JACK IN THE SERVICE:
Just out of high school and along came world war II and my induction into
the Army Air Corps. By joining the Air Cadets my dream of flying
was about to be realized. However, fate would have it that the Air
Corps decided they had enough pilots, so out and into Gunnery and B-24
bomber training. It was then off to Europe and the 389th Bomb Group, 565th
Squadron for my first mission on January 1st, 1945.
The following 19 missions over the Continent varied from milk runs to many ways to get yourself hurt beyond repair. Then came
number 20. This was my last mission, March 24, 1945. We left
our base at Hethel, England, on a low level mission to drop supplies to
our paratroops across the Rhine River in Germany. Viewing England,
the English Channel, France, Belgium and Germany at low level in a B-24 bomber nose turret was unforgettable. As we approached
Wesel and the drop zone, the activity became intense. Streams of
transports, gliders landing (some crashing), two German soldiers running
and diving over a stone wall as our 14 bombers roared overhead. We
just cleared the chimneys of the devastated town of Wesel, then the drop
zone appeared, an open field bordered by forests on both sides.
It was empty. The paratroops were not there.
Our lead plane ordered to make a large 360 degree turn and then drop the
supplies, paratroops or not. We started across the field again at
about 150 feet altitude. Suddenly, over the noise of the engines,
I heard what sounded like the banging of pots and pans. Puzzled by
the racket, I began looking about and was surprised to see holes appearing
in the engine nacelles and wings. The woods were loaded with German
troops, (they couldn't miss with a hand gun!). Tracers flashed up
from 20 mm cannons. The first shots hit the aircraft
to our right, blowing the number two engine completely off. They
veered left 20 feet above in an almost vertical left bank and disappeared
from view. The cannons next hit the lead aircraft, blew off the entire
left fin and rudder (they staggered off to our right). We were next.
a few seconds had elapsed from the time the shooting started before my
mind began to function. We had definite orders not to shoot at anything
on the ground (afraid we might shoot our own troops). I flipped on
my gun switches, swung the turret toward the cannons. Suddenly my turret
shattered. I will always remember two tracers coming slowly like Roman
candles slashing into my turret, the Plexiglas shattering, the metal bent
and torn as the projectiles entered the bombardiers compartment behind
me. The pilot was shouting over the intercom, "we're crashing!"
I had difficulty opening the turret doors but forced them enough to get
through and was relieved to see the bombardier unhurt - we just stood grinning
at each other. Getting to the flight deck was
quite interesting as the un-dropped load of supplies in the bomb bay was on fire, but we got through with just
a little singeing. Once into my crash landing position behind the
co-pilot, I could see we had trouble. Number one engine was feathered,
number two was on fire, number three was running wild, number four was on fire and wind milling. We had
no rudder or elevator controls.
A large field with a row of trees along a road appeared directly in front of
us. As we reached the trees, the aircraft rolled,
the wing smashing into them. I regained consciousness to the sounds
of explosions, bullets firing, English and German voices, and someone cutting
off my flying jacket. I couldn't see a thing - I passed out again.
(My eyes were swollen shut, my eyelashes, eyebrows and hair were burned to
stubble).
The next time I came to, my head was completely bandaged with only a slit
for my mouth, both hands bandaged up past the wrists. I was questioned
by someone. I
had a severe concussion, burns on my head and hands, a semi fracture of
the skull, a very painful back, a collapsed lung, a deep gash across my
right eyebrow, a gash on the back of my head.
Only
the copilot, the bombardier and myself survived the crash. The bombardier
died later. To this day, I couldn't tell anyone how I
got out of the airplane. In the hospital, I was told we had crashed
into an ammunition dump which explains the explosions I heard. My time in the
service of our country was completed by spending a few weeks in hospitals
in Paris and England. |
