Planes I Flew In

B 17: #292 “Baby Shoe II”

August 18, 1944

Today was D-Day for the invasion of Southern France. My brother, Jack, was in the middle of it – serving on an LST. Our target was an airfield at St. Dizier, France, to keep the fighters down. We bombed from an altitude of 12,000 ft. -- low, for us. Good results and no losses. Jack, and the rest of them, were in my silent prayers.

After the war, Jack described all the action that morning. I think I would rather be up in a plane instead of down in the middle of it all. Today was also my kid sister's twelfth birthday.

B 17: #292 “Baby Shoe II”

August 25. 1944

We hit an airfield and experimental plant at Reichlin, Germany, north of Berlin. This was, without a doubt, the roughest mission to date for me.

Soon after take off I learned that my intercom wasn't operating. Wegener decided not to abort and continue with the mission -- pointing out that, "all we had to do was to follow the formation, there and back." So I just sat there in silence (except for the roar of the engines) for almost half of the mission, while trying to follow the navigation notes I had. It was a weird feeling, believe me. This mission was described in a story printed on our website under the title, "A Mission To Remember" (and it was).

Our formation began to get hit by flak long before we got to the target. It was both heavy and accurate. While on the bomb run, (only seconds after we released our bombs) our radio operator and ball turret gunner were both hit by a burst of flak. York, our radioman, had his oxygen mask chopped right off -- just missing his jugular vein. Hoff, our ball gunner, got hit in the rump. A few seconds earlier, and that flak would have exploded our bombs. (food for thought!)

The bombardier, Lt. Leonard, went back to help with the first aid and I moved up to his position. For the first time since take off, I was able to hear what was going on. The decision to have us carry an extra oxygen mask on board, "just in case" -- sure paid off. It saved York's life. Wegener then made the decision to leave the formation and get back home as soon as possible. I quickly started to do "pilotage" navigation.

We left the formation about 200 miles over the North Sea, dropping down to about 2000 ft. And were able to contact a couple of P 47's ("little friends"), who escorted us back to England. In the meantime, I learned that four of our bombs were hung up and I finally was able to get rid of them over the North Sea.

As we prepared to land, we fired a couple of red-red flares to alert them that we had wounded men on board (to give us top priority for landing). An ambulance was waiting for us and our two men were quickly rushed to the base hospital. They both survived -- thanks to the quick first aid given them on the plane. It's missions like this one that can "convert" a person. Thankfully, there were no losses today. This was the only time I experienced having wounded men on board. Once -- is enough.

Back | Top | Next