My own war game

Chapter 320 Tinian Island

1700 kilometers away, Marianas, Tinian Island, B-29 bomber base.

The crew members of the Ibonava were having a meal at a dining table and passing around aerial photos showing the iconic buildings in the four cities that might be bombed.

This is something they have been doing for some time now and it has become a regular part of their mealtime routine.

Compared with the various controversies in later generations, the entire team was excited and enthusiastic at this time, and each of them had a sense of honor of making history.

"Hey, man, do you see who that is?" Navigator Walter Ford nudged mechanic Edward Battle with his elbow.

"One, two, three, four... Oh my God! A five-star general! How did he get here?"

"Ten bucks, MacArthur."

"Yes, I guess it's Arnold."

"Raise, twenty bucks, Bradley."

"I bet 50 bucks, and it's not even that."

It seems that the six-month intensive training not only produced a number of excellent pilots, but the boring days on the island also created a group of addicted gamblers.

The officers were whispering there when an elderly man in a senior officer's uniform walked into the room.

Seeing the special five five-pointed stars on the other side's black cloth epaulettes, all the officers on the scene stood up and saluted instantly.

"Damn it! It's all Marshall! He's the closest to here, I should have guessed it earlier." A gambler who opened the market angrily pulled out the money from his trouser pocket.

"Good afternoon! Gentlemen, please continue with your meal. I won't take up too much of your time." Marshall expressed his friendliness appropriately.

No one took this statement seriously, and everyone remained standing.

Marshall briefly spoke to each person and then signaled to Commander Tibbets.

"Gentlemen, at the request of Washington, I have two announcements to make."

"First, there are some minor changes to the plan. The first target of the attack the day after tomorrow will be changed from Hiroshima to Kokura, and the bomb load for that day will be doubled."

Everyone looked at each other, and everyone knew what doubling the ammunition load meant, which meant they would have to drop bombs twice that day.

"Sir, can we know the reason? After all, our previous training was based on Hiroshima." Co-pilot Major Robert Ray asked questions.

"It's just that the situation has changed a little, because our intelligence officer is now in Kokura, and he will provide us with navigation. Washington believes that this can greatly improve accuracy and success rate." A young man next to Marshall interrupted to explain.

The officers looked at each other, and finally the navigator Walter Ford stepped forward and asked, "Sir, what method is used to provide navigation?"

"Use low-frequency radio. Our intelligence agents will use low-frequency radio in the local area to help us locate."

Several pilots showed doubtful looks in their eyes. They were all professionals. When the battlefield in Europe was at a stalemate, there were indeed intelligence officers who used low-frequency broadcasts to assist the Air Force in locating targets for bombing, which was most effective at night.

But the attack day is clearly during the day, and is it really necessary to attack a large city with clear visibility?

The most critical issue is that this is different from conventional bombing. It is expected to reach a direct killing radius of five kilometers. How can the intelligence officer responsible for guidance run?

The war is about to be won, so there is no need to sacrifice human lives to achieve victory, right?

As if sensing the doubts of several people, the young man next to Marshall took the initiative to step forward and explain, "Please rest assured, our intelligence agents will evacuate in a safe manner and there will be no danger." As he said that, the young man handed a piece of paper full of words to Commander Tibbets.

"This is guidance information. You monitor the local broadcasts. When this information appears, it means it is suitable to drop bombs."

Navigator Walter Ford took the note and quickly memorized the information on it.

They are soldiers, and when they don't fully understand, they just have to obey orders.

"OK! The mission is completed, and here is some good news." Marshall clapped his hands to draw attention to himself.

"There will be a small banquet in the evening, with seared veal ribs and tuna as the main course."

"YES! I love veal ribs!" someone shouted.
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At night, the crew members had a great meal. The veal ribs tasted great and almost everyone ate two extra pieces. The officers walked around on the lawn with their plates and talked loudly.

The atmosphere is completely different from the tense and depressing one two years ago.

After all, the war is almost over, and many people are enjoying the peaceful days ahead.

Navigator Walter Ford sat on the side, drinking Coca-Cola with some boredom. He was a person with some drinking habits. During training, he could drink two glasses of wine during his weekly rest. However, starting from a week ago, the whole team was completely banned from drinking, which made him a little uncomfortable.

A cup filled with rainbow-colored liquid was placed in front of him, and the young man who had stood next to Marshall during the day sat down opposite him.

"Try it, it's my treat." The young man pushed the cup forward.

Lieutenant Ford picked up the cup and was about to drink, but a look of doubt appeared on his face.

At this point, the other party immediately spread out his hands and explained, "It's a soft drink, 100% alcohol-free, but I made it taste similar."

Sure enough, the drink in the cup had a slight aftertaste of alcohol after entering the throat, which made Ford unable to help but drink it all in one gulp.

"Edwin Layton, Pacific Fleet Intelligence Officer." The young man held out his hand.

"Walter Ford, navigator of the Ibonava." Lieutenant Ford also stretched out his hand and shook hands with the other party.

A glass of quasi-alcoholic drink successfully broke down the social barrier, and the two people, who were not very old, had a very pleasant chat.

Later in the conversation, the intelligence officer named Layton asked a question seemingly inadvertently: "How does the B-29 navigate in the sky?"

The other party's question was not sensitive, and Marshall's assistant status also made the young navigator not think too much, so he drank another glass and dragged out the navigation method of the B-29.

"It uses gyroscopes for navigation and long-range radio navigation. At the same time, the aircraft has just been equipped with the most advanced AN/APQ-13 radar, which can scan and identify the coastline."

"The rest depends on this." Walter Ford nodded his eyes with some pride. "When the equipment cannot be relied upon, I will rely on vision to manually identify the position. I have been doing this job for several years and have never made a mistake."

"What an amazing skill. To be honest, I know nothing about aviation. Thank you for your answer." The intelligence officer raised his glass.

"I should thank you. These days without wine have been too hard for me."

The cups clinked gently, and Walter Ford drank the last of the prepared drink and left contentedly. He didn't know if it was an illusion, but after a few drinks, he actually felt a pleasure similar to being tipsy.

Looking at the other person's departing back, He Chi, who was disguised as an intelligence officer, spat out the food in his mouth.

(End of this chapter)