Flying Backward in '44 Chapter 4. Part 3.

by Ron McInnis

Berlin, Germany... 2-3-45 The 385th was the last group in the bomber stream today. As luck would have it, we had to feather engine #1 just before the I.P. and consequently couldn't keep up with the Group. We were ALL ALONE in the Berlin area. We dropped the bombs early, skirted the flak area and headed for the R.P. (Rally Point) to intercept our formation on the way out. We flew alone for some time and encountered meager flak. Several “little friends” (P-51s) remained near us while alone over Berlin... Thank God for our fighters. We rejoined the bomber stream at the Rally Point, and tried to stay alongside as about 1300 heavies passed us coming home. It was a LONG RIDE. Most of the return trip was over the North Sea and we were running low on fuel. Abe sent in two CHIPP messages to Air-Sea Rescue to keep a fix on us in case we have to ditch in sea. Abe says “old ONE-ONE-Eight was just about the last B-17 to get home that day”... Jerry says “Made it back on three engines with very little gas”. #43-38118 Miss Fortune.

Chemnitz, Germany 2-6-45 Navigator Joe speaking: Entire mission badly executed. Failed to make flak corridor at Dutch Coast on the route in and was fired upon by flak defenses while at 14,000 and in a climb to altitude. Excessive winds, extremely adverse weather conditions. Solid overcast above and solid undercast beneath. We were in a low visibility pocket between them. We bombed through overcast PFF. After bombing, our lead squadron pulled away from us. Many formations, including ours, were lost over Germany. The given winds were wrong. In our weather situation we could not see the ground to take a “wind-drift reading”, because of the solid undercast... We could not take a “sun-shot” which would have established a rough estimate of our position, because of the solid overcast above. Our “Gee-Boxes” were jammed by the Germans and were temporarily useless. We were in a navigational vacuum!!! On the Command Channel navigators were having a conference. Someone suggested that we were over the Zuider Zee flak corridor. The headwinds against us were also very high, as it turned out. The leader opted to drop down to 12,000 feet, which was a poor decision since we were still assumed to be over Germany. Our navigator Joe, kept trying to get a “gee” fix and finally did. He called the crew, and advised us to immediate put on our flak suits and helmets, because if his Gee Box was correct, we were going to come out over Cologne in about two minutes (he also gave this info to the leader). Exactly two minutes later we broke out into the clear at 12,000 feet over Cologne bucking a-headwind that cut our ground speed to less than 100 mph... The visual flak was smack-on and tight to our formation. Again it sounded like heavy doors slamming... Mort was flying the airplane at the time, (Pilot and Co-pilot alternated) and we went into an abrupt climb that almost became a stall before Jerry grabbed the controls. Mort had been hit by a large piece of flak about the dimension of ones middle finger which entered entered endwise into the right kidney area of his back (this later from the surgeon). Jerry took us into a series of diving turns to get out of the flak. No one else was hit. We radioed Ninth Air Force Command telling them we needed to land immediately for medical emergency. They directed us to A-78, a fighter base at Florennes in Belgium... Don (Bombardier) and Joe (Navigator) got Mort out of his seat and into the nose where they administered morphine. Rocky (Engineer) climbed into Mort's seat to help Jerry with the Co-Piloting. We were headed for A-78 when two fighters approached our tail. They brole at the last minute -- P-47s...

We landed at Florennes expecting ambulances at the end of the runway, but no medics in sight. A B-17 blocked one side of the perimeter track and a C-47 blocked the other side with no way to get off onto the perimeter track. Jerry kicked #118 around in a tight 180 and we got back up the runway the wrong way, so that we can get off onto the cross runway and find the medics. Just then the medics came screaming down the runway towards us. Jerry cut the inboard engines and stopped on the runway so that they could get Mort out of the nose hatch. At the same time another crippled B-17 came in on the same runway we occupied. The control tower fan fired red flares at the landing B-17, but he had someone in the nose with a red aldis lamp flashing back. He couldn’t go around again. He's coming in regardless. Jerry had no choice. He revved up the the outboard engines while the medics shoved Mort back into the nose and slammed the door. Everybody scattered. Jerry took #118 off the runway and into the mud. The #4 prop shaves a metal and plywood top off on of a parked jeep. The crippled 17 rolled by OK. The medics took Mort by ambulance to a surgical hospital in Charleroi. Mort died of his wound after two days. The surgeon said the internal damage was so great they couldn’t stop the bleeding. That's how Mort gave his life in W.W.II.

It was a long,long day for everyone. Jerry Steil showed great leadership for a 23 year old. We must credit the competence and the perseverance of John Joseph, and the calm care of Don Collins, and the coordinated willingness and actions of the rest of the crew.

We were billeted in Charleroi, Belgium... #43-38118 Miss Fortune was to stay at Florennes for repairs. Most of the crew went back to Great Ashfield on a 94th Group B-17 on 2-9-45.

Chemnitz, Germany 2-14-45. Flying a brand new B-17 G #44-8762. Target is a marshaling yard near the Russian front. Flak at three points with one burst accurate. Tore a small hole in plexiglass and struck the bombardier but was stopped by his flak suit. Joe (Navigator) suffered bends, acute headache and airsickness. We had left Al (Ballgunner) and Rocky (Engineer) at Florennes to look after #118. Consequently we flew with a substitute Ball-Gunner and Engineer.

Our newly assigned Co-Pilot is Captain Reeder. Abe was not happy with the new Ball Gunner. “Had a new jerk in the Ball Turret. Ralph and I had to pull him out TWICE” (anoxia).

A few hours after take off, I had to heed nature's call. I hadn't noticed that our new B-17 was lacking an essential part of it's equipment...the relief tube. Well, as they say, “when you gotta go.” So I peeled through the many layers of flight clothing and aimed at the open cartridge ejection chute down under the guns. Well, I failed miserably and as a result had a pool form in recesses of the fuselage under the guns. What a terrible baptism for our new plane. As I was pondering how to take care of this insult, it froze before my eyes. I took one of the spent cartridge cases from test firing, Chipped the frozen pee, and swept it with my glove out the ejection hatch. End of problem!!!
Navigator's time log: Time of Flight 8:15.. Time over enemy territory 4:15...Time on oxygen 6:00. Weather Terrible...

2-15-45 Rheine, Germany. Briefed for Bridge over the Rhine at Wesel. Flak meager at last resort target Rheine. Good weather for a change. Short mission 5 hr 10 min. No fighters. Easy mission. #44-8762 “Seven Six Two”

2-16-45 Wesel, Germany. Bridge over Rhine. Flak heavy and accurate. Again had to bomb last resort target because of bad weather in target area. Weather over England very bad. Diverted to a landing in France. While coming down channel coast and saw a V-2 Rocket take off from Holland. Landed at Chantilly, France. Remained in France until 2-18-45 because of bad weather. #44-8762 “Seven Six Two”

2-22-45 Neustadt, Germany. From Joe's (Navigator) Log: “Extremely long, arduous, mission. Flight plan called for several climb and descend phases. Bombing altitude was to be 12,000 feet. Near target layers of clouds extended from 20,000 feet down to less than 11,000 feet. Formation went down into weather. We became separated and climbed out of soup back to 20,000 to find scattered planes and remnants of formations all over the sky. Bombed with one of these formations. These were very anxious moments as many other planes were in the vicinity and visibility was extremely poor. We occasionally flew though “propwash”, but could see absolutely nothing except “white Blank”. While in soup our position was uncertain, but it was known we were in the vicinity of small flak areas. Visibility also very poor on return. Time of flight 9hrs. 10 Min Arose @0330, landed @1640. Abes (Radio Operator) log: “Really sweated it out today. Weather over Germany was terrible. Many near collisions” Jerry's log: Neustadt PFF. No flak, Low altitude. Very adverse weather. Lost formation. Target: Marshaling yard #44-8762 “Seven Six Two”

Ansbach, Germany 2-23-45 Low altitude bombing plan... Selected target of opportunity, because primary target under 10/10 cloud. Observed direct hits on target and drew accurate flak fire under visual conditions at 16,000 feet at front lines just south of Strasbourg. Effected evasive action and escaped damage. Some wounded. Briefed at 0430. Airborne at 0810. England closed upon return. Squadrons peeled off and did 360s 50 miles out in channel. Each plane came into Great Ashfield singly from that point. Flew in at approx. 200' with visibility Zero/Zero. Rain obscured vision... Unable to observe ground above 200 feet. Hopped over high tension lines. Narrowly escaped collision with a B-24...

Bremen, Germany 2-24-45 Relatively short mission. Heavy flak at target which was partially visual. Flak accurate. Considerable propwash in target area and on route out. Difficulty in maintaining satisfactory formation #44-8762 “Seven Six Two”

2-25-45 Munich, Germany. Deep Penetration. Light flak at battle lines below Strasbourg. Perfect visual conditions at target. Direct hits observed on marshaling yards. Entire city appeared to be in smoke and flame, visible for over 100 miles. Flak at target moderate and accurate. Low visibility on return. Temporarily lost formation in clouds over channel just off the Belgian coast. Airborne 8hr 45min. #44-8762 “Seven Six Two”

2-26-45 Berlin, Germany. Flak over target surprisingly light for Berlin. Inaccurate... Target under 10'10 overcast. Seven hours on oxygen #44-8762 “Seven Six Two”

2-28-45 Kassel, Germany. Moderate to heavy flak relatively inaccurate because of undercast. Route in and out crossed heavy flak areas on front lines north of Frankfort and south of Koblenz. Plans for the day provided for artillery shelling of front line flak positions during time of passage of Bomber Stream. Front line areas largely covered by overcast, however very little flak appeared #44-8762 “Seven Six Two”

3-2-45 Dresden. (Navigators Log) “Dresden 2 Mar. 45. Dresden bombed as secondary target. Shortly before I.P. West of Berlin near Magdeburg. Group was struck by enemy fighters (30 FW 190s in immediate vicinity). Low squadron in which we were flying was badly out of position and the fighter attack was largely centered upon us. At that moment our P-51 escort was absent. According to later reports it had gone down to attack enemy fighters seen taking off. All gun stations on our plane fired on enemy aircraft and one E/A was claimed. The destruction was shared by Ball Turret, Tail Turret and Top Turret and R.O. At least four planes in our squadron definitely destroyed. Attack began at 1015 hrs and persisted until approx. 1040, Bombs Away at 1027. (4 to 5 planes of Group thought to be lost) Author: Confirmed 385th lost 4 out of group. P-51s eventually reappeared and broke up attack. We suffered no battle damage but many others were riddled with 20MM. Mission duration 9h. No flak over target which was covered by 10/10. Meager flak from Hanover and Frankfort defenses. Crew performed splendidly. Tail Gunner especially calm despite successive waves of “company front” attacks. Largely from 6 o'clock level. We in the nose fired on 3 attacking from 1 o'clock and 2 o'clock level and medium high.

Tail-gunner’s version: On looking out to 9 o'clock level, about a mile out I saw a “gaggle” of fighters proceeding on a course opposite (180 degrees) to our course. They were dark in color, and flying loosely in a swarm rather than any orderly formation. Our fighters always flew in a “finger four” formation of four units. These dark fighters, though flying level, had a slight nose down tilt. I knew they weren't ours. Also, at this stage of the war most of our fighters were bright natural aluminum not camouflaged... I called the Bombardier telling him we have bandits... He says how many? … I counted 18 of them. They started to turn in toward 6 o'clock. They were out of range at this time. When they were dead astern they turned toward us, still out of range, and went into the “company front”. I flipped the safeties off. Don says “ give 'em a burst to let them know you're there.” I sight on one and give a short burst with extra elevation. They increased speed and I waited until they were within range. Effective range for the cal .50 is about 600 yards. At 600 yards I opened fire on the one directly behind with continuing short bursts. When they were about 400 yards they opened up with their 20 MM cannon. The Cannon shells were a combination of armor piercing incendiary, exploding shells and timed explosive shells. These timed explosive shells burst on their way in, and were used instead of tracer rounds. Gunners saw them as exploding puffs of smoke “walking up” to the formation. These FW 190s were flown by experienced pilots and they came in very close, in fact, the 190 that I had fired at all the way in came almost into our formation. I believe the ball turret got a good shot at him. Al saw him go into a flat spin. I had to fire into the rest of the attacking formations so I concentrated fire to the rear. The whole attack seemed to last only seconds...

When this attack began I knew I was going to die. The feeling was not of fear but of total resignation; like a numb acceptance of the inevitable. It's hard to explain to anyone who has not gone through a combat experience of facing imminent death. My mind was clean and purposeful. I was very calm and deliberate. My training came to the fore... I clicked off the safety's. Don't mistake this for bravery. I was like a cat trapped in a corner by a huge dog... The guns were my claws... There was no place to run, no place to go. My thought was to fire my best to be effective... If I was going, then somebody was going with me. I concentrated fully on firing the guns..., I felt no panic... As soon as the “company front” attack was over... and it appeared there was a chance of surviving... I experienced the worst fear of my life. My mouth dried out completely. My tongue felt like a blotter. I didn't think I could speak... But this passed in seconds. Must be ready for more attacks. Subsequent attacks did come from the nose sector but did not hit us. Joe and Don fired at these 190s.

Afterward, looking down over the guns, I saw one of our B-17s close below us streaming fire from about eight feet of his left wing. His tanks were afire and his right main landing gear was down. He appeared to be on auto pilot so his crew would be able to bail out. I believe this was Vaadi.

In retrospect, I believe we survived because of our high element position to the formation. The fighters swept the lower elements and took out three crews, Tripp, Vaadi and Tipton. Krahn was taken out of the lead squadron by the subsequent head on attack. In a flash 36 men M.I.A..... #44-8762 “Seven Six Two”.

Our P-51 escort returned to the area. Thank God for the “little friends”.
Our crew jointly could have claimed a FW 190, but lets leave that to the heroes.

3-4-45 Ulm, Germany. Recalled at battle lines below Strasbourg as a result of impenetrable weather. Encountered meager but accurate flak at the lines #44-8762 “Seven Six Two”....

3-5-45 Fulda, Germany Primary target Ruhland Oil Refinery. Deep penetration. Contrails dense and persistent to the extent entire sky became cloud covered. A long mission. Our squadron become separated from Group and temporarily lost. At one time we were over Prague. Flew over Brux flak defenses: bombed Fulda and a target of opportunity on return trip. Bandits reported in the area of Dresden but none sighted... this was our 34th mission. One more to go!!! When we landed back at Great Ashfield and pulled into our hardstand, the 549th Squadron Commander, Major Charlie Reid, came around to congratulate Jerry on finishing his 35 missions. Then he came to shake our hands. We said “thanks but we have one more to go...” Major Reid said “No, No you're all finished with your pilot. You don't have to go on anymore”!! It was like a pardon from the Governor. We still couldn't believe it.. but it was true. Hugs and handshakes all around.... Now we could go home.... #44-8762 “Seven Six Two”

This happy occasion prompts me to remember a paragraph about another crew of the 385th who were also very joyous in finishing their final mission. It tugs at the heartstrings.

“On the afternoon of 2-21-1944, B-17s from Great Ashfield coming home from Germany made landfall near Great Yarmouth and were letting down through the weather, when another B-17 emerged from cloud at 3000 feet in a steep decent, and smashed into the left wing of the flight leader. Both bombers plummeted down into the bleak Reedham marshes before anyone had a chance to escape. 21 men died instantly. Captain Hutchinson and crew in the lead fortress had just completed the 25th and last mission of their tour. Incidents such as this did more to sicken an airman's soul than any losses in combat.

Now we had to get our Bombardier and Navigator over the last hump. Officers had to do the full 35 missions with no exceptions. Don went to Hanover, and Joe with to the U-Boat yards in Hamburg. The rest of the crew were there to greet them at the hardstand. We were a happy band of warriors. Crew #343 had done it!!!!

Our officers threw a dinner party for their enlisted crew in London at the Savoy. It was a First Class Affair with all of the amenities.

We left Great Ashfield on 3-24-45 a memorable day. The sky was full of C-47s and Short Stirlings towing gliders east. It was the day of the allied airdrop across the Rhine. We pondered for a minute how fickle fate can be. Here were thousands of Airborne glidermen going into combat to face wounds and death and here we were Going Home.

Abe had chosen to stay at Great Ashfield for a while. He wouldn't be flying but would take a ground job, probably something in training or in the squadron orderly room. The rest of us went to Bamber Bridge, a processing center. Shortly thereafter we boarded the Queen Elizabeth in the Firth of Clyde. She was going home as a Hospital Ship with casualties from our Infantry. It was not a gentle scene. There were many, many amputees and very few were ambulatory. We were the “Go-Fers” for these men, and there was not one grumble from us Air Corps Types. We were more than happy to be of help in bringing their meals, ect. When you have TWO good legs, you don't mind using them, not at all.

After reaching New York and Camp Kilmer, we split to go our separate ways on furlough home. Who knew what the future held for us? The Pacific War was still on. In any case, our memories after starting out as crew #343 will always be with us.

A few statistics about the Eighth Air Force.

350,000 men served with the Eighth. 26,000 or 7.42% were killed in WWII. Measuring mortalities rates for 210,000 air crewmen the rate was 12.38%. 21,000 from the Eighth had to bail out and wound up in P.O.W. Camps. The Eighth lost 6,537 B-17s and B-24s and another 3,337 fighters destroyed. More airmen with the Eighth lost their lives than were in the entire U.S. Marine Corps in WWII Fatality rates for the U.S.M.C. 3.29%, U.S. Army 2.25%, U.S. Navy .4.1%.
For a 25 mission bomber tour in 1942-43 only 35% survived.
For a 30 mission bomber tour in 1944, 66% survived.
For a 35 mission bomber tour in 1945, 81% survived.

What did the Eighth Air Force do? Initially the Eighth conducted a strategic campaign in which certain segments of the enemy's industry was bombed into a state of ineffectiveness. For example, an early theory sought to block the manufacture of Ball Bearings (Schweinfurt). Most war making equipment could not be made without these essential bearings. Bombing these plants would adversely effect manufacturing of tanks and aircraft. The Eighth at that time did not have escort fighters with long range capability and did not have enough aircraft to get the job done fully. Germany was able to disperse this industry successfully, taking it out of harm's way. The Eighth then concentrated on aircraft manufacturing which was slowed but not stopped. The most effective way to destroy the Luftwaffe was by unleashing our escort fighters, and using bombers to draw the enemy fighter force, so that our escort fighters could shoot them down. The most effective consequence was the Luftwaffe lost its veteran fighter pilots, as well as its planes, and a growing inability train replacement fighter pilots. The Germans practically eliminated the Luftwaffe bomber force by converting bomber pilots to fighter pilots, but even this well ran dry. Basic flying training in Germany was a practical impossibility. Student pilots became fair game for our fighters.

The bomber operation that sealed Germany's doom was the campaign against synthetic oil. When these synthetic refineries were destroyed, manufacturing became moot. Producing tanks meant nothing if you didn't have the oil to run them. Why manufacture aircraft, if you had no fuel to fly them? The campaign against transportation (Rail Marshaling yards) assured that movement of materials became impossible. The country came to a standstill.

Because of bomber operations, much of Germany's manufacturing had to be dedicated to home defense. The bombers kept these armaments in Germany protecting the Reich. How many thousands upon thousands of people were tired up manning this air defense system?

When our troops looked up and saw high contrails going into Germany, they probably had no idea of what the Eighth was doing for them. The fighters and bombers making those contrails were keeping the Luftwaffe off the backs of our ground troops. A German fighter shot down could never again be a threat over the front lines. Refineries that were leveled could not produce the fuel for that Tiger Tank that might” have faced them across the lines. Bombed marshaling yards might have prevented that load of 88MM shells from getting to the front. A critical battle might have been won because horse-drawn Germany artillery got there too late.

This is not meant to lessen the praise for our ground troops. Wars are not won until foot soldiers “take the ground”. But consider how much more difficult it would have been for our ground troops, if we had not won superiority in the air? Consider the casualties if the Luftwaffe had gained air superiority over the front. What if those fighter-bombers had not been P-47s, but FW 190s strafing our men?

Thank God it's over and in the history books. Here's to all the men in the air, on the ground, and at sea who won that war. Here's to those who never had a grave and whose names are on the “ Wall of the Missing”at Maddingly, near Cambridge, England. May They All Rest in Peace.

And here's to STEIL'S CREW (old crew $343) who did their best:

Gerald O. Steil, Airplane Commander … Omaha, Neb, Jerry became a Captain with United Air Lines eventually flying Boeing 747s. Couldn't keep away from Boeings. Retired after 41 years in the air. A gallant gentleman.

Morton Feingold, Co-Pilot, Chicago, Ill. Mort gave his life in the air over Cologne. Buried in Chicago, Ill. We owe our lives to him.

John Joseph, Navigator, St. Louis, Mo. An inspiration to his crew. A gentleman. He always brought us back.

Don Collins, Bombardier, He was the REAL reason the rest of us were there. He is one of the finest and a great friend.

Roland “Rocky” Tanguay, Engineer-Top Turret. The Rock, as in Gibraltar. Dependable, Knowledgeable. He kept us in the air.

Don “Abe” Abens, Radio Operator-Gunner. The best R.O. in the 549th Bombardment Squadron. (H). Good humor. Fun to be around. A good Friend.

Al Boltz, Ball-Turret-Gunner. Lively, courageous, good man. Knew London better than any of us.

Henry Clay Brier, Waist-Gunner, Togellier, R C M Operator. A southern gentleman for real. Our loss. Wayne Montgomery's gain.

Ralph Vollmer, Waist-Gunner/Armorer. Totally dependable, Solid in all situations. Would be a great neighbor. Is a good friend.

Ron Mcinnis, Tail Gunner, I learned a lot from these comrades while flying backwards in '44. God Bless 'em All!!!

Flying Backwards in '44 Chapter 4. Part 2

by Ron McInnis

My memory of Christmas Day is that we were briefed for a target in the area of the Bulge. But Great Ashfield was absolutely “socked in” that day. We went through the routine and even taxied out for a take off, trusting that visibility conditions would improve. When take off time came, ceiling and visibility were absolutely ZERO. The Colonel wanted to get this one off so badly, that he had the mission leader taxi down the runway to report on visibility conditions. The leader reported zero-zero and recommended against take off. The Colonel then ordered the Deputy Leader to also taxi the runway and report back. He also reported zero-zero and recommended against take off. The mission was then “scrubbed” for the 385th that day. This shows one how desperately they wanted that mission to get off.

On 12-27-44 the weather has hardly improved. We are briefed for Andernach. Pilot says he has considerable trouble taking off. He’s totally on instruments during take off. Take off accidents take a heavy toll. 33 killed in take off accidents this day. Flak at target is meager, no hole. Visual bombing #43-38118 Miss Fortune.

We go to Andernach again on 12-28-44. We are briefed for Coblenz but bombed Andernach as last resort target. We fly this mission in Ruby’s Raiders #44-6483. There had been a contest for the “Most Beautiful WAAC in the E.T.O.”... This was won by R.C. of Long Beach. As one of her rewards they named a bomber after her. Corporal Ploss, the great nose artist for the 385th, did a remarkable likeness of Ruby on the nose of #483. Pictures were taken and it was carried in Stars and Stripes. We will fly her again. Jerry says we did a 360 over target. No flak (PFF). Jerry says we couldn’t keep up with formation.

Mannheim today 12-30-44. Medium flak but inaccurate (PFF). Thank God for chaff. We were the tail end of the Eighth today. Nine hour mission... Miss Fortune #43-38118.

Kaiserslautern 1-5-45. Flak moderate but accurate in target area. Our B-17 very old and in poor condition. Plexi-cover plate of chin turret missing and terrific blast of icy air passed through the nose affecting Bombardier and Navigator. Outside temp. minus 52 below. Bombing altitude 29,000. Six hours on oxygen. Our bomb release mechanism failed completely. We were obliged to carry full load home. Feared dropping them because of the proximity to our lines. Shortly before I.P. Ball Gunner lost consciousness due to anoxia. Waist Gunner also because anoxic trying to assist Bull Gunner. Radio Operator and Tail Gunner combined their efforts to bring these men around. Ralph came around rather quickly but Al Boltz took over an hour to revive. We thought for sure he was gone. We got him around ok but it was close. Used up most of our O2 in revival efforts, so had to leave formation and come home alone at lower altitude. I was concerned for Al’s hand. His glove was off and his hand felt frozen. Put it back into heated glove and hoped for the best. Hand turned out ok. Hank Brier got hit today but is OK. Many planes landed at emergency fields in France. We returned to Great Ashfield with gauges indicating between empty and 50 gallons. #42-32078 Barbara B


1-6-45 Worms, Germany. Rail marshalling yard. Flak medium but inaccurate except for one near burst. Weather terrible throughout the mission, and especially on return. Runway obscured until approximately 200 feet above and 100 yds from runway. Riding in the tail in these circumstances brings about maybe a little “pucker power”. Maybe it’s best that you’re not seeing forward. When we do see the runway, we drop in fast. The main landing gear squeals and smokes, the tail wheel clunks down and we are rolling fast but we are down...#43-38118 Miss Fortune

1-7-45 Hamm, Germany. More rail marshaling yards. Light flak over target. Continent covered by 10/10 undercast. On return group immediately behind is hit by a barrage as a result of being too far off course. We were somewhat off but out of range... and skirted the flak on the coast. 43-38118 Miss Fortune.

Frankfort, Germany 1-9-45. Navigators computations indicate good hit on marshaling yards. Flak moderate but accurate. Shortly after “Bombs Away”, the bomb bay doors would not retract. Rocky grabbed the crank and went out onto the bomb bay catwalk to crank up the doors. This is important because if the doors stay down it cuts into your airspeed and makes it difficult to keep up with the formation. As he was cranking, the whole cockpit filled with smoke, and the cry went out “fire in the upper turret”. Well, if you ever have a fire on a B-17, pray that it’s not in the upper turret, because this is where the airplane’s electrical, oil lubrication and pressure oxygen come together at the turret’s base. Once this ignites, you’ve got a fire that won’t be put out. When the rest of the crew heard this, we thought it was all over. Jerry turned the oxygen valve behind his seat to cut O2 flow to the turret, but it also cut the O2 flow to Rocky, who had just enough energy left to get back to the cockpit. Fortunately, the fire was discovered to be in the Bomb Bay door electric motor... This was switched off and that solved the problem... It scared the hell out of all of us!!!!

This Navigator John Joseph’s account of the incident: “Shortly after Bombs Away a fire of unknown origin developed in the plane at 27,000 feet. Clouds of smoke and an acrid odor reached the nose, and the Engineer stated he thought his turret was afire. Collins and I ripped off our flack suits, snapped on our chute packs and waited expectantly. The most significant thing in my mind was, “I must not forget my shoes.” Of course, together with that, I was thoroughly frightened... The significance of “shoes” is if you plan to escape or evade, flying boots are the worst thing to walk in. We were all told to tie a pair of shoes to the back of our parachute harness. Joe states further.... Visibility very poor on return. Encountered icing and snow showers. #44-6483 Ruby’s Raiders.

1-10-45. Here’s one that didn’t count. From Jerry’s log: Lost an engine over the Channel. Couldn’t feather it at first. Had to abort. A word about “aborting” a mission. The Eighth Air Force was a tough, proud outfit. It prided itself on “never having been turned back from a mission by enemy action”... Whenever any crew came back from a mission alone, without bombing the target, or “got lost” and couldn’t find the group, or had some kind of excuse for not completing a mission, a board of inquiry (The Abort Board) was held. The board consisted of senior flying officers, and they were tough. No pilot could “pull the wool over these eyes”. Any abort had to be totally justified. The Pilot would tell his story. If the reason was mechanical, the Squadron and Group Engineering officers, were often there to either verify the malfunction as legitimate or otherwise. If the cause was proven mechanical, that was that... But if there was any proven incidence of anyone intentionally avoiding duty, regarding a mission, it was considered very serious indeed. We would hear, very occasionally, rumors about first pilots losing their crew and becoming a co-pilot for another crew. We even heard of a few instances where whole crews were split up and sent singly to other bases. Realistically these B-17s were ridden very hard mechanically, so it had to be expected that there would be engine breakdowns on occasion. These B-17s were operating in the toughest air space in the world. Long missions at altitudes approaching 30,00 feet, in temperatures of 60 to 65 below was asking a lot from these machines, AND the hard-working men who had to maintain them, and I feel that almost 100% of our Pilots had impeccable honor.

1-13-45 To Mainz, Germany. The target: Bridges over the Rhine. Target partially obscured by low clouds. Bombed from 24,000 feet. Flak moderate to heavy, however, we suffered no battle damage. Traffic congestion was terrific in the target area. Visibility on return practically nil... Ceiling 200 feet and descended through stratus layer solid from 5,000 feet down to 200’. Broke out just over the field. Considerable icing in the clouds. #43-38118 Miss Fortune...

Kaiserslautern, Germany. 1-18-45... Marshaling Yard... Made a 360 over target...necessitating TWO bomb runs over target... When a formation does a 360 for a second bomb run, the flak guns are really a lot tougher the second time around... They're just waiting for you the second time. Navigator says second run took us over Ludwigshaven flak zone. Most of the time out leaders are on the ball, this wasn’t one of those times. We even had one leader who took us around THREE times. After pass number three there were many “comments” over the command channel... none of them complimentary!!! Maybe the guy was working for the Krauts... Or a West Pointer buckin’ for Colonel... Just Kidding?
We landed in France at A-69 Laon-Couvran due to extremely bad weather over England and the channel... #43-38118 Miss Fortune.

1-21-45 Mannheim, Germany. Another Marshaling yard. This was part of the “transportation campaign” ...Extremely bad weather during assembly.
Contrails dense and persistent, often obscuring formations immediately ahead. Maintaining formations difficult, experience several near collisions... Temp -53C at 25,000 feet. “Gee Box” jammed by enemy. #43-38118 Miss Fortune.

Just a few words about formation flying. Since about our tenth mission, we had been flying as lead plane in the high element. This positioned us just above and slightly to one side and aft of the leader in the squadron formation. This was a very difficult formation position for our pilots to fly as it restricted their view of the lead ship to the small area between an engine nacelle and the fuselage. The pilot’s formation reference was extremely small. The slightest variations in airspeed, altitude, or any kind of shifting in position had to be compensated for immediately, or the pilot would lose sight of the lead ship. The position was so difficult to fly that the pilot and co-pilot would alternate about every 15 minutes. The pilot would fly with the lead ship between the fuselage and #2 engine nacelle for 15 minutes, the the co-pilot would take over and fly with the lead ship between his side of the fuselage and #3 nacelle for 15 minutes. Without a blackboard this is conceptually difficult, I know. We had more than one occasion when either pilot would feel a bit of vertigo (spatial disorientation) coming on and would call for the other pilot to take over the controls...

With this as a background, let’s view the formation from the tail gunner’s position. The High Element had a right and left wingman. The tail gunner facing backwards had a clear and close view of these planes. They were “tucked in” real close. If a wingman flew consistently, he was no bother no matter how closely he “tucked it in”, but if he was inconsistent and flew erratically he became a pain in the neck to the tail gunner who always had mid-air collisions on his mind. After you’ve seen a mid-air, you won’t soon forget it!!! It can turn two B-17s into a flaming ball of aluminum junk in short order, and most times there are no survivors. On this particular day we had inconsistent “charley” on our left wing. Mort was flying our airplane. We got a routine call from the lead, “30 degree turn to the left in 20 seconds”. This is a warning to the formation to be prepared for this 30 degree turn... “charley” had fallen back out of position and sped to catch up to where he should have been in the first place. It’s clear that this jackass is going to overshoot. Just then we start making the turn. I can see that he is going to run into us. I push the talk switch and say “Mort, don’t bank into him...” Mort eases out on the turn. And this dunce recovers right in the spot where we would have been in the turn. Well... I called that S.O.B. every name in the book and a few more... but my mask was on and the finger was off the button so I alone heard the soliloquy. But the crew owes its lives to Mort that day. If he had replied with anything but easing off that banked turn, none of us would be around today. God Bless You Mort.

Flying Backwards in '44 Chapter 4. Part 1

by Ron McGinnis

Our first real combat was to Merseberg on November 2nd, 1944. We were green as grass and hadn’t seen flak before. Well, we certainly saw FLAK that day!! Merseberg was the site of the Leuna Synthetic Oil Refinery, the largest such oil complex in Germany. German scientists had perfected a process in which they extracted oil (which was very scarce) from coal (which was still plentiful in the Reich.) This synthetic fuel was the lifeblood of what remained of the German Army, Navy and Luftwaffe. Germany at that time had plenty of tanks and planes, but had a chronic shortage of fuel which to run them, and there is nothing so useless as a tank that can’t move, or a fighter that can’t fly....!! A full 15 minutes before the target we were in Very Heavy Flak, and it stayed with us all the way in!! This vital target was so vulnerable to destruction from the air, that it was surrounded by close to a thousand heavy flak guns (88mm and 105mm). Flak came up in mass barrages of exploding shells. When each shell explodes, black smoke puffs out in a pattern that reminds one of the image of a little man, with a head, arms and legs. It sends red-hot fragments of steel into the surrounding sky. These hot fragments can rip an engine open, can rip a fuel tank open which flames into an unstoppable fire, can rip a human body open with terrible results. If the shell explodes near enough to the aircraft, it can blow off an engine or even a wing, sealing the doom of the whole crew in an instant. The sky is loaded with these explosions, and as the smoke of each burst is thinned by prop wash, many more new bursts appear. Soon the sky is black. You are on the bomb run and accurate bombing demands a steady straight course with no deviations. It’s a “crapshoot”. The next flak shell might go right through you, but if you don’t destroy the target, all of this will be for naught, and you’ll be back... forced to go through this again. Please Lord... Lets get it done...


Merseberg that day cost the Eighth 56 aircraft, 40 of these were Bombers. We picked up only eight flak holes and considered ourselves very lucky.


We went to Hamburg on the 4th. The Oil Campaign is continuing. Heavy flak but off to the side mostly. This shows the effectiveness of “chaff” or “window”. These are small packets of metallic strips that are periodically tossed out by the waist gunner. They fan out in a glittering metallic trail in the slipstream and botch-up the accuracy of radar-laid flak. One of the few good thing about Bombing Through Overcast (P.F.F.) is that flak is usually less accurate because of this ability to “jam” flak radar. When conditions are visual for bombing, they are also visual for Flak guns. You can’t “jam” visual aiming of AA guns. No holes at Hamburg. We had a bomb rack malfunction, but got rid of the bombs.


On the 5th we go to Ludwigshaven. This Target has a bad reputation. This city and its almost twin across the Rhine, Mannheim, are always tough targets. The flak is always heavy and if the ground is visible it will always be rough... We were after the I.G. Farbenindustrie Chemical Plant. Bombing was visual with good results... AND the Flak was also visual and very accurate. A rumor had started that the flak guns at Ludwigshaven were manned by female flak crews. The “Ladies of Ludwigshaven”... No verification of this but they were damn good with AA whomever they were. Many times flak is not close enough to hear the explosions, but this time each flak shell explosion was so close that they sounded like heavy giant doors being slammed by a huge giant, followed almost simultaneously by a sound like heavy gravel being thrown onto a tin roof. The gravelly sound was the fragments going through our aircraft. Again, to bomb accurately we have to stay steady on the bomb run. No evasive maneuvers allowed. The heavy close flak continues when suddenly we heel over into a hard right bank and head for the ground. I call on interphone...no answer...I call again... still no answer. I am beginning to wonder if ole Mac is all alone in this diving B-17? I grab my chest pack and clip it on. I’m very close to making a move to the escape hatch when we level out and start to climb. Someone is flying this thing. Still no voices. Shortly thereafter, Abe crawls back to the tail wearing a walk-around bottle and taps me on the shoulder. He gives me an O.K. ? ? query with the thumb and index finger. I point to my earphones and shake my head side to side. He reaches over to my radio selector and turns the knob back to interphone. Why didn’t I check that.?... I had inadvertently bumped the selector with my shoulder, knocking it off the interphone channel. It was our toughest mission yet. Bombing Visual with good results. Flak intense and accurate. Lost #2 supercharger... Cracked bulletproof glass windshield in front of pilot. 30 to 40 flak holes in aircraft... No injuries.


On 11-6-44 we go to Neumunster Airfield. Flak is meager and not accurate, no fighters. A good mission. No holes... We put the 84th mission on Raggedy Ann, #42-31395. She was becoming one of the legends in the Group. We flew her just this one time. Raggedy Ann survived the war. She was salvaged with No Battle Damage on 6-5-45. NBD doesn’t mean she wasn’t hit during the war. She had hole patches all over her. It just means that she was still flyable but worn out. She was probably declared W.W. (War Weary)


Just as a matter of interest, we flew our first four missions in Back To The Sack, #42-97507, another old timer in the Group. “The Sack” also had another name... Jerry Boy. She was in Olive Drab finish with a long line of bombs indicating missions. Rumor had it that the Sack had only one man wounded in her in all her flights. And, he was her tail gunner at the time. He was hit in the buttocks with a piece of flak. Back to the Sack also finished the war, but in a bizarre accident while cleaning her just prior to her departure for the Z.I. (Zone of the Interior, a fancy name for the good ole U.S.A) she caught fire and was totally destroyed on her hardstand.


On 11-11-44 we were sent to Saarbrucken on a ground support mission to aid Patton’s Army. The Target was a railroad marshaling yard about 7 miles South of Coblenz. We flew in B-17 G 43-387000. The ground in Germany is already covered in snow. Target obscured, bombed PFF (Bombing Through Overcast). We feel sorry for our troops down in the snow.


Bombed Giessen on 11-21-44. Direct hits on marshaling yard. This was a last resort target. Several spots of flak. Primary target was Merseberg, but unable to continue because of cloud-bank in excess of 30,000 feet. I believe this was the mission where we reached 31,000 trying to get over the stuff. One must realize that a single bomber could have gotten through the weather quite easily on instruments. Taking a formation into this would have been somewhat like driving at high speed through smoke blowing across a freeway from a large grass fire. Flew in Miss Fortune, B-17G #43-381118...


Back to Merseberg on 11-25-44. Flew again in #43-38118 Miss Fortune. Fire in #2 engine on take off. Returned to Great Ashefield on three engines. Transferred to Spare B-17 #43-38320; Took off late, intercepting out formation over Dover, England and slid into position over Channel. Bombed Merseberg, PFF - Flak heavy but inaccurate, but several planes in other Groups down in flames over target. Ceiling and visibility 0-0 on return. Some difficulty in getting in to Great Ashfield..several other ships damaged in landing. We suffered no battle damage and landed safely despite hazardous conditions...


Just a word about getting home. When the weather over England is bad, a formation must reverse the procedure used in assembly. The group comes in over its buncher beacon, above the weather, and adopts a wide circling turn.... At thirty second intervals. Starting with the lower element of the formation, the B-17s “peel off” to the left and go into a controlled descending turn around the buncher beacon. Usually at the rate of 500 ft. per min.. They drop into the weather in this controlled descent. Crews with wounded aboard or those low on fuel get priority. Sometimes the weather extends almost to the ground and the last few feet can get rather “hairy”. When you do break out it’s a relief!! We look for railway tracks, roads or any recognizable landmark that leads to the base while flying the proper heading. Must keep a wary lookout for other 17s.. Things can get a little crowded coming into the landing pattern. Everyone’s tired and wants to get on the the ground. It’s not the time to rush things though, landings can bite you...


On 11-27-44 we bomb “Bingen on Rhine”. This is a front line strategic transportation target. In other words a rail marshaling yard. This is to give assistance to Patton’s Third Army position. Bingen is on a bend in the Rhine where it turns north after flowing west from Mainz. Flak was moderate, but extremely accurate. One large piece of flack about twice the size of a 50 caliber slug entered the fuselage just behind navigators position and struck armor plate beneath the pilot's seat. Another was near miss to control cables. An inverter burned out. Supposed to be 12 antiaircraft guns, but flak was visual and accurate. Flew in #43-38320 again.


Winter was really coming in with a vengeance. We had no way of knowing, but the Germans were hatching the plot for their drive on Antwerp, otherwise known as the Battle of the Bulge in the Ardennes Forest. Toward the middle of the month of December, they struck...The weather also struct with them. Temperatures took a nose dive... and the Allied Air Forces were grounded... There was a news blackout in the E.T.O. They NEVER have a news blackout unless we are being drubbed. From the 16th to the 24th of December the “Heavies” were grounded... We were becoming anxious for our forces buried in the snows of Belgium. Aircrews were getting edgy. They wanted the weather to lift so we could help our troops. Some brave Troop Carrier Groups of the 9th Air Force were able to get an air supply mission into Bastogne. But the tactical fighter-bombers of the 9th, as well as their mediums (B-26s) were pinned to the ground by ground fogs so thick one couldn’t see the runways for take-offs. All of Western Europe was “socked-in”.


Finally, late on the 23rd the weather started clearing. The Eighth Air Force set up on the 24th for the largest bomber operation in history. Every base was told to put up every bomber that could carry bombs. The 385th normally put up 36 B-17s on a mission. On the 24th we put up 63 B-17s loaded with bombs. We sent up even the “war wearies” and I heard some without guns, although that might have been a rumor. In any case 2034 heavy bombers were sent on the mission of December 24th 1944. The total of allied aircraft in the air that day exceeded 9,000... This is the largest air effort in history, and since large NUMBERS of bombers are no longer required with modern weaponry, the record will no doubt stand... Our targets for the 24th were German airfields east of the Rhine. The 385th was to take out Gross Ostheim Airdrome east of Frankfort. On the way in we picked up a lot of accurate flak crossing the lines. Again the skies were absolutely clear, so whatever flak came up was visually directed and accurate.


I vividly remember one B-17 in the following group getting hit crossing the lines. Two bursts from a two gun 88MM battery were tracking this group. The bursts were close together and just under these planes. All of a sudden one of these 17s rolled over and started down in a spin. He only made three turns in the spin and his tail came off. No fires as yet, but he spun so rapidly that there were no chutes at all. I watched him all the way down until he went into the ground... The tail section spun like a piece of tinfoil. No cutes. A little later on we had a mid-air collision in our Group. Vogt’s crew collided with the plane above and ultimately disintegrated. Several men were observed in the air but with unopened chutes. The other plane in the collision returned safely with a damaged fuselage and feathered #2 prop and engine. We picked up more flak over uncharted positions. Two large holes in front nose plexiglass in front of Bombardiers position... with fragments on the Navigators table. Navigator saw five planes going down ahead. We had a call over command, “Bandits in the Area”. That’s the call for enemy fighters. Bandits hit the 487th Group just ahead of us, which was the lead Group of the 3rd Air Division commanded by General Fred Castle. Five B-17s went down, one of these carrying Gen. Castle... He posthumously received the Medal of Honor. Castle Air Force Base, Merced, Calif is named in his honor. We bombed Gross Ostheim visual with good results. Flew # 43-38667.


I remember that after we landed back at Great Ashfield, formations were still in the air coming home. As they flew over they turned on their landing lights. It was Christmas Eve...

Flying Backwards in '44 Chapter 3

by Ron McInnis

I must emphasize that all of the foregoing is taking place in the dark. It’s December of 1944 (just before the Battle of the Bulge) and the days are very short. Almost any mission to a deep penetration target starts long before dawn and almost always ends very late in the day or near darkness.


There in the darkness on the hardstand sits the object of all this activity. Loaded with bombs, guns and gasoline. The ground crews have been up most of the previous night preparing her for this mission. Less than a half-hour ago the engines were “run up” to check their performance and insure that she is indeed ready. The only noise heard now in the immediate vicinity is the constant drone of the “putt-putt” also known as the APU or auxiliary power unit, a small gasoline-driven generator.


The crew is assembled in the ground crew’s shelter near the hardstand. This is a regulation Army Pyramidal tent which provides some shelter for the ground crews through the long winter night. American ingenuity allowed the ground crew to fashion a very efficient stove for heating the tent. It’s made of a 55 gallon oil drum cut in half lengthwise with a couple of hinges welded on. It lays on its side on a makeshift brick foundation. A stack goes through the tent roof. The fuel, drain oil from the engines, is in plentiful supply. There is a steel grating inside the stove and on this lie broken pieces of “bomb rings”, which are rings of hard pressed paper cardboard used to cushion bombs during shipment. These are broken up into chunks and provide a base on which the oil can spread and combust more easily. These rings are also in plentiful supply on a bomber base.


It’s cozy in the tent. It’s occupied mostly by the flying crew right now, engaged in small talk. No mention of targets. Hardly ever any talk about the war. The talk is about the home, hometowns and relatives. The talk is low and subdued but in no way is it gloomy.


Soon it will be “stations time” when all crews must be at their aircraft and ready to climb aboard. This timing is critical. It considers the fine line drawn for fuel consumption. Just time to check the engines, check magnetos and instruments. Then yellow/yellow flares from the tower will tell us when all aircraft are to move into a single file rank in order of take off priority. The movements are precise. Almost ballet-like.


Just before the “start engines” time, the props have to be “pulled through”. This calls for crew members to manually pull through a propeller blade so that after nine blades have been rotated, each engine has been turned three revolutions. This insure that the lower cylinders of the radial engines will be cleared of any possibly “liquid lock” which might damage the engine upon starting.


It’s now drawing close to “start engines” time and the crew climbs aboard.


In the 385th Bomb Group the policy was for tail gunners to take off and land IN the tail position. Previously, an attack by German night intruders had taken place in the darkening skies over East Anglia. They stealthily slipped into a returning bomber stream and several B-24s had been shot down. To preclude a repeat of this disaster, tail gunners would henceforth remain with their guns through take-offs and landings. I don’t know whether the order was universal throughout the Eighth Air Force, but it was in effect in the 385th.



Let’s divert for a moment to discuss superstition. Some crewmen carried a rabbit’s foot, or perhaps a photo of a girlfriend or relative, or any number of different objects as “good luck charms”. I don’t believe that air crewmen really placed that much stock in good luck charms, but there was a general feeling that if you got back from a mission in good shape, “don’t change anything...” If you did things in a certain sequence, do it the same way again. In some ways this might have had some beneficial effects. The airman tended to constantly review the order of things and would thus be less apt to forget something important. Repetition is, after all, one of the great tools of training. Under stress, when time is extremely short, repetitious training can prove to be a life saver. One can quickly react, without a lot of complicated thought processes. Have I tended to complicate a very simple thing? Probably yes!


So the tail gunner boards through the tail hatch. That’s the way he boarded for his first mission and that’s the way he will board for all missions. Who says he’s superstitious?


The tail gunners position in a B-17 G has one advantage. Great visibility. This is especially true in the late G model with the modified Cheyenne tail. This modification allows ability to see in all directions except straight forward or straight downward. The gunner can clearly see both the outer port and starboard engine nacelles on the wing ahead, if he cranes his neck a bit. Directly above is a small clear Plexiglas oval window that allows a view of the rudder movements. The space is confined, but not cramped or claustrophobic. The visibility helps in this regard. Everything needed is close at hand. The gunner kneels on two kneepads and sits on a padded bicycle seat between. These support his weight adequately, though not comfortably. Facing the rear (6 o’clock) the guns are about a foot in front of the gunner. These guns are “hand held”. All movements are made physically by the gunner with no power assist. However they are well balanced and can be manipulated quite easily. The two caliber .50 M2 Browning machine guns are cradled in Bell mount Adapters that hydraulically cushion the recoil of the guns. Above the guns is an armored glass view plate and just in front of this is the gun sight. The sight is a straight forward, non-computing sight with an illuminated ring reticule. It moves in exact co-ordination with the guns. On either side of the gunner are large boxes containing 1,000 rounds of cal .50 ammo. On your right is the Oxygen supply regulator, and the rheostat for adjusting the electrically heated suit. Also in the near vicinity is a rubberized small funnel and the tube leading to the outside of the aircraft. This is the “relief tube” and is used when nature calls. It is rubbered for the same reason that the silk gloves are worn on the hands. Were it not so, a VERY tender part of the anatomy might stick to the frozen funnel and cause immeasurable grief. Also on the right of the position is the radio receiver selector for intercom, command channel, etc. The ‘push to talk switch’ is mounted on the gun grips. There is a spare “walk around” oxygen bottle mounted on the left which is used to supply portable breathing capability if an emergency arises involving other crew-members. So there it is...sparse but compact. It will be the tail gunners space for the next eight or ten hours.


We’re aboard and it’s time to start engines. The yellow/yellow flares are from the control tower. The inertial starters of the engines begin to whine, then catch with a few coughs and clouds of engine smoke. Number 1, then 2, 3 and 4. The ground crew stand by with extinguishers in case of a flare-up. The whole base is alive with the sound of engines. Chocks are pulled and the Seventeens start for the perimeter track on which they will move along to the take off runway. They move along the perimeter in a single file in the dark with wing running lights on and an occasional flash of landing lights. Over the noise of the engines, high-pitched screams of the brake applications can be heard. In the tail the ride is a little bumpy and noisy as the tail wheel oleo strut ahead of you bounces along. She rides heavy with the full load of bombs and gas. Engines and brakes are used in combination to maneuver. As turns are made we hear our own brakes squealing, and RPM increases as power is applied to the outside engines in the turn. In the tail these brake applications result in exaggerated up and down motions one would feel on a seesaw. When sharp turns are made, the plane pivots at the main gear, but the tail sweeps around swiftly in a large arc. Because of the tails distance from the pivot point of the turn all movements are abrupt and exaggerated.


In the tail we have an Aldis lamp which is a bright portable signal lamp with a yellow lens installed. We point the yellow beam at the concrete rolling by beneath our tail as a protective warning light. Approaching the take off point each B-17 turns 45 degrees and stops on the perimeter track. This is so the the engines can be run up to full power and “propwash” will not damage other aircraft with flying debris. Each engine is run up alone, to check magnetos, then all engines are run up to top RPM together. In the tail this gives one an idea of the power being generated by all for engines. In the cockpit the control wheel is held tightly back and both pilots are standing on the brakes. The elevators are held in full-up position to hold the tail on the ground. Still the slipstream is so strong that the horizontal stabilizer raises anyway, and the ammunition boxes begin to chatter with the vibrations. It is a little like a flag snapping in a very strong wind. The slipstream is a loud screaming and you feel that the plane is going to shake apart. The tail wheel oleo strut is at full upward extension. Then the RPMs fall off and the shaking stops. Starting with the lead ship they move into take off position on the runway. The lead ship goes up to full RPMs and upon getting a green light from the control van, starts her heavy burdened take off roll. Another ship goes into position and 30 seconds later she is rolling. The tail gunner of each aircraft shows his yellow aldis lamp directly to the rear on the takeoff flashing the letter “G”. Dah, Dah, Dit in International Code. Yellow is the Group Identification color, and “G” is the 385th identification letter. A large letter G in a black square is painted as identification of the 385th Bombardment Group high on the tail of each B-17. Now it’s our turn... We roll into a 90-degree turn to the left onto the NW/SE runway, our longest. Again, full power is applied with brakes locked. Again the tail rises, with more chattering of the ammunition. The green light flashes and the brakes go off. The tail suddenly sinks down against the tail wheel oleo strut and we start to roll. We are on our way! I place the Aldis lamp directly against the the armor glass and flash the G.... DAH DAH DIT about every ten seconds. We roll slowly at first but accelerate rapidly and one really feels it as the speed mounts and the runway lights go whizzing by. Try kneeling backwards in the trunk of a car going a hundred miles an hour and that gives one a bit of the feeling. The ceiling is low this morning. The Pilot is flying a visual take off, while the Co-Pilot is already on instruments. The engineer is calling off the airspeed. In the tail, being so close to the ground, the sensation of speed is much magnified. The engines are roaring and the airflow is screaming by.


We are approaching 90 MPH then 100 then 110. We slowly lift off. The rumble of the wheels goes silent. We are in the air.. pray for those blessed engines. Dim shapes flash by below... perhaps trees or a shed....... then we are into cloud and on instruments. Nothing to see outside. Like flying in a bottle of chocolate milk. Roaring engines... little sensation of movement... We keep flashing the “G”... With only a thirty second interval between planes, now is not the time for nonchalance and it keeps up busy. We head south on instruments at the predetermined rate of climb toward our (385th) “buncher beacon”. Just as we cross it, we get a signal, then go into a spiral climbing turn at a controlled rate of climb. Somewhere, 30 seconds ahead of us is another B-17.. and 30 seconds behind, a following B-17.. Keep that G going!!


England during the war was one gigantic aircraft carrier. When one realizes that thousands of planes are on instruments at the same time spiraling up around an electronic signal which is in close proximity to other similar signals, one begins to appreciate the complexity of assembling this large bomber force.


Great praise must go to our pilots, who became the finest instrument fliers in the world. Some would say that even greater praise should be given to the Training Command that insured the quality of such training.

When a society under the strain of wartime can take a young man fresh out of high school, and train him in less than a year to become the capable commander of a complex four engine aircraft, fully instrument qualified, and able to fly in the foulest weather in the world that is a REAL accomplishment! The world owes the Air Corps, the AAF, and the USAF a lot for its perseverance and diligence in accomplishing this training miracle.

We finally break through the weather and come out at about 18,000 feet. It’s still dark and cold, though being up above weather and being able to see the stars is a relief after the long opaque climb through weather. Now we have to find the 385th formation. The sky is almost black but suddenly off at three o’clock a mass of yellow / yellow flares arch through the sky. That’s our flare color... We head toward three o’clock. Off in other directions masses of colored flares are rising. Red/red....Yellow/green, green/green... red/yellow... Each denoting a group formatting. We have been on oxygen since 10,00 feet, and will remain on it for the next 5 or 6 hours. While we are on oxygen, a check is made about every ten minutes to insure that all of the crew are functioning. Lack of Oxygen can lead to unconsciousness and death at altitude. So a close watch is kept. One of the common causes of anoxia (oxygen starvation) is the accumulation of ice in the exhaust ports of the oxygen mask. This ice builds up silently from moisture in ones exhalations and plugs the exhaust ports of the mast until one is breathing the same air over and over until they pass out. The only sure way to avoid this is to crush the ice out the exhaust ports regularly, so that oxygen can enter the mask. Simply, this is done with the hand squeezing the ports until the ice is crushed out... There are many harrowing tales told about anoxic men turning into monsters who try to take the controls away from pilots, etc., but in my experience, men without oxygen are pretty weak, and lose conscious rapidly... Anoxia was one of the constant problems of high altitude flying in Europe because of lack of pressurization and altitudes sometimes approaching 30,000 feet. We reached 31,000’ on one mission. That’s about max. for a loaded B-17.

The skies are getting lighter, though the sun has not yet come over the cloudy horizon. As we near our formation we see the lead ship with its wheels down cutting a large circular arc across the sky. Many of our planes have already joined the formation. At intervals, Yellow/Yellow flares are fired in unison marking the location of our Group for those planes just surfacing out of the weather below. We approach slowly at the side of the formation and slip into our assigned spot. This can be somewhat harrowing because of the ever-present turbulent air from “propwash”. All of these propellers stirring the air make and erratic “river” of turbulent airflow behind the formation. It is so turbulent that planes are sometimes wildly thrown about, and with tight formation clearances, mid-air collisions have occurred.

The formation slowly grows as the sun finally starts to poke over the cloudy horizon. Other formations are circling their assigned areas and growing. At this stage of the war, most of the B-17s in our formation are natural aluminum. A few old-timers are scattered here and there in the olive drab camouflage. All have the Black square with the silver G high on the tail fin. All aircraft in the 3rd Air Division have the black square. Each Bomb Group is identified by a different letter in the square. The First Division, also flying B-17s, has Group letters in a black triangle marking. The B-24s of the second division have a circle on the tail. These markings are there mainly to help the escort fighters find their assigned groups in the bomber stream. Later, some fighter groups still had trouble identifying each group and more colorful tail markings were adopted.

Three bomb Groups make up a Combat Wing. Wings combine to form Air Divisions, and the three Air Divisions make up the “Bomber Stream”. Synchronizing these separate units into one cohesive offensive force is an exercise in precise timing. Each Bomb Group must find its proper place in the Wing. Each Wing must find its predetermined place in the Division before the “bomber stream” heads out over the “coast out point”, usually a town on the channel coast, such as Cromer or Felixstowe. From this point a long climb east toward enemy territory begins.
About halfway across the channel test firing beings. Guns have been hand-charged. So on permission from the pilot firing commences. Just a few rounds to insure proper operation, then the safety’’s are put back on.

Just a few words about ammunition... The ammo belts carried mostly ball ammunition with a tracer every 5th round. Ball cartridges had common lead bullets with copper jackets. The tracers showed the visual path of your stream of fire. Later, with the adoption of “position firing” it was decided that tracers were giving false illusions of hitting the target, but were actually burning out and falling beneath the target...So..Armor-piercing incendiary cartridges were substituted and the tracers were eliminated. Ball cartridges had plain copper tips, tracers had red tips, Armor-piercing-incendiaries had silver tips.

Position firing was used with all hand held guns. It was a method of laying off “rads” or gunsight radii in leading the target depending on the targets position in relation to your aircraft. The “clock” system was used with this firing method. If one laid a theoretical clock face over the aircraft, twelve o’clock would be straight ahead of the aircraft. Six o’clock straight aft, with 9 o’clock 90 degrees to port and 3 o’clock 90 degrees to starboard.

If an enemy fighter attacks on a pursuit curve from 9 o’clock. Position firing demands that the sight be placed 3 rads ahead of his direction of travel curving in toward 6 o’clock. This 3 rad lead is proportionately reduced as he slides in to directly astern, so that at 6 o’clock you are firing directly at him. This sounds complex, but with constant repetitive training it becomes easier. In effect you are not firing at him, but the spot where he will be when your bullets get there. The top turret, and bull turret have computing sights and do not use position firing.

Position Firing works well when the enemy attacks in a pursuit curve. In earlier days most German fighter attacks were delivered by two or four fighters coming in on a pursuit curve. All guns bearing on the the targets could put up a hail of heavy fire against just a few fighters coming in. German fighter losses rose. Then they changed tactics! They developed what came to be known as the “company front” attack. Fighters in groups of up to fifty would assemble astern of the bombers out of gun range. This was encouraged if a Group “lagged” and left a lot of space between itself and the Group ahead. They would then spread out in waves of five to six fighters across, wingtip to wingtip. Each succeeding wave would increase power as a unit coming in from 6 o’clock and when within range would open mass fire with 20mm cannon. This was devastating to the bombers as defensive fire was no longer concentrated on few fighters but had to be spread out over a greater number. Also, the only guns that had an effective field of fire were the tail guns,... Ball turret, top turret and waist guns were often not able to bear on the fighters coming in at 6 o’clock level. These attacks were terrifying and took a heavy toll. Tail gunners were told to pick the fighter which was most directly behind them, and concentrate all fire on that target. Don’t try to “fire hose” the attackers. This is ineffective and wastes ammunition. The fire from the 20 mm “walked up” on you. Every third round or so would time-explode. This let the enemy fighters know they were hitting their targets. You saw these puff coming in very rapidly. If you were in line of fire.. say your prayers. Many tail gunners must have known they were facing their last moments on earth... There was no where to hide..nowhere to go...not even a foxhole to hunker down into...nothing to do but keep on firing. They faithfully kept firing..might as well go out firing....

Flying Backwards in '44 Chapter 2

by Ron McInnis

There are procedures that are common to all missions. They give a general impression of pre-mission activity and the sequences necessary to build up a successful air combat mission up to and including take-off and formation assembly over England. Let’s explore these...
The night before a mission, the Group is alerted for the following day. All Crew members are very interested in the loading list which names the crews scheduled to fly, the bomb load and the gasoline load.
The bomb load and gas load are indicators of the length of the mission. If it’s a long ranging mission the gas load will be maximum and the bomb load might be lessened because of the need to carry maximum fuel. B-17s carried a maximum fuel load of 2,780 US gallons. This is with full “Tokyo tanks”. These tanks were range-extending tanks installed in the outer wing areas of B-17Fs and Gs going through production after Pearl Harbor, thus the analogy to “reaching Tokyo”. The bomb load for the average “deep penetration” mission would be 3 tons. This could include any combination, for example 12 - 500lb. General Purpose bombs or 10 - 500 lb. GPs with 2 - 500 lb. Incendiary Clusters, or 6 - 1000 lb. GPs, or almost any combination totaling 3 tons.

The foregoing information always brought forth speculation as to the target. This almost always proved to be a futile exercise because of the large number of possibilities. Rarely did an individual guess the Target. But the guessing game added to the sleep-robbing rollovers during the night. Veteran crews accepted that they were going regardless, so why worry about it?

If your crew was on the loading list you snapped awake at the first sound of the CQs hand on the barracks door at about 3 A.M. The Charge of Quarters was the waker-upper for the whole squadron. His spiel went something like... “O.K., the following crews are flying today... Montgomery’s crew, Steil’s crew, Lowry’s crew, Smith’s crew. Up and at ‘em! Drop you c-cks and grab your socks”..then he was out the door to the next hut.

All transportation around the base was handled by six by six trucks. They traveled all main roads on a loose schedule almost like a bus line. We would hop aboard these for the trip to the “combat mess” for breakfast. The combat mess served food that was a cut above the general mess halls. The facility had two extra-large Quonset huts joined by a central kitchen. The officers of flight crews used one side and the enlisted flight crews dined in the other. The food was generally very good. Officers and Enlisted crews had basically the same cooking from the common kitchen. Of course, the officers had little amenities like table linens that were not enjoyed by enlisted men. I remember that everyone except the officers carried his own canteen cup. This was the G.I. issue aluminum cup that normally surrounded the G.I. canteen. This would hold about three normal cups of coffee, so if you weren’t quite awake, you would be after a canteen cup of “joe”. Also, the AAF did not allow milk or other fresh dairy products in the mess halls. British milk was not pasteurized and the medical people were afraid of tuberculosis. So instead of butter, we had a mixture of jam and peanut butter for a spread. When you got used to it, the mix was not too bad. All combat crews would be given two fresh eggs for breakfast on the day of a mission. The cooks would serve them any style at your request. For the army (AAF), this was indeed a treat. A little like a death row breakfast.

After breakfast it was time for briefing. This was held in the tight security of the Briefing Room, and was jointly attended by all flight crews participating in the mission. Usually the officer leading the mission that day gave the briefing assisted by various intelligence, weather and other officers as required. The high point of the briefing was always the moment when the screening curtain over the map of Europe was drawn back, with red ribbon revealing the target for the day... It was always a highly emotional moment and if the target was Berlin or Merseberg, the heartfelt OOOhs and AAHs would fill the room. The red strip of tape, with a slight jog or two around known heavy flak areas went like a dagger to the I.P. (The Initial Point), then immediately to the target. Going in to the I.P. first kept the enemy unsure of the final target.

The main briefing broke into specialized briefings for specific groups. Pilots were briefed for assembly information; times for stations, start engines, taxi and take off. Tight formation was essential for defense. Each pilot had a certain spot in the formation and had to go to his exact place to insure Group integrity. Navigators went to their specific briefings, which detailed exact courses to be followed, expected winds aloft, salient recognition points en route, and latest info on flak concentrations.

Bombardiers were crammed with target recognition information. Radio Operators were given the latest codes, flare colors of the day, and flimsies which had information so security significant, that it was printed on rice paper which was edible and was to be swallowed as a last resort to keep it from the enemy.

The gunners left the briefing and went first to the flight clothing/parachute loft. They dressed for the mission, which would almost always involve extremely subzero temperatures down to 63-65 degrees below zero, Ball-turret and tail-gunners were also subjected to an added wind-chill factor from being in an almost constant black of super-cold air pouring through the fuselage. The waist-gunner suffered this blast but to a slightly lesser degree. Dressing for flights was not a matter of comfort, but a matter of SURVIVAL. One of the constant causes of casualties in the air was frostbite. Many aircrew men lost fingers, toes,and parts of ears to this menace, which the enemy did not have to exploit. It was already there.

First items of dress was a set of long woolen underwear, followed by a pair of calf-length heavy wool socks. Next came regulation wool OD trousers and shirt, followed by donning heated-suit trousers and heated-suit jacket which were then plugged together as to be electrically one unit.. Felt heated shoes went over the woolen socks, and were snapped electrically to tabs at the ankles of the heated-trousers. One donned a set of silk gloves over the hands. This was necessary in case of repair of the guns at extreme temperatures was called for. In effect, they kept your skin from adhering to the super-cold guns. More than one gunner has in a panic taken off the silk gloves and left patches of live skin on the metal of the guns. Over the silk gloves went the electrically heated gloves that were electrically connected by snapping tabs at the wrists of the heated suit jack. Over these garments went a fairly light cotton flight suit, to be topped off by heavy Alpaca lined flying trousers and jacket (B-10) with a black fur collar. Some of the tail gunners opted for a fur-lined parka with a hood instead of the B-10. Add a pair of fleece-lined flying boots over the heated boots and you were about ready to go. Don’t forget your helmet, goggles and parachute harness and chest pack. Now you feel like an overstuffed bear. But don’t be hasty, exertion brings on sweat, and you want as little of that as possible where you are going...

Then to the armament shack. This is where the inner-workings of the guns are stored. The receivers remain in the aircraft at all times. The workings are kept in the armament shack until a mission is on. They are clean but heavily soaked with gun oil (AXS-777), if I remember correctly. Each machine gun has to be “detail stripped” which means separating into its component parts and wiping all parts thoroughly free of gun oil. This has to be done meticulously, as any excess oil will coagulate and freeze at the low temperatures of high altitude, causing a stoppage. All component parts have to be dry to the touch, except for a very thin film of oil over the running surfaces. VERY thin. The bores of the barrels are run though with rods and gun patches to clear them of oil.

Each gun must have its “headspace” adjusted. Properly adjusted headspace allows the gun to go into “battery”. When a gun is in battery, it is perfectly adjusted for firing. It is a case of not too much and not too little but just exactly right. The most accurate adjustment is had when the breach block drops into battery after delicately turning the barrel. The guns are then ready for installation in the aircraft. They are carefully put into cotton canvas bags for the trip to the aircraft.

Armament trucks have racks to carry sets of guns to the planes. The crew’s gunners put their guns aboard and call out their hardstand number. Upon arrival, the gunners start installing the guns. The tail-gunner and ball turret gunner place their guns into the receivers in their respective gun positions. Ralph, the waist-gunner, who is an armorer (a specialist in guns and gun turrets) sets up his guns in the waist, then proceeds to the chin and cheek positions to install the guns for the navigator and bombardier positions. At this time they are still at their respective briefings. The top turret gunner (Rocky, the engineer) puts in his own guns. It was traditional that each gunner put in his own guns. The responsibility for their operation is then his and his alone.

By this time the rest of the crew has arrived at the hardstand. Now the wait begins...

Flying Backwards in '44

Ron McInnis was born in San Francisco, California, on January 15, 1925 to a working class family. He was one of seven children and graduated from St. Ignatius High School in 1943. Immediately following graduation he joined the armed forces and served in one of the most dangerous positions in aviation -- tail gunner in the B-17.
After the war he served in the San Francisco Fire Department for 30 years and rose to the rank of Battalion Chief. He died on December 30, 1999. He is survived by his wife Evelyn, four sons, and two daughters.
This is Mr. McInnis’ personal account of his adventures during WWII. We are indebted to men like him for their sacrifice, heroism, and sense of duty. Thanks to the McInnis family for allowing us to share his insights. The following is the first of four chapters.

Flying Backwards in ’44

By Ron Mclnnis

It is my intention to write a sort of memoir of my flying days in the European Theatre of Operations as a tail gunner. This would be presented not as a tale of derring-do, but more as an historical diary from the technical perspective. To my knowledge, no one has yet presented passages which would outline the sequential duties of a tail gunner from briefing on through the whole of the flight and ending with debriefing.

Chapter 1
Our aircrew was assembled at the 222nd Combat Crew training unit at Ardmore Army Air Base in Oklahoma. The meeting was essentially a kind of lottery. None of us had met previously. We were told that we were the members of Crew #343. The pilots had lined up and their new crews fell in behind them. We introduced ourselves and that was it! Most of our new crew was from the middle west, with the exception of Roland Tanguay, Engineer, from Berlin, New Hampshire, Hank Brier, Montgomery, Alabama and myself (San Francisco). The Pilot Jerry Steil was from Omaha, Co-Pilot Mort Feingold from Chicago, Navigator John Joseph from St. Louis, Bombardier Don Collins from Hamilton, Ohio, Don Abens, Radio Operator, Joliet, III. Al Boltz, Ball Gunner, Fort Wayne, Indiana. Ralph Vollmer, Armorer-waist gunner, Jasper, Indiana.
Well, here we were for better or for worse. No psychological profile matching or scientific gobbledegook. This is how American units have been formed since our military beginnings, and it seems to have worked so far. So why change it? In retrospect, I thank the Lord that these were my crewmates. Each turned out to be very reliable, cool under stress, and very competent in his duties. I would not want to change a thing! And, we all got along well together.
Ardmore was in southern Oklahoma. The base itself was about ten miles north of town near a whistle stop on the Santa Fe called Gene Autry, after the “singing cowboy” of the Saturday afternoon movies. Ardmore was an O.T.U. or Operational Training Unit or later known as a Replacement Training Unit. Its main function was to train B-17 combat crews for overseas service. The schedule was a busy one. Four hours of classroom work and at least four hours of flying every day. The B-17s got a good workout! One section would fly in the morning while the other section was in class, then switch in the afternoon so that each got its classroom/flying, or flying/classroom time in every day. Night navigational or cross-country flights even kept the B-17s going into late evening. They never seemed to rest.
Bombing and gunnery was emphasized early on. Our bombardier, Don Collins was excellent with the Norden bombsight. His M.P.I. Mean Point of Impact average was right up there among the Bombardiers. Whenever we were on the bomb range, the gunners would be watching the target below to see if he would get a “shack” with the blue (100 pound) practice bombs. He never disappointed. Most people don’t know that during the bomb run, the Bombardier, not the pilot is flying the airplane. The Norden bombsight is fitted with controls which allow the Bombardier, through the AFCE Automatic Flight Control Equipment, (More familiarly, the “auto pilot”), to delicately fly the airplane and make the fine adjustments if necessary for the accurate bombing. Don was a product of theBombardier School at Carlsbad, New Mexico, Class 44-A... He knew his stuff! Aerial Gunnery training at Ardmore was a constant honing of a sharp edge. All aircrew, except the pilots, had been to Gunnery School and were qualified gunners, including the Bombardier and Navigator. We had gone through the basics already. At Gunnery School, we had training in turrets, sights, the adjustments and repair of the caliber .50 M2 machine guns (We had to disassemble completely then reassemble the gun blindfolded, making all adjustments for efficient firing.) We shot skeet constantly. This was fun. At first we fired on a regulation skeet range. Then we moved to a range that tossed the birds at you from odd angles from a “high” house, and finally shot skeet from the back of a pic-up truck moving around a sort of race track. This was a challenge because both the target and the gunner were in motion while firing. It was excellent training in the art of “leading” a target. At the end of the day all students had badly bruised shoulders from shotgun recoils.
At Ardmore we did both air-to air and air-to-ground firing. All air/air firing was done down over the Gulf. A B-26 would tow a rectangular cloth target parallel to our formation’s course and we would fire cases of Ca. 50s at the target. There was one GREAT problem with this set-up. The ammunition was old stuff from World War I. We would have misfires about every sixth round because of so many “duds”. We would hand charge twice and start over. We had a gunnery instructor with us. He said he had definite orders NOT to bring any of this WWI stuff back to base. Consequently, hundreds of rounds of belted Cal .50 ammunition were seen floating down to a watery grave in the Gulf of Mexico. We felt that the quicker we got rid of this crap the sooner we might get good ammo to fire. We NEVER had any trouble with ammunition once we were overseas.
This brings to mind a near tragedy with this old WWI ammunition. We were doing air-to-ground firing on the range at Ardmore. We would make passes over the range at about 500 feet and aim at selected targets on the ground. I had fired all of my rounds from the tail, and crawled up to the waist area where the waist guns were still hammering away. Don Abens, the radio operator, had not yet fired, and was called back to the left waist gun to fire his quota of this lousy ammunition. With the gunnery instructor and Abe in the waist, I decided to give them some room to fire and went forward to the radio room. The guns were hot from the heavy firing. Abens commenced firing but very shortly encountered a stoppage. He hand charged the gun twice which was the standard way of clearing it, so that firing could begin again, after a few more rounds another stoppage. He hand-charges again. This time there is a loud BOOM from the waist. There is cordite smoke all over the waist area. I ran back into the waist. Don Abens is holding onto the spade grips of the gun. The sides of the receiver are bowed out from the explosion. The top cover is twisted. Abe quietly says, “I’m shot, I’m shot.” We take him into the radio room and lay him on the floor. He has brass from the cartridge casing sticking into his stomach. He is bleeding heavily from a hole in this thigh. We cut away his clothes. We call the pilot and inform him of the situation, advise return to base and have an ambulance ready on the runway. Abe is conscious. The thigh wound goes all the way through and exits the back of the thigh. This is a pretty serious wound. After checking out his stomach we find that none of the brass shards have penetrated.
When we roll to a stop on the runway the ambulance is there and takes Abe to the base hospital. In trying to recreate what happened we climb into the plane and survey the waist section. On the opposite side I see a bloody object near the floor. It is the back of 3/8 of an inch of a Cal .50 cartridge. The dimensions are 3/4 inch by 3/8 inch. This is what made the 3/4 inch hole in Aben’s right thigh. The explosion took place when this WWI cartridge exploded in the open receiver of the gun. It blew out the sides and top of the gun. The back of the cartridge was still retained by the bolt but was slammed down into a deflector plate and vectored through the flesh part of Abe’s thigh. No bones were involved. I scooped up this souvenir and gave it to Abe later.. He carried it on his key ring for years. Talk about irony- the guy hasn’t left the States yet and he’s already got a war wound and the projectile that caused it. Abe was in the hospital for about two weeks but Jerry Steil talked like hell to the medics and we kept him on the crew. Don Abens is too good a man to lose.
One of the things stressed at Ardmore was tight formation flying. As was said before, the heart of any bomber defense is tight formations, This concentrates defensive firepower. Along about the middle of our training, we started to fly mock formation bombing missions against different Midwestern cities. We would “bomb” Wichita, Topeka, Kansas City, and even St. Louis--with cameras, of course. We did everything but drop real bombs! We would even have “fighter attacks” from P-47s station at Winfield, Kansas. The fighter would come in on a pursuit curve and we would dry-run fire on them. One word about formation flying for long periods. Pilots tell me it’s very tiring. Its a constant fight with throttles and controls. It demands FULL concentration of the pilots. It can be very hard physical work, and threat of mid-air collision is ever present. These “missions” were valuable training for all of us. The one thing lacking was the terrible weather in northern Europe. This is not to say that Midwestern weather is ideal. It can be very, very tricky, but the stuff that comes in off the North Sea and the Atlantic, is much worse, in my opinion.
Part of our training involved night cross-country navigational flights. We would leave Armore and fly southeast into Alabama and Georgia,, then turn north into the Carolinas and come back west through Tennessee and Arkansas. Some of these flights covered a thousand miles and more, and were flown at the cooler altitudes around 6,000 ft. and were a treat after a hot day on the ground. The object was to give the Navigator experience in various skills, from piloting and dead reckoning to celestial navigation. John Joseph, came out of Navigation School at Hondo, Texas. Joe was exceptional. He was very precise in speech and manner. His voice was deep and he was tall. He could have played a very respectable Abe Lincoln in a college play. I used to love to hear the guy talk. His vocabulary was extensive, his phrasing meticulous. He would have made a great lawyer. Yet, there was not an ounce of falsity in the man. What you saw was what you got, a gentleman, through and through.
Joe was a conscientious Navigator. He constantly practiced “star shots” to enhance his celestial navigation. He never sloughed off on anything. Every new challenge was gladly met and always conquered. This quality is borne out by his being offered a chance to become Group Navigator of the 385th.
Now to the Pilots. Jerry Steil was an ideal son of the Midwest; he was outgoing, but not the wordy type. When Jerry spoke, everyone listened, because every word had importance. He had the perfect pilot’s demeanor. Tall, blond, he looked like a pilot was supposed to look. As Airplane Commander, he was “no nonsense” in the air. He didn’t have to chew anyone out, because a straight look in the eye carried the message. Jerry came out of Aviation Cadets through Primary Flying School at Eagle Field, Dos Palos, California; Basic Flying School, Minter Field, California; and twin engine Advanced Flying School at Douglas, Arizona. He went into B-17 first pilot school at Hobbs, New Mexico, and came out as an airplane commander. We can all remember an incident overseas where another first pilot, who was a Captain, outranking Jerry, was flying as our co-pilot when a procedural dispute arose. It because quite heated. Jerry, rather firmly, reminded this “two tracker” that HE was the Airplane Commander, and that HIS decision, in the air, was final. End of argument!
Perhaps my characterization of Jerry as a strong commander leaves the wrong impression of the man. He was not a military martinet in any sense. On the ground he was as pleasant a man man as you would care to meet. He had a good sense of humor and wore a smile not a frown. He liked his men and took care of them, and they liked him. He was always fair and considerate to all his crew. He was an easy guy to talk with. He was a good listener. His manner on the ground was never harsh with anyone. In a nutshell, he was a kind and gentle person who took his responsibility seriously. He knew that we were in a dangerous business, and had the belief that the way to complete a combat tour and have the whole crew survive, was to insist that every man know his job well, and perform it to the best of his ability. We all reacted positively. We all wanted to get through the war!
Mort Feingold was our co-pilot. Mort was an excellent pilot. The Chicago native had also gone through Advanced Twin-Engine School, but wanted to be in fighters, specifically p-38s. Instead he wound up as a co-pilot on our B-17. I had a feeling that Mort wasn’t totally please when he first came to Ardmore, and that he would have preferred the more free-spirited life in the fighters, to the more restricted four-engine life. The enlisted men thought him rather terse and abrupt at first. He came around though. He was smart enough to recognize quality in Steil, Joe, and Don Collins, officer cohorts in the front of the plane with him. Mort and Don became inseparable buddies.
One day flying over Texas, Jerry decided to give all the gunners a shot at flying the “Big Bird”. Mort was in the left seat and we were called up one at a time for our “four-engine time”. As an aspiring Cadet I had picked up 10 hours of “piper cub” time at Washington State College. When my turn came Mort said, “O.K. give it a whirl,” I grabbed the throttles and the wheel and, after checking clearances, heeled her over into a steep ninety degree turn to the right then another to the left back to the original course. I smugly thought ‘Not too bad’. Then Mort said, “O.K. let’s try instruments”. After a few minutes, the wind was completely out of my sails. Back to Reality!
We had a great enlisted crew. One of the real gentlemen was Henry Clay Brier. Hank was from Montgomery, Alabama. Hank’s mother and father were professors at U. of Alabama and had an obvious influence on Hank’s attitudes and intellect. He was a well-spoken man, with a voice that was calmness itself. Never got excited. He was a pleasure in conversation. Hank was one of our waist gunners and everyone’s esteemed friend. The sad thing is that when we were flying overseas, Hank got sick with a case of flu at Grenier Field, New Hampshire, and was hospitalized there. We kept flying the North Atlantic Route, but had every expectation that Hank would catch up with us in England. When we arrived at our Great Ashfield Base, we found that B-17 crews were cut from 10 men to 9. So when Hank did catch up he went into the gunners pool and we lost him as a crew member. It was a sad moment for the crew. But Hank was still quartered with us and qualified as a “togglier” on Montgomery’s crew. Toggliers were enlisted “bombardiers” who didn’t use the bombsight, but toggled the bombs in a unison with the lead ship. Hank was one of the best of these. He later became an R.C.M. operator (Radar Counter Measures). These flying specialists jammed enemy radar flak frequencies by tuning in on them thereby canceling their effectiveness. Hank was wounded as a togglier, not seriously.
The youngest member, Al Boltz, manned the Ball Turret. This position was considered the most dangerous. Conditions in the turret were so cramped that the chest pack parachute could not be taken into the turret with the gunner. If the bailout signal was given, the ball-gunner had to turn the guns down to full 90-degree depression, then pip the doors and come up into the waist to put on his chute. It took guts to ride the Ball! Al had a few oxygen mishaps while we were flying in Europe. It wasn’t inattention, but rather the ice in the exhaust ports of the masks. Ralph Vollmer, waist gunner/armorer, adjusted the Ball Turret so that it had a certain amount of “creep” if the gunners hands came off the controls. Ralph would watch the turret, and if it didn’t change direction in a reasonable time, but kept creeping at this steady rate, Ralph would call Al. If he had no answer, or a slurred answer, he knew something was amiss and would get oxygen to Al right away. I attribute this condition to ice buildup. The turret was so confined that the gunner’s chin was always close to his chest. The exhaust ports in the mask were just under the chin. This allowed the ice to form a sort of stationary damn on his chest. Because the gunner’s views were mostly though the gunsight, there was not much head movement, which would have helped break up the ice. That’s my theory anyway. Take it or leave it.!
Our Top Turret Gunner/ Engineer was Roland “Rocky” Tanguay. He was the third man in the cockpit. His duties were numerous and important. He moved around to make sure that mechanical things that were supposed to happen, did happen. If the bomb bay doors refused to retract after bombing, he had to grab a crank, get out on the narrow bomb bay catwalk, without a parachute, (the chute hampered movements with the crank) and crank about 90 turns manually to bring up the doors. This was done while looking at Germany five miles down, usually while in heavy flak over the target. He had an extra long oxygen hose to allow him to do this! His other routine duties were checking to make sure that the main landing gear was down and LOCKED before landing. He was responsible for seeing that the ball turret was properly stored before landing, although the ball and waist gunner checked this for him. He called off airspeeds when taking off and landing, especially if pilots were on instruments. He also fired recognition flare when necessary. And--oh yes--manned the top turret guns.
Radio Operator/ Gunner, Don Abens, was a real asset. He was probably the best R.O. in the Squadron. He could send and receive 25 words a minute in code. The code was taken in five-letter groups, then decoded. Very secret stuff. The radio room was fairly commodious space in the B-17. On the left, facing forward, was the operator’s desk, with a sending key, of course. Above the desk was the primary radio. On the right side was a rack full of “Tuning Units”. These had two handles and could be extracted and placed into the radio very quickly. It wasn’t my country, so frankly I didn’t know a lot about it. All radios were SCRs (Signal Corps Radio followed by a number). At one time the radio hatch had a .50 MG installed, but its field of fire was limited so they took it out and the R.O. manned one of the waist guns when “Bandits” were about. I believe it was a way to create an extra “pool” of gunners. This led to the crew reduction from 10 to 9.
After his experience at Ardmore, Abe understandably, “fell out of love” with guns. But in spite of this, when the call Bandits in the area” came over the command channel, he would man the right waist gun, and we all knew the right side was more than adequately covered.
Abe was another one of those guys that everyone took to. He had a love of humor and a great laugh. He was always consulted. His opinions always carried weight with the rest of us.
Ralph Vollmer was the Armorer of the crew. He manned the left waist gun. He was from southern Indiana and of German extraction. He was on of those “solid” men that you could always count on. These are the guys that are always there, thank God!He had gone to Armorers School at Lowry Field in Denver, and was expert with guns, bombs, and turrets. The Bombardier always knew that if he needed help pulling the arming-wires from the bombs after take-off, Ralph would always provide expert help. Ralph was soft spoken and easy going. I never saw him really angry. If anyone on the crew could be called steady, it would be Ralph.
I hailed from the West Coast. San Francisco to be exact. The scion of a solid woking-class family of seven; four boys, three girls. I went to a Jesuit high school (St Ignatius) graduating in June ’43. Uncle Sam didn’t waste any time. I was in basic training in early August. I had passed the examination for Aviation Cadet and after Basic, was sent to Washington State College as an Aviation Student for a semester. At Santa Ana I came down with Otitis Media, an infection of the inner ear. My eardrum blew, and I was eliminated from the Cadet Program. Later, at Amarillo, I was given another flight physical. The ear drum had healed and I passed the “sixty four”, the flight physical, and was assigned to gunnery school! I was a bit perturbed at having lost the chance for pilot training, and vented my feelings to a few Officers at Amarillo, but life goes on ...... Gunnery School it is!!!
At Ardmore I asked for, and was given the tail gunner’s slot. Never regretted the choice. Saw a lot of sky... a lot of B-17s, some heart-wrenching scenes of 17s going down, enough flak for one lifetime, a winter of the worst flying weather ever, and became a member of the best crew in the Eighth Air Force.
Our training at Ardmore has drawn to a close. After a short furlough home to see the folks, we will be shipping out for overseas. We are being sent to Lincoln Army Airbase, which is an “Air Port of Embarkation”. Here we will pick up a new B-17 to fly overseas via the North Atlantic Route. After general briefings, we take off at 0300 hrs. for Grenier Field, New Hampshire. Here, Hank Brier comes down with the flu and is hospitalized. After a few day we go on to Goose Bay, Labrador then Meeks Field, Iceland and finally, Valley in Wales. Here we give up the B-17G #43-38727 that we flew overseas...A subsequent sad little obituary follows:
B-17G #43-38727 Delivered Lincoln 9-13-44; to Grenier Field, H.H., Goose Bay, Lab; Meeks Field, Iceland; Valley Field, Wales; Assigned to 410 Bomb Squadron, 94th Bomb Group.; Letters GI N at Rougham (Bury St. Edmunds) Suffolk; Missing in Action over Ludwigshaven 11-5-44 with Capt. Haller; Flak hit #2 engine. Crashed at Hameln, Germany. 4 Killed in Action; Ball Gunner chute failed; 5 became POWs (3 died later); Missing Air Crew Report # 10306. Name. THE CHARACTERS....(We were on this mission)
We went to the Replacement Depot at Stone, England. Then shipped out to the 549th Squadron, 385th Bomb Group at Great Ashfield, Suffolk, as replacements. The 549th was caught in a “company front” fighter attack over Berlin on 10-6-1944 and the entire squadron of 11 B-17s went down over Berlin. When we came in on 10-9-44, entire huts were empty, except for a few men who had been on pass in London on the 6th. It was a sobering introduction to life in an Eighth Air Force Bomb Group.
Our Pilots immediately started to fly indoctrination missions. There was a lot to master in a short time. All pilots had to become familiar with British radio and radio navigation systems; landing patterns, night flying procedures. They were flying tighter formations than they thought possible. Flying went on all day, then half the night. Navigators had to master the “Gee Box” which was a British Loran Device. They had to concentrate on entirely new weather problems. Bombardiers had to catch up on H2X radar bombing techniques. Engineers had to be briefed on cold weather’s effect on power and systems. Radio Operators had to attend the “Harwell” radio school to learn British systems and techniques. All crew members had “ditching’ drills” and gunnery refresher courses. Familiarization with new flight equipment was stressed, with emphasis on oxygen equipment and its proper use.
On 10-26-44 Jerry and John Joseph flew their first mission to Hanover with another crew. It was customary for the First Pilot and Navigator to “get one under their belt” before flying with their own crew.
On 10-30-44 we flew our first mission as a crew. We were briefed for the Leuna synthetic oil plant at Merseberg... When our leading Combat Wing reached approximately 7 degrees east longitude, we ran into a solid wall of weather... It was a spectacular sight. From as far north and south as one could see, and from the ground all the way up to over 40,000 feet, this huge rampart of weather blocked us from Germany. To take formations into that maelstrom would have been a disaster. The whole Air Force was recalled. Because we had crossed the “bomb line” we were given credit for the mission, even though we returned to base with the bombs. This give one a lesson in what an important, and frustrating part weather play in air warfare.