Betrayed: Secrecy, Lies, and Consequences Page 4
Fred spent six months at Drew Field, training and flying simulated combat missions with a new flight crew under the command of Lt. Jackson. As often happened, the original flight crew changed while training was underway. Lt. Blake arrived when their original copilot left to become the pilot of another crew, and Sgt. Pickrel replaced the first radioman when he left for another assignment. The crew list finally stabilized, and in late March 1944, the Jackson crew received clearance to depart for the ETO.
The Army needed to replace planes as well as crews lost through combat or accident. As a result, the standard practice was to give new aircrews a new plane to deliver rather than getting them to the UK by other means. After completing the paperwork, Fred and the rest of the crew went by train to Hunter Field, in Savannah, Georgia, to pick up their new ride. The plane was identified only by number 42-102416,10 and the crew had struggled to come up with a nickname. It was a group effort. Initially, they tried taking the first letters of the crew’s first names or last names, but that didn’t work, as there were too many consonants and too few vowels. They next tried the first letters of their home states, but the only thing they could spell was Nagid Wimin. Fred rather liked that name, but Jackson vetoed that one because he thought the nose art would be potentially embarrassing. So as a lark, they decided to thumb their noses at fate, and call the plane Crashwagon.
Crashwagon would be one of a number of new B-17s headed overseas in convoy. The routing involved flying in hops to Richmond, DC, Philadelphia, Mitchel Field (outside New York City), Grenier Field (New Hampshire), Goose Bay (Labrador), and Meeks Field (Iceland), before heading for Nutts Corner, an airfield in Northern Ireland. The planes left Hunter Field on 5 April 1944, and all went fine until they got to Mitchel Field.
Other than Blake, who was from Long Island, and Fred, from Brooklyn, none of the crew had been in New York City before. Fred acted as the social director and tour guide. He started with the bar at Jack Dempsey’s and ended at dawn on top of the Empire State Building. The next night he got tickets to a movie at Radio City Music Hall, and when it was over, Fred took them on a pub crawl through his favorite night spots. The following day, they went to the plane to fly out with the other crews, but when they arrived, the engines wouldn’t start. Jackson immediately reported this to the ground staff. Stuck on the ground, and with nothing better to do, the crew then headed back into the city for another day of adventure, visiting the Statue of Liberty, the Chrysler Building, Yankee Stadium, and finishing with another round of the nightclubs.
When they got back to the base in the wee hours of the morning, there was a message for Jackson to see the maintenance officer ASAP. In a rather aggrieved tone, the maintenance officer told him that he understood how alluring New York City could be, and how much the crew wanted to paint the town red, and that he didn’t care one whit if Jackson wanted to delay departure for a few more days. But Jackson had to tell his crew to stop snapping off the stems of the spark plugs, because it was a pain in the neck replacing them. And, he reminded Jackson, 100 B-17s had left Savannah, 99 of them were already in Labrador, and at some point, hard questions would be asked. Fred, the guilty party, knew that Jackson suspected he was responsible, but when the crew was called together for a heart-to-heart, no names were mentioned. Suitably chastened, they were soon on their way again.
On successive days, they made the jumps to Grenier Field, Goose Bay, and then Meeks Field without incident. But on the final leg, as they neared Nutts Corner, their landing gear refused to deploy, and when the hand crank was used to deploy the wheels manually, the handle spun freely. Without landing gear, there was the risk of a crash that would close the airstrip at Nutts Corner, so they were diverted to a secondary field at Langford Lodge. On the way, they diverted over Loch Neagh, into whose waters they dropped Felipe’s belly turret. The landing went perfectly, although the hole where the ball turret used to be acted like a potato peeler, and the back of the plane quickly accumulated a long, thick strip of sod. There were no other incidents of note as the plane slid off the runway into the adjacent grassy field. It was a textbook crash — there were no injuries, and damage to the plane was limited to the destruction of the propellers. Without the extra ground clearance provided by landing gear, the props were mangled by impact with the ground.
Fred and the rest of the Jackson crew were sent to Belfast for some R&R. Afterward, they took a ship to Scotland to connect with a train to Boddington, where they received their assignment to the 385th Bomb Group.11 They arrived at the Great Ashfield airbase on 5 May 1944, and on 9 May they were assigned to the 551st Squadron as air crew MM-37. On arrival, the senior air crews were cordial but a bit reserved, as the odds were stacked against new crews surviving long enough to make friends. Fred was told very bluntly that there was no reason to worry, as in three months it would all be over — by then he would be dead, a POW, or on his way home with 30 missions completed. What they didn’t tell him was that the life expectancy of a B-17 was 13-14 missions, and that if those missions involved fighter attacks, the life expectancy of the waist gunner (roughly three minutes of firing time) was the shortest of any crewman. German fighters found it all too easy to knock out defenses on one side of the plane by targeting the guy standing up in the middle of the aircraft.
Before flying combat missions as a group, the crew was split up and assigned to fly two missions as temporary members of more experienced crews. Fred and Sam flew as waist gunners for two missions with Lt. Percival, flying in two different aircraft. The first mission was to bomb Liege, Belgium, and it was a rough baptism. Fortunately for Fred and Sam, there were few fighters in the air, but flak was heavy, and accurate enough to throw the plane around and punch holes in the fuselage. Fred and Sam found it disconcerting, but the plane tolerated the damage and returned relatively intact with no injuries onboard. Flying in combat was very different from flying practice missions around Florida! On the plus side, they completed a flight that ended with a landing rather than a crash. The second mission was to bomb Kiel, inside Germany,12 and it was a seven-hour mission with heavy flak and occasional fighters. Once again, the plane returned safely but with numerous holes in the cabin that the ground crew would patch with duct tape before the next mission.
Their two individual training missions completed, the Jackson crew was assigned their first combat mission as a complete crew. For that mission, they were given aircraft 42-39951, formerly called In the Mood. Fred and his colleagues called it Crashwagon II. The mission, number 112 for the 385th BG, targeted the marshalling yards at Chaumont, France. It was not an auspicious start to their combat careers. On the way back to England, they encountered heavy flak. Fred was looking out of his gun port when a burst took out an engine. Fred knew that the required response was to feather the propeller, reducing drag and allowing the remaining engines to keep the plane headed home. But it soon became clear that Jackson was having trouble feathering the prop. It “ran away,” spinning uncontrollably. Without lubrication, the hub was soon glowing red hot, and the plane shook so violently that it was difficult for Fred to remain on his feet. He could hear Jackson increase power to the other engines, but the plane started losing altitude, and Fred became concerned about the prop breaking free and spinning through the nose.
Flames were spreading along the wing when Fred realized he could see Dover in the distance. It was too far away, and the waters of the English Channel were approaching rapidly. Jackson must have decided to ditch the plane. Fred and Sam braced themselves and tried to remember the proper sequence for leaving the plane after a water landing.
It was a hard landing, but Jackson controlled it beautifully, and the plane stayed level and afloat for several crucial minutes while the crew climbed out through the top turret and inflated a pair of life rafts. The only injury was sustained by Mandu, who cut his head on the top turret hatch as he left the plane.
Before the plane went down, Erv Pickrel had sent a rough position fix to air-sea rescue. The teams ashore were fast and effic
ient, and a rescue boat from Brighton picked up the crew shortly after they boarded the life rafts. As they headed for shore they watched Crashwagon II sink beneath the waves.
Marsilii was soon patched up and everyone outfitted with dry RAF uniforms, which they were still wearing when they were shuttled back to Great Ashfield the next day. After tedious debriefings by the Public Information Officer, the Supply Officer, the Intelligence Officer, the Operations Officer, and various other authorities, they were released on a three-day pass and headed for the bars of London. Fred got the sergeants more than one round of free drinks telling the story of their harrowing experiences, without mentioning that it had been their first mission.
Fred wrote home regularly. A letter to his sister Lucille, dated 19 May 1944, included:
Lt. Jackson did a wonderful job and all ten of us were fished out of the water by an English naval vessel. The English, both Navy and RAF, can never get enough praise from me for the treatment they gave us and the swell rescue job they do. This crew of ours certainly is running on luck, that is the second crash in a months’ time and not one of us has been hurt yet. Let’s hope it keeps up. For further details, consult local papers. The story…should have been in the Eagle.13
Their next mission was to Hamm, in the Ruhr Valley of Germany. Their plane was 43-97818, which they called Crashwagon III. It was pretty much a “milk run” (easy and uneventful) with light, inaccurate flak and no enemy fighters in sight. Fred was delighted to find that some missions were relatively straightforward. Unfortunately, the next day’s mission targeted the same area, and the Germans were ready and waiting. There were enemy fighters galore and heavy flak, and the weather at times was lousy. Flak was so heavy that Fred later joked that they could have put the wheels down and landed on it. After landing, Fred, Mandu, and Jackson did a walk around the plane looking at the damage. They stopped counting after finding more than 200 holes in the aluminum skin. The ground crew chief, TSgt. Joe Zorzoli, later told Fred that they’d also broken a wing support.
They had the next day off to recover, and Fred took the time to write home:
The flying here is, to say the least, a bit different and quite a bit rougher on a person than it was in the states, so between missions it is usually sack time, never seem to get enough of it either. The boys send their best and Sam says he sure intends to take you up on that dinner as soon as we get back to the States (oh Happy Day).
After their plane was repaired, they flew a mission to bomb the airfield at Evereux-Chonces, France, followed by one to bomb the harbor facilities at Boulogne. There were few enemy fighters around, and Fred had nothing to shoot at, so he just wedged himself in place, scanning the skies and hoping that his flak vest would do its job if necessary. On the Boulogne run, Fred was startled to see exhaust trails tracking up from the ground, following small missiles that flashed through the formation at blinding speed. It was the first time that the 385th BG had encountered anti-aircraft rockets. They were impressed by the technology but relieved by the inaccuracy — no planes were hit.
At the mission briefing on the morning of 6 June, Fred learned that D-Day, the invasion of France, was underway and that the 385th BG would be tasked with air support for the ground forces. The target for this mission was Falaise, roughly 40 miles south-southwest of the Normandy beaches. En route to that target, cruising at 21,000’, Fred was astounded by the size of the assembled fleet and the scale of the landings underway along the Normandy coast. He didn’t envy those ground troops one bit, and he hoped that Crashwagon’s bomb loads would help those brave guys on the beaches. As Jackson had said before this mission, “They’ll need all the help they can get!”
The 7 June mission was their first mission with Lt. Shaffer as navigator. Fred thought he seemed quiet and reserved, and wondered if that was the result of having flown so many combat missions. From the intercom traffic, it was clear to Fred that Shaffer was a top-notch navigator who gave information quickly and precisely. The mission was long — eight hours — with little drama until they were approaching the British coast as darkness fell. While still in formation, they received word over the radio that German fighters were in the area and that the formation should break up and take separate routes back to base.
All of the airbases had doused their lights to avoid giving the Germans clues as to their location, which made accurate landing rather difficult. Jackson relayed word over the intercom that they had just been told they had a Ju-88 (a German night fighter) on their tail, and he was reducing altitude to lessen the chances of attack from below. Fred, searching the night sky for the telltale glow from a fighter engine, or worse yet a string of tracers, suddenly saw a runway passing below him. Jackson, equally alert, saw it as well and decided to set the plane down then and there. There were no runway lights, and landing lights were too risky, so it was a matter of letting the plane drop and hoping for the best. They hit the ground hard enough to knock Fred and Sam off their feet and bounce the plane 25’ in the air. The landing was especially exciting for Musquiz, who was in the ball turret trying to locate the Ju-88 and had no warning of the landing.
Crashwagon III had landed at Rattlesden, home of the 447th BG, but it felt good to be on the ground. The next day, 8 June, with the skies clear of enemy fighters, the crew flew back to Great Ashfield. When he got back to the base, Fred wrote to Lucille again, telling her that he appreciated her letters. He added:
Damned if I have anything to write about. I haven’t been off the Post since I had that three day pass [to London] so that is it as far as my social life. I can’t write about the missions as censors would cut it out. So nothing left but to say that I am feeling OK and the crew is still intact and none of us have been hurt. We’ve been through some mighty damn spots together and now I don’t think anything can knock us out. They have raised the lid on the amount of missions we fly so I imagine I’ll be in the ETO for some time.
On 9 June, they flew a short training flight, and on 10 June, they spent six hours on a mission to Germany that was recalled due to bad weather over the intended target. June 11 was spent on high altitude formation flying, part of a training exercise for less experienced crews. In the last 18 days, Fred had flown 12 times, completed seven combat missions, and lost his second airplane. The Jackson crew was considered an experienced member of the 551st Squadron, worthy of assignment to Lead Crew School. At least that was what Fred had thought until Major Masters awakened him for duty that morning.
9 Fred had a good time in Dayton, and partied on leave in Chicago. The back of his notebook from that period has a list of 14 names and addresses; nine of them were young ladies.
10 The first two digits of the aircraft number (42-) indicate the year funding was approved. The serial number (102416) was issued by the manufacturer. The plane was received by the Air Force on 2 March 1944.
11 These were also officially called Bombardment Groups, but most airmen used the term Bomb Group.
12 Kiel, a coastal city, was the site of a major U-boat (submarine) base.
13 The Brooklyn Daily Eagle was the newspaper popular in that Burough of New York City.
CHAPTER 3
Combat
SOMEWHERE AROUND MID-CHANNEL, FRED’S REVERIE was interrupted by an announcement over the intercom that gunners could test-fire their guns to show that they were ready for action. The chatter of the 50-cal machine guns woke everyone up and got them scanning the skies for threats with renewed vigor. The inbound Control Point (CP) was located just west of Le Havre, outside of the range of the heavy flak defenses that guarded that port city. As they continued, Fred could see the entire spread of the Normandy beachhead passing below him, extending to the west. The coastal ocean was still blanketed with ships — more were arriving — and the shore was a mass of vehicles and equipment. Clouds of smoke indicated heavy artillery fire just inland of the beachhead.
After passing the inbound CP, the bomber stream started to fragment. Wing 4, the 385th, turned northeast toward Beauvais while ot
her wings went their separate ways. By 0900, Fred was looking north toward a small city he knew must be Rouen when he saw the black puffballs that indicated anti-aircraft fire. Soon Jackson came on the intercom to let the crew know about the flak they were approaching. Fred, along with Mandu, Erv, Sam, and Lts. Haught and Shaffer, struggled into heavy flak jackets and donned armored helmets. Jackson and Blake relied on their armored seats for protection, while Musquiz and Dubenic were protected by armor plating around their gun positions.
The formation lumbered on, maintaining speed, holding its position and hoping for the best. It soon became apparent that most of the flak was exploding a considerable distance below them, and neither Crashwagon III nor the other planes in the Wing were taking damage.
Unfortunately, it was all too good to last. Before the bombers were completely out of range, the flak rose to meet them. Now the explosions were everywhere, dense black clouds appearing and then flashing astern. Over the roar of the engines, Fred could hear a sound like gravel on a tin roof, and small openings appeared in the skin of the plane around him. As eerily silent concussion waves buffeted the plane, it jerked and shook and bounced its way through the sky. Fred hung on for dear life as Lts. Jackson and Blake struggled to stabilize their position in the formation.
Suddenly, a shock jerked the plane up and to the left. The plane began to vibrate, and slewed to the right. As Jackson fought the turn, Fred looked out Sam’s gunport, where he could see the #4 propeller winding down. He was relieved to see the prop feathered, stopping its rotation. Although he both could hear and feel Jackson increasing power to the other three engines, it was not enough to maintain their position in the formation. Fred could see that they were being left behind, and making matters worse, they were gradually losing altitude as well.