. Cain dived into the sea and reached the rear exit in a few quick strokes. Bortz shouted, ‘Come back, Warren. She could go under at any second.’
The water level was already up to the door.
Cain levered himself up and peered into the dark interior.
Harry said, ‘I’m going to help him,’ but Bortz held him back.
‘Friedman, you stay here. This plane is going under any second. There’s no point wasting both your lives.’
Even as he said it, the Fortress’s nose dipped down lowerin the swell – enough for the rear exit to nearly clear the surface of the sea. They all felt the wing tilt, but then the Fortress seemed to steady itself. Harry knew he couldn’t just stand and watch. Bortz had let go his arm, and without another word he dived back into the water. When he reached the hatch, he pulled himself up, his waterlogged clothes hanging heavy on his body.
Peering down into the darkened interior, he realised his task was hopeless. What happened next startled him. The lights inside the plane came on.
Wading through the waterlogged interior, Harry reached the cabin to find Cain and Holberg wrenching at Stearley’s harnesses. The co-pilot had passed out and was trapped in his seat. ‘Warren, get me the toolkit. Just by your table.’
Cain wrenched off his bulky life jacket and threw it to Harry, then squeezed through the narrow passageway beneath the pilots’ seats. As he opened the small wooden door Harry saw freezing cold water gush around his legs. There must be at least a foot of it swilling round in there. They all felt the B-17 dip lower in the water as Cain’s weight shifted the centre of gravity. Within seconds he had found the tool case and quickly returned to the cabin.
‘What do you need?’ he asked.
‘Hacksaw.’
Cain handed it over and Holberg began to desperately saw at the tough canvas strap. Stearley started to moan and then struggle. ‘Hold still, Curtis,’ said Cain, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘We’ll get you out in just a second.’
‘You deadbeat,’ said Stearley, with sudden wide-eyed aggression. ‘You got us into this frigging
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