FLY THE PLANE -- by Donald C. Toye

We arrived via the Southern route in our brand new B-24J at the Wales staging area for the Eighth Air Force a few days after New Years of 1944. Our crew consisted of ten men, four of them officers and six sergeants. I was Jack Farmer's copilot.

Our new baby with the nose turret was taken from us there and we were sent to Belfast to train in the old B-24H greenhouse models. In a few weeks we were sent by train to Tibenham Field near Norwich and became a part of the 445th Bomb Group. Our crew was assigned to the 703rd Squadron led by Captain Jimmy Stewart, the movie actor. Nearly all of Tibenham's ships were the "H" greenhouse models. Jimmy flew in "Nine Yanks and a Jerk" mostly and we inherited his ship for several missions after his transfer to the 453rd.

On our seventh mission to Munich we flew a ship named "Tenofus" and were shot down by an ME-109 over Luxembourg. Our tail gunner shot down the Messerschmitt, our one and only kill.

Jack Farmer was an excellent pilot so I didn't mind being second in command. Other than piloting to relieve him occasionally, all I had to do was monitor the manifold pressure and engine speed instruments and toggle the flaps and trim tabs at Jack's command. I also took over most of the intercom talk with the crew, especially to notify them when the altimeter read 10,000 feet, so they could douse their cigarettes and put on their oxygen masks for higher altitude. Being a smoker myself, I took this exalted duty seriously.

Another of my jobs was to monitor the VHF (Very High Frequency) channel for any unusual changes from headquarters, such as weather problems or scrubbing the mission. An unstated duty, in case of injury to one of our gunners, was to leave my seat to administer first aid.

Our two additional officers, a navigator and a bombardier, along with a crew of six staff sergeant gunners, we trusted implicitly. The flight engineer sergeant, along with his top turret duties, transferred fuel from auxiliary to main tanks, raised and lowered the landing gear and generally monitored any mechanical problems. One sergeant was the radio man. Two sergeants had to be small enough to crawl into the tail and belly turrets. The other two were stand-up waist gunners. In all, we had ten 50 caliber machine guns.

Oxygen fed through the face masks was supplied by a central system, as was power for electrically heating our flying suits. Fleece-lined clothing, including boots, were worn over the suits. Parachutes were the chest pack type, so they could be laid aside to prevent work hindrance. Each of us carried GI shoes to replace the electric suit slippers in case of a bail out. Uncle Sugar had thought of virtually everything for us except foolproof protection from ack ack and the Luftwaffe. I considered the copilot's job a soft touch, along side those of the rest of the crew.

BRIEF BIO:

Roy E. Darby was born on August 11, 1924 in Pasadena, CA. While he was still just 17 years old he enlisted in the Army Air Corps. He went through Basic Flight Training in the Douglas A-2 at Minter Field in Bakersfield, CA. His major theater of wartime operations was in Europe (ETO), from June to December 1944, with the 491st Bomb Group 852nd Bombing Squadron, based in North Pickenham, England. He flew a total of 35 combat missions.

Roy returned to the states in February, 1945, met his wife-to-be in March and married her on August 19th of that year, in Las Vegas, Nevada. They have two children, Tamara and Sandra.

Roy was released from active duty in Marysville, CA, in 1947, with the rank of Captain. He continued to fly in the reserves, in New York, Ohio, New Jersey and California, for another eleven years. In 1958 he finally resigned from the Reserves, still with the rank of Captain.

In 1993 Roy and family moved to the Roseburg, OR, area. Not long after he formed the Southern Oregon Warbirds Association. After the tragic death of a member of the Warbirds, war hero General Marion Carl, Roy was instrumental in renaming the Roseburg airport "Marion Carl Memorial Field" and in raising the funding for a Carl memorial on the airport site. He also was largely responsible for establishment of Southern Oregon Warbirds, Inc., a non-profit corporation with the objective to establish a youth educational facility, to include classrooms, a library and an aeronautics and aerospace museum.

Little more need be said of a man than to note that it is very important to carry on his work and that it may well take several good men to fulfill his role.

HIS STORY:

ROY'S CREW:

Replacement Crew R-21, 491st BG, 852nd BS
Metfield/North Pickenham:

Pilot Ralph Hoehn
Co-Pilot Roy Darby
Navigator Bob Wright / Ed Walsh / Tim Dunn
Bombardier Halbert Frank
Crew Chief Claiborne Heimandollar
Radio Julius Korta (Deceased)
Tail Gunner Robert L Bauder (Deceased)
Waist Gunner Paul Gronmeyer (Deceased)
Waist Gunner O.A. Bankston
Nose Gunner Hari Croy

ROY'S STORY:

We formed for staging at March Air Force Base, Riverside, California. The crew seemed to jell-up under the strong leadership of Ralph Hoehn. We were serious minded and did our jobs well, for we would soon to be in combat.

The Hoehn crew and many others from March Air Base left mid-May, 1944, bound for the War zone in England. The first leg was by troop train to Boston. Roy and Ralph were invited to ride in the old steam engine somewhere in Ohio from one stop to the next. What a thrill to sit on the engineers lap and pull the johnson bar. We ran that train!

We departed from Staunton, Massachusetts, for the Atlantic crossing, on the Nieu Amsterdam . The ship was filled to capacity and more. The troops were in the lower decks and Nurses and female troops were on the top decks, with barbed wire fencing all around. (To keep them in!). We were in between. Our assigned duty was to go below and keep order among the troops enroute. What a job for hot rock flyers. The last two days out we were called to watch on the top decks for enemy aircraft. None were spotted. We docked at Liverpool and were assigned to a crew replacement center nearby. It was late May, our temporary duty while we awaited assignment was to censor the mail. We got some liberty at night to go to town, for some fun.

Finally, after a few days in Northern Ireland for navigation classes, we were sent to the 491st BG at Metfield. We arrived late in June. July 15, 1944 the Bomb Dump blew up. We were knocked to the ground by the huge blast. No mistake, we were in a War Zone!

The following are highlights from missions, in the late summer and fall of 1944:

St Lo - July 24
This turned out to be our first mission. The weather over the target area was poor so no bombs were dropped. We had heavy flack and our #2 and #3 engines started to lose oil pressure, followed by raising cylinder temps. We feathered #2 and then #3. Then we lost our radio compass. Metfield was closed in by a heavy overcast but a good buddy moved in on us and we tacked on for a ride through the clouds. We landed in formation, wet with sweat from head to toe.

Ludigshaven - July 31
Target was the Chemical plant. This was a heavily defended area and the flak was accurate. We took a hit in the top turret ( the burst had to be above us) Helmandollar was hit in his eye with broken plexiglass from his turret. We treated the eye the best we could after we passed the flak zone. We completed the run and our bombs appeared to be on target. Helmandollar was released from the hospital aid returned to duty with no loss of sight - thank God!

Rouen - August 1, 1944
This target was oil storage tanks. We flew very tight formation, stepped down in several layers and with overlapping wings. The 491st was known for flying tight. The formation was planned to put maximum fire power on the incoming fighters. We had a ratio of 16 guns to one when the formations were held tight. By staying on your spot you increased your chances of survival. The enemy often tried to dive through the formations in an attempt to spread us out. It was a game of chicken but we won most of the time. On a few occasions we spread in panic when an aircraft on our wing or nearby was hit. On one mission the Me's hit our lead aircraft head on playing chicken.

Wesmer (East Of Kiel) - Aug. 4
This target was on the North Sea so our run in was over water, meaning no flak until we reach the target area. Once we set up for the bomb run at the IP the point at which the bombing run begins) we went into a flat formation. We could not bomb from our defensive box formation because aircraft would be below us. In the flat bombing formation we were very vulnerable to fighter attack but because flak was most always heaviest from the IP to "Bombs away", enemy fighters were usually not deployed. On this run fighters appeared and the battle was on. Thank God for our Little Friends in the Mustangs! The encounter was short and we were not hit. The radio always went crazy with battle talk "11 o'clock - look out at 4 o'clock" and so on. It seemed like hours but it was only moments.

Heading home to England we encountered a B-24 with Red /White tail markings. They began to close on us as if they wanted to get into formation. We were warned that the Nazi had repaired some downed B-24s and B-17s. We tried to make radio contact and tried to signal by hand - no response. Tough as it was we called for our gunners to prepare to fire. We were badly torn, could this be our guys in trouble and not able to communicate? Yet the aircraft was running on all four engines, with no visible damage. A grim decision was made - if they got within range, fire!! They moved off. Guess we will never know the answer to that one - were they Nazi or were they our buddies?

We learned upon landing that our good buddy Marshall Field (MUSH) was hit over France. Six chutes were counted at about 10,000 ft. Mush is alive and well today, he operates a cattle feeder lot in Washington State.

Our good friend and Navigator Bob Wright was transferred to the Eckart crew. We were really close and it seemed unfair to do this, we trained and came over together. We know that war required us to do whatever was necessary but we missed Bob.

Hamburg - August 6
Our target was the oil refiner y. We saw a B-24 on fire and going down, then it exploded. Chutes started to appear and we tried to count but we couldn't be sure how many. The suspense was gut wrenching, we knew that this could happen to us, it was only a matter of luck. The target weather was clear and the bomb pattern was on target and tight. We came out of the heavy flak zone without damage to our bird.

Doulon - August 7
This was not one of our better days. We encountered the usual flak on the run from the IP but our formation was not good. The lead did not drop and ordered us back around for a second try. This time we got it done and our drop was on the target. We all dropped on the command of the lead aircraft, which let the whole squadron release in one bomb pattern rather than each aircraft dropping on an individual run. Experience proved this to be more effective.

Pass to London - August 9-12
I celebrated my 20th Birthday, August 11, 1944, in London town. London can be very friendly especially to Air Corps people. They did indeed make my birthday one to remember (the females in particular). When we faced the unfaceable of Air combat and got a small reprieve in London we lived for every moment. We clearly saw that we could be a part of history in a split second of bad luck. We returned to duty with a fresh-start feeling.

Lyon - August 14
This target was an airfield deep in southeast France. The mission flight time was 8 hours, which was a stretch on the fuel supply and required better fuel management. We were not as precise in formation so that we would not be adjusting throttle as much. Once in the target area we again tightened up.
The weather was clear enough that we were able to see the Alps to the east. On the bombing run we got four AA bursts so close that they flashed red fire as they exploded. We received several holes in the B-24 from the shrapnel. Our good fortune held, the damage was not vital and missed all personnel.

The 491st Bomb Group moved to a new base at North Pickenham. The 492 BG, which occupied North Pick, was decommissioned. Rumor had it that the group suffered heavy losses due to some sort of vendetta of the Luftwaffe as result of an incident involving a B-24 surrounded by Me's. The B-24 dropped it's landing gear as a surrender sign then opened fire on the escort. Their tail colors were black with a white stripe. We did not wear those colors, thank God.

Scherwin - August 25
I was left to sweat this one as Ralph and the crew broke in a new Pilot whose crew had just joined the 491st. The mission was a rough one, with the 491st flying lead group for the 8th Air Force. The mission was another 8-hour trip. Fighters attacked the group and Ralph had a run away turbo, with the cylinder head temperature reaching 295 degrees. They got it under control. Cain, the new pilot got a real indoctrination. The 852nd bomb strike pattern was 100% within 1000 ft. Staying behind was almost worse than being on the mission. You got very close to your crew buddies and I think I would have felt real guilt if anything had happened to them while I was home on the ground. I was, of course, on the flight line waiting and watching, with all the others who were there for every mission. They to want to see every B-24 come home.

Ruhr Valley - August 26
It was great to be back together on the crew. The target was an oil dump. The 852nd laid down another near perfect pattern. Strange sounding, but we seemed to be feeling that we were going to make it through to the end of our 35 missions, we began to feel untouchable. This was a defense mechanism that others had as well. Without it you had nothing to look forward to.

Karlesruhe - September 5
The mission was 9 hours in heavy weather conditions. This time we got a bomb drop in spite of the conditions. Weather was a tough enemy itself because we were in mass formation and it was dangerous to have poor visibility, particularity when we were forming over England. The feeling of encountering prop wash while in thick clouds was sometimes sheer terror for you knew that as many as 1,000 aircraft were somewhere near you. A small miscalculation and you would meet. We even formed groups so close together that it seemed a miracle that no aircraft collided.

Karlesruhe - September 8
We were ordered back to Karlesruhe. Mission time was 8 hours 15 minutes, climbing through the overcast to 26,700 feet then down to 25,000 feet for the drop. This was another real sweat mission because the weather was so rough. We could not tell how effective our strike pattern was but we hoped for a good one. Our wingman, McClung, was killed by flak.

Hanover - September 11
This day we encountered the heaviest flak yet, and 7 Me-109s attacked our low squadron. Our gunners Gronmeyer and Bauder fired and felt that they got hits on two fighters that were downed. The hits were credited to another crew. Heavy flak took its toll on our nerves but it was our duty to put those bombs on target no matter the consequences, and we strove to do that.

Hanover - September 12
The battle over Hanover continued. The flak was so fierce that we couldn't keep our attention on the two B-24's that were hit. One exploded, the Sparrow crew, and another was smoking out of two engines. The latter turned out to be the Eckhart crew with our original navigator, Bob Wright, aboard. We didn't know their fate as we headed for home. We all knew Bob's girl Joanne from our days at March field - in fact Joanne had stayed at my folks home for a while. The flak was so close that we felt the concussions, and dust raised from the metal hull of the B-24. We felt grateful to have been spared and yet we had to write and try to explain to Joanne what happened. A tough letter to write. We packed Bob's belongings and sent them, together with his bike, for shipment home. We were clearly shook, for this was close to home and chipped away at our invulnerability theory

Promotions! Medals! - September 16
All crew officers were given promotions to First Lieutenant. Ralph Hoehn, Roy Darby, Hal Frank and Ed Walsh. We were presented our first Air Medal, by General Leon Johnson Commander of the 14th Air Wing. What a lift, the General was a legend in his own time.

Low level briefing! - September 17
We were assigned to a very special mission which required several days of practice for flying formation at minimum altitude. Were we dreaming? This was every pilot's dream to fly legal on the deck. We soon saw the wisdom of the drill because formation on the deck was very different from at altitude. Straight ahead was fine, but in turns the inside man had to reduce throttle and slide under to compensate for the shorter route on the inside of the arc. So our leaders had to fly at greater speed to avoid forcing the inside man into a stall. We had a couple of hairy turns, but once we got it right we had an absolute ball flying low over the wartime English countryside, and a few startled towns.

Arnheim - September 18
We were briefed for a low level mission to Belgium! Allied troops moving too fast were caught in a perimeter with Nazi troops all around them. We were to fly in formation at wave top level over the English channel, up the Zuider Zee to a designated turn point marked by a smoke marker, then on the deck to a second marker where we were to pull up to slow the plane to 150 mph, at which point the load would be dropped. Some of our crew were left behind so that a load specialist could be aboard to handle the drop. After the drop it was every man for himself getting back to the safety of the Channel and home. Sounded doable. We would be low enough to avoid the big guns so it was expected to be a snap.

The trip over the channel was in fact exciting. We were not used to the low flying so it was an experience. The trip up the Zuider Zee was also exciting, looking up at windmills was not what we usually did. The final turn brought us into the defended area and every gun on the ground was firing, with bullets coming from everywhere. The small arms fire was effective, we watched our lead plane (Capt. Hunter) drop its nose and dive into the ground, as if Hunter had been hit. No chance of survival, the B-24 broke up on impact. We took 10 holes in our plane, our #3 engine started to smoke from a shot-out oil line. Cain, Scamm, Bridges, Meglitech and Stahl, all 852 Squadron, made it through the drop zone. Bridges crashed and burned, Cain went down in Belgium. Meglitech, Stahl ( with bent landing gear) and we all made it back to North Pick with no casualties. The reality of small arms fire set in on us. What looked like an easy mission turned out to be as rough as it got.

Kassel - September 22
We were assigned the deputy lead spot. The weather was good, the target was a tank depot. We were now running the flak alley as though they couldn't take us down. We just seemed to take on the odds knowing we'll win, you could feel it from every crewman. Though the flak was heavy and accurate we got a good bomb strike.

Hanun - September 26
We were on stand down, which meant that it was ok to do a little playing around knowing that the crew would not be called for the next day's mission. We went to Norwich for a few beers and some night life and returned late, maybe 12 am or later. At 3:00 AM CQ called for us. We all said no way, we were stand down, go away! But they said "We want Darby, he is going to fly! This is a makeup mission and the general wants a pilot-observer in the tail turret!"

Up and at 'em it was, hangover or no hangover. So I went forth to be the observer for the Division lead. The briefing was rough but the first bit of oxygen wisely offered by the other gunners soon cleared my head and so I saw my first combat from the tail - a very different view than from the cockpit. Looking back from that position at the formations was a sight to behold! As we reached the combat zones the P -51's started their S turns as they watched from 30,000 feet and sent a feeling of comfort to the bombers. As we reached the target area the sky started to cover with flak bursts. I could fire the tail guns if I had to but preferred not to have to defend against an attack.

My appreciation for the guys who flew the tail and the waist positions grew. This was a different kind of warfare, the open windows at 50 below zero were dangerous. To fight from there takes some real courage. One hit to an oxygen line or electric line and these guys were in some real trouble, without a place to go until the mission let down on the way home. The General asked me for information on the group positions, then checked to see if his commands had been carried out. I started to feel a part of the big command, and understood some of the problems faced by the lead. That was a day for me to remember. I felt honored to have been called for the assignment.

Kassel - September 27
The drop was an instrument drop called a PFF controlled bomb sighting, to be used for weather restricted targets, a new technology. Our take off and climb to formation were routine, and the formation climb to altitude went as planned. We heard the combat communications squeal from the group following us as they fought off an enemy fighter attack. Suddenly, reports of "incoming fighters" and "aircraft on fire" rang out! Parachutes were spotted, it was a rough attack, from what we could hear, and we instinctively tightened our formation. This was our best chance to survive should the attack reach us. We could not run from it we just had to stay put and pray for fighter cover, and hold our positions so the enemy could not spread us out and get an advantage. The little friends arrived and broke up the attack. The enemy doesn't stay to duke it out, as if they have orders to hit and run. Thank God for our little friends.

Koln - October 14
We were assigned to lead the squadron. The mission was another PFF drop. We were finding the missions to be routine with the exception of the flak zone from the IP, which seemed more concentrated on every mission. It was as though the Germans were concentrating more on the Ack Ack defense than the fighter attacks. We picked up several flak holes but again no injuries to our crew.

Koln - October 15
Another PFF mission. The target was the Ford factory. We chose the alternate target but Hal, our bombardier, felt we could have hit the primary. The run could have been visual but I guess that once on the PFF its impractical to go visual. We were hit on the starboard wing leading edge, the hole was about a foot square. We counted 15 holes in all. The radio was knocked out. The blasts were so close that we saw dust again inside the plane. When you saw dust you knew you had a close call -- the shell burst within 15 yards of the aircraft, maybe closer.

Weather Stand down - October 16-21
During the stand down we "slow timed" #3 engine on Jesebel. We were cleared into the night-time sky over war-time England. It takes several hours to break in a new engine so we flew north, then south for several hours out over the sea south of the English island, then headed back for North Pick. We experienced the odd feeling of standing still. Walsh our navigator confirmed that we were headed into severe head winds that indeed nullified our forward speed. Our fuel was somewhat on the borderline so an innocent situation suddenly turned serious. We decided to lower our altitude on the theory that we might catch a better wind velocity. We were correct, and got home to fly another day.

Bielefeld - November 2
The target was another viaduct. Our load was again 2,000 lb concrete piercing bombs. Our escort got into a fight with Me-109s and FW-190s. We saw one P-51 going down. The fight didn't get to us so we proceeded to target and got an excellent hit.

Minden - November 6
We were ordered back after the canal. We made a PFF run (getting to be very common) and the results seemed to improve. So then we could go in even in bad weather and make a good strike. We were spared any flak on this target. We did see a strange sight, that turned out to be a Nazi rocket in flight. This was our first such sighting and set off much speculation. We reported the sighting at the debriefing.

Hamburg - November 21
This mission was part PFF and part visual. The bomb run got all screwed up. What a rough day. The flak was intense but we were spared. Cliffs got hit, on his last mission.

Misburg - November 26
This was my last make up mission in order to finish up at the same time as the rest of the crew. My assignment was with a crew in the 855th Squadron. This turned out to be the roughest mission of them all. The tower log of the 491st reads as follows:

Aircraft on target : 28
Bomb sighting: Visual
Aircraft lost: 15
Mission time: 6hrs 14 minutes
0530: Briefing
0855: 30 aircraft off on operations
0904: 194 I off to join formation
1012: 162 A+ (Johnson) aborted with gas leak in transfer system
1129: 341 W (Schmitt) aborted - no radio
1440: L (Greer) landed with 2 flat tires and blocked two runways, stopping at 01-06 intersection.
1502: L 13 aircraft landed from operations. 5 aircraft had 4 wounded and 1 dead aboard. 16 aircraft unaccounted for which includes: 534 B, Eckland; 485 K, Butler; 117 J Weitz; 530 F, Stewart; 205-G, Moore; 073 B, Bennet; 212 I, Cloughley; 160 O Budd; 464,Stevens; 884,Hite; 271 K, Muese; 253 R, Warczak; 108 A,Vokovich; 007 S +, Wynn.
1615:Aircraft 610 I (Lanning) crashed at station B-24 in Brussels, pilot and 3 crew members bailed out. Rest of crew unaccounted for.

The battle started with the radio alarm that a large group of enemy fighters were sighted ahead of the group! Our P-51s dropped tanks and took off for the sighted enemy, which brought my heart into my throat. The sight of fuel tanks trailing down meant big time trouble! We instinctively tightened our formation. Since the D-day invasion we had not had massive fighter attacks, so it was a surprise to hear the numbers reported, 70 enemy fighters. But they were up ahead and our guys would take care of them, I told myself. Within minutes the radio rang out - fighters were hitting the high squadron. There was a lot of yelling and screaming, we heard the battle behind us. What could we do, what could I do? There were planes going down all around us - two, three, one exploded. Fighters coming in from all clock positions.

So there I was, with a crew I had just met that day. I thought, if I have to be in something like this I wish it was with my own crew. I knew that our gunners were good, they were the best. But there I was, almost done with my missions and I caught this kind of trouble. I thought about home, my mother, how she would take this.

The radio continued to chatter. The high squadron was all gone, all shot out of the air in a few minutes. Then the low squadron got hit -- the same sounds of terror as the overwhelming fighter force took its toll, and our fighters were drawn off. We were alone! We continued on the bomb run, we wanted to get that refinery. Even in the horror of the battle we continued as an organized squadron. A bomber flight deck crew had only one choice, to fly that formation as tight as possible and rely on the gunners.

The low squadron lost all but four aircraft, our lead slowed our speed so they could form on us, together we had more fire power. I could feel the fighter attack getting closer and I wondered if this was going to be it, the one I always knew could happen. Death or capture. As we reached the target the fighter attack subsided and the flak bursts appeared. We dropped the load for a fair strike on the oil refinery and then scrambled to rejoin the main group ahead. We were tail end charlie on the run. Even these many years later I can remember the feeling of absolute terror, knowing just how close we came to being ripped apart by the fighters, as had so many of our aircraft. In such a time the obligation to all who depend on you, and faith in God, keep you going.

The trip back was almost silent. my crew buddies were there to meet the returning planes. I was so happy to be back with my own crew. We now had just two more to finish the tour of duty. The 491st BG was cited for a Presidential Unit Citation for the Misburg mission, and all 491st personal were entitled to proudly wear it.

Bielefeld - December 6
Marshalling yards again. The route in took us over Minden, a little off course and we caught some of the most intense and accurate flak we could remember. We took hits in our #1 and #2 engines and with less than 20 inches manifold pressure on the two starboard engines we had trouble all the way home. But we were home and it was over, our tour was over. Soon after we would be heading home for some R&R and to see our loved ones and to get married and all that stuff!

EPILOGUE

And, in fact, Roy returned to the states in February, 1945, met his wife-to-be in March and married her on August 19th of that year, in Las Vegas, Nevada. He was released from active duty in Marysville, CA, in 1947. Roy continued to fly in the reserves, in New York, Ohio, New Jersey and California, for another eleven years. In 1958 he finally resigned from the Reserves, with the rank of Captain. Roy and Faye had two children, Tamara and Sandra.

In 1993 Roy and family moved to the Roseburg, OR, area. Not long after he formed the Southern Oregon Warbirds Association. After the tragic death of a member of the Warbirds, war hero General Marion Carl, Roy was instrumental in renaming the Roseburg airport "Marion Carl Memorial Field" and in raising the funding for a Carl memorial on the airport site. He also was largely responsible for establishment of Southern Oregon Warbirds.

Roy died on April 6, 1999, not long after writing his story. He will be sorely missed by his family, his friends, his community, and especially by his creation, the Southern Oregon Warbirds.

GEORGE R. INSLEY

BRIEF BIO:

George R. Insley was born on April 25, 1922 in Roseburg, OR. When he was just 20 years old he enlisted in the Army Air Corps. He went through Preflight School at Kelly Field, TX; Primary Flight Training in the PT-19 in Corcicana, TX; Basic Flight Training in the BT-13 in Sherman / Dennison, TX; Advanced Training in the AT-9E / AT-10 at Lackland AAC in Waco, TX; and B-24 Transitional Training in Roswell, NM. His major theater of wartime operations was in Europe (ETO), from September 1943 to July 1945, with the 66th and 506th Squadrons, 44th Bomb Group, 2nd Air Division, 8th Air Force, based in Shipdon, England. He flew a total of 48 combat missions and was awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross with one star and 8 Air Medals.

George was released from active duty in January 1950 at Fort Lewis, WS, with the rank of Captain. On September 24, 1958 he married Jeanne Forrer in Pucallpa, Peru. They have three children, James, Johanna and Christina.

HIS STORY:

First Combat Mission

The 10th of Oct. 1943 will live with me forever. As I looked at my gages, I saw that all four engines were dead and the altimeter was unwinding. I rang the ditching bell. It looked a long cold swim over the North Sea and that water is COLD. But I am getting ahead of my story.

It was mid-Aug 1943 when we first arrived at the 44th Bomb Group, 66th Bomb Squadron, in Shipdon, England. We had been ordered to go to Kansas to pick up a B-24D and fly it to England, but that is another story. At Shipdon we were sent to combat training for a couple of weeks. When we returned, we found that most of the groups had gone to Africa to do some missions with the 15th Air Force, and it was during this time that we were sent on our first mission.

We were rudely awakened by a loud knock on our door and a shout "Insley's crew is scheduled for a mission, breakfast is ready and briefing is in one hour." We were shocked at the news but we dressed quickly and headed out to a breakfast of scrambled powdered eggs and cereal with powdered milk. In the briefing room we sat with five other new crews awaiting to be briefed. The target, in Poland, was a German battleship. We were to join forces with another group for our "baptism of fire."

My position in the formation was low left and last, in "Purple Heart Corner." It was a long mission. I recorded 9:50 hours of flight time. We took off and climbed to our staging area and joined the formation. The route took us over the North Sea, crossing Denmark and flying on to Poland. As we approached Denmark, the antiaircraft gunners were waiting for us. They were putting up a wall for us to fly through, a giant black cloud. Every thing was new, unknown and scary. As soon as I saw the flak, my feet were dancing on the rudder pedals and I was all over the sky (who me? Scared? -- never!), yet I was trying to stay in formation. The way I was flying the fighters couldn't have hit me if they tried, and they were going to try.

Well we flew through those black clouds and onto Poland. We climbed up to our assigned altitude and began our bomb run. The flak was large caliber, bigger explosions, blacker smoke, and right at our altitude. They were putting it right in front of me. The shells exploded and instantly the plane hit the smoke, and what a noise the explosions made. It was many missions after this one before I heard flak again though we had it on every mission. Those gunners on the battleship were really top notch.

Keep calm, cool and collected, fly straight and level -- and here I was flying all over the sky, due to my fright. Those combat orientation lectures didn't sound like this. We had already experienced our first flak, our first sound of flak explosions. "Twin engine fighters at eight o'clock level," and they came boring in. They keep attacking till they ran out of ammo. They left but returned after they had refueled and filled up on ammo. Those twin engine fighters kept attacking our element. They were black so we presumed that they were night fighters, and fortunately they were not overly aggressive. Possibly they were students and this was there first mission as well.

There we were, two groups, one a B-17 group and one a B-24. When the fighters showed up the B-24 leader slid our formation in under the B-17 group, for more protection as well as for more defense against the fighters. So where did they attack? Yes right in my corner, low left and last. You can see why they called it Purple Heart Corner. My tail gunner, George Federlin shot up all of his ammo and the waist gunner took more ammo to him. The fighters shot up all of their ammo and landed, refueled, and reloaded and came up again to have another go at us. I didn't see any fighters go down nor did we lose any planes, though I saw one engine with a little smoke from something damaged.

About 50 miles west of Denmark the fighters headed back to their base. I felt the ship yaw and I saw the fuel pressure of number four engine drop to zero. I feathered it and called over the intercom, but then the pressure dropped in number three engine, and I quickly feathered that one. Then engines one, and two dropped off -- it sure was quiet, but every one was busy. I rang the emergency bell, and the engineer dropped out of the top turret into the bomb bay. He found the radio operator there, who just pointed at the fuel shut off valves. The engineer turned those valves on and we had power again. We were going down at 1500-2000 feet per minute and it looked like it was going to be a cold swim.

What happened? The engineer had been transferring fuel when the fighters attacked. After they left us, the engineer asked the radio operator to shut off the transfer pumps, instead he closed the fuel shut off valves. Thankfully we didn't have to try our life rafts. We never did catch up with the rest of the formation.
That was the first mission of the 48 that we flew in the 20 months we were in England, I sure am glad that they weren't all like this one.

25th Mission
I was assigned number two of the 14th wing lead. As we approached the target, a large group of German fighters dropped out of the overcast directly in front of our formation. I had always said I wouldn't be a sitting duck, so I began slight "S" turns, so the enemy plane would have to change positions to get my ship lined up, for him to hit me with his cannon shells. I could look and see down the gun barrels of this one 109 and I thought, "That guy is going to shoot!" I immediately pushed the nose down and dropped about 20 feet. As I looked back at the leader I saw a stream of 20mm shells exploding where I had been. The leader had a large cannon hole in his right wing and his number one engine was dead. The number three plane's wing was enveloped in flames. As the plane began to roll to the left, I saw several people bailing out, then the plane exploded. One pass and the fighters had knocked down and damaged over a dozen B-24s.

The next day a mission was planned but it was scrubbed because the planes were so badly damaged that repairs had not been completed and new ships hadn't been delivered. In our squadron my plane was the only one not damaged, for which I thank God for my protection.

First Bomb Drop on Instruments
Weather has always been a problem in bombing. Unless we had a visual sight of our target, we were unable to drop bombs accurately, to bomb a specific target you had to see it. A couple of types of blind bombing techniques were developed. "Gee" was a radio signal sent from two different locations (similar to Loran). The receiver in the plane told the navigator his location and when those two signals crossed he would drop our bombs. They were also experimenting with radar. One of these systems was installed in a special B-17, which gave it the ability and the instrumentation to see the target through an overcast.

One of those particular B-17's was our lead ship on this mission. It was flying empty, to be able to fly at the B-24s normal speed. I was a squadron leader of 12 planes. After we turned at the IP (initial point where the squadrons flew in line of a trail behind the group leader, to enable smaller, more accurate bombing patterns), we flew on a direct heading to the target. However, the lead ship overflew the target, evidently not seeing it, and kept going and going without dropping any smoke bomb to indicate the target. Normally we would drop our bombs on that signal. Finally we visually saw through a break in the clouds a large lake and a piece of land, (later identified as Lake Constance, which was on the German-Swiss border), way south of the target. The lead ship had flown approximately 30 minutes beyond the target.

The B-17 turned North over the lake for home so we decided to drop our bombs on a target of opportunity. As we flew north, the clouds were breaking up below us and a river with a town became visible. So the bombardier picked out a target and dropped our bombs. Confusion had reigned after the leader could not find the target, causing problems for the navigators. Unfortunately it turned out that we had bombed a Swiss border town, much to our regret. We were carrying incendiary bombs or more destruction would have been seen.

Bombing Lake Constance
We were heading to Lake Constance to bomb a target in this German town (Fredrickshaven I believe it was called). Our leader lined up on the target and flew over the town but didn't drop the bombs, because other planes were bombing at a lower altitude. So the leader did a big circuit for a second run. All the time there were heavy flak and enemy fighters making passes at the formation. Group planes were taking a lot of hits. Eleven planes were lost. Many planes were hit badly enough that they felt that they wouldn't make England, so choose Switzerland and a chance for another day. Needless to say we were not very happy with a second bomb run.

This was also the first time we had seen P-38 fighters. They must have come up from Italy. They made passes at the German fighters but kept close to our formations all of the time. They were not overly aggressive on making kills of the German fighters. They might also have been from England and were on their first flights.

Flak Vests
Flak vests were special overlaid pieces of tempered steel covered with cloth to keep flak fragments from injuring a crew member in the upper body.

On one particular day I was flying group lead, and Major Spencer Hunn was command pilot of our group. Our target was in the Munster area. Spencer was watching out the left side window, by the radio man's desk, watching another group bomb their target. I heard someone say on our intercom "I'm hit." I turned to look at the crew on the flight deck and I saw Spencer laying on his back with his head against the throttle quadrant, clutching his stomach. I told the radio operator to see how badly he was hurt. Spencer didn't want to remove his flak vest, because we were still getting flak, but he finally did. The flak had hit him in the belly, gone through the flak vest, through all of his clothes, and had come to rest on his tee shirt. He wasn't hurt, just a badly bruised stomach. The flak vest sure was a mess but it saved his life. He had been knocked back about 8ft. Spencer was a believer in flak vests, I wonder if he got to keep it as a souvenir?

Acid Fuses
The tail and nose bomb fuses were put in at the time the bombs were loaded. I believe they were Mercury Fulminate. They had a propeller that spun off as the bombs were dropping. That would arm them so upon impact they would explode. Or they were time delayed so that upon hitting a roof of a factory (etc.) they were delayed until they entered the factory floor before exploding, thus causing more damage. For example with a contact explosion the metal roof of a hangar might get blown off but the equipment inside the hangar might hardly be damaged.

Ordnance had now come out with a new type of bomb fuses for our bomb. These were acid filled. Upon impact the acid would begin to attack the separator. When it ate through the separator, it would explode. Most of these types were delayed 4, 8, 12, 24, or even 48 hours. This caused the enemy problems as a bomb that hadn't exploded on impact had to be removed before clean up could begin or people return to their work or their homes. Also, these were made tamper-resistant. If there was an attempt to remove the bomb it would explode.

My ship was one of four in the squadron that had these new bombs. Great, no big deal, I thought. We took off and headed off with the formation as scheduled. Then the mission was scrubbed due to bad weather so we returned to base. I made a VERY SMOOTH LANDING. A guard was put on the plane for the night so no one would tamper with these fuses. The next day we were again briefed on targets. Grabbing a truck, we went out to the plane. While we were waiting something in the bomb bay went "pop" and a little plate dropped to the ground with a "ting," and continue to move in a small circle till it lost motion. The engineer Rudy Jandreau walked over, picked it up, and called out, "Hey fellows its one of those new fuses! Swish -- people were scrambling to get away and Rudy was just roaring with laughter. It was a broken oxygen regulator, not a fuse. The crew was about ready to string Rudy up for his unplanned joke.

Again we took off for the mission, with the same bombs aboard, and again the mission was scrubbed. I flew back to base and again made a BEAUTIFUL LANDING. Now a little thought came into my head--what if the acid was working, eating up the metal. On the third day we headed out, flying to the coast, and for the 3rd time the mission was scrubbed due to bad weather over our target area. I radioed for, and got permission to drop the bombs in the North Sea. No more sweat!

Navigator flak spotting
Can flying in combat be fun?--- Even with flak? My Navigator Milton Finestein, made a game of it even though he didn't like flak any more than the rest of the crew. He was burned across the hand one day by a stray piece. When the crew reported flak, Milton would get on his knees, but it wasn't to pray. He would search the ground to see the next firing of a barrage of AA guns. It took about 20-25 seconds for the shells to travel up to our altitude, which was usually around 24-25,000 feet. As soon as Finestein saw the cannons fired, he would call on intercom saying, "Move George" and I would move five or ten degrees. Usually the flak would then hit outside of our formation. "Move George" and again the flak would burst outside of the formation. As a team we had very few hits in the formation, which the other crews in the formation appreciated. We could only do this when we were in a lead position. On the other hand, when we were on the bomb run it was straight and level, regardless of the flak, so the bombardier could hit the assigned target.

Low level Holland drop
Here was a mission where we would be able to see the ground and the action. We were to fly our B-24 low, altitudes lower than 3500 feet. Glider troops had flown in the day before and would need supplies. Since they couldn't run down to the corner grocery, we were it. To practice such a mission we headed up to Scotland. We saw a beautiful story book castle sitting on a hill, with tall spires around the wall. We were flying low, just over the tree tops, and dropping lower as the terrain allowed. I buzzed down over a field that had a batch of gull-like birds and seven of them flew into our path. Like bugs they stuck to the wings and engines.

I pulled up abruptly to miss a telephone line, and was surprised that I could hear the ping of the line as it snapped. I came upon a row of trees each a little higher than its neighbor. I pulled up a little to clear the trees and heard a sound like a board running along a picket fence. This was a pole which ran down the belly of the ship.

The next day when we were over Holland we didn't have any problems. We had one shot fired at us by ground soldiers. It went in a single hole and came out nearly a foot in diameter.

Weather Reconnaissance
I was selected to make a weather reconnaissance flight prior to the bombing mission for the day. We would scout out the weather and radio back to the base, advising them of the conditions. Everything was going well, the bombers had taken off and we were cleared to descend. The cloud level was 8,000 ft and the bottom of the overcast was fog hanging in the trees. I reduced power for descent and entered the clouds on instruments, flying at an altitude of half of the cloud height plus 1000 feet. I then did a procedure turn and headed back to the field, assuming I would break out of the clouds before arriving at the field.

They told me that the radio beacon had been hit and they didn't know how accurate it was. As I was descending, I glanced over to check the oil pressure and number three was reading 20 lbs. while the other three engines were reading 40-50 lbs. A pressure of 20 lbs. was marginal for feathering the engine, so I feathered it and continued to descend, on instruments. I broke out just a little prior to the airfield. I saw the field okay but wasn't aligned with the runway, so I headed on across the field, did a turnaround and returned to the field, just above the trees with the fog stringing down lower.

Wheels down, flaps set, engines and props set, now, all I needed to do was find the field and chop power. All eyes were straining to see the field as I flew on instruments. "Dead ahead," someone shouted. I glanced out and there it was. I chopped power but saw that I was lined up with the taxiway. There were a B-24 and two trucks on the taxiway, and about 50 people running like ants, scurrying to get away from my landing (and almost certain collision). But I saw the problem in time, poured the power on and was again lost in the soup.

After several more tries the tower ignited a magnesium flare. On the next attempt I saw the flare and even though I wasn't dead on the runway I chopped power and landed. I landed on the grass and turned onto the runway, and was safely home.

Vapor Trails and Vertigo
We had a max effort heading out to Germany, and the sky was clear as a bell. Really a CAVU day (ceiling and visibility unlimited). Climbing out on course, as we approached 20,000 feet the lead ship began to develop contrails. As we climbed up to our altitude of 25,000 feet, the clear sky was turning into solid contrails. The only ship I could see was the ship on which I was flying formation. As I checked my position on this ship and then checked my instruments I developed VERTIGO (an unbalance of the inner ear). I thought for sure I was flying left wing straight down, yet my instruments all said I was flying straight and level. So I would glance at my instruments and glance at my leader till we flew out of that super-contrail layer.

Another problem we had with these high flights and cold temperatures were the pilot's bullet proof glass. It was two inches or so thick and would freeze up on descent. Until it warmed up and defrosted you flew blind. We opened the side windows and used defrosters, scrapers and whatever to rid the windows of frosts.

Near Collisions
We had two near collisions that I vividly recall. The first was a low element leader who shouldn't have been. He was all over the sky, back and forth as well as up and down. My crew was watching this problem real close. Big John Young, my waist gunner yelled "Pull up, George" and I did even though I didn't know why, it turned out we nearly had a wing in our waist window.

The 2nd near collision came over Germany. We were up at our assigned altitude and I was flying number three in formation of our squadron. I was flying from the co-pilot seat so I could see the leader better, as I am not overly tall. The number two man aborted the flight so I moved over to his spot. Off to our left a B-17 outfit was converging with us. Since they were slightly higher and ahead of us they passed okay, but they left heavy prop wash in the air. When we hit it, it threw us up and over and out of the formation, before I was able to regain control.

As long as I was now out of formation, I told the copilot I would switch seats with him as I had decided to move over to the right wing, to fly in the spot opened up when number 2 aborted the mission. So I swapped seats. Just as I plugged my headset in, I heard the crew say, "Look those two planes collided!" I looked over and they were coming my way. With no time to do anything, one went over me and the other went under. One plane had hit the prop wash as I had, and had struck the other B-24's tail, shearing it off and losing his own prop. I believe that the plane who lost his tail went down, while the other limped back to England.

Bombing V-1 Rocket Pens
For this mission we went in six-ship formations at 12,000 feet. As the rocket pens were right on the French coast, it was to be a short mission. Unfortunately the lead ship never saw the bombing site, though my navigator did. We were in number four position right behind and below the leader. Since the leader didn't see the target, we all flew south and swung back in a big arc, coming back out to the coast over a French village which had a five-gun battery of 88mm antiaircraft cannons. The first five barrages, of five shells each, exploded between the lead ship and ours but the 6th barrage put a shell right into the leader's bomb bay. The explosion knocked off the bomb bay doors and several bombs fell out. Several people bailed out as well.

I pulled up to miss the debris and went into violent evasive action to get away from the 88s. They were tracking my two wing men and me. The navigator, Milton Finestein, called and said the bombardier, Leonard Dwelle, had been hit in the chest. Dwelle said he wanted to return to our home base. So I put on climb power and headed for home as quickly as I could. I called for the medics and an ambulance, which was waiting upon our arrival. Dwelle was flying in the gun turret and a piece of 88 flak and several other pieces of metal had come through the turret, striking Dwelle. A piece had wrapped up in his dog tags and some had gone into his chest. He spent about two months recuperating. As he was reaching to help Dwelle a piece of flak burnt Finestein across his open hand. He asked for the purple heart, but they said he had to bleed.

Night Vision During Training
One night during flight training I flew into a really heavy rain and lightning storm. The radios just squealed there was so much static electricity in the air. As I glanced out through the front windshield, there were snakes of static electricity crawling up our windshield. The Pitot tubes would flare up into a torch and then die down. Each of the props were ringed with fire as well. From books on sailing ships that I had read I recognized it as St. Elmo's fire, though I had never seen it before. We were also getting hit by lightening.

After we had landed, we found that a hole had been burned through the wing. We flew out of the clouds into a large area between thunder heads. The lightening was crisscrossing in all direction, really spooky as well as down right frightening. The navigator said let's get out of here, so I did as quickly as possible. In the same area, a short while earlier, a B-24 had crashed, and the given cause was cumulus clouds, dangerous, but beautiful.

A short while later while flying on instruments at 8,000 feet, I entered into severe turbulence. I dropped the gear to slow the plane down as it went from 165 to over 200 mph. Then we flew into an elevator that took us up to 12,000 feet in just a few seconds, and threw us out the top of a thunderhead.

Ferry Trip Across the Pond
We were selected to fly a new B24D from Kansas to England. Our first leg was up to New York area and on up to Nova Scotia, where we overnighted and refueled. The next day we were going to Labrador. As we flew north the navigator got confused when he came to the St. Lawrence river. Instead of a small river this was miles across, so he didn't recognize it as a river at all.

But he was on course so on we flew. Labrador is a cold place. It was August but snow was on the ground. The next morning we were briefed for the Atlantic crossing direct to Iceland. We took off and were immediately on instruments, climbing on up to our assigned altitude we were still in the clouds. We flew on and finally many hours later we broke out of the clouds, just south of Greenland. I was glad we didn't have to land on Greenland as it can be very unforgiving.

The rest of the way to Iceland was visual, though it was dark arriving about 9pm. When we dropped our gear, the nose gear wouldn't drop down so the engineer ended up having to drop it manually. The next day we flew south heading for Scotland. We received a radio message to divert and land because of bad weather in Scotland. Our emergency field turned out to be a small fighter field on an island North of Scotland. The runway started at the edge of a cliff with a short flat spot on which to touch down. Then you went down hill, and braked hard, until the field rose again. At the end of the runway you turned right or left, as there was a 4-ft bank. All but one of us touched down on the flat part, but the last one set down on the down-slope, used up a lot of the runway, and ended up bouncing up on the 4' bank and blowing his tires. Needless to say he had to wait for tires to arrive before he could proceed.

The following day we flew into Scotland. That evening at the dining hall we had a waitress come to take our orders and we couldn't understand her. She was Scottish and we had to get one of the British fellows to interpret for us. I hope we didn't embarrass her too badly.

Gas Problems
On our first mission after getting back from the US we were given a new ship. They had made a modification in the gas system of which we were not aware. We flew with wing tip "Tokyo" tanks. While flying these could be transferred into the main tanks. We were over enemy territory and began to transfer fuel but the main tanks were not getting any fuller. The engineer went back to check what was going on, but still no fuel. We ended up flying the mission with just the main tanks. When we were back over England we were flying on fumes so I called an emergency and landed at a dirt fighter strip.

This field also had a flat landing part, then down a draw and up a hill to a stop. After landing we were watching a second B-24 land. But they didn't land on the dirt field, they landed on a concrete strip that was under construction. They touched down and came weaving down the strip, around piles of sand and gravel, zigzagging among the trucks, etc. They had a radio out and that was the reason they landed.

The British have their tea in PM, and a late supper around 9 PM and we hadn't had any food since around 5 AM so we were about starved by the time they served us supper. On take off the next morning we became airborne about where the airstrip broke over the hill. We staggered down the swale and the hill almost out-climbed us.

 

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LEONARD H. KINSEL

BRIEF BIO:

Leonard H. Kinsel was born on January 22, 1919 in Witchita, KS. On March 15, 1942 he was drafted, at the Presidio of Monterey, CA. He went through Basic Flight Training in Greenville, TX; Advanced Training in Waco, TX; and B-24 Transitional Training at Fort Worth, TX. He also went through combat training at Gowan Field in Boise, ID. His major theater of wartime operations was in the China-Burma-India Theater, based in Tezpur, India, from June to October 1945. He flew a total of 49 combat missions and was awarded two Air Medals. Leonard was released from active duty on December 16, 1945 at Fort Lewis, WA, with the rank of First Lieutenant.

He married Goldie (since deceased) on 11MAY42 in San Jose, CAPucallpa, Peru. They had three children, Lenora, Linda and Loenard.

HIS STORY:

Flying the Hump in 1945, towards the end of WW 11, was quite an experience for me, or anybody else. We had a lot of things to contend with as did most anyone flying during the war. Monsoon season seemed to be one of the culprits, along with the high mountains we had to fly over. There were three routes over the Hump. The southern was the lowest, middle route, and the northern, was the highest, usually 20,000 feet or more. The southern route usually went into Kunming, China. Northern, we usually flew into Chengtu, China. The middle, was most anywhere into China. Along with the mountains, and the weather, it was not an easy flight. We would run into thunder storms. We would not always know when this would happen because we were already flying on instruments.

Wow!!! What a ride. The first time it happened, my crew wanted to bail out, and, was ready to. Flying of a night, we could see the lightning storms. It would make one quite nervous to fly in them.. We did not run into much icing, but, on occasion we had it. When we returned to our home base, of a night, we would have to buzz the runway to clear it of any cattle that might be on it. The cattle run loose in India and were also sacred to them. Daytime the tower would let us know or we could see for ourselves. The temperature, at our home base, usually was in the high 80s and 90 degree range, during the monsoon season. Along with the humidity, this was not too comfortable. We liked to fly to get some relief from the hot, damp climate.

I liked flying the B-24's. We had mostly B-24Js. They were one of the later models. Lots of room in the cockpit. Plenty of vision for a military aircraft, I thought. We were transporting high octane gasoline into China for the forward aircraft to use. Transporting gasoline made us all nervous. We could often smell the fumes, but no aircraft, that I know of, was blown up.

I was in the 308th Bomb Group, 425 Bomb Squadron, 14th Army Air Corp. From the time I left the USA, till I returned back, was about six months. First of May to first of Nov., 1945. Flying the Hump, took a crew of five, pilot, co-pilot, navigator, engineer, and radioman. My home base was Tezpur, India. This is in northeast India, along the Brahmaputra river, which is quite a large river that drains from the Himalayan Mts.

I didn't get into the shooting part of the war. The war was about over. Japan was pushed way back from where we were. The 308th was primarily a bombing unit, but gasoline and getting it there was most important to the front lines that the generals decided that we should haul it up there. I was given credit for 49 missions, all over the Hump, hauling gasoline. I received the Air Medal with one oak leaf cluster, American theater Service Medal, Asiatic Pacific service medal, one bronze star, and World War 11 Victory medal. My highest rank was 1st Lt.

I give my respect and honor to the men and women who gave their lives for our freedom, who fought in the front lines, those that did a lot of the dirty work for all of us. I wished I could have done more. I did what I could and was asked to do. I will always be proud of serving my country, for the cause of freedom, and I now enjoy meeting with my buddies at our monthly meetings of the Warbirds.

 

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NORMAN W. NUTT

BRIEF BIO

Norm Nutt was born on December 23, 1922 in Trenton, NJ. When he was just 20 years old he enlisted in the Army Air Corps. He went through Preflight School in Santa Ana, CA; Primary Flight Training in King City, CA; Basic Flight Training at Gardner Field in Taft, CA; and Advanced Training in Pecos, TX. His major theater of wartime operations was Europe, with the 44th Bomb Group, 66th Bomb Squadron, based in Shipdham, England, in 1944-45. He flew a total of 22 combat missions and was awarded four Air Medals. He was released from active duty with the rank of First Lieutenant.

HIS STORY:

My relatively short military career began December 3, 1942 (at age 19) when I enlisted in the US Army Air Force, in Los Angeles, California. First stop was Lincoln, Nebraska, for several weeks of basic military training. Then on to Coe College, in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, as an Aviation Student. It was here that I experienced my first ride in an airplane, a small Piper Cub type aircraft. Later training sites were: Santa Ana, CA, for Preflight; King City, CA, for Primary; Taft, CA, for Basic; Pecos, TX, for Advanced (twin engine); Albuquerque, NM, for B-24 Transition Training; and Tonopah, NV, for crew assembly and training. Then it was on to England to the (Mighty) 8th Air Force.

I was a B-24 pilot in the 44th Bomb Group, 66th Bomb Squadron, stationed in Shipdham, England, in late 1944 through the end of the war in Europe in May 1945. The pilots' quarters in the cockpit of the B-24 were rather cramped, surrounded by gauges, dials, knobs and levers that all had a purpose -- we were told.

At mission altitude (around 23,000 feet) it was always cold; 30, 40, even 50 degrees (F) below zero. On one mission I flew a B-24 that was modified so that the exhaust pipes were routed along the inside of the pilots' windows. This was the only mission I flew where I was toasty warm. Even had to open the window to cool down. I was a light smoker in those days but quickly made a rule for the entire crew after sniffing the gas fumes that sometimes were overpowering when transferring gas between tanks. Perhaps I would be shot down by enemy action, but I didn't want to be blown up because of a nicotine habit.

Crews would be notified the night before a mission if they were scheduled to fly. If you were fortunate and the nightly card games and bull sessions were not held in your hut, you got a few hours sleep before the wakeup call around 2 or 3 AM. I always shaved. If you had a beard the tight fitting oxygen mask would make you itch like crazy. After breakfast all went to the mission briefing, which began with the unveiling of a huge map of Europe, and the route we would take to the target for the day. This unveiling would elicit loud moans ( the griping soldier is a happy soldier syndrome) when the target was a well defended one, such as Berlin, Magdeburg or the Ruhr Valley.

After the briefing you picked up your flight gear, parachute, Mae West, etc., and turned in any personal belongings you might be carrying so the enemy would not benefit from any information if you were shot down. For those who wanted it, there was a brief religious service available. I usually participated, I needed all the help I could get.

Then off to your assigned plane to inspect your crew position area to make sure all was in order. This was tension time, waiting in or just outside of your plane for the "start engines" flare from the tower. This was the last opportunity to perform your bodily functions with relative ease. To do such things while in flight was difficult at best, there were no rest room facilities aboard. We had relief tubes, but they always froze up at altitude. You could use a flak helmet, but that was cumbersome, and you had to remove several layers of clothes. Sometimes in the heat of battle there was no time for such activities, so all that was left was to soil your clothes. One time my nose turret gunner was busy with enemy fighters and wet his pants. He had two alternatives - turn off the electrically heated flying suit and freeze, or turn it on and receive a jolt of electricity. (He alternated between the two.)

Takeoff time was dicey. Many times we lifted off before dawn. You followed the plane in front of you by 30 to 45 seconds. This meant that he was still on the runway when you started to roll. At these times I sometimes wondered what I was doing here in the dark of night, in a bomb laden plane, filled with 2,700 gallons of highly volatile gasoline, responsible for nine other human beings, roaring down the runway and hoping that all this "Government Issued" stuff would work as advertised.

But we made it every time. Now the problem was to locate your group leader in the dark and in the clouds, avoid the hundreds of other planes buzzing about and get into your assigned position in the formation. Each BG had a gaily painted plane that was used to gather all that group's planes in formation before heading off to the target. These assembly planes did not go on the mission.

After the group was formed we began our climb to bombing altitude. It was usually at this time, when we were over the North Sea, that the guns were test fired and we donned our oxygen masks. At this stage of the war enemy fighter attacks has lessened, but the flak from enemy ground fire was still a very real concern. We met with sporadic attacks from German fighters, a couple of times from their jet fighter, the ME-262, which was so fast you rarely saw it coming. They would dive at you from above and make one pass through the formation. Fortunately the ME-262 was late in development, or the war's end could have been delayed. The adjacent picture was taken by my waist gunner while on a mission

The culmination of your long period of training was realized on the bomb run. Your total concentration was on flying a tight formation to ensure a good bomb pattern and putting your bombs on the target, regardless of what was going on in the skies around you. After "Bombs Away" there was the usual radio call "Let's get the hell out of here!".

After the long ride home as we approached the base we'd sometimes get instructions to tighten up the formation and circle the field once before landing. This meant the CO had visiting dignitaries (read "politicians") and he wanted to show off "his boys". Well "his boys" were usually dead tired after having arisen twelve hours ago to go hit the Horrible Hun, and this elicited some rather obscene radio retorts -- anonymously, of course. But we always did as told. The adjacent picture shows the usual group on the tower, awaiting the return of a mission.

After landing the crew were taken to the interrogation room, given a shot or two of whiskey, and asked what they saw -- bombing effectiveness, how much flak, enemy fighters, who was shot down, any parachutes, etc. Then we were free to eat, get some sack time and be ready to do it all over again -- sometimes the next day.

 

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LEON E. SALVESON

BRIEF BIO:

Leon Salveson was born in Chicago, Illinois on October 14, 1919. The day after Pearl Harbor, in Des Moines, Iowa, he enlisted in the Air Corps. He graduated from the airplane mechanics school at Chanute Field, Rantoul, Illinois in May 1942 and stayed there as an instructor in carburation until accepted for air cadet training, in October 1942. He took Primary Training at Pine Bluff, Ark., flying PT-19’s; Basic Training in BT-13’s at Coffeeville, Kansas; and Advanced Training at Pampa, Texas, in AT-17’s and AT-9’s. He received his wings and commission on July 29, 1943. From there he was sent to Fort Worth, Texas, for transition to B-24’s. His major theater of combat operations was the European, in B-24’s, with a few combat missions in B-17’s. He later transitioned into B-29’s but flew only a few combat missions in the Pacific before the war there was over. Overall, he was awarded four (4) Air Medals and a Distinguished Flying Cross.

Leon was discharged in Sioux City Army Air base on November 16, 1945, as a 1stLt. On May 11, 1946, in Kansas, he married Jeanne and together they had eight (8) children, Leanne, Nancy, Dennis, Patricia, Carol, Kathleen, James and Ann.

HIS STORY:

Arriving at Blythe Ca, in December 1943, 1 was teamed up with the nine men who would become my crew in the 18th Bomb Squadron, 34th Bomb Group. That Group had just been activated to train crews for overseas duty, as the 358th Combat Crew Training Squadron.. There was great emphasis on close formation flying, the purpose being to stop attacking fighters from flying through the formation.

We flew to RAF Valley in Wales in March 1944 via Florida, Trinidad, Brazil, West Africa and Morocco. In April, we relocated to Mendlesham, Suffolk, and commenced operations on May 23, 1944. My first mission took place on May 25, when we bombed railroad yards at Montignes sur Sambre. We went on to fly 30 combat missions in these B-24s.

In late June 1944, as part of the 93rd Combat Bomb Wing of the 3rd Bomb Division, we were required to add high visibility markings to our aircraft. The aircraft were in Olive Drab and Neutral Gray finish. The 34th BG painted the forward third of the fins bright red, and red bands around each wing and the horizontal tail surface. The Group marking was a white square with a black letter "S" on the fin and the upper surface of the right wing. The 18th BS applied red paint to the propeller spinners to differentiate it from the other two squadrons in the 34th BG. We did not have unit code letters on the fuselage. We did not have unit code letters on the fuselage.

Earlier on I had established a reputation as a bit of a "ladies man" so, in keeping with ancient tradition, the crew named our B-24H "Frivolous Sal", and applied suitable nose art just below the cockpit. "Frivolous Sal" (Sal -- veson, get it?) was hopeful (four-leaf clover) but nevertheless cautious (umbrella), and certainly well dressed.

After a short training period we flew three combat missions in B-17’s, starting in September 1944. In contrast to our drab B-24' the B-17G's were delivered unpainted, and we imediately applied the same red identification markings we had used on the B-24's. Only about five or six bomb groups of the 8th Air Force switched from B-24’s to B-17’s in the middle of combat operations. My crew flew eight missions in 12 days (July 24 through August 4, 1944), which entitled us to a seven day leave. We normally flew nine or ten missions per month. That’s our crew in the picture, under our brand spankin’ new B-17G. I am in the back row, third from the right.

We left Mendlesham on September 20 and returned to the USA. I think we were the second crew to finish our tour in the Group. After a 21-day leave and redistribution, in December 1944 I was sent to Smyrna AFB, Tennesee, to train to be a pilot instructor. 1 didn't enjoy the training and found the only way out was to sign up for B-29 duty. In February 1945, I started B-29 transition training at Maxwell AFB, Montgomery, Alabama.

It was a new experience as the pilot, co-pilot and flight engineer trained together. Upon completion, we met the rest of the crew at the Lincoln, Nebraska redistribution center and moved to Barksdale AFB, Shreveport, Louisiana for replacement crew training. The main difference from B-24 training was a 12-hour cross-country flight on which we created problems for the flight engineer and navigator by varying the altitude and power settings. (navigator - time and distance, flight engineer - fuel consumption).

On completion of training, we picked up a new B-29 at Kearney, Nebraska and flew to Mather AFB, Sacramento, California where they loaded spare parts in the bomb bays and added five passengers. We left Mather on July 18, 1945 and arrived at Guam three days later. There we dropped of the passengers and spares before proceeding to Saipan. There, on July 22, we joined the 874th Bomb Squadron of the 498th Bomb Group. We had flown just a few training missions and two combat missions in August when they dropped the Nukes and the war was over.

In September, we flew four missions to drop supplies on Prisoner of War camps not yet reached by ground forces. I then flew as co-pilot on the way home carrying a group of 20 high point men. I asked the Pilot if I could make the landing at Mather when we arrived on October 11, 1945. 1 haven't landed an aircraft since that time. I took a train from there to Sioux City AFB, where I received my discharge.

FLYING THE B-24
The pilot's area in the B-24 cockpit was cramped. The easiest way to get in was to move sideways and slip into the seat. The view was limited both vertically and horizontally. The instrument panel contained flight instruments in front of the pilot and engine instruments in front of the co-pilot. The power pedestal, located between them, contained the autopilot, throttles, boost controls, RPM switches, trim tabs, landing gear and flap controls.

All crew members had a pre-flight and post-flight routine for their areas and had to be able to handle at least the basic functions of another person's job. All procedures for engine start, taxi, takeoff and landing were READ, NEVER RECITED FROM MEMORY. For all the above events, the flight engineer stood between the pilots checking that all the switches levers and controls were in their proper positions and that the engine instrument readings were within normal ranges for takeoff and landing.

When flying over enemy territory or in poor visibility over England there was no chatter on the intercoms, because everyone was looking for the enemy or other aircraft. Above 13,000 feet, we wore oxygen masks, usually for five or six hours. They were very uncomfortable. The outside air temperature of 30 to 50 degrees below zero Fahrenheit was bearable with our electrically heated flying suits and warm air ducts, at least until there were flak holes in the nose of the aircraft. Then you used anything and everything you could find to deflect the breeze.

FLYING THE B-29
The cockpit of the B-29 was spacious compared to those of the B-24 or B-17. The pilots had control panels with throttles, trim wheels, etc. Their instrument panels contained flight instruments and the pedestal between them held the autopilot and controls for RPM, turbo boost, flaps, landing gear etc. The flight engineer's panel held all the gauges, switches and levers for the mechanical operation of the aircraft. To sit at 25,000 feet smoking a cigarette was a pleasure. Over enemy territory the aircraft was de-pressurized and oxygen masks were worn until again in safe air space. Then it was re-pressurized and the crew could again relax.

EUROPEAN THEATER (ETO)
B-24 missions varied from five and a half hours to eight hours in duration, and were usually flown between 18,000 and 20,000 feet. Fortunately, the Luftwaffe never attacked the 34th Bomb Group during my tour. However, the fighters did attack squadrons ahead of and behind us in the bomber stream. We were flying the tightest formation of all the groups we could see -- our training paid off!

The only 34th BG losses ever to enemy fighters were four B-24’s shot down by intruder Me 410 twin-engine fighters over Mendlesham while preparing to land at dusk on June 7, 1944. All runway lights were extinguished. All airborne aircraft turned off their navigation lights and scattered to other fields. Two B-24’s from the 490th BG collided on the runway at Feltwell in the general panic to get on the ground. Three Me-410s were shot down by RAF night fighters. I was on a pass that day and was just returning to the base when the attacks took place. One of the Group’s aircraft crashed into the parachute loft and destroyed it. As a result we couldn’t fly for two days until new parachutes were shipped in.

On June 6 1944, we were awakened and told to have breakfast and report for briefing at 3:00 AM. At the briefing, we were informed that it was "D-Day". We were to be a standby crew to replace any crew that aborted the mission. No one aborted. We briefed and flew on the second mission, returning about 1:00 PM. As we were leaving the Debriefing Room, we were told to grab a quick lunch and return in 45 minutes for the third mission of the day. We flew the that mission and landed at 11:30 PM. The last hour of the flight we were at about 500 feet with our running lights on to avoid collisions. (During WW2, England had Double Daylight Savings time, so it stayed light very late at night.)

The missions were flown at 12,000 feet and we were surprised at the amount of ant-aircraft fire in the area. We took a lot of flak damage, but the 18th didn't lose any aircraft. Our crew was especially lucky. The only injury was a flak scratch on the back of the Radio Operator's hand, and all that needed was a band-aid. The most flak damage we had on any mission was 50 holes. We had to feather one propeller on the return from that target, due to a loss of oil pressure.

There were no conversations between crews and the tower regarding wind direction or barometric pressures. That was valuable information to the enemy, who was constantly eavesdropping on our frequencies. The interval between aircraft, either taking off or landing in any weather conditions was 30 seconds.

Due to the number of planes in the air and the weather conditions over England, instrument and pattern flying were a necessity. On takeoff, 1-1/2 minutes after brake release you made a specific rate turn, depending on the runway in use, and flew a specific heading towards a radio beacon. During this time, you reached a speed of 150 mph and a rate of climb of 200 feet per minute as quickly as possible. Crossing the beacon, you turned onto a heading of 180 degrees for five minutes which took you out over the English Channel. You then entered a 15-degree left bank and headed for the beacon using a radio compass. Overhead the beacon, you turned left and entered a racetrack pattern until you reached the altitude at which the squadron was forming.

If it was cloudy, you usually broke out into the clear air between 1,500 and 3,000 feet. We made a number of takeoffs where the aircraft ahead disappeared in the fog in the 30 seconds before we released the brakes. On one mission, we climbed to 15,000 feet before breaking clear of the clouds. Letdowns were flown in the same racetrack pattern over the beacon at 30 second spacing at 165 mph, descending at 500 feet per minute.

On one mission we had to climb to 26,000 feet to stay above the clouds as we returned to England. We were the sixth aircraft to descend into solid cloud cover. At 1,000 feet, we began to wonder if the altimeter was correct; at 500 feet we slowed the rate of descent with everyone looking for signs of the sea. A gunner suddenly reported that he could see whitecaps and a few seconds later we all saw the sea. We crossed the shoreline, slowing to 150 mph at 150 feet with visibility of quarter of a mile. The navigator gave me a heading for the field and, a few moments later, a slight correction. We flew over the center of the airfield, noted the runway in use and turned onto the down wind leg of the landing pattern -- and lost sight of the field!

We flew the crosswind leg on a time basis and turned onto final approach with gear down, half flaps, at 140 mph. When I spotted the runway, it was at least a hundred yards to my left, with a jeep sitting nearby with its lights on. A voice on the radio announced "plane on the outside go around". I switched to intercom and asked the waist gunner if he could see any planes behind us on our left. I was already in a slip towards the runway, left wing down and holding right rudder to make the aircraft slip to the left when I received his "No!" answer. I reversed the procedure, leveled the wings at 20 feet above the edge of the runway, chopped the power, called for full flaps and landed. We were on the ground within twelve seconds of seeing the runway on our final approach.

AMERICAN-PACIFIC THEATER
In the Pacific, flying B-29’s, the mission length was usually 15 - 17 hours. Our combat takeoff weight was 144,000 pounds so we used all the runway. Fortunately the airfield elevation was 200 feet above the sea, with the land beyond the runway dropping sharply off onto the beach. On most takeoffs we dropped to about 30 - 50 feet above the water. Climb speed was 165 mph and we flew loose formation until about 150 miles South of Japan. On my two combat missions we encountered no Japanese fighters and, compared to the ETO, very little flak.

On the first POW camp supply mission we carried ammunition, as the Armistice had yet to be signed. The missions were single aircraft operations with a number of B-29’s going to each camp. We carried ground personnel as passengers on these flights. One flight took us over Hiroshima at 7,000 feet, I couldn't believe that one bomb could do so much damage. Sadly, two aircraft were reported missing on the first POW mission.

ADDENDUM TO SALVESON STORY

German intruder action over England was quite common in 1944, many USAAF and RAF bombers being attacked whilst in the landing pattern after returning from a mission in darkness. Further research, courtesy of the RAF Museum at Hendon Archives, reveals the fate of some of the Me-410s involved in the attack on June 7. While returning to their bases, three of the Me-410s were shot down by RAF Mosquito night-fighters.

Just before midnight on June 7/8 a Mosquito of 219 Squadron, crewed by S/Ldr Burke and F/O Bailey (Navigator), was guided by ground radar onto a contact at 1500 ft. On closing to about 550 yards, the crew (erroneously) identified the aircraft as a Ju-188. They then closed to within 800 feet, moved to a line astern position and fired a short burst. Burke reported, "A bright flash followed by fire appeared on the target, which went into a left hand turn. The fire appeared to die down so I gave it two more short bursts, and the fire broke out afresh. I pulled across to join on the aircraft, but it continued a slow diving turn to port until it hit the sea, exploded and lay burning on the water 15 miles ESE of Harwich." Just 50 rounds of 20mm cannon shells were expended.

About the same time, P/O Tull and P/O Cowgill, also of 219 Squadron, were flying a Mosquito, under radar control. They had already had eight false contacts. Finally, at midnight, Tull saw red tracer and light AA fire and requested permission from Control to investigate. A few minutes later, under guidance from the Controller, they picked up the target on their own radar at a range of four and a half miles. They followed it down to 1000 feet, closed in, and obtained a visual identification as an Me-410. From a position at 500 feet altitude and 100 feet dead astern a two second burst was fired, but it passed below. The report states, "The second burst set the port inner tank on fire and the engine exploded. Many pieces flew off, some hit our wing and the target aircraft fell into the sea." A total of 22 rounds of 20mm ammunition were expended.

The last Me-410 was shot down by Flt.Lt. J.C.I.Hooper D.F.C and F/O S.C.Hubbard in a Mosquito of 604 Squadron. Making the interception at 3,500 feet, Hopper recorded, "We closed quickly to a position below and less than 100 yards behind the target. I identified it as a Me-410, and my observer confirmed this with his night glasses. I then raised the nose and, falling back slowly, gave a short burst from 100 yards dead astern and slightly below. A large number of sparks flew back and oil appeared on my windscreen. The aircraft continued in a shallow dive with no evasive action. I raised the nose again and fired another burst from 130 yards astern. There was a blinding flash and the port engine exploded. The Me-410 crashed N.E. of Laval at 0155." (on June 8). Just 71 20mm rounds were fired.

German records confirm that three Me-410s failed to return that night, but there were no Ju-188 losses.

 

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DONALD C. TOYE

BRIEF BIO:

Don Toye was born on April 16, 1916 in Portland, OR. On September 1, 1942 he enlisted in the Army Air Corps. He went through Basic Flight Training in BT-13's at Garden City, KS; Advanced Training in AT-17's in Pampa, TX; and B-24 Transition Training at Davis-Monthan in Tucson, AZ, and at Alamogordo, NM. His major theater of wartime operations was Europe, with the Eighth Air Force, 445th Bomb Group, 703rd Squadron, based in Tibenham, England, March 15 to April 13, 1944. During that short period he flew a total of seven combat missions and was shot down. Eventually he managed to walk out to Switzerland. He was released from active duty with the rank of First Lieutenant.

In 1970 he married Lela, in Roseburg, OR. He has three children, Gregory, Douglass and Janine from a first wife and Lela has two children, Gary and Wayne, from a first husband. Don Toye died on February 28, 2001.

HIS STORY:

Our B-24 Liberator was named "Tenofus". This was our seventh raid and we were beginning to feel that we could take care of ourselves. But there was also a feeling among the crew that luck was playing an important part for us. It was hardly a secret that we might be living on borrowed time. Both the officers and the enlisted men had had other crews in their barracks go down and it had changed their mental attitude. To make matters worse, we were hearing that many of our old gang from Alamogordo were MIA and we saw several of them hit by flack or fighters. We went about our business quietly and tried to display a cheerful attitude.

Lennon, our radioman, seemed to feel the tension most of all. By some very lucky chance, he took the April 13th day off to recuperate from his bundle of fears. Butler, our belly turret man, even took the trouble to get the Swiss legation number, just in case we went down. Standridge, flight engineer Beckam, the tail gunner, and Suber and Kerpan, waist gunners, were still their old cheerful selves. The officers had great confidence in these men and I think the respect was reciprocated.

After an early morning briefing on the Munich target we took off about 1000 hrs. Everything went well on our way to the target, and we were beginning to hope for a successful completion to another mission. The trouble began at the target. We encountered the worst fIak barrage that any of us had seen up to that time. We all had seen some mighty bad ones. Several ships were knocked out of formation, including one in our own element of three, containing one of the last of the old Alamogordo crews. We narrowly missed hitting what was left of his ship and the flak was still as thick as a cloud bank. We knew that we could hardly escape being hit, but Jack was an exceptionally good pilot and maneuvered us out of most of it. We passed over Munich without a scratch, by some will of God.

But we were in for more trouble, for the flak had scattered other formations coming behind us, and now all the formations seemed to converge together. One came directly above us, and one ship, without looking, dumped his bombs right on top of us. We spotted him opening his doors just in time, and moved our ship out from under him, but the other side of us had a burning ship which was due to explode soon, for the fire was around his tanks. We all had some heart skips in those few minutes, but again we came through safely by some piece of luck, and we worked our way back into a place in formation.

However, the third scramble proved too much for us, for when things began to get orderly again, we found that our formation had in some way missed its rendezvous with its fighter escort. We were still well into Germany, and now was the time to expect a fighter attack. Jack and I were just discussing this when it came. There were only about five of them and normally I don't suppose they would have attacked such a large formation of bombers, but we had just used up too much of our luck. It just seemed we were bound to get it some way or other.

An Me-109 climbed onto our tail and Beckam started letting him have it from his tail turret. He kept firing until his guns burned out and finally knocked the Me 109 down in flames, but not until we had also sustained several hits. One 20 mm. shell had exploded just outside our fuselage. It is another miracle that the boys in the waist lived through that for the tail turret was completely shot out, the controls were shot out, the fuselage was perforated with holes, and a wooden box that Kerpan was sitting on was smashed to splinters.

However, our injuries included only facial lacerations to Beckam and a leg shrapnel wound to Suber, neither of them serious at that time, according to their report. There was no hysteria back there, and the boys all talked calmly through their mikes. I believe Joe Kerpan was a little excited about the box blowing up beneath him, for he started firing at another pursuit ship near us which proved to be one of our own coming to our rescue. But that is not at all surprising after what we had just gone through. If it were up to me, they would each get the DFC.

Things were happening up forward now, too, so, outside of the radioman, we had no first aid man to take care of the wounded. He did what he could, but at the moment there was too much going on. Our oxygen on one side had been shot out and was dwindling away, so his first job was to take extra cylinders back to the waist. About that time our No. 1 engine burst afire from a shell that had torn into it, and without all our controls Jack and I were having a helluva time. We cut the engine and the fuel and thought for a while that we had controlled it, but then the fire started on the tire of the left landing gear. We lowered the gear and the wind put the fire out but on raising the gear again the fire re-started worse than before. It was taking both Jack's and my efforts to hold the ship straight. It didn't look like there was any further hope, so Jack gave the order to bail out. In the time our ship was disabled, we had flown about a half hour and were now approaching the Belgium border, although Korth figured we were still inside Germany.

The bail out in the waist was very orderly. Suber acknowledged when he was ready to go, so Jack and I could tell when the waist was clear. Bob Korth acknowledged the call for Leo and himself by giving us our approximate location. Standridge and the radio man poised themselves on the edge of the bomb bay ready to jump, so that completed all our personnel. It was my turn, and I knew that Jack would be right behind me, for one man couldn't hold enough right rudder to control the ship. The bail out was accomplished as systematically as possible in my estimation, considering that this was our first such experience. It took longer than it should have, for the ship was due to explode soon, but at least it seemed that everyone was going to make it all right.

The timing was even closer than we had expected, for as I dropped through, the explosion came, and I was sure that Jack would be trapped. By another lucky twist, he either made it in time or was blown out, for he is certainly alive and well today, although having been a Prisoner of War.

There was no chance for us to get together on the ground for we had bailed out over a period of two or three minutes, and would have traveled several miles in that time. So each man would have found himself alone when he reached the ground. From then on it was every man for himself. I was fortunate enough to have been picked up immediately by a Luxembourg partisan. Later Korth and Kerpan caught up with me through the help of other partisans. Butler was also able to escape capture and left me a note saying that he would head for Brussels with his patriots and try to get a plane for England. He evidently evaded capture for several months, for his POW record shows that he was not picked up until about 3 months after the rest. Bob, Joe, and I lived in the woods with the partisans for a month and then took out for Spain on our own, very much against the advice of the Underground. However, we had good reasons for desiring to leave, so we tried it.

Bob and Joe paired off after we got across the border into France, and I traveled with a B-17 radioman who had joined us in the partisan camp in the Belgium woods. Traveling in pairs enabled us to appear less conspicuous as well as aided us to procure food more easily. It would have been a thirty day journey to Spain, and Bob and Joe had the idea that they wanted to get bicycles to shorten the trip. That venture, or possibly another unfortunate meeting with the wrong people, ended in their capture.

Clarence Wieseckel and I were persuaded into changing our plans by some Polish prisoners of the Germans, and we made our way on foot to Switzerland. It was there that I learned from the Red Cross of the unfortunate luck of the rest of our crew. They had no news on Leo Carey or the radioman. It was certain that for those who were injured, capture was not too much of a misfortune, for they undoubtedly received better medical care immediately. They were all safe and I understood that treatment of prisoners was endurable. As for Leo and the radioman, there was always hope, for records of many of the men were not obtainable until the very finish of the war. There were also partisans in Germany who may have had them in hiding.

Added note: Leo Corey was killed by burning debris during his parachute descent and is now buried in Luxembourg. The substitute radioman became a POW.

 

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