In their own words...

[bobbysocks]

Andrew Charles Mynarski was born in Winnipeg (Manitoba, CANADA) on the 14th of October 1916, the son of Polish immigrants. He had five other siblings, two brothers and three sisters. He was educated at the King Edward and Isaac Newton Elementary Schools and at St. John's Technical School. To help support his family after his father's death in age of 16, he worked for four years as a leather worker in Winnipeg.
He later built furniture and air planes models in a workshop that he built in the basement.
In November 1941 (the Second World War) he enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force. He took his training at Calgary and Edmonton (Alberta) and MacDonald (Manitoba) graduating in 1942 as a mid-upper gunner shortly before his 25th birthday. He went overseas in December 1942.
His first operational posting was with Number 9 Squadron in October 1943. In March 1944, he replaced another mid-upper gunner in 419 (Moose) Squadron and joined the crew with whom his name would be forever linked. On the crew's ninth mission together, (June 5th, 1944... D-Day minus 1) they were assigned a brand new Canadian built Lancaster Mk-X, with number KB-726 VR-A .
On June 11, 1944 Mynarski was promoted to Pilot Officer / Gunner.
On the night of June 12, his crew was to take off on the new Lanc's fourth mission, their target: the rail marshalling yards at Cambrai, France. It would be the 13th mission of the crew. They would be over the target on Friday the thirteenth. While waiting to go, the crew couldn't help but think of these omens related to the number "13". Andrew found a four leaf clover in the grass by the planes. He insisted that his closest buddy in the crew, tail gunner Pat Brophy, should take it. Pat put the leaf into his helmet...
Shortly after crossing the French coast, the Lancaster was briefly coned by enemy searchlights. After some evasive maneuvers, they were in the safety of darkness again. They began descending to the level of their planned attack when a Ju-88 came in from astern. It's cannons blazed from below.
Three explosions tore the aircraft. Both port engines were knocked out and began to flame. The third burst tore into the aircraft between the mid-upper and rear turrets starting a fire. Hydraulic lines to the rear turret were severed and the fluid ignited, turning the rear of the fuselage into an inferno. The captain, Art de Bryne gave the order to bail out...
...Pat Brophy, the tail gunner proceeded to exit his turret and bail out. To get out, Pat had to straighten his turret in line with the fuselage, go through the doors, collect his parachute and jump from the fuselage door on the starboard (right) side. Tail gunners stored their parachutes in the fuselage because there wasn't the room in the confines of the rear turret to wear or store one. Unfortunately that third round had split the hydraulic line feeding his turret, it wouldn't move and flames where sweeping down towards him. The alternate route was to rotate the turret with the inner doors facing to the outside and to bail out backwards. Pat managed to open his doors to the inside of the aircraft, enough to grab his parachute and clip it on. He would then manually rotate the turret with a hand crank as far he could to the side, open the doors and bail out into the night. To his horror, the handle broke off. He was now trapped in a burning aircraft heading for the ground. At that time Mynarski left his post at the mid upper turret and began to make his way to the rear escape door...

The remainder of this encounter is best left up to Pat Brophy himself:
"(...) Then I saw Andy. He had slid down from the mid-upper turret and made his way back to the rear escape hatch, about 15 feet from me, having received the same P signal to bail out from the skipper.
He opened the door and was just about to jump when he glanced around and spotted me through the plexiglass part of my turret. One look told him I was trapped. Instantly, he turned away from the hatch - his doorway to safety - and started towards me. All this time the airplane was lurching drunkenly as Art tried to keep it on an even keel without instruments. Andy had to climb over the Elsan chemical toilet and crawl over the tailplane spar, as there is no room at that part of the fuselage. These cramped conditions forced him to crawl on his hands and knees - straight through the blazing hydraulic oil. By the time he reached my position in the tail, his uniform and parachute were on fire. I shook my head; it was hopeless. 'Don't try!' I shouted, and waved him away.
"Andy didn't seem to notice. Completely ignoring his own condition in the flames, he grabbed a fire axe and tried to smash the turret free. It gave slightly, but not enough. Wild with desperation and pain, he tore at the doors with his bare hands. By now he was a mass of flames below the waist. Seeing him like that, I forgot everything else. Over the roar of the wind and the whine of our two remaining engines, I screamed, 'Go back, Andy! Get out!'
"Finally, with time running out, he realized that he could do nothing to help me. When I waved him away again, he hung his head and nodded, as though he was ashamed to leave - ashamed that sheer heart and courage hadn't been enough. As there was no way to turn around in the confined quarters, Andy had to crawl backwards through the flaming hydraulic fluid fire again, never taking his eyes off me. On his face was a look of mute anguish. "When Andy reached the escape hatch, he stood up. Slowly, as he'd often done before in happier times together, he came to attention. Standing there in his flaming clothes, a grimly magnificent figure, he saluted me! At the same time, just before he jumped, he said something. And even though I couldn't hear, I knew it was 'Good night, Sir'. (...)"

Now as Pat sat there alone with five tones of explosives fifty feet from him, in a Lanc that would hit the ground in seconds, he braced himself for the impact. As the aircraft came down in a steady glide, it hit a thick tree with its port (left) wing and spun round. Two of its twenty bombs exploded almost immediately after the first ground impact, throwing the tail gunner clear. He came to rest about fifty feet from the burning remains, against an another tree alive and with no a scratch.
His watch stopped at 12:13 a.m., Friday, June 13, 1944.
At the time when he picked up his helmet, out of it fell the cloverleaf.
The seven crew members were now all on the ground. Unfortunately, Andrew Mynarski was dead.
He had landed alive with his clothes still on fire. French farmers who had spotted the flaming bomber found him and hustled him off to a doctor but he died shortly of his severe burns.
He was buried in a local cemetery in Méharicourt (France).
Four of the crew members were hidden by the French and returned to England shortly after the crash.
The others were captured by the Germans and were interned until they could be liberated by American troops. It wasn't until 1945 when Pat Brophy was reunited with Art de Breyne and could tell the others what happened to himself and Andy that anyone knew the story.
Art de Breyne started the process by recommending an award for Andy at the end of 1945. The recommendation worked it's way up the command structure of the RCAF and RAF until it was decided upon, a Victoria Cross would be awarded for "valour of the highest order".
The medal was presented to his mother, Mrs. Stanley Mynarski by the Right Honorable J.A. McWilliams, Lieutenant Governor of Manitoba on 12th December 1946.

[bobbysocks]

THE PREACHER
They called him The Preacher. 2nd Lt. Daniel T. Roberts, Jr. was a former divinity student from the torrid ranching community of Springer, New Mexico. With the onset of World War II Danny set aside his theology studies and joined the Air Corps completing flight training at Randolph Field, Texas. He didn’t smoke, drink or cuss and the nickname stuck.

The 80th Squadron of the 8th Fighter Group went to Darwin Australia and on to Port Moresby, New Guinea to bolster sagging fighter defenses in the area with P-39s and P-400s- the export P-39 version with the 20 mm cannon replacing the 37 mm but the four .50s in nose and wing retained.

The Japanese were on the move in New Guinea. Only the where and when were uncertain. The group flew a few missions without enemy fighter contact. There was activity at Buna Bay and enemy troops finally established a beachhead close to Milne Airdrome. The 80th went on a mission against the Japanese airfield near Buna Mission on August 26, 1942.

Ten war-weary P-400s cranked their rear-mounted Allisons and took off at 0600 led by Captain Greasly. His Airacobra developed electrical problems and he aborted along with three others cutting the odds even before enemy contact. Six planes led now by Lt. William Brown popped up over the Owen Stanley mountains and skimmed down the northern slope.

It was a surprise as the Zeroes were all not yet in the air. Roberts hit the triggers and a Zero just airborne took the brunt of his shells. Danny pulled a tight turn and came at one head on. Both pilots fired but Roberts’ rounds were accurate. The fighter shuddered and dropped into the water just off the beach. He got some rounds into another Zero before exiting the area. Two other Zeros were dispatched by other pilots and the P-400s pushed for home.

In the following days the groups continually attacked troop and supply columns and escorted bombers. The pounding paid off and though the Japanese were but a day’s march from Port Moresby, they were halted. New P-39Ds soon arrived with the blessing of the maintenance crews who’d done wonders keeping the older ships flying so long. No better than the P-400s, the P-39Ds at least were fresh and the group managed to hold off the enemy with them until they were scheduled for R and R in Australia in December 1942.

Upon returning to New Guinea in March and promoted to Captain, Roberts and his fellow flyers received the P-38F Lightnings to play with. On April 11th He led a flight of four and sighted a gaggle of twenty Vals escorted by Zeros intent on attacking Allied shipping in Oro Bay.

The quartet dived and Roberts caught a Val at 17,000 feet squarely with 20mm and .50 caliber. It disintegrated. Looking up he saw three more dive-bombers and pushed the throttles forward entering a steep climb. A long burst nailed one and a wing fluttered off. The result was a crazy, sharp turn and it crashed into the sea. Roberts noticed his wingman blazing away at a Val but three Zeros were lining up on him as he horsed the big plane towards them. The Val exploded and the other P-38 nosed over diving out of the Zeros’ reach. As often happened in combat, when Danny looked around again the sky was empty. But the four Americans tallied eleven shot down- three Vals and eight Zeroes.

When the 475th F.G. was formed in summer 1943 Danny Roberts was squadron commander of the 433rd Squadron. He was responsible for tactics, which he planned and discussed on the ground stressing that the pilots stay together “like a pack of wolves.” His ability continued and he downed a pair of Haps (A6M3 Model 32) on August 21st. An Oscar followed on September 9th.

On October 23rd Roberts led a sweep over Rabaul and was to keep enemies at bay from B-24s scheduled to appear for their big show. His squadron was at 25,000 feet and the two other squadrons at 15,000 were more than holding their own against some Zeros. Then thirty-five more enemy fighters materialized and the squadron now dropped their auxiliary tanks.

Thirty-two Allisons wound up and the sixteen P-38s accelerated down. Roberts lined up behind a Zero and punched out three short bursts. It fell off on a wing as The Preacher immediately slipped behind another. One burst hammered the right wing and the flimsy fighter turned into a ball of fire. Danny racked the P-38 around in a tight turn and came out head on to yet another. One more torrent of shells made the Zero roll and plunge groundward, streaming fire. He registered three quick victories and the whole squadron scored twelve.

By the November 2, 1943 Roberts had thirteen confirmed and a probable when their mission was to escort B-25 to hit airfields at Alexishafen on the northern New Guinea coast.

The P-38s dropped to treetop level to scour the area for enemy planes. Twenty Zeros, Haps, and Oscars challenged and Roberts sent deflection fire at a Hap maneuvering low to the water. The plane promptly exploded.

As they reformed with the bombers Roberts spotted a lone Zero skimming low headed home. Wingman Lt. Dale Meyers saw him and formed up on the right with Roberts as Lt. William Grady did so on the left. Down the trio went. Evidently the enemy saw his doom in the making and snapped a sharp turn to the right. Roberts quickly began a turn to counteract it but Meyers was split second slow and the two Lightnings smashed together and exploded killing both men.

Danny Roberts had the potential of being one of the top Pacific aces. At this time **** Bong only had nineteen and McQuire thirteen kills. Yet another fine ace was felled through accidental means.
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