In their own words...

[bobbysocks]

454 & 459 RAAF stories from the middle east...

Stories from Bob Norman - 459

(1) The blankets

Whilst in Sarafaud Hospital, Palestine receiving treatment for a burst eardrum, Bob Norman chatted with a chap with leg wounds. Bob discovered he'd been in charge of transport and had a lot to do with evacuating wounded of both sides from the firing line to hospital.

"We had a lot of trouble with the Arabs," he said.

"What Stealing?" Bob asked.

"Yes blankets. They would hop on to the back of the trucks and pull the blankets off the wounded. We lost hundreds of blankets that way until we planted a guard on each truck. Each guard carried a few hand grenades, and if a 'wog' took a blanket he got a 'pineapple' to go with it. That put a sudden stop to the blanket stealing".



(2) The German goods

"Eastern Command decided to give the ground crews of 459 a rest as they had been fighting backwards and forwards along the North African coast for nearly 3 years, and although they had individual leave they needed a break in the "green belt" ----- a few months in the lush fields of Palestine would work wonders for them. We packed up and within the hour we were on our way to Ramat David.

The North African desert is absolutely amazing. One can spend months out there and not see a soul other than one's own people, but decide to move and within minutes the place is swarming with desert nomads. They seemed to pop up out of the ground. It would have been alright if they had waited until we had packed up all we wanted and then helped themselves. But they couldn't bear to wait and started carrying away items we intended to take with us. -----"

That being said, Bob went on to describe a funny story of Bill East (459) and Jack Simmonds (459 - RAF) with some 'left-behind German' goods...

"Bill and Jack found a perfectly good German BMW motor-bike in the desert which they rode about the compound. Joe Aitken (459)and Arnold Jones, another new pilot, found a German desert car in which they used to drive to the Mediterranean for swims. They couldn't use any of our fuel, but that didn't matter; there were plenty of dumps of Italian fuel. Joe and Arnold knew they couldn't take the desert car to Ramat David, so they left it in the bundu for the next mob to use.

But Bill and Jack were determined to take the BMW with us, they tried the aircraft door but it wouldn't go through, so they asked me could they use the bomb bay. I said yes, provided they could sling it on the bomb racks and clear of the bomb doors. "I'll give you ten minutes," I said. I knew the Chief didn't want his record of "up and away within the hour" spoiled.

They were still trying to sling the motorbike up when time ran out. The other aircraft were starting their motors so I had to order them away while I closed the bomb doors before starting up. They were like little boys losing a toy. I'm sure I saw tears in their eyes as we taxied away leaving the bike behind."


Story from Kev O'Brien - 454

The Parachute

One day while I was sitting in the turret happily shooting down M E 109's, F W 190's, J U 88's (in my imagination).... Harold 'Blue' Munce - (454) was watching bombs dropping on target through the bottom hatch when something flew past his head and disappeared below. He called me on the intercom -- "Hey Kev your parachute has just fallen out!". "No Blue, that was your chute". "No Kev I've still got mine" And so the conversation continued till -- "You be nice to me Kev, you know you need me to jerk the quick release catch for you to get out of the turret!" "OK Blue, it was my chute!" From up the front -- "You two shut-up back there, we're here on serious business!".

Of course I knew that if the worst happened Blue would hand me the chute -- "Here Kev, you take it, I'll stay with the aircraft". "No Blue I cant let you sacrifice your life for me!" "Yes Kev, you're a better bloke than I am - the world can ill afford to lose you!" He was right of course. "OK Blue, I'll see you get a posthumous VC for this!". From up the front again "will you two shut-up!! If you're going to go on like this whenever we go out, I'll leave you at home next trip!". In response to that terrible threat all we could do was make rude signs with our fingers towards the front, who would like to miss a chance to get shot down? As it happened , of course, nothing bad happened till we got home when the parachute section refused to believe that we could let a chute fall out. "You buggers have pinched the thing and are going to flog it to the tailor in the village!". Sometimes the truth just cant be believable!


Here is an incident remembered by Blue Munce - 454 and told by Kev O'Brien

We were taking off from Benghazi one time in order to escort a convoy when a freak gust of violent wind blew us off the runway. We were heading for some buildings too fast to stop, so in a panic Ron retra ted the wheels and we did a ground loop - slid on the belly of the aircraft in a circle till eventually stopping in a cloud of dust! Blue looked out the window and announced that we hadn't caught fire. I had seen too many of the aircraft that the pilots were converting to from Avro Ansons that did burn on crashing and didn't feel too confident about our situation. There were three versions about what happened next.

1. That Blue wore the tread-marks of my flying boots up his back for the next few weeks - absolutely untrue!

2. That I courteously said "after you Blue" and waited for him to leave first - nearly true!

3. Blue's account. That I yelled "get out!" and threw him out the top hatch (our usual way out through the bottom hatch was deep in the sand of the desert). Probably nearly true! Blue was lost in admiration of my strength under terror and referred to me thereafter as "Mighty Mouse!"

from Ross Singleton-
CANADA 459 Squadron

I was on 459 Squadron near Tobruk in 1942-43. When we went on leave we flew a Hudson or Ventura to Cairo for maintenance, on our return we flew one that had been repaired back to our squadron.

On one such leave George Lalor, who was a W.A.G in my crew teamed up with me, we met an old friend of mine, Bob Woods, who had graduated with me as an Observer in Canada. Bob was flying in an RAF Transport Squadron stationed near Cairo. After celebrating in Cairo, he invited us back to his Squadron. We continued our celebrations in the Sergeants mess. The Squadron had a mascot monkey "Sgt. Shufti Sheifti", who was very highly strung from too much flying. He was grounded in the Mess and had become an alcoholic. Each night he went to sleep in a sad state up in the ropes at the top of the tent that housed the Mess. He drank only water during the day, but at night he would come down to the bar where people would buy him drinks. He would also steal food from people's plates. He did this to me and I became upset, particularly when I thought of the sanitation in respect to monkeys and I threatened to strangle him. This offended one of the RAF Sergeants and he and I had a fairly strong argument. Someone called the Military Police and I was arrested and put in jail. The jail, of course, was a tent. The guard was an Irish L.A.C. with a gun. My friends bought me a bottle of Cyprus Brandy which I shared with the guard. We eventually went to sleep. In the morning we woke up to bright sunlight. While we slept like two innocent babes, Arabs cut the ropes on the tent, loaded it onto a camel and disappeared into the desert. The poor guard still had his gun and his prisoner, I don’t know how he explained the loss of the tent. When we returned to our Squadron, my C.O., when he stopped laughing, dismissed the charges against me!

[2 -- Norm Gilham - 454] A Slight Embarrassment

It was quite a dark night on the Adriatic coast of Italy in early April 1945. One 454 Squadrons aircraft was heading south to base after a successful mission near the Austrian border. Apart from the engines there was the usual eerie silence of an intruder over enemy territory at night, and then:

"Pilot to Navigator"

"Navigator here, go ahead Norm"

"What do you make of that glow over the water at nine o'clock, Ross?"

"Navigator to Pilot. Looks like a fire, could be a ship."

"Pilot to Wireless."

"Wireless here, skipper."

"Break radio silence Geoff. Request base permission to investigate what appears to be a burning ship."

Silence once more except for the engines, and then:


"Wireless to Pilot, permission granted."

"Thanks Geoff".

I then turned out over the Adriatic Sea.

"Turret to Pilot."

"Go ahead, Tom."

"I get a good view from up here, Norm. Certainly looks like a fire and getting much bigger."

All watching in silence as we go further out towards that glow.

"Turret to Pilot".

"Go ahead, Tom."

"I hate to say this Norm, it's the moon coming up!"

"Pilot to Navigator, I'm afraid he's right Ross. Have you got a course for base?"
"Navigator to Pilot. It is the moon Norm. Course to base 210 degrees."

"Pilot to Navigator, thanks Ross. Turning onto 210 degrees now."

We returned to base safely, and we were commended for our initiative, but other crews did not let us forget our "burning ship" for quite some time. The bonus of course was a little humour at a very serious time in our lives.


Another thing I should mention is that most people have the impression that the Air Force operated from established airfields and buildings. In war time of course, that is not he case. You simply make airfields as you go along, and live in tents. 454 Squadron was considered to have the best equipped mess under canvas; due to our scrounging in towns as they were taken from Germans.


THE ILL-FATED DERNA MISSION by

Royal Jay Christensen

While stationed with 454 RAAF Baltimore Squadron in Benghasi, Libya, one of our aircraft was severely damaged on 27/2/44, on its return from Melos in the Aegean Sea by two German ME109's. In the running battle, the Baltimore was riddled with 26 cannon strikes but managed to crash land at the landing ground at Derna, Libya. F/O Ray Crouch was the British RAF pilot and was awarded the DFC for his airmanship. We were notified at Berka 3 of the crash, and a crew of Aussie ground crew were dispatched to Derna to pick up the air crew and also usable parts from the demolished aircraft. Our crew included an Australian Motor Transport driver, an Aussie Aero-engine Mechanic, an Aussie fitter, and a British RAF armourer, and a Canadian radar mechanic. This multi-national group boarded the truck transport and headed for Derna, some 200 miles to the east. We reached the Derna landing ground and found the uninjured air crew billeted at 278 AMES on the airfield.

We were immediately busy salvaging equipment from the crashed Baltimore when an urgent radio message was received at the AMES office. It stated that one of our aircraft had just crashed about 10 miles east of Derna and that the crew were injured and required immediate first aid assistance. We could see the black smoke rising to our east; and since we had the only truck, we were dispatched to the crash scene. There were no real roads, so it was necessary to follow old tank tracks to stay safely away from possible land mines. A deep ravine prevented us from reaching the crash site, so we left one member of our crew to guard the truck and the remaining four men with only first-aid kits walked the remaining distance.

As we came over the last hill, a shocking panorama stopped us in our tracks, and we dove behind some boulders. A huge Swastika on the burning tail of a German Junkers 88 was not what we expected! An open parachute was on the hillside, and an individual was walking on the far side of the smoking debris. Our rifles were being carefully protected back at the truck, and we only had our first-aid kits and equipment in our hands. The individual turned out to be a British Army soldier who had just reached the wreck and was afraid we were German. Two of the German aircrew were dead in the burning aircraft, the third member was killed when his parachute hit the nearby hill. We later learned the Junkers '88 was on a routine reconnaissance flight and was shot down by a British RAF Spitfire aircraft.

The vital moral lesson we quickly learned was NEVER PUT YOUR COMPLETE TRUST IN RADIO COMMUNICATIONS.

[bobbysocks]

In 1942, on a quiet day in October, Bobby Gibbes sent a few of us rookie pilots on a low-flying exercise.

I was really enjoying it. Flying just a few feet above the ground and waving to Diggers of the 9th Div. Suddenly all the chaps on the ground pointed in the direction I was flying and started waving madly. I looked ahead and there was this palm tree!

I jerked the joystick back as hard and quick as I could. - I think I closed my eyes too.

When I got back to the Squadron base and landed, there was Harry Knight waiting for me. He was the plane’s Fitter.

“What the HELL have you done to my airplane???”

- Palm fronds were hanging from the wings and the tail and I was bloody lucky to come out of it alive.

I won’t repeat what Bobby Gibbes had to say…


some quips from Alan Clark 3 Sq RAAF


Did I mention that Tigers had no canopy or cockpit cover of any kind? But there was one saving grace - we had WAAFs to swing the propellers. Good strong lasses with no ambivalence about motors or, as far as I know, horses.

There was a little joke doing the rounds at Clyffe Pypard -

Q: What happened to the WAAF who forgot to put the chocks under before swinging the prop?
A: "Dis-ast-er" … (Say it out loud and think about it...)

Also in the pilot’s briefing room there was a blackboard with the following written on it:

"An instructor sent his pupil back to the base to get an insulated screw. The pupil came back with a WAAF and a pair of rubber gumboots!"



It seems that during his (US equivalent) SFTS in Texas some Women’s Army Corps girls arrived on the base to take over the radio telephone communications set-up. As a consequence, swearing over the R/T became a Court Martial offence. One of the trainee pilots on a cross-country exercise got lost and the following dialogue took place between the trainee and the control tower. Trainee: “Hello base, for Christ’s sake give me a course to steer - I’m all f***ed up.”

The squadron commander, who happened to be in the tower at the time and possessed a very distinctive southern accent, picked up the microphone and said, “Mister, what is your name and serial number?”

There was a long silence, then came, “I ain’t that f***ed up!”


My last flight, however, turned out to be a lot less boring than all its predecessors. With the trainee busy sending Morse Code in the back seat, we were stooging along somewhere close to Narromine, where another Tiger Moth EFTS was stationed. Quite a few Tigers were around, going about their routine training, when they obviously spotted this intruding Wackett, broke off their training and came belting over to me for a spot of “dogfighting”. Forgetting all about my pledge to fly straight and level, I immediately engaged about five Tigers in spectacular aerial combat but as the Tigers outnumbered me and could turn in smaller circles than I was able to do, they were soon on my tail. Time to go home, so I broke off the conflict and headed towards Parkes with my possibly terrified passenger. One of the Tigers persisted however; he got up above and behind me and made another classic fighter attack. Diving down fast onto my tail he shot past just below me, but very close. There was a loud "thump" and then he dwindled earthwards. “Shit!”, I thought, “He's hit my bloody fixed undercart and knocked it off.”

What to do? Very difficult to land without wheels, even more difficult to land with only one wheel. My first brilliant solution was to climb up to the nearest big cumulus cloud, position myself between the cloud and the sun, fly towards the cloud and see if I could get a silhouette of my undercart (if any) against it. No such luck, so I flew home and made a very tentative landing, without incident.

As we didn’t have the means to communicate in the air, it wasn’t until we got back to the hangers that the trainee could say, “Sir, we have lost the trailing aerial.” Oh shit! That was it. Having forgotten all about the blessed thing in the heat of battle it was obvious that the Tiger had got the aerial caught round his prop. No wonder he dwindled! It turns out also that he crashed - but more of that later.

Those of us who had trained as fighter pilots still held romantic notions about our prospective role in the air. We were soon to be enlightened about all this.

So, instead of racing off and flying Spitfires, we were now told that there was no more demand for fighter pilots and that we would all be converted onto bombers, a process that would take many months of special training. While there was a certain amount of awe-inspiring appeal in the idea of a 19-year-old Sergeant Pilot flying a huge four-engined bomber over Germany as captain of a crew of seven and with no second pilot, I decided that my true expertise (such as it was) was in single-engined flying.

So I set about exploring ways to make this happen, if at all possible. As it turned out, if you volunteered to go to the Middle East, you could stay on singles as that was the only Theatre of War outside Russia that any ground fighting was going on, and this is what I did. There was still a long wait though, as the EATS was working so efficiently by now (1943-44) that the UK was flooded with trained airmen. So here was another parting of the ways for old friends as most of our intake ended up on bombers. Many, like Ken Grose and Rex Loton, did not survive, but some, like Bill Fallon and Errol Ingram, did - Bill as a rear gunner (tail-end Charlie) and Errol as a pilot completed full operational tours of duty and lived to tell the tale.

The Kittyhawk was a sturdy, attractive veteran of the North African campaign but without the Spit’s charisma. As they were only operating in Italy, at least Burma was ruled out! But, we were told, the Aussies amongst us were destined for Italy, as both Australian Squadrons (numbers 3 and 450) were operating there, supporting the British Eighth Army, as they had done throughout the long Western Desert campaign. Indeed, 3 Squadron had been in the Middle East since June 1940, during which time it had had many updates of aircraft type, starting off flying Gloster Gladiators, a semi-obsolete biplane which would not have been out of place in WWI! Actually it was about this time, unbeknown to us, that No.3 was converting to the best and most effective fighter of the war, the P51, known as the Mustang, but little did Lew Ranger or I think that we would end up there flying these magnificent machines.

After some 15 hours on these, the big day came for me on October 20, 1944, when I was to have my first flight in a Kittyhawk. What an awesome thrill! To fly a single seater fighter the first time - no instructor, just you. They could tell you how to fly it on the ground but, thereafter you were on your own. To start with it had a much more powerful engine than anything we had flown before. We had previously flown only in radial-engined, air-cooled motors, this one was equipped with a 16 cylinder, in-line, liquid-cooled Allison, which seemed to stretch out in front of you forever. Don’t forget that I still hadn’t learned to drive a car.

Unlike most present-day planes which have two main wheels and a nose wheel, P40s had a tail wheel, so that you couldn’t see in front of you until you had given her the gun and got up sufficient speed to lift your tail up. This done, you roared along the runway at maximum revs until you felt that beautiful feeling of leaving Mother Earth, and then you were flying. It is hard to describe the feeling of being in control of all this complex machinery and power. As you lift off and retract your undercarriage the feeling of being airborne, of feeling the subtle currents of air gently acting upon your machine, is awesome. The seemingly limitless power at your fingertips and the three dimensional control of height and direction is heady stuff indeed. However, on this first trip in a P40 there were many other things to think about; lots to remember and lots to learn and get the particular feel of this beautiful, sleek beast. Somewhat to my surprise I managed the landing OK in spite of the considerable difference in speed and feel from anything previously. It’s a funny thing that throughout my flying career I never ceased to be amazed that I could actually land these flighty creatures!

Flying training in the Kittyhawk proceeded through the usual gamut of exercises, spins, formations, cross-countries etc. Somewhere I have a few quite good photos, taken by me with a very unreliable cheap camera, of Lew and I low flying across the desert. This was quite a feat as I had to fly one-handed, formating with Lew, and still try to take the photos. Unfortunately at this time one of our group, a good friend and fine chap, Geoff Swinbourne, crashed his Kitty and was killed. Another funeral - we buried him in a desolate piece of desert. He was only 19 years old. But for the rest of us it was get up in the air and get on with it.

It happened thus: air-to-air gunnery practice is usually done by a pair of planes both carrying cine cameras, which were used instead of guns for obvious reasons. Both pilots would shoot at each other using the cameras, the films of which were analysed later in the Station’s theatre. In this instance there had been a serious stuff-up as one of the planes (Spitfires) was loaded with cannon shells instead of film. The pilot of this plane, Jim Fletcher, a mate of ours, lined up the other plane, laid off the necessary deflection and pressed the trigger. His aim was obviously very good as he only let loose some 12 cannon shells before he realised what was happening and took his finger off the button. The incident above resulted and we returned to Jungle Jim’s rudely interrupted monologue.

He had every right to be very angry, as what we had done was not only rude but a potentially serious breach of Air Force discipline. Jungle Jim, ever a mild man, only remonstrated with us mildly. Never the less it was not a good way to kick off with a reportedly perfectionist type instructor.

more from alan to come...

[bobbysocks]

original AVG pilot and legend Tex Hill talks.... 30 mins

http://www.eaavideo.org/video.aspx?v=1243520860

actually scroll down that page and there are interviews with several ww2 fighter and bomber pilots ...a lot of good stuff there.

[Rambo Rich 360]

Hey! Thanks for the link Bobby, cool site!

[bobbysocks]

William Y ""Willie"" Anderson...obituary

died at home. He was born June 28, 1921 in Kromfors, Sweden to Helmer and Esther (Anderson) Anderson. In 1922, his family passed through Ellis Island and settled in Chicago. On November 26, 1944, he married Lois Anderson.
He joined the Army Air Corps in 1941 and became a highly decorated veteran of World War II, receiving over 30 medals including the Silver Star and the French Croix de Guerre. General Eisenhower personally pinned on his Silver Star. He flew a P-51 "Mustang" he named "Swede's Steed" on 126 combat missions. He was a triple Ace, and Sweden's only fighter Ace.
He made front page headlines in the Chicago Tribune on June 20th, 1944 when he shot down a German V-1 rocket which he named the "Buzz Bomb". He was the first to ever to do so. During the war he was known as quite a dare-devil----including flying THROUGH the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
He returned to the States and instructed cadets at the West Point Military Academy. Many articles and books have been written about him, and he still receives requests for autographed pictures. He is featured prominently in the Aviation Hall of Fame, the Fighter Aces Hall of Fame, and Who's Who in Aviation History.
After the war he took his flying skills to United Air Lines. He retired in 1981 as a Boeing-747 Captain. He was very popular with his fellow pilots, and would never hesitate to give them a flying lesson. His famous sense of humor entertained passengers and crews for 36 years. His wife Lois frequently accompanied him on his trips; the Honolulu layovers were a special treat for her.
As a father and husband, he was without equal. He adored his wife and pampered her for 66 years. She has nursed him with superhuman care for the last four years. His children and grandchildren took their every problem to "Poppy". He could fix anything, do anything and knew everything. He was the indestructible rock at the center of his family. His brilliance and love have shaped four generations.
He was also generous to others with his time. He served as Commander of the Crystal Lake V.F.W. and he was a member of the Tebala Shrine in Rockford. He gave many hours of his time and continuous financial support to the Shriner's hospital for crippled and burned children. He was a friend of the late Chancellor of Germany, Conrad Adenauer, worked with F. Lee Bailey, joked with Bob Hope, and sponsored Buzz Aldrin into the Aviation Hall of Fame.
He is survived by his wonderful wife and the two daughters he spoiled: Nancy (Paul) Lerner and
Gina (Durant) Carpenter. Also, a son William Anderson, Jr. Six grandchildren: Duffy Godshall, Chad (Stacey) Emigholz, Teresa Turck, Shiloh (Gery) Lee, Rhain Carpenter, and Graham Lerner. Two great-grandsons, Colton Turck and Kaytum Lee.
Services will be private.
"Willie Y", as he was called during his WWII flying days, was highly regarded throughout United Air Lines both for his skill as a pilot as well as his wit. At his retirement dinner in 1981 he closed his remarks by famously saying: "…and may the wind at your back always be your own". God speed, Willie.

[bobbysocks]

On May 19, the 357th Fighter Group was back over Berlin. Blue Flight of the 363rd had just made rendezvous with the bombers when they saw 100 German fighters headed for their charges. “Part of the squadron went for the main bunch, but I saw three slightly higher than I was, so I climbed after them in a Lufbery,” said Lt. Charles Peters. “I was out-turning and out-climbing them up to 31,000 feet. I fired at the last man and saw a strike on his canopy. The ship rolled over and went straight down. I continued turning with the other two until the last man broke away to the left and I followed him down to 12,000 feet. He finally leveled out and I got in a good burst with strikes at the wing roots. He broke hard to the left and then blew up. The pilot was thrown out and his chute opened.”

Lt. Robert Foy destroyed one Bf 109, then closed in in two more. When these aircraft spotted him, they “immediately pulled into a sharp turn to the left,” Foy reported. “The lead ship of this two-ship formation collided with the outside 109 attempting a head-on pass. ( and we thought this was a BoP thing but it did happen in real life) The wing of this ship struck squarely in the propeller of the (other) and was shorn off at the fuselage. The ship burst into flames and I saw no chute. The (other) enemy aircraft lost its prop and the engine nacelle seemed to be crushed and the 109 started into what might be described as an irregular spin.” Foy was credited with three Bf 109s destroyed.

Maj. Irwin Dregne ( Dregne was my dad's hero) was leading the 364th when he spotted the same huge formation, but it was scattered before he could reach them. “I started after a Bf 109 and he split-S’ed for the deck,” Dregne said. “I dove after him. At about 14,000 feet the Bf 109 was in a vertical dive and started rolling. He went into a tight spiral and then started spinning. I followed him down waiting for him to recover. At 5000 feet his canopy came off and I saw the pilot jump. I saw the plane crash but I never saw the parachute open. I never was closer than 1000 yards to the Bf 109 and did not fire my guns.”

Capt. John Storch picked out a straggler who dived for safety. “I followed him and he began to take evasive action, skidding and slipping and half-rolling. When he reached about 13,000 feet he suddenly began to spin. I followed him on down and pulled out of my dive when I could see from the way he was spinning that he would be unable to recover. I watched the Bf 109 spin into the ground and explode. I did not observe any chute. From the way in which the enemy aircraft was spinning I believe the pilot must have in some way damaged his plane by taking such violent evasive action at excessive speeds, as we were both probably indicating about 500 mph.”

Meanwhile, Lt. Leroy Ruder spotted German fighters at higher altitude than the first group diving for the bombers. “After a few minutes, I was in position to fire on an Fw 190,” he reported. “I closed to about 300 yards and opened fire, observing numerous strikes on the fuselage and wings. The enemy aircraft completed a couple of rolls and tight turns. Finally, he straightened out long enough for me to fire a few more bursts from about 250 yards. At the time, we were going at a great speed, with my aircraft nearly out of control. As I fired my last burst, the enemy aircraft started into another roll, with pieces flying from it. Suddenly, the enemy aircraft fell apart. Large sections of the fuselage and tail assembly ripped off and the enemy aircraft tumbled toward the ground, end over end. I broke off my attack at 10,000 feet and climbed back up to locate my flight.” Additional victories were claimed by Capts. Fletcher Adams and Ed Hiro ( who later was KIA), and Lt. Arval Roberson. In all, the group scored 10 kills, and lost no Mustangs.

[bobbysocks]

The 362nd Fighter Group paid a visit to the rail yards at Valenciennes on the morning of May 10, 1944, bringing along an ample supply of 500-pound bombs. The 378thwas led by Capt. Sherwin Desens, but his plane was hit by flak over St. Omer at 11,000 feet and his engine quit. He jettisoned the canopy, “getting a face full of oil in the process,” and he bailed out 3000 feet over the English Channel. When he hit the water, he quickly located his CO2 bottle and dinghy and inflated it. Seeing Spitfires overhead, he fired his flare pistol and they started circling him. Soon, he was rescued by an RAF Walrus flying boat and brought back to England. Capt. Thurman Morrison’s plane was hit by flak over Dunkirk and he was forced to return to base.

After that rough morning, the group executed an afternoon attack on the Champagne airfield near Reims using its own tactics and dropping a combination of 500-pounders, fragmentation bombs, smoke bombs and phosphorus incendiaries. The phosphorus bombs were impressive but they made it impossible to asses the damage to the target. The 379th flew as top cover, and after the other squadrons had bombed it dropped down to strafe the remaining planes; Lt. Gordon Larsen damaged a Ju 88 and Lt. Madison Putnam damaged a Do 217 during their attacks. Capt. Hugh Houghton and Lt. Ken McCleary went down to strafe; “we started a left turn after strafing a hangar when I noticed a glow in Capt. Houghton’s cockpit, which I realized was a fire,” McCleary said. “His aircraft rolled into a vertical bank and slipped into the ground.” Lt. Gerald Major saw Houghton’s P-47D-16 42-75867 “Curtain Call” (B8*5) hit the ground with “a big flash, and it continued burning on the ground.”

Robert McKee was also in Houghton’s flight. As the shaken McCleary joined up with McKee’s wingman, “I remained on the deck in an attempt to avoid the continuing intense flak as I slowly began a turn to the northwest,” McKee later wrote. “About three miles from the airfield, I flew over a small hill and discovered a long train of boxcars moving northward, almost perpendicular to my course. I still had some ammunition remaining for my eight .50 caliber machine guns. With my gun switches and gun sight still on, I waited until I was 1000 feet from the train before I commenced firing from about 200 feet of altitude.

“Simultaneous with my opening fire, all side panels on each side of this train dropped open with their 20mm and 40mm antiaircraft guns firing on our three aircraft. Their opening salvo hit the leading edge of my right wing root and another round hit the right lower side of my engine. I continued spraying my gunfire at these boxcars while inbound, hoping to quiet them down somewhat. After passing over the train, I quickly managed to hide behind another low hill, still being fired upon but not hit. I soon noticed that I had lost some engine power and after getting out of the range of this train’s guns, I began a slow climb to a safe bailout altitude, if that became necessary.

“I eventually managed to level off at 1500 feet but was only able to maintain 155 mph maximum airspeed,” McKee wrote. “The remaining aircraft rejoined squadron formation and continued on without me. I flew on towards England alone with my canopy open, climbing to 2000 feet in case I had to make a quick exit.

“The slower airspeed extended my flight time home for rest of my return flight to England and caused me concern about my fuel supply. It was going to be close. It seemed to take forever, but eventually I had our home base in sight. As I made plans for a long straight-in approach to the runway, I descended to 1000 feet.

“Life is full of surprises and now I faced another one! The engine quit and I was still two miles from the runway. I tried switching fuel tanks with the help of the fuel booster, to no avail. Within a few seconds I was down to 500 feet and flying over many wooded sections of British countryside. I selected two small adjoining fields, about 45 degrees to my left. They were separated by a hedgerow that I hoped I would be able to plow through while making a belly landing into the first one. As I approached the field, I found that the approach side had a row of 70-foot trees that seemed to quickly loom up and above the nose of my aircraft.”

McKee recalled a conversation he had with a civilian instructor many years before involving a pilot intentionally cartwheeling a plane to avoid an obstacle like a fence, with the thinking being that the impact would be distributed around the pilot. Because the P-47 was just above stall speed, McKee knew that if he pulled to miss the fence he’d stall and crash. “Without hesitation, I moved my flight control stick to the left, dipping my left wing about 45 degrees. I then crossed both arms in front of my head and held tightly to the top of the instrument panel. I heard the crunching of tree branches as I felt the sudden deceleration of the aircraft. I sneaked a peek to my left and saw the left wing fold up and inwards as it impacted the ground. I felt the engine’s ground impact force, which threw my head against the right side of the canopy. At this point I closed my eyes and held on tight, feeling a lot of tumbling going on.”

The plane did not catch fire; when McKee opened his eyes, he saw no flames but instead “saw blood everywhere,” he wrote. “It seems that, when I hit my head against the canopy, I had received a long cut above the right eye that had spurted blood around as I turned my head to look about. I tried to slide the canopy open, but found it to be jammed by the fuselage’s twisted metal and would only open about six inches. I almost panicked at this point because I could also see that a lot of red hydraulic fluid had splashed throughout the cockpit and, being concerned that I was going to lose consciousness due to loss of blood, I was afraid of fire erupting before I could get out. I grabbed the control stick with both hands and, squeezing it hard, said aloud to myself, ‘now, hold onto yourself, Mac!’”

Five British antiaircraft gunners raced to the scene and extricated McKee from his smashed Thunderbolt. He suffered the gash on his eyebrow and a broken ankle, probably caused the by the rudder pedal when the tail of his plane was torn off.

Lt. Gerald Majors’ plane was also hit by flak, but he was able to nurse the plane home. On return to base, one of the 378th’s planes had a hung fragmentation bomb, which detonated on landing. The pilot escaped but the plane was a write-off, and it blocked the runway; only Col. Morton Magoffin was able to land. The rest of the squadron flew to Woodchurch, where Lt. John R. Lovett’s hung-up smoke bomb detonated, flipping the P-47D 42-75246 on its back and inflicting a broken back and cuts on Lovett’s face, under his arms and on his legs. Even so, once the fire-fighting crew jacked the plane enough to allow him out of the cockpit, his first request was for a cigar. Lovett was evacuated to the U.S. for recuperation from his injuries. Lt. Robert Kennedy was unhurt when his plane, P-47D 42-22773, crashed at Headcorn on his return from the continent; Lt. Joseph Lane of the 377thbanged up P-47D 42-76442 in a ground loop on his arrival.

[KAV]

Keep em coming Bobby, this is great read.....

[bobbysocks]

been busy with other stuff but will dig some more up soon... but here's something i fell upon. i have vivid memories as a child watching the movie about the bismark.....especially when the HMS Hood and all the brave men went down. but talk about a david vs goliath moment this was it...

Bismarck bombing pilot recalls attack - Jock Moffat took part in the bombing of the Bismarck

It is 70 years since the sinking of the German warship the Bismarck.

The last surviving member of the air attack has been remembering his role on a visit to his old squadron at RNAS Culdrose in west Cornwall.

Jock Moffat, 92, from Dunkeld, is believed to have fired the torpedo that hit the Bismarck's rudder, affecting its steering.

The order came from Winston Churchill to destroy the ship, after it had sunk HMS Hood three days earlier.

Mr Moffat, who was born and grew up in the Scottish Borders, is the last surviving member of the air attack, carried out by 820 Squadron, the oldest in the Navy.

The night before the Bismarck's sinking, a plane from Naval Air Squadrons based on HMS Ark Royal launched a torpedo that hit the Bismarck's rudder.

This action made it possible for the British ships and planes to inflict damage on the heavily-armoured Bismarck.

Remembering his orders while he was in the air, Mr Moffat said: "All of a sudden they said to let her go. I pressed the necessary and my torpedo left my aircraft.

"I can't honestly turn around and say I changed it. But I would like to think I did. They decided it was my torpedo that managed to hit it."

Hundreds were killed on both sides during the sinking of HMS Hood and the German ship.

[bobbysocks]

impressions of the 109 from both sides....

“Renowned test pilot Capt Eric ‘Winkle’ Brown, who has the unique distinction of having flown every major combat aircraft of WW2, was one of the first Allied pilots to get his hands on the Bf109. He recalls: ‘The Bf109 had two problems in combat. It had a very claustrophobic cockpit and was very tight and narrow. As a fighter pilot, you behave like a falcon swinging your head side-to-side in search of prey and particularly trying to look behind. And the rear view of the 109 was very poor. When we knew about that we took advantage of it with close in middle of the tail shooting. The Germans never knew what hit them. I calculate over 60 percent of our kills happened this way. Also, if you increased speed in the Spitfire and Hurricane, you could ease the rudder and trimmer. The 109 had no rudder trim. So the pilot was continuously working against the rudder to catch up speed, and you are bound to make slight mistakes and ruin your sighting. I saw many examples of this. The 109 had an offset to the right gun sight. One of the reasons for this is the plane seemed to always pull to the left as soon as you fired. They seemed to think this then moved the gun sight onto the target as it jerked over. Our tests showed the nose cannon mainly caused this. Our pilots saw numerous times when the 109’s missed an easy target because they were constantly fighting the rudder and missing aim. You couldn’t be an average shot in the 109 you had to be virtually so close a burst would hit something. Another problem that the 109 had was that it could not follow in a steep turn when using lots of power. If so, it would get into your slipstream, and he has these slats on the wings of his aircraft, these would tend to come out and snatch as the airspeed varies. And in these turns when the slats open and close unevenly, a rocking motion develops that ruins your shooting in addition to the nose jerking about. Another tip we learned is to dive as fast as you can. The Spitfire and Hurricane had a very effective elevator and could pull out of a dive. At 400mph, the elevators of a 109 locked solid and the plane would hurtle into the ground. I can’t count the number of German pilots I saw this happen to. So this was a good manoeuvre against the 109 we used very effectively. On the ground, taking off and taxing it was an unstable beast. Huge motor, in a long nose balanced on two ping pong balls, ridiculous design that cost the Krauts many pilots.”

“Once it was in the air is was very manoeuvrable but unforgiving. We learnt quickly and tried to teach new pilots never follow a Spitfire or Hurricane down in a dive, if the slats lock in their slipstream you’ll most likely die and be unable to pull up. It speeded up very fast, if you dived a little but you must work the rudder all the time. They did this to get away, we’d dive at them, they’d dive for the ground, you had half a second to get a shot off. Often we’d be circling high; they’d be circling low beneath us, trying to bait us to dive down. Over France our side had the advantage and waited till their fuel got short. During the Channel battle they had the advantage because the 109’s had only 15 minutes of combat fuel. Extra fuel tanks were unheard of and experimental. You had to get right on your target. It didn’t aim well because with speed the wing slats opened and threw off your aim. Also the big nose cannon pushed it to the left. I waited till my target filled the windscreen; you had maybe a second or two of firing then pull up or roll away. Many pilots died crashing into their targets too focused on firing. You could pull out of a spin but you worked at it. The major problem occurred during take-off. It had a strong engine, and a small, narrow-track undercarriage. If you took off too fast it would turn [roll] ninety degrees. The Russians would catch us on the ground taking off. You’d couldn’t speed up or go over. They hit us many times like this; this is why we staggered the planes over the place so if one went over the others could get up. We lost so many pilots in takeoffs. I lost 4 in one day – one very experienced, in the whole war it was the only time I felt like weeping.”
In 1941 aged 19, Erich Hartman joined the Luftwaffe being posted to the Eastern Front where he quickly claimed increasing number of victories. Proud of the fact he never lost a wingman he claimed 352 aerial kills. At wars end, Hartmann was deported to Siberia where he was sentenced to 50 years hard labour. Released in 1955, he joined the newly-established West German Luftwaffe. He died in 1993.

for more on the 109 ..comments and facts go to:

http://www.virtualpilots.fi/feature/articles/109myths/