In their own words...

[bobbysocks]

Anglo-American Relations


How a relatively small island like the U.K. could have accommodated the overwhelming hordes of outsiders so gracefully in WW II is beyond my understanding. And we have even continued to be "best friends" ever since. There were, of course, points of disagreement and friction, but they were worked out, as friends do, amicably, with good grace and humor.

One well worn quip concerned the Briton's reply to the American who asked, "What do you British think of us Americans?" The answer, "Well, you're overpaid, over-confident, over-sexed, and over here." Americans enjoyed that one as much as the British did.

"Lend-lease" was an apt title for a logical exchange of overages and shortages. The British had brussel sprouts, Scotch, fog, land, communications, military intelligence, transport, rescue services, bicycles, and fresh food, for example. We had manpower, production facilities, raw materials, bourbon, shipping, and (much to British disgust) peanut butter and Spam. So both sides provided what they could for the war effort. Both had goodwill, and shared it generously.

Our British neighbors welcomed us into their homes, but their tightly rationed food supplies made dinner invitations embarrassing to our friendly hosts. So the American policy from on high was that when we received an invitation to share a meal with our neighbors, we would take along food from our messes, as hostess gifts.

Brig. General H.W. Bowman

A View from the Top Turret (Oral History)


19 August 2004

My name is Beattie B Dickson and my crew position was Engineer, Top Turret Gunner.
War can often turn even the most beautiful day very deadly in the blink of an eye. Case in point, on March 18th, 1945 we were flying a mission to Berlin. The day was clear and the sky was almost cloudless. Being in the Top Turret gave you the best view of the formation. In the Top Turret you could not see the ground but you had the best view of everything else. In fact I think it was the best position on the plane. One of the things I liked to do was to swing the turret around and look out the back at the contrails streaming out behind the formation. On this mission to Berlin I was doing that when I happened to see the wing tip disappear from one of the planes in our group. I then saw other indications that the group was taking hits. I said what’s going on here? There were no German planes to be seen and the other gunners were not reporting any incoming fighters either. By this time in the war I knew what flack looked like and the damage that was taking place to our group had to be coming from enemy fighters. So where were they? At this point I figured out that they had to be hiding in the same contrails that I had been enjoying moments before. So I turned the turret around and sure enough back behind the group were two German Jet fighters firing big anti tank guns at the group. I gave them a short burst and they knew the game was up so they hit the go button and off they went in a flash. From that day on I never let myself lose concentration like that again, however I can still see those majestic contrails in my mind.

A Trip on the "Paris Express"


29 November 1944

I was invited to be radio operator on a flight to Paris. It did not take me very long to accept the invitation. Others on the crew were: "Jumbo" White, Ralph Dempsey, Rufe Causey, Harold Kuenning, Bill Dolan, Russ Newman, John Studeny, Cloyd Sellers and Mac McDevitt. There was one passenger aboard, Harold Bowman.

There had been a number of rumors concerning Colonel Bowman's call to Headquarters, United States Air Forces in Europe. After we took off and I was settled in the radio operator's seat, Colonel Bowman came into the room and sat on the floor next to me. I offered him my seat, but he refused saying that I had a job to do and should be in the seat. We had a very interesting chat on the way to France. I asked him if he thought that he would be transferred. He answered that he hoped to talk General Spaatz into allowing him to stay with the 40lst. I wished him good luck and said that we all hoped he could stay with us.

Captain G.I. Blumenthal


A Crew Gets Together


I came to Great Falls, Montana from the class of 43-D Pilots. I was assigned as a co-pilot to a Lt. Stann, who was on vacation at that time. Major Brown took me up for a check ride. It was a beautiful night; you could almost touch the stars. After the usual procedures, Major Brown proceeded to show me how to do a "chandel" in a B-17. What a thrill! It wasn't long before he introduced me to a pilot who was floating around Great Falls with no crew. His name was Bill Riegler. We were assigned to the 613th Squadron and sent to Cutbank. Our navigator was a big Swede by the name of Einer Anderson. He was built like a brick - you know what, and I would have hated to have skated against him in a hockey game. Andy, Bill and I were joined by a hotshot bombardier who outranked us. He had seen action in the Pacific, and was rumored to have sunk a Jap ship without a bombsight. We were quite awed by this burly Texan who acted like a typical Army Sergeant. His name was Durward W. Fesmire. We just called him "Fes". That's how we got together at Great Falls.

2nd Lt. Tom R. Cushman


The Radio Operator's Mission


20 August 2004

My Name is Harold M Mauldin and my crew position was Radioman.
My primary role was to send and receive messages via Morse code. On the day of a mission we went to special briefings where we received the code for the day. Depending on the days mission, which could last up to 13 hours depending on how deep the target was, we had to listen for incoming message traffic the whole time. As I think back on it, I know that even in the heat of battle I was able to block out all the outside commotion as I concentrated on receiving messages and keeping the message log. I some how, like other radiomen, had the ability to just block out all the noise and focus on my job. Even to this day I sometimes wake up hearing dot-dash signals in my ears. I think this is due in part to the stress of battle and the long hours of concentration required in the radioman’s job. Each mission was different with most being filled with hours of mainly dealing with the cold and listening to music which often turned into short periods of intense message traffic and the associated sounds and feel of battle all around. It was like that on most missions, going from near boredom to fighting for your life in a mater of seconds.

[bobbysocks]

February 1945
United States Strategic Air Forces in European Theater
Eighth Air Force
First Air Division
First Combat Wing
381st Bombardment Group (H)
February 1945

Microfilm Roll B0370: Frames 0178 – 0189
Transcribed by Scott Burris

We started February with a mission to Mannheim, Mission No. 224 for the Group. The marshalling yards were our objective and 37 of our aircraft were dispatched under command of Major Winter. We led the entire Eighth Air Force over the target.

The weather was bad all the way and the outfit had to climb over a high cloud front to assemble. It was 10/10 at the target and a new bombing technique, the twin-beacon “Micro H”, was used for the first time with results subsequently reported as successful. Aside from the weather, the Group had little difficulty. Flak was meager and inaccurate, and there were no enemy fighters. Battle damage was slight.

There was one abortive, Lt. Kuhn, in a 535th aircraft, suffered engine difficulty over the Channel, jettisoned his bomb load, and came on home, with only one engine left, and forced to land down wind, Kuhn’s plane crashed into and knocked down two ground crew huts. Nobody was injured but the plane was badly torn up.

The Daily Bulletin published the news that, effective February 19, only official (TPM forms 3) passes would be acceptable in London.

S/Sgt. John C. Marinace, waist gunner, was awarded the DFC (GO 92, 1BD, 1 Feb.) “for outstanding ability and exceptional ingenuity”. Mentioned in the citation was a mission (5 Oct. 1944) on which Marinace brought a wounded tail gunner out to the waist for first aid while his ship was afire, and then crawled back to man the tail gun after the fire had been extinguished.

A two-plan mission, with Berlin as the “A” objective, and Dresden as the target in Plan “B”, was scrubbed because of weather 2 February.

Unable to transcribe frames B0370-0179 to 0181 from the digital scan. Transcription follows from the original microfilm and trusty Dukane 27A25 microreader.

Major William G. Fullick, Group Bombardier ???? since the activating of the 381st, was transferred to Nuthampstead to become the Group bombardier there.

Twelve Air Medal Clusters were awarded to Group members in GO 95, 2 Feb.

1st Sgt. Charles D Butts, of the 535th, was awarded the Bronze Star Medal in GO 94, 1 Feb.

February 3 was a big day in the history of Eighth Air Force. Berlin was the target and 1,000 bombers were sent to hit military targets within its limits. Capt Edward M. MacNeill, flying his last mission (his seventh over Berlin) was in command of our contingent of 36 aircraft and the Templehof railway district was our specific target. Capt. Klinksiek was the lead pilot.

Flak was moderate but accurate. MacNeill said there was much less flak than there used to be “in the old days”. Flying weather was good, and, although the formation found a solid undercast from the European coast almost to Berlin, the clouds broke at the target and it was wide open over Berlin. Ours was the twelfth Group to bomb and strike photos show our explosives landing to the right and on the assigned MPI.

The formation returned 40 mins early with two ships missing. Listed as MIA are the following:

2nd Lt. John B Anderson, pilot; 2nd Lt. Leonard A. Wall, co-pilot, 2nd Lt. Paul C.G. Cayoni (Cayori in roster, Gayard in Medical and 532nd Osborne transcribed diary), F/O Carl H. Forbes, Jr.; and Sgts. George R. Nessley (Nessly in roster), Carle E. Kempainen (Kemppainen in roster), Curtis P. Wallace, Michal J. Medzic, and Robert N. McGreavy.
2nd Lt. Paul O. Pucylowski, pilot; F/O Harry M. Yarnes, 2nd Lt. John E. Kelleher, S/Sgt. A. H. Zichterman, T/Sgt. Joseph J. Noxon, T/Sgt. Clarence E. Way, Sgt. Stuart R. Mitchell, S/Sgt. Karl R. Green, and Sgt Robert M. Landes.

Anderson’s aircraft was last seen at approximately 52-44N-13-28E with its No. 2 engine afire. The plane swerved off the target and left the formation where it was seen under control long enough for the entire crew to bail out. Nine ‘chutes were seen, one evidently in a delayed jump. The aircraft made a climbing turn after everybody was out and then exploded.

Pucylowski’s fate is a mystery. Nobody noticed anything wrong with his aircraft. It was last seen at 52-??N—13-23E when it left the formation made a sharp turn and slid underneath, disappearing from sight. No ‘chutes were seen.
There was one casualty. It was S/Sgt. Jeremiah B. Hogan, 534th waist gunner, who suffered a slight flak wound in the forehead.

The mission got a heavy play in the press. Strike photos taken by our Group, showing a Fortress with contrail silhouetted on the target on which excellent hits were obtained, appeared on page 1 of at least three London papers. Capt. MacNeill’s quote led the Eighth Air Force story.

There was a stand down February 4. It was a cold, rainy day, with low hanging clouds and a marrow-chilling wind. The only events of importance were decoration. Group members were awarded 17 Air Medals (in GO 103, 4 Feb.) and 49 Air Medal Clusters in GO 104, of that date. DFC’s were awarded Capt. Fred Davison, one-time pilot of Stage Door Canteen, and 1st Lt. Melvin R. McIntyre, bombardier. Both had completed tours of duty.

There were several promotions announced Feb. 4, notable among them the elevation to captain of Ralph J. Gaw, 534th pilot.

A mission intended for Munich was scrubbed Feb. 5 after briefing. Although the day turned out beautiful, it started as a stinker, heavy rain and overcast sky. Throughout the night the full thuds of explosions were heard and rumors were they were V2’s going off in the distance.

William J. Muckerman, sub-depot adjutant, was promoted to captain February 5.

Lt. Col. Conway S. Hall, 26-year-old command pilot, former Group operations officer and, more recently, Group air executive, took over command of the 381st officially February 6. There was a mission on that day too. Our 37 aircraft were under command of Capt. Ewing S. Watson and the briefed target was Lut??edorf.

The lead squadron’s lead ship had trouble with its VHF which was alternately going out and coming back. As a result, the formation was somewhat scraggly. Patchy clouds made it possible for the navigators to proceed by pilotage until the target area was reached. Here it turned 10/10, and the lead VHF came on just in time for Capt. Watson to hear the Division commander say he would attack a target of opportunity. Our formation followed the bomber stream to a wide open area where the bombardier picked a a town with a railroad running through it and bomb visually. The target was identified as Ohdoruf. Crew men said the bombs landed along the railroad in the built-up area.

There was virtually no opposition. The formation caught meager flak at the enemy coast going in and no flak at the target. There were no enemy fighters. Two of our aircraft failed to bomb with the formation and dropped their explosives on Steinbeck.

A Purple Heart was awarded to S/Sgt. Allen M. Jones, 534th ball turret gunner, for wounds received on the mission of 8 May, 1944. The award was made in GO 108, 5 Feb.

Two Air Medals and 48 Clusters were awarded to the Group in GO 109, 6 February.

The mission intended for a target at Osterfeld, Germany, February 7, was recalled after the aircraft had taken off.
The day gave rise, however, to an unprecedented one-man attack on Germany. Lt. Taylor, of the 532nd, was unable to stay with the formation because he lost the boost on his No. 3 engine. He cut north in an attempt to intercept the formation before it went out over the coast. His radio operator failed to hear the recall order and Taylor, unable to see a formation, and unwilling to come back as an abortive, calmly proceeded on to Germany alone. He ran into a 10/10 cloud, figured that was why he missed the outfit, made a Gee-H run on Essen, and let fly at that target. He hit accurate flak and came back with major battle damage, but he made it all right. Credit for the mission was duly handed out and Taylor and Blakeney, the navigator, were awarded back pats, after the head office brass had worried, for a time, about the problem of whether or not Taylor should be court martialed.

Austin W. Simmons and Charles O. Todd, Jr., 535th pilots, were promoted to captain. The announcement was made in the February 7 Daily Bulletin.

Eight Air Medal Clusters came down to the Group in GO 113, 7 Feb.

There was another scrub Feb 8, and this time the intended target was Wesel.

On the ninth, in response to an Army request, 37 of our aircraft went out for an attack on the motor road viaduct at Arnsberg, Germany. Capt. Cronin, assistant Group operations officer, led the contingent, which flew all the way to the target over broken cloud only to find the objective completely covered. In addition, the cloud layer ran much higher than briefed, completely enveloping our aircraft at bombs-away, which was handled on PBO-GH technique. There was neither flak nor fighter at the targets and all our Forts and crews returned without casualty or incident.

Five new crews arrived on the base early this same evening. Pilots and the squadrons to which assigned are: Lts. Smith and Perry, 535, and Lts. Hall, Hull, and Adelmeyer, 534.

Missions intended for targets at Kassel and Munster were scrubbed on the tenth and eleventh, respectively. On the latter night, highlighted by a dance at which Lt. Cols. Hall and Reed were present as guests of honor, the Station’s new non-commissioned officers’ club, located in the old quartermaster building adjoining combat mess, was officially opened. Membership is limited to top three-graders.

Col. Leber was unable to attend, being required at the officers’ club, where he and Brig. Gen. Gross, First Combat Wing commander, presented DFCs and Bronze Star medals to combat and ground personnel.

Monday, Feb. 12, was cold and drizzly and we had a stand down. Four new combat crews arrived on the 1930 train at Great Yeldham. Lts. Huff and Scherman and their crews were assigned to the 532nd, while Lts. Peyton and Roettger went to the 533rd.

Having completed his tour of combat duty, Col. Leber, with Lt. Col. Fitzgerald, 532nd C.O., left the group for new assignments on Tuesday, February 13. Lt. Col. Conway S. Hall, who joined the Group at activation in January 1943, and who has served as its air executive and deputy commander ever since, as been assigned to command. He is one of our veteran combat pilots, and led the epic Schweinfurt attack of August 17, 1943.

Flying as “B” group in the Combat Wing, which led the entire First Air Division, we turned what might have been a miserable and costly failure into one of our outstanding combat performances Feb. 13.

Dresden was briefed as the target center, but the field order carried a strict injunction that nothing whatsoever would interrupt the bomber stream, heading for a target very close the advancing Russians in southern Germany. Consequently, when the Group ahead of us led off course because of a foul cloud and contrail conditions over the central Reich, Capt. Tyson, 535th operations officer up as Group leader for our 37 bomber contingent, realized the time schedule had already been upset. He therefore had no other choice but to seek a target of opportunity.

While we peeled off in search of such an objective, after sustaining considerable damage from AA defenses, the Group ahead went plowing on through the cumulo-bango weather and flak prevailing over Munster. Capt. Pelenik, Group lead bombardier for the day, began looking for a hot target through weather that constantly varied between VACU and fubar. Although he was unaware of the full importance of what he finally selected at the time, he lined up on a vast industrial pile which later proved to be the long-sought-after SudetenländischeTreibstoffwerke, an A-plus priority synthetic oil plant two miles northwest of Brux, Czechoslovakia.

There, as strike photos later proved, lead and high squadrons did an excellent visual job, with heavy and tight bomb concentrations placed in and near the plant buildings.

The 12-plant low squadron, failing to recognize Palenik’s bomb run, made up for the oversight a few minutes later when they hammered home their explosives on the Skoda arms plant at Pilsen.

It was a rough day, with the formations encountering moderate to intense flak, first at Munster, next at Brux and finally at Pilsen. On the way out, the crews observed our excellent escort in large dogfights with the Luftwaffe although none of our formations were attacked.

Eighteen of our aircraft landed away from base, thirteen of them on the Continent, most of them for lack of fuel or because of engine failures. Two crews bailed out of their aircraft over Belgium and, of these, two were injured – 2nd Lt. E. B. Wulf and S/Sgt. C.J. Kubiak, pilot and tail gunner respectively, who were hospitalized in Belgium. Four drifted into enemy lines and presumably were made prisoners.

Missing in action are: Sgts. D. McCartney, radio; W. Tresti, ball turret; P.D. Boland, waist; and M.P. Bioavert, tail, all of the 534th.

It was rough back at the base after the remnants of the formation came in, too. The rest of the day was spent in trying to determine what it was the Fortresses hit. Grave fears were expressed that the formation was over Chemnitz at the bombs away and that the explosives had fallen on the Russians. When the target had been identified, however, there was great rejoicing. For it developed that the bombs had fallen on an objective which the Eighth had been seeking for months.

The most unusual experience of the mission belonged to 2nd Lt. Hugh D. Robinson, Jr., Wulf’s co-pilot. Having bailed out of his Fortress, Robinson was picked up just inside the Allied lines by American soldiers. Examined by a doctor, he was ordered to the hospital at Leige for X-rays. He went off in an L5, was clouded in while in the air, flew around until the fuel gave out, and then bailed for the second time. That wasn’t all. He was in a B-24, for a ride back to England, when the Liberator’s landing gear collapsed while it was taxing for take-off.

We went back to Dresden February 15, with Capt. MacNeill in the lead ship of our 24-aircraft formation. Although the formation was briefed for clear weather over Dresden, MacNeill was informed by the weather scout that it would be 10/10. There was no flak at the target but the formation encountered anti-aircraft fire both at Brux and at the bomb line. It was meager and inaccurate although it covered a wide area. The formation bombed Dresden, using PFF method. Two of our aircraft hit other targets, one dropping near the Wesen-Ems canal, the other hitting Lingen, Capt. Carpenter, low squadron leader, was forced to abort and jettisoned his bombs in the Channel. There were no losses or casualties.

With Major Bordner in the lead ship, a 37-aircraft formation from here participated in the attack on transportation targets at Nurnberg the following day. Although there was good weather at the Belgian coast, clouds began building up to 27,000 feet in Germany, and it was 10/10 over the target. The formation made a mickey run and the bombing results were unobserved. Flak at the target was meager and inaccurate, generally bursting behind the formation. On the bomb run, two bombs from Lt. Lundquist’s aircraft dropped through the wing of Lt. Davis’s Fort, but there were no casualties. Lt. Stevens, who lost two engines on the way in, pulled out of formation, bombed Staden all alone, and returned early.

Three Air Medals and 45 Clusters were handed down to the Group in GO 116, 9 February; and there were five more Clusters for us in GO 140, 15 Feb. Capt McLandon M. Stallings, 535th pilot and 1st Lt. Henry S. Tabor, 535th navigator, were awarded DFC’s in GO 142, 16 Feb. Both had completed duty tours.

There were nine Air Medals and 40 Clusters in GO 145, 16 Feb.; nine more Air Medals and 18 Clusters in GO 147, 17 Feb.; three Air Medals in GO 149, 19 Feb.; and 27 Clusters to the Air Medal in GO 152, 20 Feb.

The Purple Heart was awarded to T/Sgt. John N. Nassar who had been wounded Feb. 14, in GO 143, 16 Feb.
February 17 the 535th Squadron basketball team captured the station championship, defeating the 534th ordnance five by the score of 41 to 38.

Nurnberg was our objective again Wednesday, Feb. 21, and the No. 1 visual target was the armament factory. Our aircraft were under command of Major Taylor. The formation found broken clouds all the way in, building up to 10/10 at the target. The bombing was done by PFF methods and results were unobserved. Flak was meager and inaccurate at the target.

We were briefed to attack the marshalling yards at Gardelegen Feb. 22, hitting the objective from 12,000 feet. We formed part of a great effort of 3,000 bombers intent upon knocking out as many enemy communications centers as possible. The RAF and the Russians were in the show. Crews were briefed to attack any railheads as targets of opportunity.

Our 37 aircraft were commanded by Capt. Tyson. The formation missed the primary because it was forced out of position in the traffic pattern by another Group. Tyson went on to Kobbelitz for a good visual coming of the overcast at the marshalling yards. The high squadron bombed at Klotze, also attacking a marshalling yard with good results.
Gen. Gross was present at the interrogation and, after the critique by the lead crews, he presented the Legion of Merit to Major Kurner, the Bronze Star to Major Greenlee and the Purple Heart to Sgt. Nassar.

With Major Sandman in the lead ship, 37 of our aircraft took part, February 23, in the continued assault on German communications. We were briefed for HOF. A complete 10/10 undercast prevailed all the way in and the formation searched Germany for a suitable target. Major Sandman finally located Meiningen, where the lead and high squadrons bombed the marshalling yard. The low went on to Adelsberg, having been unable to line up on Meiningen, and hit the rail center there with fair results. Although the bombing was carried out from 13,000 feet, there was no opposition with the exception of about 12 bursts of flak going in and a like amount coming out. The search for a target caused many of the aircraft to run out of fuel and 11 landed away from base. All were subsequently reported all right.

While the mission was going on, 44 enlisted men, the second contingent from this station, left for the infantry.
Hamburg was our objective Feb. 24 and 36 of our aircraft participated, with Capt. MacNeill commanding. The mission was uneventful. The 5/10 undercast encountered at the coast began building up as the formation went along and there was doubt until the last minute as to the type of bombing to be attempted. The formation finally used PFF methods and results were unobserved. Lt. O’Neill, with one engine out and two others malfunctioning, bombed a target of opportunity and returned early.

Preflighting an aircraft for the mission, Sgt. Thomas S. Downey, an assistant crew chief, was hit and killed instantly by a revolving propeller when a fire broke out in an engine. Downey was trying to put an extinguisher on the flame.
Sunday, February 25, we went in to Munich with Capt. Cronin in command of our 37 aircraft. It was an exceptionally satisfactory. The ground was visible all the way to the target. Although there were smokepots hiding the target, wind blew the smoke away and gave us a clear look at the objective. We bombed visually, and, although we hit to 398th MPI instead of ours, our bombs “walked right across the marshalling yards”. Flak was moderate and accurate but it didn’t start coming up until after the bombing run. There were no losses and no casualties.

Meanwhile, back at the station, Anna Neagle with Herbert Wilcox, Phyllis Calvert and Jean Nent, three of Britain’s best known film stars, helped “Stage Door Canteen” celebrate its 105th mission. There was a birthday cake with 105 candles, which Anna Neagle cut and the others served, with coffee. A picture of Miss Neagle holding out a slab of cake to M/Sgt. Clarence B. Bankston, crew chief, on a knife, appeared in most of the English papers, particularly those controlled by Lord Kemsley. Clarence Winchester, Group Captain Mahaddie and Harold Thackrau, of State Door Canteen in London, and Peter Murray Hill, actor and husband of Miss Calvert, were present as were, also, Mr. and Mrs. Richard Plummer, Gen. Gross was also in the party.

Major Winter led a formation of 37 of our aircraft to Berlin on Monday, and the trip turned out to be a milk run. It was a solid 10/10 at the target and the bombing was PFF. The only opposition was meager and inaccurate flak, although some Jerries were reported in the target area. The radio reported, later in the day, that more than 3,000 tons of bombs fell on Berlin in the operation.

Tuesday was another PFF day as Major Bordner led 37 aircraft to attack Leipzig. It was 10/10 at the target. Although there was a heavy flak barrage at the target just before we got there, for us the anti-aircraft fire was reported as meager and inaccurate. There were no incidents. Results were unobserved.

We had a stand down Wednesday, Feb. 28, the first after a string of nine consecutive operation days.
We were awarded 31 Air Medals and 36 Clusters in GO 156, 22 Feb.

Purple Heart decorations were awarded to 2nd Lt. Eugene E. Pauley and Sgt. Edgar J. Browns, both wounded on the mission of Feb. 16. The awards were published in GO 161, 23 Feb.

There were seven Air Medal Clusters for us in GO 158, 23 Feb.; nine more in GO 163, 24 Feb.; eighteen Air Medals in GO 167, 25 Feb.; and 40 Air Medals and 89 Clusters in GO 170, 26 Feb. The final award publication of the month for us was GO 173, 27 Feb.; and that brought us 86 more Air Medals.

[bobbysocks]

ENEMY PILOT IN THE CROSS FIRE
I will never forget the only enemy that I ever saw in
combat. An air war is very impersonal, even more so now that
we fight with missles and rockets that are remote controlled.
We in the air seldom saw anyone we are fighting even in WW-2.
We see planes and targets but not people.
On this particular mission, we were to bomb aircraft
factories in middle Germany. We met very stiff fighter
resistance, so we were pretty busy trying to protect our own
plane as well as those around us. We then got the call,
"Bandits at twelve o'clock high!" They were all lined up and
began to come in from the front of our plane. This was a
closing speed of over 600 MPH which was pretty fast for that
time. These were the latest planes that Germany had to offer,
FW-190s, brand new from the very factories that we were
headed to bomb.
I was in my regular position at the right waist gun. I
spotted this plane coming in over our left wing and firing at
everything in the squadron. Tis all happened in milliseconds
but seemed like a lifetime. Every gun that could was firing
at him and when he got even with my position I could see my
tracers going into his cockpit area. He was looking directly
at me. He couldn't have been over sixteen years old, with
short blond hair and no beard. He had what we have come to
know as the typical Hitler Youth sneer on his face. He
thought he was invincible. At that moment he turned 90
degrees away from me and blew up into a cloud of smoke. I can
still see the face of the only enemy I ever knew. I didn't
even claim a "kill" when I returned to briefing at our base
in England. I was always too glad to be back without a
scratch.

BICYCLE
The only bicycle that I ever owned was one I bought when
I was stationed at Chelveston, England. The one I bought was
a black girls bike with a magneto light and brakes on the
handle bars. It cost me the equivalent of $45.00 in English
pounds which were worth at that time a little over $4.20 per
pound.
Most of the boys learned to ride their bikes at night in
total darkness carrying a quart of beer in each hand. This
was quite a trick, especially after an evening at the local
Pub.
One evening some of us went into a village close to camp
and when coming back, a pretty girl passed me on the road. I
took after her intending to catch her and make conversation
if she would talk to me. I was riding pretty fast in the dark
when I hit a deep pothole in the road. I did a complete flip
with the bike and the first thing that hit the ground was the
left side of my face on that rough asphalt road. I peeled all
the skin off my face. I got up, picked the bike up and looked
all around to see who had seen me make such a fool of myself
over a girl that I never did meet.
I kicked the bike back in shape and rode on into camp
which was only a few miles ahead. When I got there I reported
to the first aid station for repairs and comfort. They wanted
to keep me but I wouldn't stay because I had a mission over
Germany to make the next day. They painted my face with
mercurochrome and I went on to my bunk to sleep. I didn't let
a peeled face keep me from flying and I heard from my buddies
about that bike wreck for a long, long time.

D-DAY
I've heard it said, "Nothing good ever came out of a war
and I've made this statement myself many times. I wouldn't
take a million dollars for my experiences in what my
generation calls the "Big War", and I wouldn't give two cents
for any more of it. There are many personal stories that come
out of any war, so I've tried to put some of mine down on
paper so I could reminisce and maybe others would be just a
little interested. It is now some forty or fifty years after
"My War" as I try to recall some of the both serious and
funny highlight of things I saw and did. I was a twenty year
old gunner in a "Flying Fortress" (Boeing B-17 Heavy Bomber)
in the Eighth Air Force at the time of "Operation Overlord"
which we commonly call "D-Day" in the invasion of Europe.
On the day of June 6, 1944 we were, as usual, assembled
for a briefing before our mission which was to bomb ahead of
the landing troops in Normandy, France. Our officers went
through all the usual form of weather reports and forecasts,
our primary target, our secondary targets, our routes,
altitudes, times and destinations. With all this done in
detail then the question was asked, "Are there any
questions." One sleepy Sergeant in the back of the room
raised his hand and was recognized. His question was,
"Colonel, Sir, while we are doing all this, just what will
the German Air Force be doing?" A hush fell over the room.
You could have heard a pin drop if anyone had dared to drop
it. The answer was simply this, "They won't be there, son, We
will have so many of our planes in the air, there just won't
be any room for them."
The crew that I was with always flew in the number one
or number two position as we were of the "Pathfinder Group"
which meant that we had the "radar bomb-sight" used to bomb
targets that couldn't be seen through the cloud cover. When
we boarded the plane there were several officers who wanted
to fly as observers. We had a Major to go with us so I told
him he could have my gun in the left waist. He was glad to
get such a good observation point. I put a sleeping bag in
the floor of the plane and watched the war through an unused
camera port in the floor of the plane. Sure enough, we didn't
see any enemy planes in the air on that mission and found out
later that the German Air Force only put up two fighters in
the whole Normandy invasion. We made that mission without
firing a shot or being fired on. We dropped our bomb load
where we were supposed to and came home without incident.

HERSHEY BAR
There should be some interest by someone in advertising
when I say, I owe my life to a Hershey Bar. Well not quite
but here is the story as I lived it.
I was with a B-17 Pathfinder crew in WW2 when we were on
a mission to bomb some selected target in southern Germany in
April of 1944. I was flying my regular left waist gun
position on our way in to the target some time after we had
cleared the French coast heading south and somewhat east.
Flak was heavy and because of that we had no enemy fighter
opposition. We also had no friendly fighter escorts for the
same reason.
I was sitting on an ammo box watching the flak blossom
all around us and wondering when one of those bursts would
have our name on it. Those flight suits that we wore had
pockets on the legs and so when we sit down many time things
would fall out of them. Just then a Hershey bar i had stashed
for future snack fell out and landed in the plywood catwalk
on the floor of the plane. I looked at it for a moment and
then decided to pick it up. When I bent down to retrieve it I
heard a "Whomp" and sat up to look out a small hole about the
size of a quarter just at eye level. That piece of shrapnel
fell to the floor from the other wall of the plane. When I
picked it up it was still warm from the explosion.
I don't think it could have been fatal but you can bet I
would have gotten a headache if I hadn't picked up that
errant Hershey Bar.
I still have that piece of German 88 mm. flak as a
souvenir.

STAND DOWN AND LIVE
Many unusual things have happened in my life to make me
believe in "Guardian Angels." One night after we had been
transferred to the 422nd Squadron because our First Pilot had
been made Squadron Commander, we were alerted for a mission
early the next morning. Needless to say, we didn't sleep much
that night because we were too excited about the next day.
After midnight, the duty clerk came into our barracks calling
out the crews to wake up and report to the flightline for a
mission. When he was about to leave, we realized that he had
not called us. I asked him, What about Captain Conklins
crew?" He said, "You're not going, you've been replaced, go
back to sleep." We did just that but got out latter to wait
for the Squadrons return. We counted the big B-17 Fortresses
returning to base like everyone else and knew that several
were missing. The crew that had replaced us didn't come back.
One of the men was a friend of mine. I have a scarf that
belonged to him. After fifty years, I don't even remember his
name, but he took my place that night. Thanks, friend.

[bobbysocks]

and someone thought a Po2 was slow....

German U-boats prowled U.S. shores and the "slot" of the Florida Straits was a favorite hunting ground and transit channel for them. Navy blimp squadron ZP-21 out of NAS Richmond, Florida, patrolled the straits to stop them. The silvery, nonrigid airships, graceful but enormous, were used for spotting and reporting surface ships and aircraft. The "K" ships were armed with four depth bombs and a .50-caliber machine gun mounted in the nose of the blimp car... not that these were expected to see much action. Blimp patrols were usually long, tedious and uneventful, until the night of 18 July, 1943, when the German submarine U-134 slipped into the straits.

At dusk on the mainland, the flight briefing concluded for the two blimps scheduled to patrol that night, during which two "friendlies", a tanker and a freighter, would pass through the straits in convoy. K-74 and sister blimp, K-32, would screen the slot. The destroyer Dahlgren out of Key West was on station in the straits. The two blimp crews readied for takeoff. K-74's crew consisted of Lieutenant Nelson Grills, pilot; Chief Aviation Pilot Jandrowitz, copilot; Ensign Damley Eversley, navigator; AMM2c Isadore Stessel and AMM3c Schmidt, mechanics/bombardiers; ARM3c Eckert, rigger/gunner; ARM3c Robert Bourne, radioman; ARM3cs Giddings and Rice, assistant radio operators; and SN Kowalski, assistant rigger.

The K-ships taxied and soared above the base. K-32 turned south by southwest to fly over Key West and sweep northward up the straits. Lt. Grills and his crew in K-74 headed straight over the Atlantic, then turned south and into the annals of Naval Aviation history!

Night fell and the U-134 rose from beneath the sea. It was a quiet evening. The sea was mild and the winds light. The sub's crew threw open the hatches to vent carbon dioxide and take in fresh air, then clambered topside. The long hours passed while 500 feet above, K-74 was approaching on an overhead course.

About 23:30, a bright spot appeared on the blimp's radar. The possible contact was encrypted and transmitted back to base. In the cramped gondola, the 10 Navy men took stock of their weapons and the impending situation. The blimp headed toward the radar contact.

K-74 sailed out of a cloud bank and found the U-boat cruising below. The blimp circled as her skipper weighed the realities: the sub was on a course heading right for the two merchant ships which were sailing down the straits, 30 minutes behind K-74. The merchant ships were at risk and K-74 had the element of surprise in her favor. Grills transmitted his intention to attack. At 23:50, K-74 dropped to 250 feet and began her bombing run.

As the distance closed, the watchstanders aboard the U-boat sighted the blimp. The Germans opened fire with 20mm machine guns located aft of the conning tower. AOM3c Eckert returned fire from the car's nose mounted machine gun. Then, the German 88mm deck gun commenced firing.

U.S. Navy tracers ricocheted down the length of the sub's deck, while enemy fire thumped into the airship bag. A round punctured the shield beside Eckert's gun. He slapped another belt in and continued firing prolonged bursts.

When the airship passed over the U-boat, antiaircraft fire hit the K-74's engines. The starboard engine burst into flames. As AMM3c Schmidt turned to extinguish the fire, ARM3c Bourne dashed off the squadron's mayday signal: "Urgent, Fired On." The airship was now directly over the sub. AMM2c Stessel pulled the bomb releases, but the bombs did not leave the rack.

With enemy fire punishing her undefended stern, K-74 limped out of range. Schmidt had extinguished the fire, but both engines were damaged. The airship was losing altitude. The crew dumped gas and jettisoned the tanks. No help. K-74 slowly descended. At 23:55, the tail of the airship touched the water and began to settle. The battle had lasted five minutes. It's harrowing aftermath began.

Wearing their "Mae West" inflatable vests, the crew entered the water through the doors and windows of the flooding blimp car. The life raft, tossed out without a tether line, immediately deployed and drifted away with the Gulf Stream. They were on their own.

Grills swan back around the sinking car to make sure all crewmen had escaped. In so doing, he separated from the others and the same strong current carried him away. When he got his bearings, the blimp was nowhere in sight. Instead, a dark shape was bearing down on him at flank speed. It was one of the merchant ships coming down the slot, oblivious to the battle that had occurred. Grills recalled, "It was coming right at me and I was frantic to get out of the way, shouting and waving my hands. I saw the watch on the fantail, smoking a cigarette." The ship passed in the night, leaving Grills alone in the water.

The rest of the K-74's crew stayed together beside the settling blimp bag. They held on to each other in two bobbing masses adrift at sea. Through the long night they did not know if the U-boat would return to capture them as prisoners or finish them off. They had no idea how much damage Eckert's marksmanship had done. Nor did "Sparks" Bourne realize his Mayday transmission was picked up by K-32's ARM2c Turek, who realized it must be K-74 in trouble and relayed the message to NAS Richmond.

At first light, a Grumman J4F Widgeon amphibian from ZP-21, took off to begin the search. At 07:49, the aircraft was over the scene. The sea was getting rougher, while nine men splashed and waved. The aircraft saw them and dipped its wings, but it was too choppy to land. The aircraft flew off to find the Dahlgren and lead her to the scene. Rescue was on the way.

Stessel had become separated from the rest when the men had let go of each other to wave. The others saw the shark fin break the surface and head straight for him. There was no time to warn Stessel before the shark attacked. The sailor went under. Momentarily, he reappeared, bathed in crimson. The water frothed as he went under a last time, spreading a red cloud on the surface. The rest of the crew positioned themselves, back to back, and drew their knives.

At 08:15 on 19 July, K-74 finally sank; the only airship lost to enemy action in World War II. From under the sea came somber volleys fired in requiem for Petty Officer Stessel. K-74's armed depth bombs detonated, exploding in a mournful salute, as if, paying homage to this Navy hero lost in battle.

Dahlgren soon arrived and the Jacob's ladder was thrown over the side for the survivors. Small arms fire kept back the circling sharks while the crew of K-74 climbed to safety. A launch of bluejackets, with a Thompson submachine gun in the bow, searched in vain for any sign of Stessel.

Meanwhile, the K-74 pilot continued to drift miles away. Grills struck out towards the Florida keys on the horizon. It was late in the day and the aviator was severely sunburned and nearing exhaustion when K-32 passed over. Keen-eyed AMM3c Max May, saw the struggling swimmer, and the K-32 dropped flares. Grills had swum six miles before he was sighted, picked up by a launch from a local rescue unit and transported to Dahlgren. He had been in the water for 19 hours.

After the war, German Submarine Command records revealed U-134 reported downing a U.S. Navy airship. The sub cited sustaining battle damage to her No. 5, main ballast tank and No. 4 diving tank. After surviving two more attacks, U-134 was ordered to return to base in France for repairs. Enroute in August, her luck ran out when two Royal Air Force bombers intercepted her in the Bay of Biscay and sent her to the bottom. A blimp for a sub: the wages of war.

If the airship had not joined the battle, the U-boat would have come upon the tanker and the freighter before Dahlgren or shore based aircraft could have intervened. Because of the blimp crew's actions, the merchant ships got through.

Grills and Bourne were awarded the Purple Heart. After their release from active duty, radiomen Bourne and Turek received Letters of Commendation from the Secretary of the Navy for their quick actions as did AMM3c May his sharp lookout. Grills was initially reprimanded for engaging the enemy sub, but twenty years after the event, Grills was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

Isadore Stessel was posthumously awarded a commendation medal 40 years later, which was given to his surviving family members.

[bobbysocks]

William Blystone

DR: What did you do before the war?


WB: I graduated from High School in 1940, loafed until I was 18 years old then went into coal mines working
with my father. War was declared Dec 8 1941 and I enlisted in army on 16 Dec 1941.

DR: Would you give me some bio information on your war years?

WB: I was in the 78th Fighter Group, 82nd Fighter Squadron from early 1942 until we lost our P38s to North Africa in early 1943. I transferred to a Fighter Training Squadron crewing P-47s. I joined the 82nd at North Island Naval Station in San Diego, CA after attending aircraft maintenance school in Keesler Field, MS. and Lockheed factory school in Burbank,CA.. I was an aircraft mechanic. The Group left California in late 1942 and after a troop train ride across the US we boarded the Queen Elizabeth and with 15,000 other troops we sailed for England arriving around 27 Nov. 1942. We went To Goxhill Airfield near Grimsby and with our P-38s practiced escort duty with a local B17 Bomber Group. Our planes were then sent with pilots into North Africa and we were without planes for a short while. Some of us mechanics were sent to RAF schools for various training. I was at a Mobile oxygen producing school for a month but never saw another mobile unit during my entire time in England. We got P-47s then and after a short time the Group was sent to a new station at Duxford, near Cambridge. I transferred to a fighter training squadron at Atcham airfield near Shrewsbury, where we gave training in P-47s to new pilots, mainly the Eagle Squadron pilots who were transferring from the RAF to the American 8th Air Force. I was there a year or so and then went back to Goxhill crewing P38s again in the training outfit. After a few months our outfit was sent to Leiston Airfield to the 357th Fighter Group where we worked on P51 Mustangs. I was in the 362nd Fighter Squadron as a crew chief. I went into Germany with the Group after the war ended in Europe and pulled occupation duty for about 7 months during which time I got the job of crewing a C-47 Gooney Bird for a couple months flying as engineer. I left the unit in March 1946 and was discharged from the service and went back to my home in Pennsylvania. I had been away from home from December 1941 until March 1946 and hadn't seen my parents during that time. That’s about it.

DR: Do you remember the names of the planes and the pilots whose planes you worked on? If so, could you tell me the names of the planes
and the pilots of those planes?

WB: Sorry, the only plane I had for a spell was named for my wife, Jessie.
The others were just numbers mostly and some were War Weary aircraft
that were used after completing their combat and were given to us in the
training units to use for training pilots. Many still had the names that were on
them when they were in combat and we didn't change that. I had a couple
regular pilots then, but can't remember their names. I had numerous new pilots that flew training flights in A/C I crewed, but I don't remember their names. After all that was over 55 years ago and I'm now 78 years old.

DR: Did "Jessie" have the same name on both sides of the plane, or just a name on the right? Do you remember the tail numbers, or did they remove all numbers and just leave the "WW" on the vertical stabilizers?
WB: The name “Jessie” was on both sides of the plane. I had another that I remember now called “Snake
Eyes”. It had a pair of dice with 1 dot on each to make a total of 2, which was snake eyes if you tossed the dice. I didn't play dice, but used to watch a few of the other guys losing their money. We got paid once a month and usually had some plans to go to town if we could and spend some of it. After getting into a crap game, many changed their mind about going to town because they lost all their money and would have to borrow, or wait until the next payday. The War Weary aircraft still retained their original names and numbers, at least the serial numbers if I remember correctly and most still had their D-Day markings of white and black bands on the fuselage and wings if they lasted that long.

DR: I am a bit confused. I thought you were a crew chief, responsible for the maintenance of the planes. Did you also fly, or did you train the new pilots on the functioning of the plane? You say you had your own plane
and I thought only pilots had their own plane. Like I said, I am a bit confused and I could use some clarification.


WB: I was a mechanic crew chief, however I also was on flying status as engineer on the C47 we had assigned to the 357th Group when we were in the Occupation airforce in Germany late 1945 into 1946. I was only on flight status for a short while and got off of it shortly before the C47 was taken over by another crew chief, which was fortunate for me as the plane crashed into a mountain and all aboard were killed later on. In early 1943 until Feb. 1944, I was in the 495th Fighter Training group at Atcham Airfield near Shrewsbury, England. I crewed P-47 Thunderbolts there and as the planes were used for training and had no assigned pilots, the crew chiefs could name their own planes as they wished, if the CO concurred. In Feb. 1944, I was assigned to the 496th Fighter Training Group, 554th Fighter Training Squadron at Goxhill near Grimsby, England. I then crewed P-38s again and as it was a training base, we could name our own planes, as they were not assigned to any pilot. I named my P-38 “SlipStream Sally” and it was featured in my hometown paper in Pennsylvania along with a write up about me. In Dec. 1944, our unit left Goxhill and was attached to the 362nd Fighter Squadron, 357th Fighter Group, at Leiston, England to crew P-51s. We were given the War Weary aircraft that were deemed no longer combat ready by the group, for use in training new pilots that were assigned to the group. These planes had seen better days, but we kept them flying. They still had their names that were given to them by their pilots and crew chiefs, but there was a big WW painted on the vertical stabilizers so they could be seen as training aircraft. This training unit I was in was called “Clobber College” and had write ups in the Stars and Stripes and Yank magazine, military publications put out by the army. We had a logo of a duck on crutches with a bandaged head as our unit identification. Our group gave training to many of the newly assigned pilots that later went into combat with the regular squadrons. We were assigned instead of attached to the 362nd I think in April 1945 and I was with them when we were assigned to Germany until I went Stateside for discharge. In Germany I can't remember any assigned pilots to the aircraft. I know the planes I worked on there were flown by various pilots and we could name the planes we were assigned as we saw fit. I hope this straightens some things out for you. Many crew chiefs named their planes back then, although assigned pilots had first choice.

DR: You mentioned the “Clobber College”, could you tell me more about the function of that group and what your day to day routine involved?
WB: At Clobber College all we did was work from daylight until nightfall, unless we had a flight in the air, or we had to work at night to do some extra maintenance to get a plane flyable.

DR: What did you men do to train the pilots in the "Clobber College"?
WB: Our men only maintained the aircraft at Clobber College. The pilots using our planes were already assigned to units in the 357th Group and the squadrons were the ones who actually did the transition training. We didn't have pilots assigned to the Clobber College although we did have an officer assigned as Maintenance officer. I can't remember his name.

DR: Did you have any other functions with the 357th Fighter Group?
WB: Only as a mechanic, although I had a crew putting all the P51s in storage at Neubiberg, in early 1946. Pilots and mechanics were few and far between shortly after we went to Germany; everybody except some of us diehards had gone home.

DR: To whom did you report?
WB: I reported to my CO, Major Carson, or to the first sergeant of the 362nd, to which we were attached

DR: Do you remember the A-20’s flown at the “Clobber College” to tow targets? Could you give any details
about them?
WB: I never saw any A-20s at Leiston. Did I miss something? They may have flown from another field.

DR: You say you do not remember the names of the planes you worked on, other than “Jessie”. Do you remember any of the numbers?
WB: I don't remember any a/c numbers.

DR: According to my understanding, you worked with the P38, P47 and P51 in the various Fighter Groups you belonged to, could you tell me how the 3 compared to work on?
WB: The P38 was the hardest to work on, as it had two engines and lots of exhaust turbo supercharger problems at times. The P47 was the easiest and P-51 in between. None were too hard to maintain.

DR: Were any models of the P51 harder to work on than the others?
WB: I think all the P51 models were the same to work on by the plane mechanics. Maybe some radio and armament problems were different.

DR: How did weather impact your job?
WB: We worked in all kinds of weather, but of course when the planes didn't fly we could also get some rest. Winter was hardest, as the cold affected the oil and also the feel of the airplane itself. I think it liked warmer weather as much as we did.

DR: Did you ever come under fire, while you were with the 357th?
WB: Never came under fire with the 357th, but was in a few air raids during the 1943-44 period. In London, or some of its suburbs, where we usually went when we had some time off for a few days, which was few and far between.

DR: You met your wife, (who served on an English AAA unit), while serving at Leiston. How did that take place?
WB: Met Jessie one night at a pub. We were all playing 21, a form of Black Jack for pennies. There wasn't much to do around Leiston in the evenings.


DR: Do you recall any funny, or memorable incidents while serving with the 357th FG?
WB: Saw Otto Jenkins buzz the field on his final mission and crash the plane. He was too low.

footnote: my dad talked about this. Otto bragged he was going buzz the field like they had never seen before. that he did...unfortunately he spread his plane and himself in 3/4 of a mile swath of pieces and flames. BS

DR: What do you remember of D-Day and what were you doing on that day?


WB: On D-Day 1944, I was still in Goxhill crewing “Slip Stream Sally”. All we did was put on the D-Day markings of white and black stripes on the planes, or rather our maintenance unit did,I didn't. Our planes as far as I know, didn't participate in the battles that day.


DR: What functions did the C47 you were an engineer on, perform?
WB: The C47 we had was used mostly for liquor runs and trips to various places for rest and relaxation. We flew to France, London, and Brussels and down to the Riviera. I quit crewing the plane before it crashed in the Alps in October 1945, while on a trip to the seashore near Nice, France. Most of the passengers were officers and I think 3 Red Cross ladies, as well as the plane crew. The plane wasn't found for a few days, as it was buried in the snow when it hit the mountain.

DR: What type of training for your position did you have and do you feel you were well prepared for your functions?
WB: I went to airplane mechanic school at Keesler Field, Mississippi and then to Lockheed factory school at Burbank, CA., before reporting to North Island Naval Air Station in San Diego to join the 82nd Fighter Squadron. They started me off right away as an assistant crew chief and I made Corporal in July 1942 as I remember. I started to crew my own planes, then after we lost the P-38s to North Africa in early 1943, I went to a training squadron at Atcham

DR: Looking back, how do you view your WWII experience now?

WB: The best years of my life were those 4 years during the war. Much better than working in the coal mines. I saw service after that until 1966, retiring as a Chief Warrant Officer. Served in Germany for 6 years
after the war period, many places Stateside and only one year in Vietnam, in 1963-64. That's about it.

[bobbysocks]

Dr Thomas Tredici regarding his WWII experiences

I was born and raised in Monessen Pennsylvania about 30 miles south of Pittsburgh. Like most of the lads there, even if you went to college, you had to do your stint in the steel mill, nearly every on in town worked at the Pittsburgh Steel Company at one time or another.

In the early days of the War, the spring of 1942, the draft was in force for 21 year olds and above. As the War progressed, they had to change the rules to accept 18 year olds to compensate for the heavy losses in Europe. With that change, I applied for the Army Air Corps (AAC) with aspirations to be an aviation cadet. Back then, the AAC required a written test. Thank goodness for good old Monessen High School because according to the sergeant who administered the test, I did well. Despite this, he said go home, and wait until you hear from us. Well, having passed the test, I went home and spent a very happy Christmas of 1942 with my family, all of whom were quite proud.

In early January of 1943, I received a letter instructing me to report for duty at the Pittsburgh post office! The letter said don't bring anything except your shaving kit. I went to Pittsburgh and boarded a train bound for Florida, or so I thought. Having a good grasp of geography (again gleaned from good old Monessen High School) I realized we were not heading south but west! Apparently, the trains took whatever route was available. One night we stopped in the Kansas City rail yard. The next morning I was awakened to the sound of mooing, so I looked outside and saw we were parked next to a cattle train in the rail yard!

Finally we headed south towards Florida. I remember standing outside between the cars as we passed through a great swamp in Florida. The track was raised about 3 feet above the water and you could see nothing but swamp as far as you could see. This was in January 1943.

Our destination was Miami Beach. When we got there we found out they had no barracks of any kind. What they had a lot of were hotels, so we actually stayed in a hotel for our 8-week basic training in Miami. We aviation cadets were in hotels, but the OCS candidates stayed in better hotels. During this time, we learned that Clark Gable was also training in Miami Beach so we went in search of him, but we quickly found out he was out of our reach. His class was in the Rony Plaza Hotel.

One thing we did was to destroy a premiere golf course. This was due to the very thin soil underlain by sand, so with thousands of men marching all the time, we made minced meat of the grass and we ended up marching in sand.

Surprisingly, there was really not much to do but train and stay in the hotel. Another clever idea in being at this time was the College Training Detachment (CTD). There was very low enrollment in colleges, due to the war. As a result, the colleges had the space and the classrooms, which was just what the Army Air Corps needed. I went to Wittenberg College in Springfield, Ohio and was assigned to a large house that had been a fraternity house. We did a lot of PT (physical training), but no sports were allowed. At the time, being 19, none of us understood why we could not participate in sports. Looking back, it is clear that they did it to prevent injuries that might have an impact on a pilot's ability to fly in adverse conditions of combat. Anyway, this arrangement really was pretty neat because it was just like going to college, but on an accelerated schedule. We studied math, geography, and a lot of meteorology, which was to become very important to us as pilots. I stayed there about four months but before I could take my final exams, my orders arrived and I was sent to a "Classification" center. This was set up (San Antonio for Eastern Training Command) and Santa Anna California for the West) to give thorough medical and psychological examinations to determine if you were fit to receive training to be a pilot. One test was a 78 rpm phonograph record (if anyone does not know what this is, ask your grandparents!) with a small opening, about a ½". They would rotate the record at varying speeds and see if you could follow the hole and insert a probe at the appropriate time. After all was said and done, the testing resulted in a high percentage of accurate projections as to who would complete pilot training successfully; the actual percentage was over 90% accurate! The results helped classify you for a pilot, navigator, or flight engineer, training according to your results on the test, hence the name "Classification" Center.

Having passed my pilot classification, I went to Ryan Aeronautical School in Tucson, Arizona. This was a private flying school to teach basic flying skills. They had a Ryan PT-22 as their primary trainer. The PT-22 was a low wing monoplane with reinforcing struts above and below the wing. This was originally designed to be a racer; our versions were modified to an open two-place cockpit. It was quite maneuverable, but they changed the engine from an inverted in-line engine to an air-cooled rotary engine. Except for being underpowered, you could do aerobatics quite easily. It was also very durable, and almost impossible to damage. One interesting fact was you could predict when a stall would occur by listening to the sound the wire struts made as they vibrated.

I went on to Basic Flight Training at Minter Field, Bakersfield, California. Here we flew the BT-13 Vultee aircraft. We flew in a simulator for instrument flying. This was a Link Trainer. Successful training here allowed you to go on to Advance Flight Training.

Advanced Training for me began at Pecos Army Air Field in Pecos, Texas. I will never forget the smell of rotting cantaloupes when we went into town. We discovered that the staked rail cars were filled with cantaloupes, but they were not in cartons, but stacked on top of each other. As a result, the fruit on the bottom was crushed which dripped juice all over.

Our training was done in a Cessna UC78; a twin engine aircraft built especially for the AAC. We flew with 4 on board, the instructor and 3 trainees. Surprisingly, it was built of wood! We ended up calling it the "Bamboo Bomber". The AAC ended up replacing it as the glue could not stand the high temperatures during the day and the cold at night. It was 110 degrees in the day and 45 degrees at night. Even so, I never saw any crashes.

We flew all over west Texas. You could see the McDonald observatory from 100 miles away! The sky was absolutely clear so you could always get your bearings by looking for that silver dome. At night it was a different story. With the blackout, the only lights we could see were the cowboy fires and the "light line" used by the airlines for navigating. These rotating beacons were placed every 10 miles in the flight line between major cities along which the airlines flew. You could see as many as 4 or 5 beacons at one time so you could find your way using the rotating beacons.

Another navigation aid that we used was the radio range.
After this training I went to Yuma Army Air Field in Arizona for B-17 training. We also formed up as a crew for the first time and trained as a crew for here on. Training included all the crew, practice bombs were dropped; emergency evacuation drills (for bailouts) and many, many take-offs and landings. Take-0ffs were done at Max power with full "loads" to simulate what we would have to do when loaded with fuel, bombs, and ammunition. Bombing practice used sand in the bombs with powder to mark the place it hit.

My crew got orders to go to Lincoln Nebraska to get our own B-17 and fly to Europe! But when we arrived in Lincoln, there was a revision of plans and we were told we were not getting a plane, so we stayed in camp waiting for orders. It was November 1944 and it was cold! The only place that was warm on the base were the showers. We lived in tarpaper shacks with one pot-bellied stove for heat. So we waited until told to board a train for Fort Tauton Mass (near Boston) to be issued our flying gear (including a 45 cal pistol which we never had until then.)

From there, we boarded the IL de France, which was a luxury ship making some of its last runs. We had many troops on board from all branches. All I ate for 5 days was Butternut cookies. During our crossing, which we made alone and unescorted, I barely slept due to the constant drumming of the engines (this ship was quite fast, but old and made lots of noise). The ship zigzagged the entire way which slowed the crossing considerably. This was done to evade German submarines. Our landing was at Glasgow Scotland. I still remember the pitch of the train whistle in England and Scotland.

We were promptly moved to our base at Glatton where I was assigned to the 457th BG-Heavy, 751st Squadron, 1st Bomb Division of the 8th Air Force. There were 12 planes in our squadron. Many times our entire squadron would fly raids by the 8th AF to some target in Germany. Especially when there were 1,000 plane missions. We flew in formations, typically low at about 28,000 feet, medium at 30,000 feet and high at 32,000. If you were assigned to the high squadron, you could be above the flak, which was the safest place to be.

My first mission was in November 1944, and my last mission was early May 1945. Our crew got one break for about a week and went to a "flak house" near London. This was a mansion that the AAC leased to use as a place for R&R for the bomber crews. It had everything from huge grounds with stables, archery range, bicycles, good food, and a bath tub! Plus they had a staff waiting on us. I remember hearing the V-2 rockets fly over us as they descended on London; it was an unmistakable sound.

Interestingly enough, we did not have fighter escorts the entire way on our longer missions to places like Poland. When the fighters had exhausted their fuel, I could see their extra fuel tanks tumbling off and we knew they were leaving and then we would be on our own.

I completed 18 missions before the War ended in May 1945. Remember, that we had to fly 25 missions to complete a tour, but with a loss rate of 4% per mission, it was nearly impossible to complete an entire tour.

While flying as "lead co-pilot" I flew with crews other than my own on three missions. (The "Lead co-pilot" flew with new crews to break them in.) After three of these missions, I gladly returned to my own crew. I can tell you that not all crews were the same, and I was never comfortable except with my own crew that I trained with and knew well.

Dr. Tredici: BITS and PIECES::

Glatton Field

457th BG (Heavy), 1st Bomb Div, 8th AF.
4 Squadrons, I was in the 751st
12 planes in our squadron

Even though we did not refuel in flight, we carried out very long missions. We would fly into Poland or Czechoslovakia then on the return flight land at a field controlled by the Air Corps in France, refuel, and fly back to Glatton in the UK.

We had Fighter escorts but they did not stay with us on our longer missions. You could see the P-51's glistening in the sky around us, and while they were there, we never had any German fighters attack. Then as our fighters ran low of gas, they would drop their wing tanks and we knew they were leaving soon.

During my tour, German fighters were a lesser threat than the flak, which was enough. The Germans would throw up intense flak directly in our path as we approached the drop point. They filled the sky and we had no choice but to fly right into it to reach the target. Neither the German fighter aircraft nor our own fighters would ever fly into that; but we had to do it to accomplish the mission and that is where we lost our bombers.

After the War, we re-fitted our B-17 by putting plywood decking over the bomb bays, then loaded up with our personal gear (our 10-man crew) along with 10 other flyers. We flew back to the U.S. in stages so we could refuel in Scotland, in Iceland, at Blue E West 1 Greenland, then we landed in Chickopee Falls Connecticut where we left the plane. I got orders for B-29 training, but before going to training I got leave for 1 month in June. On my return from leave, I went to Sioux Falls Army Airfield in South Dakota and waited for my orders. Before any orders arrived, I heard about the atomic bombs and the War in Japan ended, thank God. The biggest problem then was what to do with all the people at the base. I was sent to Randolph Field, Texas. By Christmas of 1945 I was back home with my family: boy was my mother happy.

I entered college at Washington and Jefferson College Washington, PA. Then on to medical school at the University of Pittsburgh. I went on to become an Ophthalmologist. I continue to work today (2004! (editor's emphasis)) for the U.S. Air Force in the USAF School of Aerospace Medicine in San Antonio, TX. During my career, my branch helped numerous pilots to retain their flying status through the use of new technologies to maintain their vision. I have written papers on what we have done for our fliers; we have salvaged many pilots who would otherwise have been grounded. It might have been as simple as contact lenses. As technology grew, we used intra-ocular lenses with a nearly 100% success rate. This allowed these pilots to fly in every aircraft and in every situation, including combat. Given that each pilot costs $4,000,000 to train, we saved the Air Force significant funds. I am quite proud of my branches accomplishments, as well as my service to the U.S. Air Force.

I have thought about "heroes" and decided that the real heroes of the war were the ones who did their job every day. Somebody had to get the job done in a steady, reliable fashion or we would never finish. Thus the little things could really become big. For instance, if a ground crew member did not check tires properly, there could be a flat tire on takeoff, which could result in a disaster and an incomplete mission etc.

Webmaster: What would you like the younger generations to remember or learn about WWII?

In WWII I saw the country come together as never before or since. Like oxen pulling a plow; if they were facing opposite directions, the field would never get plowed. But pulling together, the job got done in good time. I think WWII was the pinnacle of our Country working together, and I am proud to have been a part of it.
Today much is made of the term "diversity". Well we also had people from many backgrounds, Italian, Polish, Jewish, etc but when the time came to get the job done, we were all Americans on the same team, with the same goals. If we are going to get anywhere, we have to remember that lesson.

Where were you when Pearl Harbor was attacked?
Dr. Tredici: I was in my back yard in Monessen, PA.

[bobbysocks]

another APHRODITE mission story...

Charles Shinault does not consider himself a hero, but a previously secret, now unclassified, document in his possession speaks to the contrary. The letter from Eighth Air Force Commanding General, Carl Spaatz to Lt. Gen. Ira C. Eaker in Washington D.C. refers to the termination of a secret project in the ETO and its possible effective use against Japan. What the letter does not mention is that this experimental project was wrought with danger. Charles Shinault had volunteered for the same hazardous duty that took the life of a young Navy Lieutenant named Joe Kennedy. And Lt. Kennedy was awarded a posthumous Navy Cross, second only to the Medal of Honor!

Charles L. Shinault was born in Booneville Mississippi on 24 September 1921. Charlie and his twin brother grew up in rural Mississippi and graduated from Booneville High School in 1941. Both went on to start college and Charles left school in November 1943 to join the Army Air Forces. (Both became pilots and his brother served in the PTO) Aviation Cadet Shinault took primary flight instruction in Avon Park Florida, and advanced multi-engine training in Blytheville Arkansas. As a “butter-bar” lieutenant, Charlie transitioned to B-17 training and was assigned co-pilot of a new crew. Stateside training took them to numerous bases across the “Zone of the Interior”. Finally, their replacement unit was ready for overseas deployment.

Shinault and his crew flew their plane overseas via the “Northern Route” departing on 10 April 1944 and arriving in England fifteen days later. Poor weather conditions over Iceland caused the delay. They were assigned to the 337th Bomb Squadron, 96th Bomb Group, 3rd Air Division. Their Base was at Snetterton Heath, in East Anglia. Shinault, as co-pilot of a B-17 named “Cabin in the Sky”, continued fine-tuning his formation flying skills and helping train the crew for their combat debut. That day came on 20 May 1944 with a mission to Brussels Belgium. Charlie continued missions as the co-pilot, but wanted to be a first pilot, that is, an aircraft commander. He saw his chance to move to the left seat when he read an announcement on the bulletin board at the 96th Group Headquarters. The Third Air Division was recruiting volunteers from among the Division’s Bomb Groups for a “secret and dangerous mission”. No one knew what the mission would entail, but Charlie signed up for transfer to Project Aphrodite.

Second Lieutenant Charles Shinault reported to Honington Air Depot where modifications were being made to ten war-weary B-17’s. The plan was to convert a total of sixty-five aircraft. The armor, turrets, oxygen system, and all unnecessary equipment were being stripped from the aircraft. The Fortresses were being lightened and remote control units were being installed and connected to the autopilots. The different procedures were performed at several bases during the course of the retrofit. The equipment was code named Azon, which had previously been used with some success in remotely guided bombs. Several Forts were fitted with another new technology called television. The bomb bay of each aircraft was also reinforced to accommodate a 20,000-pound load of Torpex high explosive. The upper surfaces of the planes were painted white to improve visual tracking. After all work was completed, the aircraft were flown to Fersfield, where most of the missions originated.

These modified, heavily loaded bombers were to be flown into targets by remote control. Since the technology for remote-controlled takeoff did not exist at the time, pilots were required to take the planes up, trim them out and establish the remote link-up with the “mother ship” following behind the explosive laden “baby”. The handling characteristics of these birds were very different, given the enormous load. So besides having to learn to handle the off balanced bomber, pilots had to learn how to check the complicated electrical circuitry and arm the fuses of the TNT payload. After flying a predetermined course around the English countryside, and verifying proper control was established, the pilot and technician were to bail out.

Training for Shinault and the other volunteers began on 1 July 1944 under great secrecy and strictest security. Political pressure to launch the first mission as soon as possible was exerted due to the frequency of V-1 guided missile attacks on England. The launch sites of the V-weapons were to be priority targets. After twenty-five hours of flight training and technical instruction, target planning and crew assignments were made. Charles Shinault was assigned to Mission Number Eleven. Target: The oil refinery complex at Hemmingstedt. During this time the Navy had also recruited volunteers for Special Air Unit No.1, a similar project. One of their volunteers was Lt. Joe Kennedy, oldest son of Ambassador Joseph P. Kennedy.

The first mission went off on 4 August 1944, with tragic results. One of the aircraft failed to handle properly and the plane stalled and crashed before the pilot could bail out. Undeterred, the project continued as scheduled. The seventh mission was flown by the Navy team on 12 August, with similar results. It was suspected that the engineering of the fuse arming circuitry was unreliable, but the mission went forward as planned. The flight progressed normally, until suddenly, the aircraft exploded, killing both onboard. The most likely cause was the electrical system, which was switched on prior to the crew parachuting out. Further operations were delayed for a month. Then the ninth mission, 11 September, was also marred by a fatality. All went well until the pilot jumped and the static line, designed to open the parachute automatically, wrapped around his neck. He was killed instantly. Several others had been slightly injured upon landing, so nothing was routine. It was, indeed, dangerous work!

Shinault and the others were well aware of the tremendous uncertainty and danger of continuing the project. But it was duty he had volunteered for and Charlie knew he “had to see it through”. He had little time to worry, because his flight took place three days later. In the ensuing time, the Azon equipment was replaced with newer, more reliable radio-controls, code named Castor. On the morning of 14 September 1944, Shinault and the other pilot, Lt. W. G. Haller, took off in their drone loaded with twelve tons of volatile high explosives. Charlie remembers “we did everything by the book” and the remote controls worked perfectly. The arming circuits were checked and rechecked, nothing was left to chance. With the autopilot set and the fuses armed, their work was done. All the months of training and preparation came down to this last action. All that was left was to safely exit the aircraft. Sitting with his feet dangling in the slipstream, he snapped his static line to the ring and dropped out. Then the unexpected happened. Charlie’s head struck the hatch coaming, cutting a gash above his left eye. Momentarily disoriented, he wasn’t sure what had happened. He said, “It was a good thing that the chute opened automatically, because I may not have been able to pull a ripcord myself”. Dazed but alive, Charlie rode his chute to a soft landing in a farm field. Unfortunately, the farmer did not know whether the parachutist was friend or foe, and it took Charles a while to convince the armed farmer he was an American. The two Aphrodite volunteers were picked up and taken back to Base where they learned the fate of their drone. Unfortunately, visual contact with the “baby” had been lost due to poor weather conditions and it missed the target.

Overall, none of the Aphrodite Missions met with much success, owing to less advanced technology, poor visibility, bad weather, accurate anti-aircraft fire, and just bad luck. But Shinault had participated in a Top Secret Program and was sworn to secrecy. After returning to his old unit, he said nothing about his temporary duty. He was promoted and made a first pilot. He flew the remainder of his 35 Mission tour in the left seat of a B-17G named “Sittin’ Pretty”. These missions were, however, far from uneventful.

On several occasions his aircraft was damaged by flak. And on another mission, the bomb racks jammed and the entire ordinance load piled up in the bomb bay. The incendiary clusters hung on the upper mounts had released but the lower bombs did not. “The little propellers on the arming vanes were spinning away”, he said, making for a very unpleasant prospect. The bombardier suggested he drop out of formation and descend to a lower altitude so they could work without the cumbersome walk-around oxygen bottles. Shinault took the aircraft down below 10,000 feet and the bombardier was able to discard the oxygen bottle. He carefully removed the arming fuses and wrestled some of the loose bombs out through the open bomb bay doors. Unable to free the jammed shackles, the 500 pounders and some of the other hung ordinance had to remain in place. Worried that the bombs could still come loose, Shinault ordered the crew to disconnect the electric cords from their heated suits and use them to tie the shackles in place. By then, they had done all they could and Charlie could see the “White Cliff of Dover” looming in the distance. As they approached Snetterton, the crew voted to stay with the aircraft, and Shinault radioed their situation to the Tower. They were cleared for a straight-in approach. “That was the smoothest landing I ever made!”, Charlie admits. He was ordered to taxi the plane to the end of the runway and park behind the earthen revetment. The ordinance men then unloaded the remaining bombs and “lost about forty gallons of sweat in the process!” That day, fraught with danger, was not caused by a life and death struggle with the Luftwaffe, but by the use of the wrong type of bomb shackle. But it was life and death just the same.

With his Combat Tour completed, Charles shipped home on 24 February 1945, only to return on 20 March 1946. After a year of Occupation Duty he again returned to the “Z-I” in March of 1947 with 1 year, 10 months, and 23 days of overseas service. Captain Charles L. Shinault was released from the United States Army Air Forces at the Separation Center, Fort Dix New Jersey on 12 May 1947. And like millions of other former servicemen, he returned to civilian life to get married and raise a family, content with the knowledge that he had done his duty. And the World was a better place for having done it.

[bobbysocks]

The Final Chapter of the Battle for Arnhem Bridge

On September 26, 1944, all of the First Parachute Brigade of the British First Airborne commanded by Col. John Frost were either killed or captured in the battle for Arnhem Bridge. Col. (now General) Frost was captured, wounded at the north end of the bridge with less than 100 of his men. This epic battle is described in Cornelius Ryan's book A Bridge Too Far. It was decided that use of this bridge would be denied the Germans, and on October 6, thirty-six B-26s of the 344 Bomb Group attacked the bridge. The bridge over the lower Rhine River, almost 2000 feet long, consisted of a 500' suspension span over the river, the remainder supported by concrete abutments was over a mud flat. The suspension span was the target. The bridge was not destroyed in this attack, and one ship was shot down. It happened that the ship lost was "Nick's Chick", the plane assigned to my crew. While planes were assigned to individual crews, they did not have exclusive use of it. On this mission, First Lt. Herbert Moore and his crew were flying "Nick's Chick" but our regular radio operator, Sgt. Norman Truax went along to try out some new radio equipment. Three members of Lt. Moore's crew were later reported to have been seen in a Belgian hospital.

When I reported to the 344th Bomb Group, 495 Squadron, on April 22, 1944, on a replacement crew, bombing was by boxes consisting of three flights-- a total of 18 planes. Only the lead and deputy lead carried a bomb sight. When the lead ship dropped his bombs, each plane following dropped theirs. As the bombs were released at pre-set intervals, this created a bomb pattern a hundred feet or more long depending on the drop interval. The advantage was that a large pattern gave a better chance of hitting the target. However, if the lead bombardier was off, the efforts of 18 planes and crews were wasted. The decision was made to bomb by flights and the number of targets destroyed increased dramatically. In May, 1944, I was assigned to Capt. Nichols' crew and, after considerable practice bombing, we were designated a lead crew.

On October 7, the group again attacked Arnhem Bridge. We led the second flight. At the briefing we were told that 67 guns defended this target. The first flight was led by 495 Squadron CO Col. Jens Norgaard arid Group Bombardier Major James Brady. they hit the north end and approaches to the bridge but did not knock it down. As can be seen in the strike photos, our first bomb hit short of the bridge, allowing the heaviest part of the pattern to develop on the suspension span. Each plane was carrying four 1000 lb. bombs which destroyed the target. I noted a 35 second bomb run in my diary.

A commendation from the Commander of the 344th Bomb Group, Lt. Col. Robert W. Witty, states:

"On 7 October 1944, Capt. David C. Nichols was flight leader of the second flight in an attack on the heavily defended railroad bridge at Arnhem, Holland.
Despite the intense accurate heavy flak that the enemy opposed this attack with, Capt. Nichols flew a perfect bomb run and kept his formation intact. 1st Lt. Robert Warda, navigator, contributed highly to the success of the attack by his expert navigation. Taking advantage of the perfect bomb run flown by Capt. Nichols, 1st Lt. Malcolm G. Edwards calmly performed his sighting operations and was not in the least disconcerted by the flak bursting all about the aircraft. He dropped his bombs with the greatest precision directly on the center of the bridge and demolished it.

The cool manner in which this bombing team performs its duty under the most adverse conditions is commendable and reflects the finest traditions of the Army Air Forces."

On December 2, 1944, we bombed Endorff, Germany, a fortified town. Both Sgt. Dollahan and I were seriously wounded and the plane heavily damaged by flak on the bomb run. We managed to complete our bomb run and hit the target. Even though we lost an engine, Capt. Nichols nursed the plane to an emergency landing at a deserted German airfield near Rheims, France. The plane was so heavily damaged that it was never flown again.

[bobbysocks]

Memories of a Tailgunner by Lt.Col. Eugene Carson

Remembering:

“I no longer hear the roar of the engines, the chatter of the guns and the savage bursting of the flak. The smell of cordite and the fumes of gasoline no longer curl into my nostrils. The great air war of World War II is history. However, there are nights and there are days I find myself reliving moments of a now historic era. The memory returns as if a realistic dream and once again I find myself a member of a B-17 crew. My eyes search the sky for the Luftwaffe; flak rattles our B-17. I see aircraft fall, both theirs and ours. Too few parachutes dot the sky. I slowly come to the realization, I am here and it is now. The records of the 8th Air Force list more than 47,000 casualties with over 26,000 deaths.


There were short missions and long missions. But there never was an easy mission. Each mission however short or long was filled with danger from the onset to the end. The final bell tolled for those involved in on-ground explosions, crashes on take-off, the all too frequent mid-air collisions, crashes during flight and crashes on landing. In some cases death came from friendly fire and errant bombs dropped from one of our own aircraft flying at a higher altitude onto one of our aircraft at a lower altitude.


Courage:

“People speak of courage. I am not really sure about courage. Under moments of stress when it seems there are only seconds to live strange things take place. Who can give you courage or train you to know exactly what to do when a burst of flak punches a softball size hole in the windshield and fragments spray throughout the cockpit area? Who can prepare you to do what is necessary when severed oxygen and hydraulic lines ignite with unbelievable intensity next to a box of flares? I’m still not sure it’s courage when you conquer intense pain from wounds and continue to fight for survival. Such are not moments calling for courage; they are moments demanding action. There is no time for courage.

The need for courage comes the next day. It comes the day after you have returned to your barracks where you found the empty bunks already stripped of personal effects and property. There is no trace of the personal effects of the prior occupant. You endure a long and lonely night of bad dreams and sleep fitfully with interrupting thoughts. You know you are going again at dawn; it is then when there will a need for courage.”

Ground Crews:

“Ground crews often worked through the night to repair the damage and get us ready to go again. Their ability to affect repairs overnight under what were nearly impossible conditions was amazing. They never let us down. They were there waiting long before it was time to take off and they were there long after we returned from a mission. In short the ground crews were incredible. There was nothing quite so sad as watching a ground crew pick up their equipment and move reluctantly away from the hardstand when their airplane failed to return.”

[bobbysocks]

Mission to Schweinfurt, Germany.

It was an early wake-up call on 14 Oct. 1943. My navigator, Lt. Foster, had returned from pass and my crew, without substitute, was scheduled to fly this mission.
We discovered, just prior to the mission briefing, that our flight position would be tail-end Charlie. The Group leader would be my roommate, Captain Harry Lay. This was to be his 30th and last mission with the 91st Bomb Group. Lt/Col Milton would accompany him as co-pilot and mission commander.
It was still dark and very foggy after the briefing as we were being trucked to our aircraft. We were the last crew out of the truck - arriving at an aircraft from another squadron. (aircraft 42-5714, 323rd Squadron).
When we arrived at the aircraft I was met by the aircraft crew chief. He was distraught and excited when he informed me that there must be a mistake because his aircraft was not Combat Ready and it had never, ever, been scheduled for combat. In response to my question concerning it's use, he informed me that it was an older aircraft used only for local flying and primarily for instrument flying. While this discussion was taking place the bomb-loading crew arrived and began loading the bombs . I had no time to discuss this situation further with the crew chief as it was obvious the aircraft was on the schedule if bombs were to be loaded.
We discovered the aircraft had the old style bladder type oxygen system and that meant we needed extra masks as the bladder types would clog up with ice at high altitude. My crew had flown with this equipment when flying older model B17's during training missions prior to our overseas assignment. The "Demand' type oxygen system on the later model aircraft corrected this problem. The crew chief - once reconciled that his aircraft was going into combat - did everything possible to assist my crew in obtaining additional oxygen masks and additional ammunition. He advised me that the engines on the aircraft were "high-timers" and that particular problem was his main concern. The extra weight from the additional ammunition was one of my concerns and both the flight crew and ground crew monitored the distribution of the additional ammo.
The weather remained wet and foggy and we would not have been surprised if the mission was scrubbed, but after a long wait the green "go" flare appeared and we were on our way.
Once on the runway, the only visible directional mark was the white center stripe.

It was a full instrument take-off and climb-out using air speed, climb rate and timing procedures.
We were the third aircraft to locate Capt. Lay's lead aircraft and after waiting for some time for other aircraft to join up, I pulled into formation on the right wing of the high element leader. It became increasingly obvious as we started on course that several aircraft assigned to our formation had either aborted or for some reason were having difficulty in locating the formation. The left wing position in Capt. Lay's lead element remained vacant for a considerable period of time and I debated whether or not to fill that slot; however another B-17 finally pulled up into that position.
Enemy aircraft of all types began attack at coast-in. ME-109's and FW-190's were the principal attack aircraft - coming in from all directions - while JU-88's, ME-110's and Hinkle 111's were observed flying parallel to our formation - just out of range of our gunner's 50-caliber guns. These aircraft were reporting our position and firing rockets into the formation. Any aircraft in our formation that was crippled or fell behind could expect to be singled out for mass attack by the enemy. On the way to the target, FW-109's were lining up ahead of the formation and then making head-on attacks; doing a split-s maneuver after passing under the B-17 formation. It was during these attacks that the navigator, bombardier and lower turret gunner were most effective in providing defensive fire from our aircraft,
At the initial point (IP), the fighter attacks lessened and intense enemy flak was encountered. Just after bomb release over the target our aircraft received what appeared to be a direct hit by a burst of flak and the #4 engine caught fire. We were able to feather the propeller, the fire was extinguished and we remained in formation with three operating engines.
After bombs away and leaving the target area, the fighter attacks resumed and all gunners were firing at the enemy. I heard S/Sgt Brown, the ball turret gunner, and several other crew members call out kills; however there was no time for discussion - everyone was too busy fighting off the enemy.
Approximately 45 minutes after departing the target area we were still in formation and for the first time on this mission I turned over control of the aircraft to Lt. Johnson, the co-pilot. We were holding our own and the three operating engines were also holding steady despite higher than normal power settings. At this time FW-190's were observed flying above our formation and they were releasing what appeared to be bombs, down, into and through our formation. I was busy looking up and trying to help S/Sgt Sly, the top turret gunner, in locating the enemy fighters flying overhead. It was during this period that our aircraft was suddenly struck by heavy enemy gunfire. The right inboard engine (#3)was hit, severing fuel and oil lines. The main oxygen tank - located in the passageway below the pilot - exploded with a loud "bang". Concurrent with the explosion Lt Johnson let go of the control wheel and "hunched" down and forward , covering his head and face with his arms. His shoulders shoved the control wheel forward and the aircraft immediately started a severe descending dive out of formation. From my seated position I could not force Johnson to release the control wheel. I unbuckled my seat belt and standing in the aisle used all my strength to finally force him back to an upright seated position. These actions were immediate and necessary before I could regain control of the aircraft.
I had recovered control of the B-17, but we were out of formation and had descended about 1500 feet below our formation. I feared that Lt. Johnson had been hit by enemy fire, however he was not injured and the only explanation offered by Lt Johnson was that when he heard the oxygen tank explode he feared a 20mm cannon shell was in the cockpit and about to explode.
Regardless of the cause, our aircraft was now out of formation and severely crippled with two engines inoperative. I was unable to feather the propeller on #3 engine. There was no fire despite an obvious fuel leak in the inboard section of the right wing. We continued to drift further behind our formation and in fact we found ourselves, for a short period of time, in the middle of another group of B-17's that were at a lower altitude but following the route of the 91st Bomb Group leader. That formation, also, soon left us behind.
It was a battle trying to keep the aircraft airborne without exceeding the engine operating limits on the two remaining engines. Main system oxygen had been destroyed and the emergency oxygen was near depletion. The bladder type masks were a major problem. I descended to 18,000 ft - the maximum altitude where we could operate for a time without oxygen. There was no cloud cover below us that might help in evading the enemy.
During the 30 or 40 minutes after departing our formation, our crew was under constant enemy attack and it was a life or death struggle to survive. We were no longer being attacked head-on, but we had enemy fighter and fighter-bombers attacking us from side angles. The last words I received from the tail gunner, Sgt Smith, were "Skipper, there are 7 ME-109's trailing us with their gear down. They are making single passes - gear up - then attack". I told Sgt. Smith to "get one for me".
We, the crew, still had a limited supply of ammunition and we retained the hope that we could fend off the attackers and return to England utilizing the two remaining operating engines. I wanted to maintain altitude until we were closer to the enemy coast-line before starting a descent with two engines inoperative on the right wing. A descent too early could result in having to ditch in the North Sea. During this period of struggle for survival, I heard several crew members announce hits and possible destruction of enemy aircraft. I remain convinced that S/Sgt Brown, the ball turret gunner, and other members of my crew destroyed as many as four enemy aircraft during the unrelenting attacks by German aircraft.
Suddenly and without warning #1 engine lost power. It appeared from my position that the two top cylinders had blown and smoke was coming from that area. Flames were coming from the lower part of the engine. My attempt to feather the propeller were futile. I hit the bail-out warning bell and gave the verbal order to bail out. All crew members acknowledged with the exception of Sgt Smith, the tail gunner. Lt. Johnson and S/Sgt Sly assisted each other with their chutes - the bomb bay doors were opened and both men jumped out from that area.

As the crew members were departing the aircraft, I received word from S/Sgt Kuhlman, the radio operator, that Sgt. Smith was unconscious - no apparent wounds. Kuhlman had been to the rear of the aircraft to obtain additional emergency oxygen bottles. After this report I received no response from any crew members in the rear of the aircraft. All forward members of the crew, with the exception of the navigator, Lt. Glen Foster, had departed the aircraft. Foster had not yet bailed out, but had assisted Lt Runner, the bombardier, in evacuating the aircraft. Runner was suffering from mild anoxia and appeared to be confused; however, thanks to the valiant efforts of Lt. Foster, his bail out was successful.
Foster came to the cockpit area wanting to know if I was going to crash-land or bail-out. He wanted to do what ever I was going to do. I told him that I was going to parachute out, but that I had received word that Sgt Smith was unconscious in the rear of the aircraft and I wanted him to check on Smith and if he was in the aircraft but unconscious to attempt to get Smith to an exit and if possible throw him from the plane concurrent with pulling the parachute ripcord. That accomplished, he should notify me and immediately bailout. If Smith was not in the aircraft, Foster was to notify me and then bailout without further delay. Foster acknowledged and headed for the bomb bay.
Shortly after Lt. Foster entered the bomb bay on the way to the rear of the aircraft, a Ju-88 - coming in from the right rear, strafed the B-17 - putting gunfire in the fuselage and in the cockpit area just to the right of the pilot's control column. The co pilot's windshield and the right cockpit window were shattered. as well as the co-pilot's instrument panel. I was not injured but my left leg felt numb from the shock of the explosion in the cockpit.
All crew members with the exception of Lt. Foster and possibly Sgt .Smith, should have been out of the aircraft before the initial hits from the JU-88 were received. The landing gear on the B-17 had been placed down after the bail-out order was given in the mistaken belief that the aircraft would not be fired on when it gave the wheels down signal and it became obvious that the crew was abandoning the aircraft. My first action was to retract the gear. I glanced to the left and saw the JU-88 pulling up into position just above and behind the left wing of our aircraft- possibly positioning for gunfire into the left cockpit. I immediately made a sharp left turn directly toward the JU-88 and kept the B-17 in a tight spiral turn to the left . I maintained maximum air speed while in this circling dive.
I had no report from Lt. Foster , so had to assume the gunner, Sgt Smith, and possibly the navigator were still aboard and could not bail out. I was flying at 18,000 ft. when the Ju-88 struck and the spiral dive was started. I could see a small postage -sized clearing of land in the middle of what appeared to be a dense forest . I decided on a forced "crash" landing. #1 engine was still on fire, but I could see only white smoke - no flames. I kept the air speed above 300 mph. until level-off about 200 feet above the ground. The descent had been so rapid the windshield and pilot's side window were frosted over. I opened the side window as I flew over the small clearing. The airspeed was still high, 240 mph. I saw Lt. Bill Runner on the ground, at the edge of the clearing, wildly waving his arms as the aircraft went by. I made a tight circle to the right as I had full visibility from the shattered windshield and co-pilot side window. I could not maintain airspeed on one engine for any extended period. I completed the low-level circling maneuver, leveling off for the final approach. The airspeed had slowed to 150 - I slapped the flap lever down and flew flat for a fairly high-speed, gear-up landing. I went through a small wire fence - stopping just short of a larger wooden-wire fence and a ditch. I had "unbuckled" to take control of the aircraft from Lt Johnson and from that period on had been so occupied with the recovery and control of the aircraft that I had no opportunity to get "strapped" back in. I had made the crash-landing without benefit of the seat belt and shoulder harness.
With the bomb bay doors open, all of the sounds of an aircraft making a belly landing were amplified. The first sound I became aware of after the aircraft came to a stop was the pounding of my own heart. I glanced out to the left wing - the fire in #1 engine had been in the lower part of the nacelle - there was some smoke, but no visible fire. The landing had evidently smothered the flames. I had cut the ignition switches just before touchdown. I glanced around the cockpit and remembered to push in the IFF destroyer buttons.
I called out Foster's (navigator) and Smith's names as I scrambled through the aircraft to the rear entrance. There was no response - and there was no one in the area of the main fuselage. Once outside the aircraft I checked the tail-gunners position and it was also vacant, I then assumed that all crew members had bailed out.