Shortly after we arrived at A-55, it was announced that we would re-equip with the new Douglas A-26B Invader. This was a much improved aircraft, still packing six 50 caliber guns in the nose but able to carry 5,500 pounds of bombs over a greater range. It was quicker and could climb much faster than the A-20. Again, lead ships, called A-26Cs, were equipped with a glazed nose and bombardier's position.

Although it was usually flown by one pilot there was room for two. The picture below shows the left side (solo) cockpit (courtesy Boeing Archives). One other difference was that only one gunner was required. Sadly, both of my original gunners were reassigned; they had been with me on every mission in the A-20s.

Each flight was taken off operations in rotation to take the conversion courses. During my flight training, while flying solo, I was reported as Missing In Action! I just had taken off on October 22 when a fog bank enveloped the field. I lost communication with the tower and was uncertain of my actual position. I dropped to low level to try to identify some landmarks, but a near collision with a tower soon pushed me back to a higher altitude.

After being unable to find the coastline to orient myself, I headed west and landed at a base near London. Unable to get my A-26 serviced there, I repositioned to a C-47 base while the weather improved. By mid-afternoon of the October 24, my efforts to contact the squadron had failed and I was reported as MIA. Just a few hours later, I finally managed to get airborne and return to base...to the surprise of all my squadron mates. About this time, I was promoted to 1st Lieutenant.

Continued bad weather precluded any missions being flown until early in November, but we did manage to ferry our old A-20Gs to England and return with shiny new A-26s on November 3.

We were the first Bomb Group in Europe to be fully equipped with the new type. I didn't resume operational flying until December 5 when we bombed the town of Erkelents, just ahead of advancing American and British armies. Weather continued to plague us and we flew missions at a much reduced pace into the new year. However, on February 8, 1945, I flew on the 416th BG's 200th mission, the first flown entirely by A-26s. The Group's first mission had been flown on March 3 1944. Two days later, we relocated to base A-69 at Laon-Athies, about 65 miles northwest of Paris. Conditions there were very similar to our previous home.

My last mission, my 68th, was on March 20 1945, when we bombed Westerberg with no opposition. On return, I indulged in the traditional end of tour low level buzzing of the airfield. I was offered promotion to Major and a flight leader's position if I would extend my stay, but I elected to return to the USA to my wife and the son that I had never seen. He had been born six months after I had arrived in the UK.

I joined the Air Force Reserves and did my duty periods at Hamilton AFB. We were living in Fort Bragg, CA at the time. Unfortunately, I received an eye injury just two weeks before I was scheduled to transition to jets in the Lockheed T-33 or F-80. Subsequently, I was promoted to Captain and given an honorable discharge just prior to the Korean War breaking out.

LEO P. KRAFT - SBD / SB2C / B-25

BRIEF BIO

Leo P. Kraft was born in Aberdeen, South Dakota on June 28, 1923. It was there, in May 1942, that he enlisted in the Marines Corps. He was sworn in on December 10, 1942 and went into boot camp later that month in San Diego. He also went through advanced training in El Centro, California, starting in February 1943. Advanced training included radar, radio and gunnery, basic flight training and navigation in SBDs and later basically the same training (including basic co-pilot training) in the B-25. He was in two major theaters of operation in WWII, the first in SBDs in the South and Southwestern Pacific, 10Dec42-6Jul44, and the second in SB2Cs and B-25s in the Philippines / Okinawa / China area, 14Jun45-26Jan46. He flew in consolidation of the Solomon Islands and in the Bismark Archipelago, Treasury, Bougainville and New Georgia Operations. For this distinguished service he was awarded three (3) Distinguished Flying Crosses, nine (9) Air Medals, three (3) Purple Hearts (only one of which was actually received) and two (2) each Navy Commendation Medals and Presidential Unit Citations.

Leo was discharged from active duty in the Marine Corps at MCAD Miramar, California, on February 11, 1946 with the rank of T/Sgt. He also served on active duty in the Army, 1948-1952 (during the Korean conflict), in such places as Fort Lawton, Washington; Whittier, Alaska; and San Pedro, California. He was released from the Army at Fort McArthur, California, in 1952.

Leo married Mary in Auburn, Washington, on December 21, 1967. Together they had four children, Alice, James, Nancy and Dawn. After almost 30 years he retired from the Boeing Co.

HIS STORY:

In my senior year in high school, in April 1942, a Marine Corps recruiter gave our student body the pitch for "a few good men" at our general assembly. He wanted to recruit sixty men from our community to form a full platoon of Marines, who would be trained as a unit. I volunteered and was sworn into the Marine Corps on December 10, 1942. He never did get the sixty volunteers

I took my boot camp training at San Diego Marine Corps Training Center. Wow!! Did I ever get a rude awakening. What a surprise! As long as you kept your mouth shut and followed the drill instructor's orders you had a chance to live. Their procedure is to bear down on you mentally and physically to rock bottom then train and build you up to be a man trained to fight, protect yourself and your buddies and defend your country.

Our boot camp training was cut short because the demand for men (grunts) in the Pacific was urgent. After boot camp I took a test for Marine aviation radio, radar gunner and was accepted. At El Centro, CA, I took a crash course in radio, radar and machine gunnery, ordnance, navigation, link trainer and basic flight training. We had a tight schedule. Our classes began at 0700 and went through to 2200, six days a week. A real crash course. A rough schedule on a young punk.

The pilots really enjoyed taking up a new recruit and wringing him out. At 15,000 feet this pilot nosed into a dive, straight down, which scared the hell out of this 18-year-old punk. Then he came on the intercom and said, "Son, if you taste something hairy you better swallow quick because that's your bunghole coming up."

We pulled out of the dive at about 2,000 feet. I couldn't see straight, couldn't think, my head felt like a wash tub, my ears were plugged -- I was a mess. When we landed I couldn't relieve the pressure in my ears, I walked around like I was drunk. After a few flights I began to catch on to this flight business and liked it. Approximately one-third of our class washed out. It was a tough course.

To simulate a parachute jump we would crawl up into a 200-foot tower, adjust the parachute harness, hook onto the drop cable, jump and free fall. After falling for about 100 feet there was a jerk simulating the chute opening. After that you descended to the ground, at 16 feet per second. If your harness wasn't snug-fitted in the thighs you could end up in considerable pain (that smarts). To simulate just the parachute landing we used the same 200-foot tower, would hook onto a cable which slanted down from the tower to the ground, about 1,000 feet away, and glide down that wire hanging onto our parachute harness. Boy what a ride!

After that training we went to the Mojave Desert and were assigned to a newly formed squadron, VMSB-236 (V = heavier than air aircraft; M = Marine; SB = Scout Bomber; SBD = Scout Bomber Dive). Later, at San Diego, we boarded a CVE (small aircraft carrier) and went to Pearl Harbor. In Hawaii we were stationed at EWA, for two months of training and tactics. There pilots and gunners were teamed together, and subsequently stayed together as a flight crew throughout combat. From there we moved on to Espiritu Santo, in the New Hebrides Islands (a combat zone at the time) for familiarization training, in patrol, dive bombing and gunnery.

First Combat Tour.

Then we moved on to Guadalcanal, which was to be our home combat base for the next three months. The airstrip there was code-named "Cactus". We had to circle Cactus for a half-hour after we arrived because the Japs had just hit one of our ammo dumps, and it looked like the fourth of July. Big red globs of fire, smoke and tracers were flying all over. This was our spectacular welcome to the combat zone. While we were there, "Washing Machine Charlie (Jap bombers) bombed us several times a night so we mostly slept in holes or caves.

Once we were settled in we were ready to be assigned a combat mission. The pilots and gunners were briefed and debriefed by G-2 (intelligence) before and after every patrol and strike. Our targets, all along the Solomon Islands to the Bismark Archipelago, including Vella Lavella, Choiseul, Santa Isabel, Munda and New Georgia, were all Jap controlled. A strike normally took more than four hours, round trip. We had cameras on each dive bomber, one mounted forward recording what we were bombing and one mounted aft to record our hits (or misses) and damage assessment.

The SBD dive bomber had two 50-caliber guns mounted in the wings, firing forward, and twin 30-caliber guns mounted on a swivel in the rear cockpit, operated by the gunner. It could carry a 1000 pound bomb under the belly or one 500 pound bomb under the belly and a 250 pound bomb under each wing. Max speed with a full bomb load was 200 mph. Our range was 5-600 miles, and further with fuel drop tanks. Flying altitude on a mission normally was 16-18,000 feet.

Our primary missions were to knock out the big AA guns around the airfields, to attack ships, to support our ground troops (dropping napalm, incendiary or personnel bombs) and to patrol (search and destroy). Many times Marine and Army ground troops requested air support when they were pinned down. After our bombing and strafing runs our ground troops could move forward and dig in.

Generally the SBD was so slow ungainly it was duck soup for the Jap Zeros. Our fighter cover was F4Us, F4Fs and F6Fs, as many as possible. We were usually intercepted by Zeros (Jap fighters) at least 50 miles from the target area, and they usually outnumbered our fighters. Sometimes the Jap fighters would even follow us into our dives because they knew that when we locked on to the target we stayed steady in our flight path, regardless of what firepower was coming up. At that time we were easy pickings. This kept the rear gunners busy shooting even during the attack dives.

We were the flight leader of the second division, in a flight of 18 planes, and were always the first in our division to dive on the target. Normally we would tip over into a dive at 18,000 feet, lock onto the target, drop the bomb and pull out at 1200 feet, high enough so we didn't get hit by our own bomb fragments. After the drop we would stay as low as possible over the water while departing the target area, and join up with the rest of the squadron. Together we had more protection from Jap fighters.

The big boys (B-17s and B-24s) loved us. We destroyed the big AA guns so they could rack off their bombs at 22-24,000 feet and not worry about the ack-ack. After knocking out the AA and tearing up the runways, just a couple of days later the runways would be repaired and more AA guns would be in place. This condition went on for a long time. Our biggest problems were shortages of fuel, ammo, bombs, engine and plane parts and food.

Our squadron combat record for that tour included: 81 missions or strikes completed, 8 Jap ships sunk, 48 big AA guns destroyed, 4 Jap fighters shot down, and numerous Jap aircraft damaged on the ground. Our overall combat losses were approximately 40 percent, of both men and planes -- rough duty.
After this first tour of combat action we moved back to Espirito Santo for replacements, of both planes and men. We also got to go to Sidney, Australia, for seven days of Rest and Relaxation (R&R). It was great duty, and thoroughly enjoyable -- good times, good food, good entertainment, no bullets, no bombs, etc. However after a week this good duty had to come to an halt, and we returned to Espirito Santo for our second tour into combat.

Second Combat Tour.
Our second tour again lasted approximately three months. This tour was much rougher than the first. The Japs were now throwing everything they had at us. This tour our home base was at Munda. On our very first mission we crashed on takeoff when the engine cut out. We went off the runway and settled in the water. We bounced around in the cockpit like a cork in the rough water. I injured my left ankle, knee and shoulder and received many black and blue marks. However, the medic patched me up and I was ready to go in a few days. Bad way to start a combat tour.

We hit the Bougainville area on a regular basis and encountered heavy Jap resistance there. G-2 briefed and scheduled our missions. Normally they involved long flights of 5-7 hours with a stop at a forward air strip in Bougainville to refuel. The assigned mission normally involved bombing Rabaul, which was the Jap stronghold in the South Pacific. The air strip at Bougainville was not finished, making it difficult to land on and, after refueling, to take off of. In fact, our commander got shot in the ear by a Jap sniper as he got into his cockpit.

We kept the pressure on the Japs, hitting them fast and hard -- no mercy. After many more missions we returned to the New Hebrides for more rest, replacements and training. This R&R included another seven day trip to Sidney, which was much better duty. During this time the parachute rigger repacked my chute. He gave me a 50 caliber slug and said, "I dug this out of your chute. You just about had another bung hole."

During this time I got malaria and was put in a field hospital. My squadron was ready for a third tour into combat, then to the states. Well, I wasn't going to miss this tour and told my buddies to get my gear aboard the C-47. I jumped the hospital and made the flight back into combat. The CO could have court martialed me for this but he said, "Glad to have you aboard - we need all the help and experience available."

Third Combat Tour

Our third tour of duty in the South Pacific war zone was the roughest of all. We kept the pressure on the Nips and they were constantly losing ground. This tour our home base was at Bougainville and Green Island. We were within range to hit much of New Brittain and New Ireland, which was all Nip-held area. But Rabaul was still the Nips' strongest location, and we hammered them day after day. In turn the Nips threw everything they had at us. We received heavy losses but the Nips were destroyed.

One time our plane took heavy hits and blew out our landing gear, so we had to crash land. In this crash I could feel the vibrations, and it sounded like a trash compactor. The sparks flew, we skidded a long way and finally flipped over. We got beat up pretty good but were alive. I bled from my nose and mouth and hurt all over.

We kept the pressure on the Japs. Hit them fast and hit them hard. No mercy. Once we took off on a mission we never know if it would be our last flight or if we would live for another day. We prayed a lot, which helped considerably. On one mission we were instructed by G-2 to destroy the big ack-ack guns around the Green Island air field, which was Jap held. We had just formed our attack formation when I saw "Don", my right wing man, take a direct hit in the rear cockpit. It was a heavy AA gun from around the strip. I saw Don's body explode and disappear. He was my buddy. The hurt and gut feelings on this loss is indescribable and very nerve racking. That certainly was a sober, disturbing and memorable time which I will never forget. I HATE IT.

A Special Mission
G-2 intelligence had informed our squadron that there were more Nip ships in Rabaul Harbor, loaded with all types of war supplies. Our assignment was to "sink the ships". This was to be a surprise dawn attack, the following morning.

We got up at 2:00 AM, had breakfast and got into our flight gear. We then went to our planes and checked the bombs, guns and ammo. Inside the plane we check out the cockpit. The first step in any mission was to get a briefing and target assignments from G-2 intelligence. This time G-2 informed us that there were eight Jap ships in Rabaul Harbor and 24 AA guns around the nearby runway which had to be destroyed. G-2 assigned a squadron of 36 SBDs to dive bomb these ships and guns. TBFs were also assigned to bomb those same ships and guns approximately two minutes after we completed our runs. The two squadron leaders assigned specific targets to their crews.

G-2 assigned radio code names for the mission. "Dodger 1" designated the dive bombers, "Dodger 2" the TBFs and "Red Sox" for our fighter cover. Such code names were changed daily. We were also informed of the round trip distance, enroute weather, estimated amount and type of enemy resistance, availability and type of rescue ships, subs and PBYs, our departure time and anticipated time of return. They gave us copies of the latest maps available for navigation and targets and the latest information and code letters on navigational aids.

A "Good luck and good hunting -- dismissed." sent us on our way.
The next step was to get this show off the ground. For the SBD Dive Bomber, Rear Cockpit Radar Radio Gunner, the procedure went as follows:

Step up on the left wing, open the rear canopy, swing your leg over and into rear cockpit, stand on the 360-degree swivel chair seat, lower yourself in and lock the chair in the (facing) forward position, by engaging lock bolt.

Buckle on the safety belt, plug the head set into the radio, turn on the radio, contact the pilot on intercom, contact the tower for a radio check, check the radio for proper frequencies and the code letters for directional homing signals and check the radar for operation and for blimp images.

As flight leader of the second flight, contact all planes in the second flight (18) for radio checks, notify pilot all chicks accounted for and ready for take off.

Insert removable flight control stick, check full left and right aileron deflection and foot pedals for full rudder control.

Check compass reading in the pilot's cockpit (look over the stacked radio and radar gear into the pilot's cockpit to read the control panel.)

Stow and secure navigational charts.

Turn seat around 180 degrees, facing the rear, pull the twin 30 caliber guns up from their storage compartment, swing them left and right on the mounting rail, open the breaches, insert the first rounds of ammo and lock the breaches.

Inform the pilot that the rear cockpit is secure and ready for take off.

After take off and in formation test fire guns -- be prepared for anything.

By this time it was 4:00 AM and our target was two hours away.

We immediately joined up in formation and counted planes. Then we flew along at 18,000 feet in perfect radio silence. None of us wanted to warn the Nips we were coming. In case you got nervous and had a wet nature call an extended relief tube was available. For anything more -- forget it Charlie, tough luck.

About 50 miles out from our target the Nip fighters picked us up anyway. This was some show. It was daylight now and our fighter cover and the Nips were buzzing all over. The SBD's stayed in tight formation, for our own protection. With a full bomb load we were very slow and vulnerable. Several Nip fighters got through our fighters made runs on us. Tracers were flying all over. The gunners in the open rear cockpits were kept busy returning fire. I got a smoker -- it was in flames and smoking as it passed by but I couldn't watch it long enough to see it crash, by then I was busy firing at other Nips.

Despite the fighter attacks we were finally approaching our target. We assume attack formation, which has all planes lined up in a single echelon formation to the right (like half a flock of geese). We picked up our target ship and, with canopies open, nosed the plane down into an 80-90-degree dive. The engine was screaming exceptionally loudly and the air passing by was very noisy. We cracked our diving flaps, to slow down, which made more loud noise. With all this noise it was difficult to hear the intercom and many times the pilot and I had to rely on hand signals. We got on target and locked on, which meant regardless of what might come up at us we would stay locked on that target all the way.

Diving on a ship was like poking a stick in a campfire. All the ship's firepower was directed at us. It looked like the whole deck was red, with all the guns firing at us. I thought, "What the hell am I doing here? This is pure hell." I had never seen so much ack-ack and firepower shooting at us before, and this was a critical battle. During the dive I could feel the concussion of the exploding ack-ack on my face, hands and body.

While in our dive I got one Jap Zero who was on our tail. I know I hit him because he began smoking. However, I couldn't claim this as a confirmed "kill" because three witnesses were required to make a valid claim.

Our plane took a direct hit, which blew a hole between the cockpits approximately two feet in diameter. I thought we had lost it. After we dropped our bomb (we scored a direct hit) and pulled out of our dive we headed out low over the water and let the other planes join on us.

About that time I felt something hot on my right leg. When I looked down I saw that my flight suit was red, and I realized that I had gotten hit. The shrapnel hit my leg in two places. I did what first aid I could on my leg to stop the bleeding.
Well, we made it through the attack. But now, as we were over the water and heading home, our engine began sputtering. We were in trouble, we were going to have to crash (ditch) in the sea. I threw my guns and ammo overboard so when we hit the guns wouldn't break loose and hit me. We hit the water hard. The plane was heavy and only stayed afloat about 30 seconds.

As soon as we hit I jumped out of the rear cockpit onto the wing, got the life raft out and inflated it. Then I helped the pilot out. We got in the rubber raft and pushed away just in time to see the plane disappear. There we were, bouncing around on the waves and hoping the Jap fighter wouldn't come to strafe us. Our position was 10 - 15 miles off Bougainville (our base) so we started to paddle. A couple of our fighter planes circled overhead, which was comforting. After several hours a "Dumbo" PBY float plane flew out, picked us up and took us to our home base.

On this mission we did sink all eight ships. Our squadron got a "Job well done" dispatch from Admiral Mitchell and the Presidential Unit Citation. We earned it. But we paid a price, we lost 15 planes and 30 men. However, we licked our wounds, got patched up and rested a bit, and we were ready for more combat action.

After we completed the twelve weeks of our third tour of combat duty, we returned to Espirito Santo. This time arrangements were made for what was left of our squadron to go home to the "States" A "Big Whoopee". We got off the ship in San Francisco on July 6, 1944. We were alive and had made it through 18 months overseas in combat areas. When I die, I hope the good Lord says, "This Marine served his time in hell so send him to Heaven." He earned it.

After a 30 day leave I reported to VMB 453 at the Marine Air Station at Cherry Point, North Carolina. The squadron was flying the "PBJ" (B-25), a plane that the Marines used as a medium attack and skip bomber. This assignment was a whole new ball game compared to my SBD experience. The big plus was that the B-25 had two (2) powerful engines, if one had trouble you could still fly the plane. In the old SBD if the one (1) engine quit you were SOL.

B-25 (PBJ) Specifications:
Power plant: Two 1700 HP R-2600-13 Wright Cyclone engines, 14-cylinder twin-row radial
Speed: 275 mph
Ceiling: 24,000 feet
Range: 1,300 miles
Bomb load: 3,000 lbs (two vertical bomb bays)

Some B-25s had twelve 50 cal and two 20 mm guns mounted on the forward sides of the fuselage and a 75 mm cannon mounted in the nose section. "Solid-nosed" B-25s carried a crew of five. The pilot, copilot and a gunner occupied the flight deck (forward cabin) while two more gunners manned the waist and tail guns. "Plexiglas-nosed " B-25s included a bombardier.

I immediately became involved in the new training and familiarization program. This was a beautiful and exciting war plane and I wanted to learn everything I needed to know to man and operate all the equipment, to defend our crew and keep our plane in the air. This included: man the nose, waist, tail and the top turret gun positions; operate the 75 mm cannon (on some B-25s); do some navigation; operate the radio and radar; and basic copilot duties. At first I was a trainee in all of these operations but after several months I became the trainer. I learned a lot and passed on my training and past experiences to the up and coming crew members, which was very rewarding.

The Marines flew the B-25s in tough Southwest Pacific fighting. B-25s were also flown by a dozen other nations. Pilots praised its speed, brute strength and quick response to the controls. It was frightening to be on the receiving end of a B-25 attack. In the early years of the war the B-25 was faster in a dive than many fighters.

On a typical skip bombing run the B-25 would fly in toward a ship target at low level (25-50 ft above the water) and high speed with all guns blazing and release two 1000 lb bombs. The bombs would then skip across the water, greatly increasing their range and accuracy. The B-25 would continue its run in toward the ship, with guns still blazing and bombs skipping on the water just below. The aircraft would then lift up and over the ship an instant before the bombs hit, and move on out a full speed.

In Pacific operations the Marines used the B-25s mostly for low level skip bombing and for attacking airfields. Low level bombing against ground targets was no easy task because standard bombs would explode underneath the aircraft. They eventually put parachutes on the bombs to allow the B-25s to escape the blast.

One day a pilot and I were delivering a B-25 from Cherry Point to North Island, San Diego. While flying over Texas at about 10,000 feet I had the controls and spotted a big herd of cattle. I told the pilot, "Watch this!" I put the plane in a steep dive and just above the herd I gave it full throttle and pulled up and banked to the left. That herd just exploded and the cattle went crazy. I asked the pilot, "Did you ever see a stampede before?" He said, "No but I see one now." If I had been caught pulling that caper I'd still be in the brig.

Before I left my old SBD squadron I received a letter from the Commanding Officer recommending me for flight school. I applied and received a reply that I was accepted and that I was on a 6-8 month waiting list. I wasn't satisfied with that answer so I submitted a request for training to become a Weapons Systems Officer (WSO). A WSO is a back-seater who does everything but fly, and can fly if necessary. Again I received an acknowledgment that my waiting period would be 6-8 months.

Well I was getting restless and wanted a change, so I submitted a request, as an experienced combat gunner, to a new dive bombing squadron that was flying the SB2C Helldiver. Due to my past combat experience in dive bombers my request was accepted immediately. It didn't take long and I was on a flight to Naval Air Station Miramar, CA, where a group of replacements were preparing to go overseas, to the SW Pacific and Philippine areas. I was on my way for my second combat tour, this time in the SB2C.

SB2C Helldiver

The SBD Dauntless dive bomber was replaced by the SB2C Helldiver. The SB2C had a large internal bomb bay with displacement gear for the bombs, to "kick" them out, and hydraulically actuated doors. It carried a 2000 lb bomb or a torpedo in the bomb bay.

It had a 1700 HP R-2600-8 air-cooled Wright Cyclone engine driving a four-bladed prop, a listed max. speed of 280 mph, a service ceiling of 25,000 feet, a 1,100 mile range and a max. weight of 16,600 lbs. It came with either two 20 mm cannon or four 50 cal machine guns in the wings and two 30 cal machine guns in the rear cockpit. It was equipped for either land or carrier operation.

Many pilots called the SB2C "The Beast" because it was difficult to fly. Aircrews were less polite, saying that "SB2C" stood for "Son-of-a-Bitch Second Class". It was particularly vulnerable to attack from enemy fighters because of its slow flying speed. In addition there were rumors that a number of SB2Cs had shed their tails in dive bombing runs. Without question it was big, but it did achieve many combat success. I much preferred the SBD.

Early in 1945 I transferred from B-25s at Cherry Point, North Carolina to a squadron equipped with the new SB2Cs, at North Island Naval Air Station in San Diego, California. We were to replace veteran combat squadron VMSB-244 in the S.W. Pacific area. After a brief period of familiarization and training we were ship-bound to that area, via the Marshall Islands, Caroline Islands, Layte, Samar and the Phillipines. In the Phillipines we flew patrol and scouting missions and assisted ground troops.

Then we were transferred to Zamboango, on the Island of Mindinoa, still in the Phillipines. Our primary missions were to patrol within a 300 mile radius, to seek and destroy anything that looked like Japs, to bomb and strafe enemy positions and caves and provide necessary ground support for the troops. By that time the war was winding down and resistance was nil. Our combat activities decreased considerably.

A typical day on patrol started with a briefing by intelligence, defining a specific area for us to patrol. We would then check the aircraft, guns, ammo, etc., and take off . Normally a group of 2-3 planes would patrol an assigned area, and the mission would require 3-4 hours to complete. It was difficult to stay alert the whole time, especially when flying over water for endless hours. All you could see was sky and water. Bo-o-ring. By that time there were no enemy ships in our area.

When we were asked to assist our ground troops the job became more interesting. We bombed and strafed enemy positions and received enemy fire in return. In some areas the Japs were holed up in caves and were difficult to flush out. These combat activities were rare and we normally met little resistance. But we enjoyed the flying.

Our squadron was then transferred to Tsingtao, China. At Zamboango we boarded one of a convoy of six LSTs (Landing Ship, Tank) and headed north to Subic Bay, then on to Naha, Okinawa. Our stay at Naha was short lived as we had to haul anchor and put to sea to ride out a typhoon. In fact, our little convoy rode out two typhoons in one week. Those little flat-bottom ships bounced around in those storms like corks. Many of the waves were 80-100 feet high and just pounded the ship for days. All our gear topside was washed overboard, including our bedding, packs and clothing.

The ship had only a few solidly anchored sleeping racks so each man was allotted just four hours in one each day. Even then you had to lash yourself in or the severe bucking, pitching and rolling would dump you out on the floor. Nevertheless, those were the only hours of good, solid sleep we got all day. The other 20 hours we stood watch or just lounged around. In the cargo hold everything broke loose. What a mess. Jeeps, trucks and tanks were piled up like a bunch of toys.

Three of the six in our convoy had to turn in to Formosa to have major damage repaired. The other three continued north to Tsingtao. Once settled in, our duty was again patrol, and once again resistance was nil.

The Japs surrendered in September 1945 and the war was over. I spent several months in Tsingtao then returned to the states, looking forward to my honorable discharge.
Actually my second trip to overseas combat areas was a wonderful experience and a beautiful trip. It was undoubtedly the best and most exciting paid vacation I ever had, certainly pure gravy compared to my first tour.

In two combat tours I was many times in harm's way. When I die I hope the good Lord says, "This Marine has already served his time in Hell, send him right on in to heaven."

 

Table of Contents

 

GEORGE W. MARSH

BRIEF BIO:

George Marsh was born August 2, 1923 in Lookingglass, Oregon. In May 1942, at Corvallis, Oregon, he enlisted in the Army Air Corps, in the cadet program. His Basic Training was at the AFB in Lincoln, Nebraska. He also got 10 hours of flight training in a J-3 Cub, at Drake University. Primary I was at Thunderbird II in Arizona (PT-13s) and Primary II was at the AFB in Lemoore, California (BT-15s). Advanced was at Luke AFB (AT-6s), Arizona, and night-fighter training (P-70s) was at Sacramento, California (Mather), and Greenville, South Carolina. His major theater of operations was in Italy, in the Poe Valley, the Apennines and the Balkans. He flew 24 combat missions and was awarded three (3) Air Medals. He was released from active duty at Fort Lewis, Washington in May 1946, as a 1st Lt. He remained in the Air Force Reserve for another 37 years, serving at Long Beach, Fort Lewis, McCord, Chanute and Portland. He retired in 1983 with the rank of Lt.Col.

George married Ida Clemons in Sacramento, California, on July 22, 1944. Together they have five (5) children, Bill, Judy, Dan, Pamela and Dave. A short "remembering" story by Ida is at the end of George's story.

HIS STORY:

In May of 1942, at Corvallis, Oregon, I enlisted in the Army Air Corps. In February of the following year I was called to Active Duty for Basic Training in Lincoln, Nebraska. I was at the AFB there for a month, and saw the temperature rise above freezing only on the day that I left. In April of that year I was sent to Drake University for further training, including 10 hours of flight training in the J-3 Cub. I was then transferred to Santa Ana, California for Cadet placement. I spent six months there before being transferred to Thunderbird II in Arizona for Primary Flight Training, in PT 13s.

While at Thunderbird II my instructor was transferred to another training school and I was not assigned to another flight instructor. An inspector from headquarters came to the field to review the training program and answer questions. I informed him that I had no regular assigned instructor and he was very unhappy. The next day I was assigned an instructor and told to go fly solo for three landings. Upon completion the inspector told me to tell the chief instructor that I had soloed and "did a darn good job of it". Later, my instructor told me that he was going to solo me, ready or not, and if I crashed and killed myself, good riddance.

After completion of Primary I was transferred to Lemoore AFB in California, where I flew Vultee BT 15s, a P&W-engined version of the BT-13 Vibrator. There I was assigned to single engine fighter training. Upon completion of that training I was transferred to Luke Field in Phoenix, Arizona, for more Advanced training, in the AT-6. While there, I saw my first P-61 night fighter, and immediately signed up for night fighter training. I enjoyed flying at night and really liked instrument flying. Initially I converted to the radar-equipped, all-black P-70 Havoc, the night fighter version of the Douglas A-20 Boston. I was commissioned and received my wings at Luke AFB in May 1944.

However, there was a current shortage of B-25 Mitchell pilots so my entire class, some 260 people, was retrained on that plane, at Mather Field in Sacramento, California. Upon completion of that training orders were cut for me to go to Columbia, South Carolina, for combat replacement training. I completed that assignment in February 1945 and left for Corsica, a French island off the west coat of Italy.

I flew a new B-25 by way of South America and on to Ascension Island. The day before we arrived the supply ship was torpedoed and we were grounded by a dust storm in the Sahara Desert. Food and supplies were very short. We then flew on to Africa. Between Marrakech and Tunis my radio operator tuned into Berlin Radio and heard Axis Sally broadcast a welcome to our crew. She listed our aircraft serial number and destination and for each man aboard she listed name, rank, serial number, home address and wife's name. She also told us the Group and Squadron we would be assigned to, which even we didn't know. We were indeed assigned to the 340th Bomb Group, 489th Bomb Squadron, 12th Air Force, just like she said.

Our B-25Js were powered by two P&W R2600 engines, each developing 1,700 HP. Our maximum takeoff weight was 35,000 lbs and we cruised at about 230 mph, at our operating altitude. When we operated close to the front lines we were able to carry maximum bomb loads of 3000 lbs, usually in 500 or 1,000 lb bombs. We were fitted with a total of twelve 50-caliber machine guns, including four in cheek pods below the cockpit which were fired by the pilot. Our ships were mostly painted with drab-olive upper surfaces and gray undersides. The 489th was identified by a numeral 9 followed by the individual aircraft letter (9-A, 9-B, etc.) painted on the tail.

We operated with a crew of six; pilot, copilot, bombardier, engineer/top turret gunner, radio operator/waist gunner, and rear gunner. The group comprised four squadrons, each nominally with 15 aircraft. A typical mission would entail three squadrons, each providing twelve aircraft. The fourth squadron would be on rest, in rotation. The squadrons flew in boxes of six aircraft flown in two "Vee" formations. We normally operated from an altitude between 7,000 and 12,000 feet, and dropped our bombs on the leader's signal.

Many of our missions were to take out bridges and other lines of transport and communication. The Brenner Pass, between Italy and Austria, was a transport bottle-neck and so was the frequent subject of our attacks. These were usually scheduled around noon, when the shadows in the pass were minimal. On our run-in we would pop over the surrounding mountains with minimum clearance. Though fighter opposition was rare by then, we did encounter heavy flak concentrations.

The Group Commander talked to me upon arrival and asked about my training. He was particularly interested that I had completed night fighter and instrument training. He wanted to initiate night missions into the Poe River Valley in northern Italy and, with the approval of the "top brass", this would be my job. However, Wing HQ never did approve so I never flew any night missions. In hindsight that was probably a good thing for me because the terrain in which we operated was quite mountainous and we were not radar-equipped. I could well have ended up spread all over some canyon wall in that valley. In April 1945 the group moved from Corsica to Miramar, a former Luftwaffe fighter strip near Rimini, a city on the northeast coast of Italy. It was located just a few miles behind the front line, close enough that we could hear the artillery.

I ended up flying 24 missions into northern Italy, Austria and the Balkan Countries. One mission stands out in my mind. We bombed a rail yard that we had tried to bomb earlier, and had lost several aircraft in the attempt. On this second raid not one shot was fired at us. Nevertheless I was so scared I had to have my hands pried from the controls after we landed. On another mission I was flying copilot with a load of phosphorus bombs for anti-aircraft positions, when the oil pressure on one engine dropped. The pilot was upset but did return to maintenance, where we found a bubble in the oil line. But the plane that took our place was totally disintegrated by anti-aircraft fire.

On one of my last combat missions we were dropping anti-personnel bombs in support of Canadian troops, who were carrying out an assault across the River Poe, a main waterway which empties into the Adriatic Sea. It seemed like all of the anti-aircraft guns were pointed exclusively at my plane. By the time I made an emergency landing the left engine was losing oil badly. After shutdown we found that the prop feathering motor had been shot off, the oil was completely gone, both main wing spars were cracked and we had over 250 holes in the aircraft. Somehow no one was injured. The aircraft was hauled to the salvage yard and junked. We later learned that the German Panzer Division had sustained 95% casualties, and the Canadians had anded practically unopposed.

Just prior to the cessation of hostilities our operations officer informed me that I had been "volunteered" to parachute into a German POW camp, in case the Germans did not surrender and intended to hold the prisoners as hostages. The high command had requested experienced pilots to do parachute drops of food, supplies and troops (me). Fortunately this was never needed.

After the fighting ended in Europe my Group was scheduled for re-assignment to Japan but I was transferred and assigned to the Mediterranean Allied Air Force, based in Bari, to fly VIP's around in a C-47. Later the VIP that I was flying was transferred to the United Nations Greek Election Commission, based in Athens, and I flew for the United Nations for the rest of my tour. The UN Commission's mission was to observe the polling booths throughout Greece. I had to fly the observers to a number of small towns, which entailed flying an L-5A Sentinel light observation plane. I never could get used to its low stalling speed and short field performance.

When elections were over I returned to Bari, where I flew milk-runs in the C-47 between Allied bases throughout Italy, on behalf of the UN Commission. One small claim to fame was when I made the first Ground Controlled Approach (GCA) into Bari, in zero visibility. GCA involved the new technique of being talked down to a landing by a radar operator on the ground. It was a nerve-wracking experience that first time, blindly trusting your life to another person.

I came state side in May 1946 and was released from active duty in July of that year. Although I never flew again, I remained in the USAF Reserves until I was 60 years old, at which time I retired, with the rank of Lt. Col.

MRS. IDA MARSH

I was born and raised in the small town of Athena, in Northeastern Oregon. My name was Ida (Terry) Clemons. George Marsh and I had a mutual friend, who arranged a blind date between us. We were both attending Oregon State University in Corvallis, Oregon, at the time. I was a freshman, majoring in Pharmacy, and George was a sophomore, with a major in Forestry Engineering.

We became good friends during the next few months and when George left for the Air Force in February 1943 we continued our friendship through correspondence, for the next 16 months. When he finally got leave and came home, in May 1944, we knew it was love for sure, and became engaged.
We were married in July 1944 at Mather Field in Sacramento, California. Until he went overseas, in February 1945, I tagged along from base to base. It was a stressful time, but it was a wonderful bonding and loving time. We were together and in love.

When he went overseas, I stayed with his folks in Lookingglass and worked in the U.S. National Bank. He was overseas for another 16 months. Nevertheless our love grew daily, thanks to the U.S. Postal Service.

I sincerely believed that George would return safely home because his Mom and Dad had lost their two other children as young teenagers. I just knew in my heart that God wouldn't take all of their children. We all prayed daily that God would keep George safe and bring him home.

And He did, and now we have five wonderful children and nine grandchildren of whom we are exceedingly proud. George and I have had 55 wonderful years of happiness. God is good.

 

Table of Contents

VICTOR L. NUNENKAMP

BRIEF BIO:

Vic Nunenkamp was born on November 30, 1918, in Portland, Oregon. In March 1942, just six hours short of graduation from OSC (later OSU), a threatening draft notice caused him to volunteer for the Army Air Corps, as a Cadet. On May 31st, Vic's wife-to-be, Chris, graduated from OAC; on June 7th, Vic and Chris were married, in Astoria, Oregon, and on June 15th, Vic departed for Pre-flight Cadet Training.

Pre-flight Training was in Santa Ana, CA. this was followed with Primary Flight Training at Thunderbird #1 AAB in Phoenix, Arizona; Basic Training was at Marana AAB in Tucson, Arizona. Here he trained in the Vultee Vibrator, BT-13. Advance Training was at La Junta AAB, Colorado flying twin engine Cessna "Bamboo Bombers" (AT-17) and the Curtiss AT-9. The adjacent picture shows one of the latter struggling to take to the air.

In April of '43 he completed training and received his wings and commission as a 2nd LT. Following graduation, he stayed at La Junta for transition into the B-25. In July '43, he was transferred to Greenville AAB, South Carolina for B-25 Combat Crew Training. Near the end of that training, he was assigned duty as Instructor Pilot and instructed there until September '44 when was ordered overseas as a replacement pilot.

Despite his B-25 training, Vic's World War II combat operations involved flying Martin B-26s in the European theater, from September 1944 through the end of the war. During that time, he flew 21-1/2 combat missions (half-combat missions were added when you were the Lead Plane), out of Orleans (Sept - Oct '44) and Cambrai (Oct '44 - May '45), France, and Venlo, Holland (May - Nov '45). For that service, he was awarded the Air Medal with 3 Oak Leaf Clusters; American Theater Service Medal; European African Middle Eastern Service Medal with 3 Bronze Stars; and World War 2 Victory Medal. Vic stayed on active duty in the Air Force after the war and was involved in both the Korean and Vietnam wars. Those activities will be reported as part of the "Post-WWII Warbird Histories".

He retired on July 1, 1969, after 27 years, three months of active service, with the rank of Lt. Colonel. Vic and Chris have two children, David C. and Vicki L. (Cloud). Vicki's story, representing a typical "Air Force Brat" will also be included with the "Post-WWII Warbird Histories".

HIS STORY:

I started at Oregon State College, now Oregon State University, in 1938. Shortly afterwards (April 1939) , on a blind date met Chris, my wife to be. In March, 1942, having received my draft notice, I went to Seattle to volunteer for the Navy. However, I was informed that I had a heart murmur and was rejected on medical grounds. The following week, I went to Portland to the Army Air Corps Recruiting Center and applied for Aviation Cadets and was accepted. On producing my draft notice, the recruiting sergeant took me to the draft board and convinced them to release me so that I could join the Army Air Corps. Duly sworn in as a private, at $25 per month, I was sent back to college to wait, as there weren't any openings in the Aviation Cadets at the time. I got a part-time job as a surveyor and worked on setting up the foundations for the barracks being built at Camp Adair just outside Corvallis. Chris and I were both due to graduate in May 1942 but, because of the draft, I ended up six hours short. Chris graduated on May 31st, we got married on the June 7th, and I was called to the Cadet program on June 15th. After I received my WINGS we sent the relevant papers to the college and I received my Bachelor of Science Degree in Forestry.

I reported to Santa Ana for boot camp training, where we were confined to base for the first month. After that, my bride came down to stay with her aunt so we were able to meet on the weekends. Once the training was completed I transferred to Thunderbird Field at Phoenix, AZ, arriving mid-July for primary flight training. The first two weeks at Thunderbird Field we were billeted in tents outside the base. The temperatures reached 120 degrees. The only way we could sleep at night was to roll the tent sides up, remove the mattress covers, soak them in water and then climb inside. Two weeks later, we were assigned to proper barracks on base. Meanwhile, my wife found a nice apartment in Phoenix and got a job to support herself. There I am in the adjacent picture, in full flight regalia.

A misdiagnosed medical condition led me to having my tonsils extracted after which I was put on light duties and slipped back a class. Eventually I was assigned to Class 43D, the "Delta Eagles" we called ourselves. After completing our primary flight training in PT 13s, we were transferred to Marana Airbase, Tucson, AZ, for basic training in the BT-13 Vultee "Vibrator". Our next move was in January of '43 when I was sent to La Junta, CO, for Advanced Training. There we flew the Cessna AT-17, later known as the Bobcat and often referred to as the Bamboo Bomber because of its all-wood construction. I also trained in the Curtiss AT-9, an all-metal twin. Training was completed in April 1943 and I received my Wings and was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant.

At this point, the class was split in two. I was part of the group selected to remain at La Junta to transition into North American B-25 twin-engined medium bombers. I finished this transition in July. After taking my wife home to have our first baby, born in August, I went to Greenville Army Air Base in Greenville, SC, for B-25 combat crew training. In September, I borrowed my flight instructor's car to go to the train station to pick up my wife. As we neared the base, I saw this black cloud boiling up from the ground. It turned out that a formation of three B-25's had had a mid-air collision during take-off, killing all three crews, including the pilot whose car I had borrowed. As a result, I was reassigned as a B-25 instructor-pilot, remaining at Greenville until I was called, a year later, for overseas duty in Europe, as a replacement pilot.

In September '44, aboard the liner Ile de France, I departed New York. Being a fast ship, we crossed the Atlantic to Glasgow, Scotland, unescorted, in eight days. Then I went by rail to the Aircrew Replacement unit at Stone, in Staffordshire. On September 28, I was flown in a B-17 from an airfield called Grove, near Oxford, to France. There I was assigned as a replacement pilot assigned in the 585th Bomb Squadron, 394th Bomb Group, 9th Air Force, based at Bricy, near Orleans. Here I was surprised to find that the Group operated Martin B-26 Marauders, a type with which I had no experience!

The B-26 was a twin-engined med-ium bomber powered by two Pratt & Whitney R2800-43s. It carried a bomb load of 3,000 lbs internally over an 1100 mile range. Over shorter ranges we could carry 4,000 lb. It was initially operated in Europe as a low-level bomber, with dis-astrous losses. So operations were cha-nged to fly between 10,000 and 15,000 feet, out of range of small arms fire.

The six-man crew consisted of two pilots, a bombardier / navigator, a radio operator, a flight engineer and a rear gunner. The two pilots and the bomb / nav were commissioned officers, the rest were enlisted men. All crew members other than the pilots manned the various gun positions when attacked. The bomb / nav position was in the nose of the plane, well out in front of and below the cockpit. If the plane was hit, and was going down, he had to crawl back up through a tight passageway into the cockpit before he could find a place to jump out.

Fifty caliber guns were located in the nose, a mid-upper turret, two waist positions and a rear turret. In addition, two fixed forward-firing guns were located in a pack on both sides of the nose below the cockpit. These four guns were fired by the pilot.

The Group operated two versions of the aircraft. The B-26B had a wing span of 65 feet. This, combined with problems with its 13 feet 6 inch diameter propellers, led to many accidents in the early days. It was the very small wing that earned it the sobriquet "Widow Maker". A more salacious name was "the Flying Prostitute", implying that it had "no visible means of support". This reputation led to the B-26C version, with a wing span increased by three feet on each side, to reduce the wing loading and take-off and approach speeds.

Our squadron, the 585th, shared the airfield with three other squadrons which formed the 394th Bomb Group. The adjacent picture shows our squadron patch. To identify our planes from the other units, we wore the code 4T plus an individual aircraft letter. Our unit identifier was a black-edged white band painted diagonally across the vertical tail from the top trailing edge to the bottom leading edge. All were bare metal except for the upper surfaces which were painted drab olive. Most aircraft also sported nose art designed and selected by the aircraft's assigned crew. I never had a plane of my own long enough even to think about nose art.

The airfield at Bricy, a former Luftwaffe base, was very primitive, as a result of heavy Allied bombing and destruction of any remaining facilities by the retreating Germans. Its runway was created from panels of pierced steel planking (PSP) linked together and laid on the grass. Accommodations were equally basic. Initially I was assigned to sleep in a chicken coup located near the runway. The day after I arrived a returning damaged B-26 made a wheels-up landing, with two bombs still aboard (as in the adjacent picture). These broke loose and bounced towards our accommodations, which we rapidly vacated. Happily the bombs failed to explode!

On October 2, after settling in, I started ground school, and made my first B-26 flight the following day. I got checked out in the B-26B in just four flights totaling six hours and forty minutes. Because of my earlier training, I was assigned as Squadron Training Officer. Part of my duties included drilling the troops when the weather was too poor to fly.

The first two or three combat missions were always flown as co-pilot, standard procedure in introducing new pilots to operational flying. I flew my first combat mission on October 6th as co-pilot on a bombing raid on an ammunition dump located at Duran. We encountered some light but inaccurate flak, an easy introduction to combat for a very nervous rookie. We flew on the left wing of the lead aircraft, leading eighteen aircraft in six "Vee" formations. As we got to altitude, around 10,000 feet, standard procedure required that we don our oxygen masks. Soon it got very cold, and the windshield iced up. The pilot couldn't see through the windshield to see the lead plane, on our right, so I had to fly and hold formation on the leader by looking out my side window.

My second mission was on the following day, to destroy a railway bridge at Dilingen in Luxembourg. These missions, typical for B-26s, averaged around four hours per round trip.

We remained at Bricy for a very short period before the Group was ordered to relocate to Cambrai. Each airfield, either an existing one or one created by clearing a field and putting down PSP, was allocated a code to simplify identification. Cambrai was known as A-74. When I arrived, on October 11th, we were assigned tented accommodations, but a week later we moved into a convent in the nearby town of Crevecoeur, located about one and a half miles from the base. I shared a room on the upper floor with several other aircrew members.

Heavy rain curtailed operational flying over the next three weeks. On numerous occasions, we would attend briefings and man the aircraft only to have the mission scrubbed. Twice we got airborne, only to have the trip canceled due to poor visibility in the target area. Unfortunately, these abandoned flights did not count towards our mission tally.

During this period, life around the camp was fairly dreary, but the situation improved as a huge backlog of mail from home started arriving, sometimes five or six letters a day. We were able to go into town and meet with the locals. A rare treat was to buy eggs from the farmers, a change from the powdered variety, for a bar of soap. Much of the food we ate was dehydrated or canned.

Finally, the weather improved for a couple of days and, on November 3rd, I got my third mission. We bombed a small railroad town, Bad Muenster, through the clouds, the target being marked by a Pathfinder. Again, the flak was there but we passed safely through it. We operated again the following day, the Group putting up 54 aircraft. Our target was Ashweiller, which we saturated with 100 lb bombs through heavy flak. Weather continued to plague us.

On November 9th I was assigned my own crew and my own B-26B. There we are in the adjacent picture. I'm the tall good-looking one in the back row, left. We went off on a mission twice that same day but in both cases were recalled to base before we reached the target. It was 18 degrees below zero at cruise altitude and we loaded up with ice. The cockpit heater wasn't working and my feet were freezing.

During this continued bad weather situation, I managed to get a three-day pass to visit Paris. On my return, two more scrubbed missions followed. But on the plus side, I was appointed as Assistant Operations Officer. My duties included helping prepare the mission planning, crew scheduling, etc. Frequently, our missions were tasked with only an hour's notice. I was also required to be in the control tower any time there were operations on-going in which I wasn't taking part.

Throughout November, the Group managed to fly a number of missions, I flew in about every other one. My sixth mission, on November 21st, was one of the toughest. We went to take out a 300 foot railroad bridge at Nieuweld in Germany. We all dropped on the Pathfinder's actions. We would all salvo as soon as we saw the bombs leave his aircraft. The spread of our formation would saturate the area with bombs, resulting in many hitting the target. The squadron had gained quite a reputation for this kind of mission, hence were known as "The Bridge-Busters". The adjacent picture is typical of our "bridge-busting".

On this mission, I was flying quite near the Pathfinder and saw it receive three direct hits from the heavy flak we were encountering. It went down in flames with nobody bailing out. Two other ships were hit forcing them to return on one engine. We had one near miss that caused shrapnel to rattle off of the fuselage. On any mission, although we wove to avoid flak en route to the target, once we reached the Initial Point, we held a straight and level path -- averaging a minute or so on our final bomb run. During that minute, on a clear day, we were sitting ducks for the German gunners.

My next trip fell on my 26th birthday, November 30th. It was a gift, with solid overcast and no fighter opposition or flak. Our target was a defended town, Vettweidsz, which was just ahead of our advancing troops. I did very little flying during December as most of the aircraft were grounded by heavy snow. I did manage another sortie to Paris, for a couple of days of R and R, but most of my time was spent on ground duties. We had some excitement on December 20th when it was reported that German paratroopers had dropped 50 miles from our base and attacked some vehicles and troops. We went to full alert with troops posted all around the base and all were required to carry weapons. This was at the time of the Battle of the Bulge. We were ordered to be ready to move at a moment's notice. However, the good news that day was my promotion to 1st Lieutenant.

Around Christmas time, the weather cleared and the Group operated for five days in a row. These missions were close air support for our troops pushing the Germans back. During one mission our ground troops under Patton got ahead of the markers showing the bomb safety line and were accidentally bombed.

I only participated in the first raid, an attack on a railroad bridge at Magen, a major supply route between Koblenz and the front line. We had to bomb visually because our PFF operator had equipment failure. The flak was moderate. We had several bursts just below us but didn't receive any serious hits. An unusual event took place on the night of December 26th when we received a visit from the Luftwaffe which strafing the town and airfield. We took shelter in the convent's basement. The Germans repeated these attacks for the next few nights as part of the Luftwaffe's last gasp.

My tenth mission, on January 9, 1945, was a failure. We arrived in the target area but heavy cloud cover precluded us from dropping. Coming home, the weather had closed in at our base so we were diverted to Airfield A-70, an 8th Air Force base. We finally got out of there on January 11th but the weather clamped down again. We diverted to yet another field, A-69 near San Quentin, and finally were trucked back to our field. Little flying was done throughout the remainder of the month because of the heavy snow . At one point, we were down to just three aircraft being available as the rest were scattered around other fields. On February 3rd I finally got another outing, attacking a bridge at Sinzig with our two 2,000 lb bombs. We reverted to using our "G" boxes for navigation as the Pathfinder had aborted. "G" was a British device we carried. It would pick up a beam from two ground transmitters and we dropped where the two bearings intersected.

My next contribution to the war effort, on February 10th, was a raid on a tank and truck repair shop. We destroyed the target, putting our bombs right through the roof. A couple of days later, a similar target, deep inside Germany at Schwelm, received a visit from the squadron and me, with good results.

Throughout this period, we were critically short of air crews; at one point we were nine crews short. This was a period when many of our aircraft were shot down, mostly by flak. On February 22nd, over Muenster, we lost six aircraft in one day, including three which fell to fighters. Amongst those failing to return were my three enlisted crew members. I had loaned them to another pilot while his enlisted crew were on a pass. Eventually, replacement crews arrived in strength.

Then the weather improved considerably, so much so that we flew as much as four missions on one day. My trips became more frequent and were mostly over Germany., Bridges were still our primary target though we bombed marshaling yards as well. The adjacent picture is typical of some of the smaller, bombed-out yards. The grouping of craters way off to the right quite obviously were not ours.

I had a solo flight over Germany on March 4th, my 16th mission. Tasked with dropping leaflets over Ottweiller, I found the target by using "G" and dead reckoning. Fortunately, it was overcast, so I didn't encounter any flak. By this time, enemy fighters were a rarity due to the growing German fuel shortage. Eleven days later, on my 18th mission, I led a flight of ten aircraft over Germany. We split off and each aircraft dropped leaflets over a different town or city. I earned an additional half-mission credit for leading this operation.

My next R and R trip followed shortly afterwards. I took off to the French Riviera to get some sunshine and play tennis. On my return, I had another leaflet raid, this time to Hucheswagen. We were shot at but nothing came close. On the way home I did some low flying, to view the castles and the famous Maginot Line.

Illness prevented me from flying again until April 9th, when we bombed a fuel dump at Dedenhausen. It was an evening flight and took us around Hanover, a well-known flak trap. We left the target with big fires burning. By now, the war was rapidly nearing its end, so our activities were becoming fewer and fewer. On April 13th, when we heard that President Roosevelt had died, we stood down from operations and spent the day on training flights.

My twenty-first and last mission, on April 18th, was a milk run. We were tasked with hitting an oil storage dump located in a forest near Neuberg. We dropped visually onto the forest but didn't generate any secondary explosions. Flak and fighters were nonexistent so it was a great way to end my tour.

The squadron mounted one more raid on April 20th and was attacked by Me262 jet fighters, but nobody was hit. On May 1st the Group started moving to Venlo (Station Y-55), which straddled the border between Germany and Holland. Previously, it had been a German night-fighter base. I was in the advance party sent to set things up.

May 7th saw the receipt of a teletype from General Eisenhower announcing the agreed surrender of all enemy forces in Europe, effective 0100 hrs, May 8, 1945.

On May 8th I made a low-level sortie down the Ruhr Valley to see all the bomb damage, taking lots of photos. We passed over Cologne, Essen and Dusseldorf, all of which were wastelands. We also photographed huge stockades full of German POWs. From then on, flying was very limited and I took time out to do some ground sightseeing of the ruined cities. Most of my time was spent with the usual mundane ground duties. However, on July 7th, a bright spot was receiving my promotion to Captain. Shortly afterwards our Commanding Officer rotated back to the USA and I was left as acting C. O. In September, the squadron was ordered to move to Kitzingen, near Kassel, as part of the occupation force. I supervised the movement of the ground echelon to the new base, then dispatched the aircraft, keeping one back for myself. I had accumulated enough points to return home so handed over the squadron to my assistant. I had the last remaining aircraft drop me off in Paris. I eventually made it home for Thanksgiving, 1945.