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I was issued a new B-24 at Lincoln,
Nebraska and we flew it to England, over the Greenland
Ice Cap and Iceland, arriving August 12, 1944. We flew
our first Combat Mission September 13, 1944. Never finding,
or being able to contact out Squadron or Group after take-off:
we "tacked-on" another Group that was also assigned the
warehouse and storage target. Our Group was recalled because
of bad weather, but we completed the mission and brought back
good strike photos and some flack damage as proof. Had we been
30 minutes later returning to base, they would have listed us
as M.I.A (missing in action) on our first mission.
After ten missions, we were selected
to be a "Lead Crew"; to lead a Squadron of 12 planes or
the Group of 36 planes. My crew worked and trained hard,
perfecting our skills; as a result we lead the entire
Eighth Air Force in Bomb Strike records during the Month
of December 1944, during the "Battle of the Bulge".
My squadron and/or Group always flew in very tight formation,
which discouraged fighter attack and improved the bomb strike patterns.
I employed evasive action techniques to evade the Anti-Aircraft guns (Flack)
so well that we never lost a man or aircraft of those I lead on the remaining
20 combat missions. This "no loss" record was very much envied and respected
after about 8 or 10 missions by most flying personnel on base, resulting
in many of the Squadron and Group Administrative Flight Officers vying
for opportunities to schedule missions as part of our crew. Col. Crawford,
Base Commander, chose to fly his first four Combat Missions as my Copilot,
and served very subjectively.
This is not to say that we didn't have problems.
When the situations got rough, or when it was smooth and beautiful,
I often closeted myself in my oxygen mask and the roar of the
engines. Without a thumb on the radio button, I was totally
alone to pray, thank, praise and sing. Our favorite battle song
was "A Mighty Fortress is Our God", in German or English.
It brought much comfort.
Twice while using the Squadron in front
of us, on the Bomb-run as a decoy, the German Anti-Aircraft
Gunners scored direct hits on the lead plane of that squadron.
This caused blood splatter and debris damage to our planes.
Losing an engine was a fairly common occurrence. On one mission
we burned out 16 engines on 12 planes, climbing higher, and faster
through the "soup" than all other squadrons in the vicinity to
insure against mid-air collisions in clouds so thick we could not
see our own wing tips. Many planes were lost that day, but none
from our 706th Squadron. On another mission, a shell ripped through
all four amplifiers of the turbo super chargers. We limped home
below 10,000 ft., alone. Most of our flying over Germany was
between 17,00 and 28,500 ft. altitude.
Our last mission (No. 30) was on Wednesday,
March 30, 1945. The target was submarine pens at Wilhemshaven,
Germany. This was a massive effort with perhaps as many as 1500
bombers hitting a number of strategic targets in and around the
heavily fortified city of Wilhemshaven. The bomber stream was an
hour long over the target area ahead of us, and we could see the
cloud of flack bursts long before we got there. We had lost
and feathered engine No. 2, over the North Sea. Then right at
"Bombs Away" a shell burst just ahead and right off our nose. Many
pieces of shrapnel hit our plane. One cut the 2-inch oil line to
engine No. 3. Another cut the throttle cable to engine No. 4. In a
few minutes, only engine No. 1 was turning. Porter, Flight Engineer,
made emergency adjustments to get maximum power out of the engine
and we pulled it just below every "red line" on the instruments.
We were alone and losing altitude fast. Needless to say we
lightened our load by throwing every thing out the window.
Hatches, helmets, flack vest, ammunition, in-operable 50 caliber
guns, ammo racks, and other things were discarded. We kept only
50 rounds for each operable gun. Then it was prayer time. We
contacted our fighter protection by radio. We never saw them
because they stayed high in the sun, giving us constant
encouragement, and assurance. We flew just north of the
barrier islands north of Germany and the Netherlands. At the
north tip of Holland, it was decision point. Should we go
about equidistant to Allied occupied territory, or go to
the English coast and home? Our life expectancy was 10 minutes
unless we could get out of the water and be picked up very quickly.
Jim O'Conner, Chief Navigator, had calculated
that if our engine held constant power, we could cross the English
Coast at 1000ft. altitude and meet the ground at about Home Base at
Bungay, England. Or, we could get to friendly territory in Europe to
crash-land or bailout if we didn't find a landing strip immediately.
I consulted each crewmembers concerns and opinions. I announced that
we would all have a minute of prayer and go home to attend the
Lenten Worship Service together at the Protestant Chapel that evening.
The engine held up. We approached the field on the landing runway heading
at 1000ft. altitude. But, as I eased the throttle back for the approach,
she shuddered and froze up. So I made the third "dead stick" landing of
my flying career. Again, no men or planes lost. Only engines.
Our tour bombing record was based on all
available strike photos of the 20 missions we lead. 76.4%
of all bombs hit inside the 2000ft. diameter circle of
the pinpointed center of the target area.
I was awarded the following medals:
- The Distinguished Flying Cross
- The Air Medal (w/ 4 Bronze Oak Leaf Clusters)
- The European Campaign Medal (w/ 4 Battle Stars)
- The World War II Victory Medal
- The American Campaign Medal
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