Ficly

Little Boy Blues

The spy watched as B-29-45-MO, serial number 44-86292, swung around onto the duty runway, her four Wright R-3350 Duplex-Cyclone radial engines idling comfortably as the pilot and co-pilot moved through their final check list. Things needed to be just right for this mission. Maintenance had gone over the aircraft, nose to tail, leaving nothing uninspected.

Checklist complete, clearance granted; the pilot moved all four throttles forward to maximum power. The Wrights sang their song in four part harmony as the superfortress began her roll, gradually picking up more and more speed until she lumbered into the air with grim purpose.

This wasn’t 45-MO’s first rodeo. In July she’d flown two combat missions to drop pumpkin bombs on industrial targets at Kobe and Nagoya. This mission though was the black dog. Little Boy was on board and the target was set.

The spy smiled and checked his watch as Enola Gay lifted off. His time bomb was ticking, hidden inside the bomb bay. In 10 minutes his war would be won.

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