Merry Christmas - 2013

My very best wishes to my close friends and fellow patriots, Cliff & Hal.


And a Happy New Year

Henningsen's Crew - 25 August 1944

Found this photo quite by chance last night.  The details written along the bottom tell that it was taken from a plane flying with the 94th Bomb Group (H) based at Bury St. Edmunds in Suffolk.  Noted also is the date: 25 August 1944; the altitude: 21,500-ft.; and the target: Rechlin.

The date and target caught my eye.  This was the same day that Otis and the rest of Bud's crew were shot down over Rechlin.  That story was written up by Otis and Bob, the co-pilot on that mission and I have them both.  Some years ago, I combined them and found some relevant photos to illustrate the story, then sent the story to what descendents I could find.

However, this picture may be the icing on the cake for this story.  The silver specks left of center and a little high is another group of planes that could be 447th B-17s; the two Groups often flew their missions together.  Back home in England, their bases were about 5-miles apart.  Otis, flying in Bud's crew, may be in one of those planes, plowing their way to the target and to their date with destiny, ditched in the North Sea....68-years ago.

For a crew that had to ditch in WWII, if they survived, the story became the one they told all their lives.  It was fairly rare to survive a ditching.  Another story and amazing picture can be found here. 

To illustrate my earlier story, I used a satellite image to draw the course and note the point of ditching.  Matches pretty close to the picture, doesn't it?  (Note: Their briefed target that day was the missile base at Peenemünde but, good results reported from the first Groups over that target led to the decision to turn off to Rechlin).

Wow! 

Roy's Ditching Story

            This is an abbreviated version of a much longer story I thought I would share as an illustration of the kind of useful information transfer that can take place online.  Before the arrival of the net, developing something like this was essentially impossible.  For instance, until many of the WWII veterans started retiring in the 1980s, most of them knew very little about the larger story they had once been a part of during the war.  My father, a 21-year old aviator in 1944, built a substantial WWII library and for most of his life, studied the Army Air Force he had been a part of. 

            The wide availability of the net arrived a little late for most of them, but many invested a huge amount of time and effort in further recording their experiences as young men.  Their communication tools:  a phone, mail, and Xerox copies of original documents.

            Roy never flew with my father’s crew although they did fly their missions during some of the same months of 1944, from the same Army Air Force base in England.  A few years ago, as I went through my father’s things, I found the beginnings of Roy’s story.  It was a 1-½ page typewritten letter and a few pictures Roy, then 70, sent to my father as his submittal for possible use in the Group’s reunion history.  Roy’s story wasn’t used; he passed away a year later.

            His brief letter didn’t contain much information, but as I read it I could sense the pride and strength in the once young eagle’s words.  He included a photocopy of his Goldfish Club patch and certificate, which suggested that there might be an interesting story beyond Roy’s words.  I dug into it.

            Here is Roy’s 1991 letter as he wrote it:

A Mission Remembered

“One of the most memorable of the thirty missions as a ball turret gunner was my sixth with the Squadron and the sixty third for the Group.

            “May 12, 1944 was to be a day not easily forgotten.  Our mission was to destroy a parts and repair plant, the Focke Wulf, in Swickau, Germany.

            “Early in our flight we were met with heavy German resistance.  In spite of the loss of one engine due to heavy enemy fire and flack, we were able to continue and deliver the bombs right on target.

            “Returning back to the base was a bit more challenging.  Two more engines were made useless by the constant German fire and flack.  The injured tail gunner managed to down one enemy plane and I downed two from the ball turret.  On orders we’re going to abandon ship.  Within a split second our plans were changed when the injured waist gunner accidentally kicked out another chute as he jumped.  It was decided that we would ditch in the English Channel.

            “As the plane lost altitude, everything of weight was thrown out (guns, ammo, radio), anything to make her lighter.  The plane took quite a beating.  We now had a B-17 with one engine and a flack ridden bomb bay door which could not be completely closed, heading for the channel.  The crew had a fatally hit tail gunner and a severely wounded navigator.  Under the skilled hands of Lt. William Moses, the plane skimmed the choppy waters and an unbelievable landing was made.

            “Our surprise of surprises came as those red handles were pulled and only one dinghy was found put aboard.  I have since learned that a stripe or two was lost due to the oversight).

            “The deceased tail gunner was buried with the fast sinking plane as the others got into the dinghy.  The dying navigator knew I was the only crew member on the outside of the raft, hanging on rather tight.  He asked the co-pilot that he be buried at sea thereby making room for one more, me.  Upon his death, his wish was sadly carried out and I was helped on board.

            “The sight of an English sea plane coming to our rescue made us more aware of being attacked by ground troops.  We were closer to the French boarder than first thought.  The rescue plane took two rough hits but we safely boarded and headed out.

            “After being released from the English hospital, where flack was removed and treatment was given, a week of R&R at Spetchley Park was quite a welcome change.  Then it was back to the base from where the remaining missions were flown.

            “Before leaving for the U.S., I was presented with a patch and a card making me a member of the Gold Fish Club.  On the way home I truly felt exactly what belonging to the “Lucky Bastard’s Club” made me. . .

            “Upon graduating in Larado from gunnery instructors school, it was on to Westover Field, Massachusetts.  Assignment at the Range ended about the time of V.J. Day.  Honorably discharged at Ft. Devens, I headed for Toledo with a new “Ruptured Duck” and a promise that was fulfilled six months later when a New England gal became my wife.  Looking back there is no doubt, I had the privilege to fly with a great crew that day.  As anyone reading this has experienced…some days were a bit easier than others but it’s great that I’m here to write this and that you are here to read it.  So it surely was a good cause after all…God bless America.           

Roy Roesch - 1991

                                                                       

                    Roy’s letter was puzzling in that he didn’t name any members of his crew.  A bomber crew was typically a very tight-knit unit, but in Roy’s case, as I discovered later, he was flying as a replacement with this crew…so, he didn’t know any of the others.  He had a story he wanted to tell, but it was really hard to figure out from his letter just what it was.  This is not uncommon when you read old accounts, or more recent accounts written by older men…we all tend to lose our sharp recollections over time.  However, I recognized the specialized terminology from having studied my father’s AAF service.

            There are so many similar stories that time doesn't permit developing them unless they touch my father’s experience.  Roy’s halting story intrigued me.  Within a few hours online, I had the names of the crew and a very narrow idea of what had occurred.  Within a couple of weeks I had the Missing Air Crew Report from Maxwell AFB and a much better understanding of the story.  Of the 10-man crew, 7 had been rescued, 2 killed, 1 bailed out and taken prisoner; and the rescue planes had come under fire from the shore about 4000-yards distant.  This was a far more dramatic event than most similar ditchings with which I was familiar.

            After taking the story as far as I could in 2007, I wrote up a brief piece summarizing the information I had, and posted an inquiry to one of the WWII Air Force forums.  Almost 4-years passed before the first response came in.  It was Jim’s daughter and she knew less than I did about her father’s ditching experience, except that it had happened.

            About a year later, after 5-years had passed, a great nephew of the “deceased tail gunner” and the pilot’s son got involved by comparing their notes and pictures.  The MACR contained a real collection of documents that included reports from nearby aircraft, from a German POW camp, and from several of the rescued crewmen themselves.

            Roy’s crew had been seriously shot up over the target, torn up further by Luftwaffe fighter attacks on the way out, and ultimately they ditched just offshore.  Unlike most ditched aircraft where the crew was killed, 7 of Roy’s crew managed to survive the ditching and escape capture aboard a rescue plane as it came under fire from the nearby shore.  As a result of the "deceased tail gunner's" distraught father being very persistent in seeking the details of his son’s death, the MACR was filled with far more information than are most others.  There are lengthy personal letters from several crewmen describing what had happened in much more detail than Roy wrote in 1991.

           

            Quite a bit more could be developed about these crews and this particular mission.  For instance, other researchers are working on the details of the mission itself and of individual unit locations.  It is known that the Luftwaffe fighters had repeatedly attacked Roy's bomber stream in their devastating 10-abreast frontal attacks.  At this point in the war, these attacks were rare--the Luftwaffe had been severely damaged earlier in the year during "Big Week."

            The following is a page from Don Jones’ personal journal describing Roy’s May 12, 1944, mission from Don's perspective flying in a nearby B-17…it was found quite by chance as I was preparing this essay.  These are his words, verbatim, as he wrote them into his journal after returning to base from the mission…it’s poignant to think that as he was writing these words, Roy and what was left of his crew were just being recovered from the English Channel:

 “We started out this morning at 8 O’clock, flying our own ship (400) as #5 in the lead.  Our route was between Dunkirk and Ostend.  A little way in enemy territory, we picked up a few of our escort (P47’s).  Then about half-way to the target, bombardier calls out about 10 e/a which attacked from 12:30 high.  They passed thru us not making any hits, or us on them either.  P47’s jumped, leaving us without dropping bombs on us (no effects seen) and attacked following wing.  That wing was lit up like a Christmas tree with 20 mm cannon fire.  I saw at least 10-12 B-17’s blow up or else go down out of control.  It was a horrible sight.  About 5 minutes later about 15 e/a passed thru our formation, causing one ship in high group to blow up, and a few other planes to feather props.  This was another head-on attack.  From then on to the target we were not bothered by e/a, but were also without visible fighter support.  Our bombs were dropped over primary target O.K., and from what I could see results were not good.  However, the other group really plastered the aircraft plant.  There was no flak there, but during the day we ran into scattered stuff, none of it accurate.  After the target, we picked up some P-38’s which “S” –ed overhead.  At that time we were attacked by 12 ME 109’s from 1 O’clock, a little high.  The escort didn’t seem to pay a bit of attention to them, which burned us up.  From then on the rest of the mission was without incident.  Our crew made no claims on e/a, and I saw only one fighter go down.  Peters (co-pilot) and Prendergast (navigator) flew with us, otherwise complete crew.  Flying time was 8 hrs. about 6 ½ on oxygen.  No damage to our ship.

            This was a helluva mission, and made me admire those old timers that flew without escort (note: just a few months earlier in 1943).  The Luftwaffe still packs a mighty wallop, if they want to come up and fight.  On visual missions, like today, we are going to see a lot more of ‘em. (Hope not!!!)”

 

            Most recently, and most astoundingly, one of the current descendents researching this story of his great uncle (the deceased tail gunner), found on eBay a picture of a lone B-17 shown in a large, but clear Army photograph.  He bought it knowing only from its markings, that the plane is from his great uncle’s Group.  He sent a copy of it to me after he received it.

  

 

             I was able to isolate the plane and enlarge the clear image.  The tail number identifies the aircraft as being Roy’s plane !   And the lower border nomenclature reveals that the mission is the one that Roy’s story tells.  You can clearly see smoke trailing from the off-side, outboard (#4) engine, #3 appears to be feathered, and there is visible damage on the horizontal stabilizer.  As related in the accounts, this plane was shot to hell.

            They were still aloft, by themselves at this point, in slow descent heading for their date with destiny.  And this is a fantastic story that began with a single posting to the net, about 5-years ago.  None of the survivors ever saw this picture...the story now belongs to their descendents.

Tears in my eyes?  You bet.

A Stranger and Alone

“A Stranger and Alone”

by PFC John M. Behm (1944)

We are the insolent invaders with many uniforms

Who have come to England from far away

Bringing gifts of chewing gum and Chesterfields.

We are the harsh strangers—the vain, hearty foreigners,

The aliens thoughtlessly trampling your calm vineyards.

The slim colored boys send our heavy trucks

Screaming along your narrow roads.

The big tanks rip up the pavings

Of your ancient towns.

The jeeps and weapons carriers

Do fifty-five around your Z-shaped curves.

The half-tracks hold your traffic up for hours.

The countryside rings

With the blare and whirl of our machines.

We are loud and fast and wild and lusty.

We are drunken, proud, hard, and potent.

We could drink your island dry if you would let us.

We are the terrible, mischievous warriors

From far away.

We are, I’m afraid,

Just a little bestial

For your highly tempered tastes.

But England,

Understand us!

Though we sneer and boast in the pubs,

Consuming your beer and belittling your glory,

We tremble and are afraid in the streets

Before the blind audience of closed doors.

We are young men whose roots

Have been left far behind

In strange places called Brooklyn and Sacramento and

  Tucson and Thief River Falls and Council Bluffs and

  Cincinnati and Coon Hollow.

We have been torn from the soil where we grew

And flung like exiles across an ocean

To a land we never dreamed of.

We are bewildered and weary,

Lonely to the point of madness,

And if we shout and curse

Through our quiet dreams,

Forgive us.

We are merely looking for a way to go home.

Blue Angels - A Veteran's Day Salute

Climb aboard and take a ride with the very best of the best.

Well done. Carry on Gentlemen.

Winning Your Wings

This is a 1942 AAF recruiting film starring a very young Lt. James Stewart. This film had a tremendous impact on hundreds of thousands young men as it told of a reduction in education requirements for aviation cadet candidates. This reduction opened the possibility of flying to a huge new recruit pool just as WWII began.

Lt. Col. Charles H. Bowman

In doing some reading about the Army Air Corps of WWII, I’ve encountered many poignant stories of young men who flew the bombers from England against Hitler’s fortress Europe. If you ever heard a WWII veteran say that the real heroes are the ones who didn’t come home, these were some of the young men to whom those veterans were referring.

Charles Henry Bowman was a high potential young man from Casper, Wyoming. Shortly after he graduated from high school his father died, leaving Charles’ kid sister and mother alone. Charles was selected for an appointment to West Point and despite the trauma of losing his father, accepted his appointment.

He went on to become a member of the USMA Class of 1939. In keeping with tradition, his roommate wrote a short description of Charles for the West Point yearbook, noting that Charles had the patience of Job, a subtle sense of humor, and was a good dancer.

After his commissioning as a second lieutenant, Charles volunteered for the Air Corps and undertook pilot training as the United States began its military build up prior to WWII. Just after Pearl Harbor Charles served for several months in Australia and Java against the Japanese.

West Point graduates formed the professional core of many of the bomb groups based in England and pilots like Charles who had a few years of service before WWII were well on their way to achieving higher rank than most of the cadet airmen that soon followed them. By 1943 Charles was a 28-year old lieutenant colonel, the 447th deputy group commander, and a B-17 command pilot.

In January 1944, the target was the machine and munitions works at Brunswick and Charles was scheduled to lead the group of 35-planes. However, his plane developed engine trouble and he returned to the base for a replacement. Unable to catch up with his own group he joined another group that was trailing behind his own.

Near Rehburg a Luftwaffe JU-88 flown by Bruno Rupp slipped in behind Charles’ B-17 and launched a rocket. Reports from other planes in the vicinity told of seeing his stricken B-17 dive 5000’ in flames, before 4 parachutes were seen. Then the plane exploded. Two men survived to become prisoners, but Charles was not one of them.

At the time his plane went down, Charles had been in training for his position nearly 9-years. That fateful January 1944 mission was his second and last in the ETO. For the past 66-years Charles has rested beside 5,328 others in the Ardennes American Cemetery at Neupre Belgium. His mother died in 1948 and what became of his kid sister isn’t known. There was no one left to bring him home.

A recipient of 2 Silver Stars, a DFC, and a Purple Heart, Charles is but one of the young men we honor on Memorial Day.

Note: Within 1-week of my inquiry for assistance in getting an actual picture of Charles' grave in the Ardennes American Cemetery, a fine gentleman living near the cemetery sent this photograph to me. Thank you, André.

Treasure peace, fight tyranny, never forget those who fought.

a paix au trésor, de la tyrannie se battre, ne jamais oublier ceux qui ont combattu.