In their own words...

[bobbysocks]

World War II: Interview with Luftwaffe Ace Walter Krupinski

Lieutenant General Walter Krupinski was one of those men destined to tempt fate. Beginning his flight training on October 15, 1939, he flew fighters with distinction throughout World War II, serving in Germany's most prestigious units and training and flying with some of the world's greatest pilots, such as Adolf Galland, Otto Kittel, Dietrich Hrabak, Erich Rudorffer, Gerhard Barkhorn and Erich Hartmann. Krupinski's leadership style was similar to that of the great Werner Mölders, and both men were held in high esteem by all who knew them. Krupinski's fatherly approach and genuine concern for the welfare of his pilots, as well as his respect for captured enemy pilots, illustrated his humanity in a world where savagery was the order of the day.

By the time Krupinski was awarded the Ritterkrevz (Knight's Cross) on October 29, 1942, he had been credited with shooting down 53 Allied aircraft. His final score of 197 could have been much higher, but he never claimed a probable victory or argued about a kill, always giving the victory to the other man. His chivalrous attitude and Prussian birth earned him the nickname 'Graf (Count) Punski,' a name that still lingers in the reunion halls and among his friends. After the war, Krupinski worked closely with Organization Gehlen (the West German Secret Service), with the United States and Royal air forces in the emerging North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), and later as a coordinator and leader in the new Bundesluftwaffe (West Germany's Federal Air Force).

Walter and his wife live in modest retirement at their home in Neuenkirchen, Germany. Krupinski has often assisted the Cowles History Group in contacting many of Germany's aces for interviews, and he himself agreed to be interviewed by Colin D. Heaton in 1993.

Military History: Where and when were you born, General?

Krupinski: I was born on November 11, 1920, in a little town called Donnau in East Prussia, which is now under the jurisdiction of the Russian government, but I lived in Braunsberg, which is currently under the Polish government. I recently visited Braunsberg, where the family had lived from 1933 to 1945, and found that it has changed little since I was last there.

MH: What was your family background?

Krupinski: When I was born, my father was in military service. He had been in the First World War and at that time was fighting against the Communist groups trying to take control after the war. He served in the army during World War I and after — until 1923 or 1924. He finally left the army and became a government employee. He soon joined the army again before the outbreak of World War II, but he was discharged after the 1939 Polish campaign ended, as a first lieutenant. He became a government employee again, but as the war progressed he was enlisted as a member of the Volksturm [civilians conscripted in defense of Germany in the closing days of the war] as the Soviets entered Germany proper, from January to May 1945. I had two younger brothers, Paul and Günther. Paul and I were born on the same date but two years apart. Paul joined the Kriegsmarine and entered the Unterseeboot [submarine] service, where he met his fate. He was killed when his boat, U-771, was sunk off the Norwegian coast, and only the bodies of Paul and a noncommissioned officer were found on the shore. They were buried at the military cemetery in Narvik, Norway. The youngest brother, Günther, was born in 1932, and he fled Prussia with my mother in January 1945 during the Soviet advance. He died in 1970 of cancer.

MH: What was your educational background?

Krupinski: Oh, the same as most of the others in the Luftwaffe and the military in general: primary school and then Gymnasium — similar to your high school but a little more advanced — studying the basic curriculum. I passed the Arbitur, which is the final exit examination, in 1938 and decided to join the military.

MH: When did you decide that you wanted to be a flier?

Krupinski: I never really had any interest in flying. In fact, I attempted to become a naval officer like my friends Johannes Steinhoff and Dietrich Hrabak, as I always liked the sea. However, when I finally was admitted, they transferred me to the Luftwaffe. I did not apply for it.

MH: What was your training like?

Krupinski: I started flight training in September 1939 at the Officers Cadet School at Berlin-Gatow, later transferring to Vienna-Schwechat, which was the Fighter Weapons School. It started with classroom instruction, aerodynamics — the basics really. Then after a couple of months we were introduced to the [Heinkel] He-51 biplane trainer, in which we learned the basics of takeoffs and landings, or touch-and-goes, as well as proper aerial maneuvers with an instructor. When we were considered competent we soloed, and I just took to it quickly. It was after six months or so that we actually trained on the Messerschmitt 109, which as you know was the primary fighter throughout the war. Then we trained on instrument flying, enemy aircraft identification, emergency procedures, formation flying, gunnery skills such as deflection shooting, and learned about our particular aircraft, including minor maintenance.

MH: What was your first assignment?

Krupinski: I was transferred to the Channel coast and assigned to JG.52 [Jagdgeschwader (fighter wing) 52], where Günther Rall, Hans-Joachim Marseille, Johannes Steinhoff, Gerhard Barkhorn [who transferred to JG.2 'Richthofen'] and others were starting their careers as Experten [aces with 10 or more victories]. By the time I got involved, the Battle of Britain was just about over, which was in November 1940. I served with JG.52 during most of my career in the east, but later served with JG.5, JG.11, JG.26 and Jagdverband 44, flying the [Messerschmitt] Me-262 jet in the west from April 1, 1945, onward — not much combat time in jets. The fighting against the American fighter escorts and bombers was the worst, since they were excellent fliers and had so much top-rated equipment.

MH: What was it like flying against the British pilots?

Krupinski: Well, I flew only 30 missions over the United Kingdom, and I was involved in a lot of dogfights with [Supermarine] Spitfires and [Hawker] Hurricanes but scored no victories. I was a slow starter, and I was suffering from bad shooting, and I was very anxious since I was afraid of being shot down over the English Channel and having to swim home!

MH: When did you transfer to the Russian Front?

Krupinski: I served at the Channel Front until the late spring of 1941, when JG.52 was transferred east. We flew from Ostende in Belgium to Suwalki in East Prussia, and had been staging there 10 days prior to Operation Barbarossa [the invasion of the Soviet Union on June 22, 1941]. The war started for us at Suwalki, where we took off to perform ground-attack missions against the Red Air Force airfields.

MH: Which group were you with at that time?

Krupinski: I was transferred to the replacement group of JG.52, then to 6th Staffel [squadron], attached to II Gruppe [II/JG.52] in southern Russia. Later, I became Staffelkapitän for 7th Staffel of III/JG.52 in Romania, guarding the Ploesti oil fields and refinery, bridges and that sort of thing from the American long-range bombers from North Africa and, later, Italy, until the spring of 1944.

MH: What was that first winter like for you and the unit?

Krupinski: The Russian winter! It's famous, you know, and all of the horror stories are true. We could not fly, and when we could it was hard to know how to get back unless you flew totally on instruments, and landings were more hazardous than combat. Many planes cracked up. I was there with Steinhoff [176 victories], Rall [275], Hrabak [125], Barkhorn [301] and many others who became well-known names. We all had the same experience, but not just during that winter. Every winter in Russia was miserable, but we were better prepared for them after 1941. We were quite a unit, scoring more than 10,000 victories during the war, and all of us were — and still are — good friends. We lose members every few years, so the circle of friends grows smaller.

MH: You also flew with Erich Hartmann, who would become the greatest ace of all time with 352 victories. You had a special association with him, didn't you?

Krupinski: I had just become commanding officer of 7th Staffel of III/JG.52 when in March 1943 I first met Erich Hartmann. He was a child! So young, and that was when I gave him the nickname of 'Bubi,' or boy, and it stuck with him for the rest of his life. He remembered me from about six months earlier when I had a memorable crash landing in a burning Me-109 at Maikop. I was shot all up after a sortie against the Soviets, and I was blinded by smoke and slightly wounded. Well, I came in to land and slammed into a pile of bombs that had been placed at the edge of this field, and I scraped right through all of it. [Raymond] Toliver and [Trevor] Constable wrote about it in Erich's biography, The Blond Knight of Germany.

MH: Didn't you help Hartmann score his first confirmed victory?

Krupinski: I assigned Hartmann to serve as my wingman many times, and along with Gerd Barkhorn, he was given his first opportunity for a victory when we met a single Soviet fighter. Erich had already been reprimanded earlier for breaking formation and chasing a fighter, getting shot up and crashing his plane with nothing to show for it. [Prior to Krupinski's assignment to command 7th Staffel, JG.52, Hartmann had, in fact, taken part in a team effort in downing an Ilyushin Il-2 Shturmovik on November 5, 1942, which was credited to him as his first victory as a means of encouraging the new man in the squadron. As he followed his already burning victim down, the Shturmovik exploded, damaging Hartmann's Me-109G and forcing him to make a belly landing. His first solo victory, scored while flying as Krupinski's wingman, was over a Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-1 on January 27, 1943.]

MH: How would you compare your fighting style with Hartmann's?

Krupinski: Erich was a great shot at long distances, unlike myself. I preferred to get in close and shoot, and many times I brought pieces of the enemy aircraft home with me. Erich later adopted the same tactic, and he was always successful and was never wounded or shot down by an enemy fighter pilot. He did get forced down once from debris after scoring a kill and was captured, but he managed to slip away, almost getting shot by a German sentry. He also got hit by flak a few times, but that was part of the day's work. He was a good student, and I taught him aerial gunnery after I had experience myself.

MH: How many times were you shot down during the war?

Krupinski: I bailed out four times, crashed a few times and was wounded five times in all. I don't recall the exact number of belly landings, since my flight log was taken by an American GI when I became a prisoner at the end of the war. I would guess the number of crashes to be between 10 and 12. I would like you or the readers as a favor to me, please let the world know about that logbook. If it ever turns up, I would like to give it to my grandsons one day. I would say the most spectacular crash I had was the one at Maikop, and another one where I crashed in the middle of a minefield during a battle. That is a good one to tell over a drink, you know, since it was the most fear I had during the war!

MH: Which of your combat victories stands out the most?

Krupinski: Oh, that is too much to remember, as I flew more than 1,100 missions, and once on July 5, 1943, I shot down 11 planes in four missions in a single day [bringing his total up to 90]. One of those was a dogfight with an expert Russian pilot, which lasted for about 15 minutes, which was rare for a Red Army pilot. They usually broke off after engaging and headed home after a couple of minutes if they could not bounce you or get an advantage. Another mission was when I came across 15 to 20 [Polikarpov I-16] Ratas, during which my aircraft was hit by a large air-to-ground rocket of some kind. The Ratas were attacking ground targets, and one Rata turned on me, shot the rocket at me and hit me. That was an unbelievable situation. I would also have to say that my victories in the narrow Caucasus passes were memorable, as was my victory over a [Lavochkin-Gudkov] LaG-5 at Stalingrad, where the Russian lost more than a third of his left wing and was burning like hell. About 10 Luftwaffe pilots saw that, including Johannes Steinhoff, who was my commanding officer at that time. That LaG was still flying at low level and I watched him go in. He crashed but did not explode — just burned.

MH: Did you ever meet Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring?

Krupinski: I never met him face to face, but I saw him once. That was when I became a lieutenant at the ceremony on January 31, 1941, in Berlin along with several hundred other cadets.

MH: How many times did you meet Adolf Hitler?

Krupinski: Only once, when I was awarded the Eichenlaub [Oak Leaves] to the Ritterkreuz [Krupinski's score at that time was 177].

MH: Could you describe that ceremony?

Krupinski: There's not much to tell really, except that Bubi Hartmann and I had partied heavily the night before and were drunk as hell, despite the fact that we were to receive our awards from der Führer. Hartmann knew him from before, because as you know he was decorated three times by Hitler with the Oak Leaves, Swords and Diamonds. I was getting the Oak Leaves along with Hartmann on March 4, 1944. Hartmann was making some funny comments about him, mimicking him, and he tried to stand still without falling over. I was in not much better shape. We only started to sober up as Hitler, after handing us the awards, began describing his plan for 'Panzerfest,' which was a way to immunize the army divisions against enemy tank attacks. He asked us about Lemberg, where we had come from and where our brave soldiers were fighting against those Russian tanks and were dying terribly. He told us about the war in Russia, and you had the feeling that you were listening to a complete madman. I thought he was a raving lunatic, and by the time the meeting was over, Hartmann and I needed another drink, and Hartmann kept saying, 'I told you so.'

MH: When did you transfer to the Western Front?

Krupinsk: That was the spring of 1944, when many Russian Front experts were sent to fight against the American four-engine bombers. I did that for a while with JG.11, then I commanded III/JG.26 between early October 1944 and March 25, 1945. Fighting against the American bombers and fighter escorts was much worse than fighting in Russia. The [Boeing] B-17s were difficult to engage due to their potent .50-caliber defensive fire, and the American fighters made it even harder to get close, since they outnumbered us somewhere around 10-to-1 on the average. I found this all very frustrating and had to change the way I thought about things. We were losing experienced experts all the time — we were just overwhelmed. Allied fighters and bombers attacked our air bases day and night, as well as bombing the cities. Exhaustion was also a factor, since we could never get enough replacement pilots, and the newer pilots just did not have the experience to survive long under such conditions.

MH: How did you get involved with Galland's Jagdverband 44?

Krupinsk: Well, I was trying to finish the war out at our fighter recreation center at Bad Wiesee in Tegernsee when Steinhoff and Galland stepped up to some of us on April 1, 1945. Steinhoff asked me, 'Graf…how would you like to fly the 262?' The very next morning, I jumped into the cockpit of a Messerschmitt 262 and flew my first mission in it after a short familiarization period. I described all of that in a long paper I wrote for our Jägerblatt, or 'The Fighter News,' of February–March 1987. My last sentence was this: 'Es war der Beginn eines neuen Zeitalters der Luftfahrtgeschichte,' or, 'It was the beginning of a new epoch in aviation.'

MH: What was your impression of the personnel of JV.44?

Krupinski: Galland was using Steinhoff as his recruiting officer, and they had collected some of the best in the business. They got Barkhorn and tried to get Hartmann, but Erich still had a soft spot for JG.52. His decision to remain with this unit would prove costly. As you know, he spent over 10 years in Soviet prison camps after the war, after the Americans handed them over to the Red Army.

MH: What were the last months of the war like for you?

Krupinsk: Well, I joined JV.44, Galland's 'Squadron of Experts' at Munich-Reim, then we moved to Salzburg in Austria, then Aibling-Heilbronn. We had some spectacular missions, especially when we received the R4M air-to-air rockets for our jets. The first time I saw them work was on April 5, when Galland, who was leading our flight, fired his salvo at a group of American [Martin] B-26 bombers. In moments, one disintegrated and another was falling — the tail had been blown away, and both parts were fluttering down through the light clouds. We flew off a few hundred yards so as not to hit any debris or get jumped by enemy fighters, then attacked again using our four 30mm cannons. I damaged a couple of bombers but scored no kills that day, though I am pretty sure everyone else did. We had many such missions, but we also ran into American fighters. [North American P-51D] Mustangs were a constant problem, and they would always follow us home, hoping for an easy kill. We had to be very careful when coming in for a landing, as they would be following a few miles and only a couple of minutes behind us. Taking off and landing were the most tense moments for a 262 pilot, as the plane built up speed slowly, and you could stall out easily if you pushed the throttles forward too quickly. This happened several times.

MH: Can you tell us what you saw on the day Steinhoff crashed?

Krupinsk: His flight was commanded by Galland. Gerd Barkhorn, then with 300 victories; 'the Rammer' Eduard Schallmoser [so named for his penchant for ramming his jet into enemy bombers once his ammunition ran out]; Ernst Fhrmann; Klaus Neumann, who scored five kills in the jet and 37 kills in the war; and myself were all either taking off for a bomber-intercept mission or preparing to go on the morning of April 18, 1945. Steinhoff was loaded up with fuel and rockets, and his left wheel dug into a crater that had not been properly repaired after the latest American raid on our base, and his jet bounced against the ground. When it landed, he was trapped inside the burning wreckage, with the burning fuel exploding the rockets and 30mm ammunition around him. I did not see it, but everyone heard it. There was Macky Steinhoff, trapped in this, but we got him to the hospital and he survived somehow. He was the best friend any of us had, and a true patriot and leader. All of us felt that we were only a thread away from a similar fate after that accident, as well as the loss of Günther Lützow [who went missing on April 24], and others too numerous to list.

MH: How did the war end for you?

Krupinsk: I was captured when the unit surrendered after blowing up our jets, when the Americans were practically rolling onto the airfield. An American Intelligence officer found us and took us via Heidelberg to the U.S. Army Air Forces/Royal Air Force interrogation camp in England. After four weeks of answering questions, I was being transported to Cherbourg, I believe, when I was attacked by a French soldier with a rifle. He struck me in the head, knocking me unconscious. I found myself in the hospital in Munich. After all of the interrogations, I ended up with the Americans, but while I was in custody I was robbed of my Ritterkreuz und Eichenlaub and my flight logbook, as mentioned earlier. It was a difficult time, but my contact with the American military and the U.S. Army Air Forces officers prepared me for a new career later in the 1950s, until I retired in the 1970s.

MH: What kind of work did you do after the war? I understand that unemployment rate was high for former officers of the military in Germany.

Krupinsk: Yes, this was true. Finding work after a career as a professional officer was not easy, especially since anyone who owned a business did so with the local Allied military commander's authorization. Professional officers were considered the elite of the National Socialist Party, and any connection to us could have been economically unwise. It was not until much later that this attitude changed, and people began to realize that if anything it was the professional officer corps who remained nonpolitical for the most part. We had no agenda except to defend our country from attack, right or wrong. There is no difference between us and any officer corps in any nation. All would defend their homeland and families, regardless of the political leadership in control of their country.

MH: Tell us about the work you did after the war in the Intelligence services.

Krupinski: I started working for U.S. Intelligence services under the umbrella of Organization Gehlen, the military and foreign intelligence service branch of the Abwehr formed by Captain Reinhard Gehlen during the war. I then worked for Amt Blank, which was the beginning of our Defense Ministry under Theodor Blank, West Germany's first postwar minister of defense during the Konrad Adenauer administration. I cannot discuss my work with these groups, as it is all still highly classified and I took an oath of silence.

MH: Could you tell us who Gehlen was?

Krupinsk: General Reinhard Gehlen was one of the Abwehr's chief intelligence officers, who later replaced Admiral Wilhelm Canaris as head of the organization [after Canaris was dismissed for his suspected role in the July 20 assassination attempt against Hitler and was subsequently put to death at the Flossenburg concentration camp in 1945]. Gehlen's work and the examples he set were responsible for the creation of many postwar intelligence networks, including the GSG-9 [German counterterrorist/intelligence service]. Gehlen died in 1979. His work in collecting intelligence on the Red Army and his ability to collate intelligence on every aspect of Soviet military operations proved invaluable to the NATO allies during the Cold War. Their understanding of the Soviet mind-set, order of battle, political aims, etc. — all of that probably prevented another European if not world conflict. Gehlen believed that knowledge was power, and in this case he was proven correct.

MH: How did you get back into the military, especially the air force, after the war?

Krupinski: I was approached by some officers who mentioned that we were forming the Bundesluftwaffe — which I already knew from my work with Intelligence, but they did not know that. I was easily recruited, as there were many of the former Luftwaffe experts already there. I went for refresher flight training in the United Kingdom as CO [commanding officer] of Jagdbombergeschwader [fighter bomber wing] 33. I was trained on the latest fighter types of the day, including the Lockheed F-104 Starfighter. I was then commanding officer of German training in the United States, and later I was appointed director of flying safety for the armed forces. After that, I was commanding general of the German 3rd Air Division, chief of staff for the Second Allied Tactical Air Force, and then commanding officer of the German Air Force Tactical Command. Those were a lot of different hats, as you would say. I worked closely with many of the important political personalities of the time, such as Robert McNamara, who was secretary of defense under President [John F.] Kennedy.

MH: How's your family today?

Krupinsk: We have only one daughter, who is 52 and married to an air force officer, a lieutenant colonel but not a pilot. I have two grandsons who are students at the University of Munich, aged 27 and 25.

MH: General Krupinski, with your long life experience, what advice do you have for the youth of today?

Krupinsk: Easy, only one sentence: Don't trust dictators or madmen!

[bobbysocks]

The Air Transport Auxiliary - Spitfire Women Preview - BBC Four

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwKLL0TklxU

[bobbysocks]

some quick blurbs from 357th pilots on the arnhem/market garden missions:

Tom Gates' encounter report: "After the last interception, which took us SW of DZ, Tackline advised nothing in view and we could patrol on our own. I dropped the group down to 13,000 and took up a course of 45 degrees back to the DZ. Over the DZ we saw a gaggle of 109s and 190s flying our reciprocal course to our right about 2,000 feet above. I turned the group right to intercept and called "Drop tanks," after clearing gliders underneath. By the time the tanks were off and climb started, the first gaggle of 190s was passing overhead and up into the sun. When it appeared that they would not turn and bounce us from out of the sun, I turned Dollar sqdn back head-on into the second bunch and the fight was on.

"The first bunch turned back but were intercepted by another sqdn. I picked six 109s. They broke left, then sharp right. I got on one but he spun out under me. Another was in the turn so I latched onto him. He was most aggressive, and after much maneuvering he straightened out and I got a short burst which knocked some parts from his ship. The second burst set him on fire and the third burst finished him. He dived in from 500 feet. My wingman was still with me and we climbed back to 10,000 feet. We saw five 109s flying close formation with a flight of P-51s bouncing them. One 109 split-essed out and went to the deck in aileron turns. The others turned into the bounce.

"I took after the one on the deck and let him have a burst from about 1,000 yards but no strikes seen. When he came to an airdrome he made a turn. I closed enough to see American markings on the upper surfaces of both wings and it was a P-51 painted the same as the 109s. There were no group markings on the nose. When I saw it was a P-51, to avoid light flak from the field I widened the turn and the P-51 leveled out and headed SE at full throttle. There is no doubt that it was flown by a German pilot."

Lt. Jerome Jacobs: "We were flying cover for the troop transports and gliders. It was a very impressive sight to see the large armada of aircraft towing one, two, or three gliders and stretching all the way from England to Holland. It was a very pleasant fall day and I was flying Colonel Graham's airplane. (P-51D 44-13388, B6-W, "Bodacious")

"Ground control gave us a course to follow that would intercept a large formation of unknown aircraft. In five or ten minutes we were in the middle of a large formation of Me-109s and FW-190s. I was flying wingman when my element leader caught up with a 109 and fired into it until its landing gear came down. Some flak began coming up and I saw the right wing come off my flight leader's aircraft. He bailed out and I saw his chute open.
"I was attacked by a 190 and we began to try to out-turn each other and after about two turns I was able to get a lead on him and gave him a quick burst. I could see hits on his cockpit and fuselage. He bailed out and I watched the 190 hit the ground. I turned off my gun switch and took some pictures of the wrecked airplane. As I cleared my tail I saw that a 109 was behind me and shooting. Instinctively I turned to the left and was able to get behind the 109 when he quit turning and headed south. I followed him and lined up my sight on his tail. I gave it a quick burst and saw smoke coming out of his engine. He slowed and I quickly overtook him. We were both at ground level and I saw him dodging some wires. I could not stay behind him unless I put my flaps and wheels down, and found myself flying formation with him. He was a young man about my age, and his ME looked brand new. Suddenly he tried to land wheels up in a field, but was going too fast. He bounced off the ground in a nose-high attitude, stalled, flipped over and his the ground. He slid along and plowed into a farmhouse, and everything blew up.
"I circled to get some pictures but the dust still hadn't settled after my second turnaround and I decided to get out of there and go home. On the way I stayed on the deck, worried about how much ammunition and fuel I had. I was heading north over some very attractive countryside, very satisfied with myself over my two victories when I saw two fighter planes headed toward me from the west. At first I couldn't decide whether to turn into them or make a run for it, as I wasn't certain about the ammunition aboard. However, at that moment one of the fighters lifted a wing and I could see a P-51 outline. I wiggled my wings and continued north, hopefully headed for England. Soon I saw the transports stretched across the horizon and followed them back home."

1st Lt. Howard Moebius: In the confusion of the dogfight, Moebius soon lost his leader, managed to outrun a FW-190, and obtain numerous strikes on its cockpit. He recalls:

"My plane had greatly decreased its speed because of the violent climbing and turning. I rolled out on the left wing of the 190 I had just shot. I was in very tight formation with him. I could see his cockpit burning and blood coming out of the pilot's mouth...it was a ghastly sight. Slowly his right wing came up, his ship nosed over and went into the ground. I looked around and could not see any more enemy in the area. I turned off my gun switch and made several passes at the wreckage with my camera on.
"I had just pulled up from my last pass when I looked over my shoulder and saw the big hub of a 190 right on my tail. I threw my throttle wide open and again my engine balked. (Moebius' engine had given trouble on takeoff but he continued rather than risk censure for aborting.) I had to throttle back to about 30 inches of mercury, and knew that I could not climb or maneuver. I had heard that the 190 at slow speeds and tight turns to the right has a tendency to snap under. SO I put my ship into a right turn to the right with my wing not more than 100 feet off the ground and proceeded to go round and round. The 190 hung on my tail with his guns blazing, but could not pull up tight enough for the proper lead. Several farmers and their wives were running around on the ground below us. I don't know if they were frightened or were waving, or whether they realized a lot of lead was being thrown around. At one point I put my hand to my head, as any minute I expected a shell to come into the cockpit. I also did some fast praying! Finally I looked back and he was gone. I leveled off and slowly climbed to 10,000 feet."
Climbing slowly, Moebius reached Brussels at 30,000 and made it home with no further problems. His crew chief worked all night to repair the sick engine in time for the mission on the 19th. For Moebius, it might have been better if he hadn't. Lt Howard Moebius shot down a 190 on the 18th , and two 109s on the 19th before being shot down beginning an adventurous five months with the Dutch underground.

Lt. Harvey Mace: "I was leading Dollar White Flight which was on the extreme left of our squadron, which was on the extreme right of the group. While scanning the sky, I finally spotted one or two bogies high in the fringes of the sun. With full attention I was soon able to see more--a lot more. Although they were too high to identify, they were not flying like friendlies, so I reported them to the group leader. His response was something like, "Well, OK, we'll climb up and take a look," and turned the group to the left and started climbing. This maneuver put me dead last in the climb. Before long, with a change in positions I was able to make out the whole group of bogies. It's too difficult to count under these conditions, but looking at the size of our group of about 50 planes, I estimated about three times that many bogies, or around 150.
"Soon one fighter peeled off and came down on our angle, about 500 or so feet above us. As it got closer I was able to identify it as an Me-109. Whether its intent was to scout and see what we were, or bait in hopes of breaking us up I'll never know. I marveled at the discipline of our group at not breaking up. Only later at home was my pride somewhat deflated when in asking some of the rest of the squadron about it, no one seemed to have seen it!
"At any rate, the 109 made positive identification of the big mass, as enemy fighters to me. The next thing that happened was two fighters came down head-on and firing--sort of at our group as a whole. This made retaliation an absolute necessity and someone near the lead took them on. In quick succession the Germans kept sending down small numbers at a time and those in the lead of our group were being engaged until finally the only ones left still climbing toward the main bunch (now down to about 100) were me and my wingman, Chuck Weaver. My element leader and his wingman were gone.
"At this point I was awestruck to note that the scene was just like the cover depictions of the big WW I air battles on such mags as 'Flying Aces,' etc. It was one big dogfight, fighters circling, twisting, going down in flames--the works. "Soon it was my turn, one lone 109 dropped down in front of me, out of range but weaving enticingly while two shooters dropped down above me. The plan, I'm sure, was for me to nose down after the one while the two shooters would get on our tail and finish us off. But I would not have any part of it,; my mind was still on the main bunch and I continued climbing. With this the bait weaved back and forth ever closer in what I'm sure he thought was a tempting manner. At the same time the two shooters were ever more attentive and somewhere along there I could no longer keep track of the main bunch. I started climbing straight at the two shooters, and from here on I never saw the main bunch again.
"Finally the bait 109 weaved so close that he was a threat. At this point I decided I could have to quickly drop my nose, shoot him down, and quickly resume the climb at the two shooters to keep them in check. I could no longer keep track of Chuck so had no idea what he was up to. The main dogfight had dissipated and they had all disappeared. I confidently dropped my nose when the bait was at a nice 90 degree deflection, fired a burst and quickly resumed the climb before the shots even got to him.
Well, it was a clean miss and all it did was arouse his competitive spirit, and he broke into me in a vicious attack. All planning on my part was out the window. I countered and managed to gain the upper hand in the dogfight that followed. But between the wild maneuvering and the stupid gunsight I couldn't get a clean hit. (Like some other original 357th pilots, Mace did not like the new K-14 computing sight.)
"I was able, through it all, to keep an eye on the two shooters above and where they seemed somewhat confused and tentative at first, they were beginning to act increasingly agitated and with my frustration at not being able to get a clean hit, I felt my situation was getting desperate. I finally decided to close on the guy and chew his tail off with my prop. "On the next pass and firing my guns, I closed to the point where a collision didn't look avoidable even if we both tried. As the impact drew near I ducked low to get behind the engine in case I bit off more than his tail. The moment passed and no collision. I couldn't believe it! When I raised up and cranked around to continue the pursuit, he was in his chute. I did not see any good hits and thought I just scared him out. Chuck Weaver told me later that he had stayed with me until near the end of the fight when he stalled and spun out. Upon his recovery, he pulled up in time to see the German bail out and fired a burst 'sort of in his direction.' I didn't hear that or repeat it, since shooting at parachutes was a no-no.
"I had lost Chuck by this time, and re-established my climb after the two shooters who were still rocking back and forth watching me, but seemed unsure what to do. I kept scanning the sky to make sure I didn't get bounced, and on one scan I spotted two fighters closing fast on my tail--I was climbing hard at only about 170 indicated. I looked up again and the two shooters were gone, but I could not figure how they got so far behind me. Few, if any, airplanes can turn with a P-51 at 400 mph so I dropped my nose and poured on the coal hoping to get near that speed before they got me in range. "Looking at them occasionally from the corner, I had to wait for just the right time to break. Too soon and they cut you off and gotcha. Too late and they fire and gotcha anyway. Finally, after what seemed like hours (I'm sure it was only seconds) the moment arrived and I whipped around into a head-sagging maximum 360 degree turn. About halfway round, someone on the radio said, 'Where'd he go, was he a 109?' I leveled out on the tail of two '51s which turned out to be two of our newer replacements. I answered, 'No, I'm not a 109 and since I'm on your tail you should be glad of that.'

[bobbysocks]

more of the arnhem missions..

Captain Arval Roberson leading Dollar (362nd) Green Flight:
"We had been maneuvering in the area south of the Zuider Zee for a short time when the R/T became cluttered with transmissions that only occur when an engagement is in process. After a couple of requests by our leader, someone finally parted with the information as to their location. I don't know if they were just too busy or they didn't want to share the treasure. We rolled out, headed south.
"The first sight of the engagement left one of the strongest impressions of my tour, for it was more like the dogfights that are depicted on artists' canvases and in movies of yesteryear. The scenarios for most of the encounters that I had, involved a stream of bombers being threatened by a gaggle of enemy fighters, who in turn were hit by small groups of escort fighters. The subsequent boiling mass of aircraft would soon spread all over the sky. Often a pilot firing on another aircraft, and/or a wingman covering the one who was firing, could not locate another plane of any kind when climbing back up from the deck or wherever contact had been broken. It is hard to visualize that at one moment there would be aircraft numbering in the hundreds ginning around and then minutes later the sky could be completely devoid of other aircraft.
"However, on this day, although the engagement was the same boiling mass of aircraft, I'd estimate between 30 and 40, the weather was a barrier, containing them in one general area. It seemed as if the cloud cover came up from the deck like a wall on the east to about 20,000 feet where it shelved westward, almost solid, to the coastline. It had a purple to lavender coloring that is association with storm scenes and made the whole area sunless and fairly dim.
"It was the dimness that actually helped me get the first glimpse of the action. Whenever caliber .50 ammo made contact with a solid object, a flash would emanate. In this dim light it was like a strobe and the large amount of flickering that was occurring could be seen like a fireworks display many miles away.
"We checked sights and armament switches and prepared to drop our wing tanks. As we neared the scene, I noticed my No. 4, Lt. Chuck Weaver, was having trouble getting rid of one tank so I veered slightly right to give him more time. I was observing the lead flight diving straight into the middle of that mess, getting strikes while I was ready to tell my No. 3 to take No. 4 away from the action when I saw his tank fall free. (No. 3 was Capt. Jim Kirla.) With this freedom I decided not to barge in with the others but to "street fight" on the outside edge and started to look for a target. I spotted an Me-109 under me going from left to right. I made a diving steep bank and led the gunsight ahead of his nose and fired. I don't think the aircraft I was flying had its guns boresighted in the normal box configuration, for they all seemed to come together on the cockpit. A bad of fire developed where the canopy had been, and I observed black smoke trailing the aircraft as it headed straight toward the ground. I did not see the pilot bail out.
"After checking that Goss was still with me, I looked around for another target. In a matter of seconds I found another 109 that was pulling off an engagement and climbing in front of me. I fired a short burst and observed numerous strikes on his tail. I held fire, pulled more lead through his nose and opened up again. I saw hits on his cowling and the signs of what appeared to be a mixture of smoke and coolant. I kept firing and held this angle until he passed out of sight under my nose. At this time it was necessary to take measures to keep from stalling, which I did by a slight turn to the left (away from the direction the 109 was going) and pushed forward to level out. After gaining some airspeed I banked right to resume the chase. Although I did see a disabled aircraft and some chutes, I did not see my target so I regrouped to find another.
"The next aircraft spotted was another 109 to my left at 10 o'clock in a steep turn to my left. As he was more in line for my wingman, I radioed for him to take him. Either there were transmission problems or too much interference, but Goss made no move toward the 109. I called again and when there was no indication I was getting through, I banked hard left and tried to pull through the Messerschmitt's flight path. We had gone almost 360 degrees around when I felt just a tad more and I would have enough lead to fire. I was so busy trying to get more turn out of my bird that I did not pay attention to a movement in my peripheral vision until I observed strikes all over the German aircraft. At this, I took time to observe a P-51 cutting across our circle and doing a good job of raking the 109. Our converging paths and my being on his belly side, forced me to take immediate evasive action by breaking right.
"When we had collected ourselves we started circling while gaining some altitude. I guess this terminated the action, for all I remember seeing during this time was about six big fires and quite a few smoldering ones on the ground--all grouped in an area of maybe a four-mile radius. Seeing nothing else, we climbed out and picked our average course home.
"Arriving back at Leiston, I did a victory roll before peeling off for landing and then debriefed the ground crew, saying I got one destroyed and one probable. I then headed for squadron ops for the formal debriefing and the 'flying hands' scene that always took place. One of the first persons I saw was Goss, and I made some statement of certainly getting that one and started to ask if he had heard me tell him to take the 109 when he interrupted me: 'What do you mean, the one? You got the other, too!' He started something about shooting the tail off and the pilot bailed out. He, being above and behind, had witnessed all this while I was trying to regain flying speed with the 109 being underneath me.
"After debriefing, I biked back to the hardstand and told the crew chief, 'Stud' Lybarger, to hold on, pending confirmation there would be two kill markings to be painted on." One month later, Roberson's wingman, Charles Goss, was shot down by flak but evaded capture and returned to the UK.

Jerome Jacobs: "I was scheduled for a 48-hour leave on September 19th, and I had a date with a beautiful girl in London. At about 6 a.m. I was awakened and asked to volunteer to fly the mission since one of the pilots was ill. Against my better judgment I dressed, being careful to wear my Class A uniform under my flying suit and reported for briefing.
"About 10 minutes into the mission our No. 3 man had to abort. Twenty minutes or so later we were vectored to bandits, and there were about 500 enemy fighters, the most we had seen since I had been in combat. the three of us quickly picked up three Me-109s; we were turning Lufberry circles in opposite directions. This went on for about three circles until the 109s broke off and we followed. My target turned into me and we faced each other head-on. I fired a long burst and his airplane exploded in front of me. I turned to watch the parts floating down and saw about 15 e/a going in the opposite direction. I called the squadron leader to get some help, but he told me to climb above the cloud to regroup before attacking again. The cloud layer was about 3,000 feet above. I checked my tail and saw 15 e/a now turned behind me.
"I felt that I was out of range and could make the clouds, when suddenly my airplane exploded. the cockpit was full of flames and there were no controls. My face was burnt and I was vaguely aware of what was happening. I bailed out as quickly as I could without even disconnecting my oxygen and other cords. As soon as I hit cool air my face felt a little better. Barely conscious, I thought I was in the clouds already and would wait for my emergence to pull the ripcord. I fell this way for some time before I began to regain my senses and decided to pull the cord. When I did, the chute jerked open and I hit the ground immediately.
"I got out of my chute and started to waddle toward hedges when I saw blood all over me and decided to return for my first- aid kit which was attached to my parachute. It was then that I saw a dozen German soldiers pointing guns at me and motioning me to stop. I couldn't hear them because I hadn't cleared my ears after the long drop (I bailed out at about 19,000 feet).
"I was searched and brought to an army hospital in Emmerick, Germany. My face and left wrist were badly burned and I had wounds on the left knee and forehead. I was at the army hospital for five days until they evacuated, and I was taken into the interior of Germany to POW camp." As happened to many other 8 AF aircrew who made dates with English girls, Jerry Jacobs never kept his date with the beautiful Londoner.

The third man in the ill-fated flight, Lt. Howard Moebius, ( story above) experienced much the same frantic dogfight against heavy odds before being shot down:

"On that day I had the misfortune of having our flight become separated from the group, and one of the wingmen had to abort. The three of us were flying at 10,000 when we were attacked by 35 or 40 German fighters. It all happened so fast I don't recall in which direction my flight leader or the other wingman went. I do know that I ended up with 12 to 14 Germans in a very tight circle. I knew that I was going to see more action than the day before. I opened fire as I closed on the tail of one ship and noticed parts of his plane come off. I did not see him bail out, and the airplane nosed over and dove for the ground. I tightened my turn and got behind a second ship and scored several hits. After a few more turns I got in tighter on him and was able to start his plane on fire.
"In the meantime two or three enemy ships stayed out of the circle and were taking pot shots by making dives at me from head on and right angles. All of a sudden my left wing seemed to explode. The doors on the gun bays popped open and the wing was in flames. I had to decide whether I should roll over and dive for the ground with the possibility of putting out the fire, or whether it would get to the wing tank and explode. We were in a tight right turn and our speed had greatly reduced as we were also fighting for altitude. I pulled the handle that popped the canopy, unfastened my seat belt, and climbed out on the inside of the turn. As I jumped I debated how long I should wait to open my chute. I knew that we were between 16,000 and 20,000 feet, and it would take me considerable time to get down if I opened my chute immediately. I had heard that by opening my chute immediately it would give German search parties every opportunity to locate me before I reached the ground. Since there were airborne troops parachuting into the area, I am sure the Germans would not wait until I hit the ground to open fire. I hung on as long as I could. However, I was spinning so fast that I was afraid I would not be able to judge when I was at 1,500 feet.
For a second it flashed into my mind that Chuck Yeager had said something about opening your arms and that would slow your spin. I opened my arms and my rotation slowed down so I was in a very long 14,000 to 16,000-foot swan dive, and the rush of air was terrific. When I thought I was down to about 1,500 feet I pulled the cord. The little chute popped out, followed by the main, and then it seemed like I just sat in midair.
"It wasn't long before two planes were diving directly at me. It was hard for me to tell whether they were '51s or '190s. However, when they opened fire there was little doubt! I had heard how to dump air from the chute so I reached up, grabbed several shroud lines on one side and pulled my weight up on them. This buckled the chute and allowed me to come down faster. It also spoiled the run that the 109s were making, as their shots must have gone over. (I learned later that they did hit my chute two or three times.) Because I was so close to the ground they did not make a second pass.
"When I was about 50 feet off the ground I realized how rapidly I was descending. I tried to turn so I would be facing the direction toward which I was drifting and could see that I was going to land in a plowed field. The newly plowed field cushioned my fall so I was able to get up immediately. I unfastened my chute, gathered it up, and ran for the edge of the field. However, my G-suit, which was very tight fitting, caused cramps in my legs before I had run 40 yards. I buried my chute and then crawled to a small vegetable garden. I lay for a moment below the leaves in a small rhubarb patch. After what seemed like hours but was probably a few minutes, the cramps left my legs. When I got up in a kneeling position and started to look around, I saw a small boy not more than 40 feet away, motioning for me to get down and pointing toward another field. There I saw a German soldier walking with his gun in the ready position, and I immediately lay down again. I crawled slowly to the edge of the garden where I found a very deep, narrow trench. It was not more than 18 inches wide but it was about three feet deep.
The first thing I did was take off my G-suit, which was quite an operation in such tight quarters. I then lit a cigarette and decided I would just sit there until dark. I could hear a considerable amount of small arms firing in the distance, the heavier concussion of artillery, and intermittent machine gun fire.
"After dark I heard the whistling of the code letter V. At first it did not quite register and I debated whether it was a German or someone who could aid me. Finally I risked sticking my head up and I saw a bout about 20 years old. He was softly saying, 'American pilot, I am your friend,' and he would whistle the letter V three times and repeat, "American pilot, I am your friend.' I decided that since I had my .45 pistol in my hand, I would risk going up to him. He was very calm and cheerful, and said that he would help me."
This was the beginning of five months with the Dutch underground for Howard Moebius. They were months of living everywhere from ditches and shacks to fine country homes, numerous close encounters with German soldiers, artillery, and illness. Finally in February 1945 the Dutch and Belgian underground guided Moebius and two B-26 pilots down the Wahl river to link up with Canadian forces and freedom.

Major Edwin Hiro, the mission leader, flying his P-51D named "Horse's Itch" scored a 109 for his fifth victory. His encounter report was filed by his wingman, Flight Officer Johnnie Carter, as Hiro did not return.
"At about 1720 we were flying at about 13,000 in a direction of south about 10 miles west of Arnhem, we saw about 10 enemy planes engaged in a fight with about 15 of our airplanes. We dropped our tanks and went into a diving turn to the left. I was on Major Hiro's wing when we entered the fight, but was forced to break up and slightly out to avoid hitting a ship coming head-on. Major Hiro made a sharp turn to the left and got on the tail of an enemy ship. There were so many planes in the Lufberry that I had to pull out and over to get back in position on Major Hiro's wing.
"About this time the plane that I thought was Major Hiro broke out and headed for the deck on the tail of a 109. I took out after him and tried to catch them. I followed them all the way to the deck and saw the 109 crash in flames. Major Hiro pulled up into a steep chandelle and got in with a bunch of other ships that were still milling around. Due to my being quite a ways behind and in poor visibility when I joined up with one of these ships, I had gotten the wrong ship. I broke off immediately and tried to find my position but there were so many in the area that I was unable to find Major Hiro.
"About this time I heard him call our flight and ask our position, and tried to give his own. There was so much talk on the radio that we could not get each other's position. About this time, recall was given and I thought my best bet was to stay with the ships in the area to come home. I joined one of the flights and returned to base. When I landed I found that Major Hiro had not returned."
Luftwaffe reports attached to Hiro's Missing Aircrew Report tell us that a Mustang crashed at Ahaus (a village 38 miles west of Arnhem), shot down by a fighter. The pilot was dead and was buried in a Catholic cemetery, Vreden, grave No. 11.
Forty-one years later, almost to the day, this writer heard a postscript on the loss of Edwin Hiro and James Blanchard. During a conversation with 362nd Squadron pilot Ted Conlin, he gave me his memories:
"Jim Blanchard was my wingman that day and I think Capt. Williams was leading Dollar Squadron. When we arrived in the area we heard considerable chatter on the R/T, probably Major Hiro and his squadron. Just as we dropped our tanks we were bounced by 109s that came out of the sun and cloud cover. A 109 being chased by a '51 went across my nose, but the '51 had a 109 on his ass so I rolled into attach headed straight down. As I closed on the 109 I took cannon fire on my left side. I had to break off to handle my problem. It was that moment when my wingman, Blanchard, was shot down. I had thought at the time that Major Hiro was the P-51 and I tried to relocate him and Blanchard. After several minutes the enemy broke away and we returned to base. I then gave my account at debriefing and I am certain Major Hiro was the man in the middle of that attack."

During the two days of intense combat on the 18th and 19th, claims for the destruction of 50 Me-109s and FW-190s were turned in, plus a probable and two damaged. Seven Mustangs were lost with three pilots dead, three prisoners, and one evader. The Yoxford Boys' eventful participation in Operation Market-Garden was over.

[bobbysocks]

Sgt William F. Owens 458 bombardment gp

Things hadn’t been too bad through these first twelve missions. Our plane was hit and damaged on some of the missions but none of the crew was injured. We were beginning to build hope that we might make it through the required twenty-five missions and be eligible to go home. All of this changed on my thirteenth mission. The early morning hours of June 29, 1944, had us preparing for another mission into the heart of Germany. This time our target was a JU-88 airplane factory. At the briefing we were told to expect heavy antiaircraft fire (flak) at and around the target. The large guns on the ground would fire at our planes, and the load was set to explode at a certain altitude. The explosion would create a large ball of black smoke and send out many pieces of sharp metal, which we would have to fly through. It could bring down a plane if it were a direct hit. We would usually fly at 20,000 feet or higher, but they could still reach us. We would have to climb to 20,000 feet over England before we crossed the English Channel and this would take several hours. This was in the days before jet planes. At this stage of the war the Germans were relying more on the antiaircraft guns than on their fighter planes. At times we would see their fighter planes but they would seldom attack us while our planes were flying in tight formation. They would wait for a plane that was damaged and couldn’t keep up with the formation. Their big guns were becoming more concentrated around the major targets. Flak was hitting more and more of our planes. The day before this mission, we made it back with a large hole in our wing. On the same mission our buddy crew was shot down. We went through Phase Training with this crew and became close friends. As their plane went down we could see some of them parachuting out of the plane.

I was flying in the nose turret on this mission (#13) on June 29,1944, and could see everything up ahead of us. As we approached our target the flak became heavier and the black puffs of smoke were everywhere. Our formation had to stay on a straight and level course so the bombardier in the lead plane could keep his bombsight on the target. We had to fly through the flak. The bombardier in the lead plane used his bombsight and the rest of the planes dropped their bombs when they saw his bombs drop. We had a switch in the nose turret that would drop our bombs when our bombardier wasn’t using our bombsight. I hit that switch and dropped our bombs as soon as I saw the bombs drop from our lead plane. Shortly after that we heard a loud explosion from anti-aircraft fire either in or just below our bomb bay section. Our plane immediately dropped about 5,000 feet and was damaged greatly. One of our four engines was knocked out, control cables damaged, oxygen system destroyed, and probably the worst of all, the fuel tanks in the wings were punctured and we were losing a large amount of fuel. Through all of this our Lord was still protecting us. Only one crewmember was injured. Our waist gunner was hit in the head with a piece of sharp metal. His flak helmet saved his life. The metal cut through his helmet and into his head. He was knocked out for awhile but was later revived. After dropping out of formation, our pilot and co-pilot got our plane under control and we headed back toward England. We were able to maintain our altitude at 15,000 feet, but had a long way to go and we continued to lose fuel. Our own fighter planes would usually meet us at a certain point and protect the stragglers from the German fighters. We flew alone for awhile before we saw several fighter planes off in the distance. We first thought they were German planes coming to attack us, but as they came closer we recognized them as our own P-51 fighters. I thanked my Lord once again. It was a welcoming sight, and they stayed close by as we made our way back.

Our luck ran out as we flew over northern Holland. We ran out of fuel. If the fuel could have lasted a little longer we would have made it to the English Channel and ditched in the water. When one of our three remaining engines failed our pilot gave the order to bail out. It was only the navigator and myself in the nose of the plane and we had to exit through the nose wheel well. By the time I got out of the nose turret he had kicked the door open and jumped out. I started to slide out of the opening but my parachute harness caught on the door latch. The wind pushed my legs back against the fuselage under our plane. It was very difficult but I finally pulled myself back into the plane. This time I went out headfirst. We had been taught to wait until we got close to the ground before opening our parachute but I couldn’t wait. I pulled the ripcord shortly after leaving our plane. The chute opened and I gave thanks to my Lord once again. After I calmed down I looked at my watch and it was about 11:15 in the morning and it was very quiet. There was no sound at all until one of our P-51 fighter planes appeared and circled me several times. As I floated toward the ground my mind was filled with many thoughts. I was dropping into a strange country not knowing a word of their language. Things seemed bad but they could have been worse. I could have been seriously injured or even gone down with our plane. I thanked my Lord once again for protecting me and I regained some of His wonderful peace, which helped me to face what was yet to come.

It seemed like I was in the air a long time before getting close to the ground, but when I did it came up to meet me. I landed in a wheat field. It was a hard landing on my left side causing rather bad bruises on my left elbow and left knee. I later learned that the area in which I landed had been reclaimed from the sea and was below sea level. The wheat field had large drainage ditches, with smaller ditches draining into them. I disconnected my parachute and started down one of the large ditches, not knowing where I was going. Before long I heard voices and saw two men coming down the ditch carrying my parachute and life vest. One of them could speak English and he told me they were part of the Dutch Underground. We played hide and seek in the wheat field, keeping away from the Germans until we reached the place where he wanted me to hide in the wheat. He told me to stay there and they would come back later. I thanked my Lord once again for sending help. I waited a long time and no one showed up, but I didn’t know of anything better to do so I continued to wait. By this time I was getting rather hungry, thirsty and sleepy, so I went to sleep. I don’t know how long I slept, but it was dark when I felt someone shaking me. It was the two men. They brought me two meatballs and two bottles of green pop. After eating I followed them to the home of a policeman where I spent the night. The next morning they gave me civilian clothes (rubber boots, shirt and pants) and took me into Meppel to stay with another family and wait for my phony passport and working papers. My passport listed me as a dentist born on June 6, 1919, and my name was Hendrick Bloomhoff. After receiving my passport and working papers, I went with a guide to the train station to ride the train down to Amsterdam.

I was in for quite a surprise when I reached the station. I was walking around on the platform and noticed other young men walking around. They were all wearing civilian clothes and one of them looked familiar. On closer look I recognized him as Billy Joe Davis, the waist gunner on our plane. I started looking closer at the other men as I walked and noticed that Edward S. Allen, tail gunner; Frank Peichoto, ball gunner; and Carry Rawls, top turret gunner; were also there. [Davis and Rawls were actually captured upon landing.] All five of us had made it to the ground safely and were picked up by the underground. We couldn’t stop and greet each other but it was a wonderful feeling to be together again and we would smile as we walked past one another. I gave thanks to my Lord once again.

All five of us got on a first-class train along with three guides and headed for Amsterdam. The underground didn’t want more than two of us traveling together with a guide, so when we got to Amsterdam we were divided into pairs of two. My partner was Frank Peichoto. Frank and I went through gunnery school together and became close friends. Then we were fortunate enough to be placed on the same crew. Now we were together again in the Dutch underground. We traveled together for the rest of the time we were in Holland. The two of us, along with our guide, were standing in front of the train station in Amsterdam waiting for a streetcar. Frank was smoking a cigarette and we noticed a German sailor coming toward him. The sailor was holding an unlit cigarette between his fingers and was bringing it up to his mouth as he said something to Frank in German. Frank, not knowing what the sailor said but anticipating his need, reached out his cigarette without saying a word. The sailor lit his cigarette from Frank’s and said, “Danke schoen” (thank you) as he went on his way. This was the first close encounter with the Germans and there would be more.

We stayed in Amsterdam with a man named Davis and his family for several days. He had been the Chief of Police before the war, but now was the head of the underground in that area. People came to him for advice and brought parts of guns or anything that could be used by the underground. We traveled by train only one other time. On that trip, along with several others, quislings (Dutch police in sympathy with the Germans) checked our passports. Our guides did the talking and we always got through. Most of our travel from this point was by bicycle, motorcycle, automobile and walking. At one time I rode on a motorcycle with a Catholic priest. Another time I rode in a 1932 Chevy with a wood burner attached to the back of it to create the fuel to run the engine. The engine kept running as long as there was fire in the burner. I can’t explain the mechanics of this contraption but it was a fascinating means of transportation and was greatly needed since gasoline was so scarce. Bicycles were a great means of transportation in Holland then, as it is now. When we were using bicycles or walking, our guides would tell us to stay some distance behind them in case they were stopped. If they were caught helping us they would have been put to death. On one bicycle trip we were following our guide on a road that was on top of a dike next to a canal. The water in the canal was higher than the land on either side of it. We were several hundred yards behind our guide when two German soldiers stopped him. We couldn’t stop when we got to him because we would have given him away. We kept riding along slowly until we got out of their sight and decided we had better stop and wait. We went over in the woods at the base of the dike and waited several hours but our guide never came. Finally another man stopped close to us and motioned for us to follow him. We followed him back the same way we had come until we came to a side road crossing the canal. We followed him on that road for several miles and found our guide waiting for us. He explained that the German soldiers were suspicious and he couldn’t follow us since the road crossing the canal was our turning off place.

We traveled almost the full length of Holland in the twenty-one days we were there and stayed in seven or eight different homes. One of the homes was on a farm out in the country. The house and the barn were all one building. The house was on one end and the barn with the animals on the other, but they both were very clean. Their pigpen was as clean as their kitchen. The men still wore wooden shoes or rubber boots while working in the fields due to the damp soil. I remember helping the ladies shell green peas for several hours while I was at this home. We stayed in another home that was an apartment, and there were German soldiers housed in the adjoining apartment. The people we were staying with told us not to talk out loud that night in our bedroom because the soldiers would be able to hear us. Their bed was right beside ours. Only the wall separated the two beds. While staying at another home I wrote a letter to my parents explaining all that had happened. I told them I was not injured and was with the underground in Holland. It was a rather long letter in which I told them other things like how much I loved them; what wonderful parents they were; how anxious I was to see them again; etc. A young man at this home said he would keep the letter until after the war was over and mail it for me in case I didn’t make it back home. He did mail the letter and Mom and Dad received it before I got back to the States. By that time my parents knew I was O.K. They had received letters from me while I was a prisoner.

The last home we stayed in before crossing the border into Belgium was in the small town of Erp. Two schoolteachers and their brother lived there and this was the first home where we could spend some time outside of the house because it was a small town and a secluded back yard. It was one of the few places where I didn’t feel the stress of being hunted by the Germans. We stayed there about four days waiting to cross the border into Belgium. They made pictures, which they later sent me along with some souvenirs (small wooden shoes and a spoon made of Dutch coins). Copies of these pictures can be found in the back section of this notebook.

[Korsakov829]

Alot of these guys seem to have made it to Colonel late in life. I'm a Major, and only in my early 50s, so either my life is late or they just toss promotions out yearly these days. Hey, if I write a war diary about how we lifted sewer drain grates and ate snails in Grozny, do you think it will be a best seller?

[bobbysocks]

Originally Posted by Korsakov829

Alot of these guys seem to have made it to Colonel late in life. I'm a Major, and only in my early 50s, so either my life is late or they just toss promotions out yearly these days. Hey, if I write a war diary about how we lifted sewer drain grates and ate snails in Grozny, do you think it will be a best seller?

well most of them got the promotions due to an unexpected vacancy...ie the former co was shot down and KIA or POW. kinda puts you on the fast track IF you live so long. a lot of the guys my dad flew with ended up generals or high ranking....but they also started at 18 to 20 years old and had flown in several major conflicts and a few minor ones. as for the catching eating snails from the drains....there is a huge market in the US for "survival cookbooks"...so write away....might make you a top selling author.

[Korsakov829]

In my family history, going back about 6000 years there have only been a few colonels. The whole eating snail things didn't really work out so we just traded with the rebels which, kind of stalled a promotion.

[bobbysocks]

the captured P-38 used by an Italian pilot to shot down crippled USAAF bombers,

Or so the story goes;

A YB-40 was involved in an interesting encounter. It bagged an Italian ace, Guido Rossi. In 1943 a P-38 ran out of fuel and ditched outside Sardinia. The pilot was overwhelmed by locals before he could use his pistol to ignite the tanks and burn the craft. Rossi had the clever idea of using the captured P-38 to kill wounded B-17's returning from bombing missions as stragglers. He bagged several bombers this way. One B-17 Pilot, Lt. Harold Fisher survived an attack, and had trouble convincing others that he was shot down by a 'friendly'.

Fisher was persistent and obtained command of a prototype YB-40 gunship, and flew several missions lagging behind the rest of the bombers trying to lure out the 'Phantom' P-38. As intelligence was gathered in Italy, they discovered Rossi and his captured '38 did indeed exist and had a wife in Constantine. Allies occupied this city, so when the nose art was applied to the YB-40, the artist used a photo of Rossi's wife, and named the gunship after her, 'Gina'.

Fisher flew a mission on August 31st that year, and was actually damaged in the bombing raid, so with two engines out, the YB-40 was even slower, and flew back completely solo. Sure enough, a P-38 approached, one engine feathered, and asked to join up for the trip back in very good english. Fisher almost fell for the same trap again. With the extra firepower of the friendly P-38 along, everything was being unloaded, guns, ammo, armor plate, anything to keep the YB-40 in the air. At this point Rossi came over the radio with an innocent question. "Gina, nice name. Your girl?" Fisher froze and ordered his men to keep their guns, and started baiting Rossi with details of his 'relationship' with Gina of Constantine.

Rossi became enraged, fired up the 'dead' engine, and circled around, intending to fire right through the nose, cockpit and the entire length of the YB-40. The '40 had an innovation that was later added to all B-17's, a chin turret. As Rossi came in, he faced down a total of 8 forward firing .50's. As the P-38 came apart Rossi even tried to ram the YB-40, but could not maintain flight. He ditched and was picked up by Allied pilot rescue and remained a prisoner for the remainder of the war.

Lt. Harold Fisher received the Distinguished Flying Cross for the encounter, and Major Fisher was killed during a crash in the Berlin Airlift. Former Lt. Guido Rossi attended his funeral out of respect.

[bobbysocks]

an il2 cga type film about the account of robert johnsons run in with lw ace egon mayer. its an amazing story as told by johnson.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnIVCxuc-fg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpNlsD6rmHw&NR=1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=209nbNM5qmA&NR=1