In their own words...

[bobbysocks]

some 51 boys..

Duane W. Beeson

Born 1921 at Boise, Idaho. Duane enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1941, assigned to RAF 71st "Eagle" Squadron, later transferred to 334th Squadron, 4th FG/8th USAAF. Nicknamed "Bee", he decorated his aircraft as "Boise Bee." Beeson was one of the few 4th FG pilots to achieve real success in the P-47, scoring 12+ victories in the Thunderbolt. He was promoted to CO of the 334th Squadron on March 15, 1944. He scored his remaining kills in a P-51 Mustang. Like Dick Bong, Beeson was a consistent fighter pilot, scoring single (or double) victories many times. From May 18, 1943 through April 5, 1944, Major Beeson shot down German planes on 15 different occasions, scoring most heavily in early 1944 over Germany itself. All but one of his kills were against single-engine fighters (FW-190s and Bf-109s).

On April 5, 1944, in his own words: "Our group was strafing aerodromes near Berlin. We had left one drome behind with many burning Ju-88's on the ground when another was sighted, so we went in to attack it. There were five Ju-88's parked wing-tip to wing-tip along the perimeter track, so I opened fire on them. The first one burst into flame and there were strikes all over the others, so I picked a big-assed Me-323 to shoot at next. Just as I opened fire and began to see some results, tracers flashed past my cockpit and my Mustang was hit. Leaving the aerodrome behind I climbed to 1,000 ft. and tried to get the engines running again but had no luck so decided to get out. Had lost altitude down to 400 ft. when I finally shoved the stick forward and bunted my way out of the a/c. The chute opened just in time to carry me over a fence and deposit my carcass in a field surrounded by many members of the "Super Race" -- including one blonde fraulein on a bicycle." He spent the next thirteen months as a POW.

Victories: 24.25; 19.5 air, 4.75 ground. He earned the Distinguished Service Cross, Silver Star, Distinguished Flying Cross, Air Medal, and many other decorations. Duane was promoted to Lt. Col. after the war and died of a brain tumor 15 Feb 1947. He is interred at Arlington National Cemetery.



Leonard 'Kit' Carson

Top scorer of the 357th Fighter Group with 18.5 victories (plus 3.5 more by strafing). Formed at Tonopah, Nevada, the 357th was the first P-51 equipped unit in the Eighth Air Force, beginning combat operations in February 1944. Its aircraft were among the most colorful, with red and yellow nose checkers and a variety of nicknames and nose art.

Carson was on the verge of heading for the Pacific with a P-39 outfit, but instead joined the 357th. His first victory was on April 8, 1944. His chosen technique for success was to bore in close to his victim, rather than rely on deflection shooting. He chalked up the bulk of his score during the final six months of the war, flying Nooky Booky IV. He ran 'Clobber College' the 357th's combat school, for a time, passing on his skills.

When training, he emphasized the challenges of flying seven-hour missions in the harsh weather of Northwestern Europe. He stressed the importance of the "two-ship" element, and the defensive strengths of the P-51. "Do anything you can to break his line of sight on you. Once you've done that, he can't lay a glove on you." He insisted that the new pilots master instrument flying, a necessity in the rain, snow, ice, and poor visibility of the ETO. "Anyone who has a casual attitude toward flying in this climate is going to wind up wearing an 8,000 pound coffin at the bottom of the North Sea." He noted that they should all become intimately familiar with the east coast of England, as the biggest aid in zeroing in on home base.

For gunnery, he encouraged the new pilots to close in from behind, noting the difficulties of deflection shooting. "Get dead astern and drive in to 200 yards or less, right down to 50 yards and fire a couple of one-second bursts." He told the pilots to think about six and seven hour missions, and to dress as if they "were going to have to walk out of Germany."



John Godfrey

He scored 18 victories with the famed 4th Fighter Group.

December 1, 1943 - John Godfrey got his first kill, a Bf-109, in a fairly uneventful bomber escort mission to Solingen, Germany.

March 8, 1944 - The Group was again back to Berlin. They found the B-17s near Gardelegen, Germany and relieved the escorting P-47s. The first German attack was by Bf-109s and was intercepted with 3 enemy aircraft destroyed. Then 60 plus approached and attacked in pairs and groups of four. Combat raged all over. Several B-17s went down and parachutes dotted the sky. Most of the Group got trapped east of Berlin and forced the pilots to fly onto Russia. This was the first time that Don Gentile and John Godfrey teamed up. They knocked down six between them, making Godfrey an ace. This also tied Gentile with Duane Beeson at 14 and began their famous scoring race.

April 22, 1944 - Colonel Blakeslee led a Fighter Sweep to Kassel-Hamm, Germany. As they passed Kassel at 18,000 feet, 20 plus Messerschmitts were spotted 12,000 feet below. The Group bounced the Germans after orbiting to lose altitude. Several of the Bf-109s attempted to shake the Mustangs by doing aerobatics right on the deck but the Group picked off one after another. Willard Millikan managed to shoot down four 109s. John Godfrey got three.

August 5, 1944 - John Godfrey returned from leave in the U.S. on July 24 and was up for the first time since to down a Bf-109 in the air and three Ju-52s on the ground. Fred Glover got a 109 also.

August 24, 1944 - The Group was on a penetration target support mission to Misburg and then on a target withdrawal support to Merseburg, Germany. John Godfrey and a few other 336th pilots strafed an airfield. Godfrey got four Ju-52s, Melvin Dickey got three and Pierce Wiggin got one. As they worked over the field, Godfrey's plane was hit and he was forced to belly in. He was captured and spent the rest of the war as a POW. It was later determined that Dickey, Godfrey's wingman, shot Godfrey down by accident.

Godfrey died of Lou Gehrig's disease in 1958.



Lt. Col. John B. England

Lt. Col. John B. England was born January 15, 1923, at Caruthersville, Missouri. He enlisted in the military as a private in April 1942, and after attending aviation cadet training, he was commissioned and assigned as a fighter pilot. In November 1943, he was assigned to the 357th Fighter Group, 8th Air Force in Great Britain, where he took part in 108 combat missions for a total of 460 combat hours in the North American P-51 Mustang.

During his tour in Europe, Colonel England destroyed 19 (17.5 air) German aircraft and, on one mission, destroyed four enemy planes. For this gallantry in action, he was awarded the Silver Star. He owed part of his success to the technological advances incorporated into the P-51: the K-14 gunsight and the G-suit. On September 13, 1944 he was leading 'Dollar Squadron' (the 362nd FS) at 8000 feet when he spotted a Bf-109 in a dive. It was soon overhauled as England closed to 800 yards at an altitude of 3000 feet. Seeing that his quarry was heading for an airfield, England wound his P-51 up to 400 mph and turned tightly to close the range to 500 yards. With the K-14 (deflection-compensating gunsight) locked on, England fired, and saw the strikes on the Bf-109's engine and cockpit before it crashed. He went on to down two more Bf-109s that mission.

He was also awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross with three oak leaf clusters and the French Croix de Guerre. Colonel England returned to the United States in February 1945 and served with the Air Force until his death in 1954. Returning from a training flight in his F-86 "Sabre" aircraft November 21, 1954, Colonel England was killed while attempting to land at Toul Air Base, France. With the choice of trying to get over the barracks for a landing or swerving away for certain death, he choose the latter rather than risk sending other persons to their death. He turned left and crashed. Alexandria Air Force Base was renamed England Air Force Base June 23, 1955 in honor of Colonel England.



Ralph 'Kid' Hofer

Hofer scored 15 wins with the 334th FS of the 4th Fighter Group. He was tall and powerfully built; it was difficult to reconcile his frame with his chronic smile and guileless manner. He let his hair grow into a chestnut mane and he wore a snake ring and a blue & orange football jersey with the number 78 on it.

Hofer commenced bagging Huns as unceremoniously as he had enlisted in the RCAF. It was an accepted axiom that a pilot flew 10 or 11 missions before his eyes were good enough to even see a Hun, let alone bag one. But Kid Hofer bagged a 190 on his first mission and astonished all by gaily diving down to strafe a flak boat in the Channel. The veterans said pilots could not get a Jerry the first trip, but Hofer had combat film to show for it. It didn't take him long to become the only Flight Officer in England with five swastikas on his kite.

Hofer appeared to have a gay disregard for all the dangers European skies held. No other pilot in the group would prowl about there without a wing man, and preferably a squadron. Not so Hofer, who was out to see how many Huns he could bag. He got a bang out of the Salem Chamber of Commerce passing resolutions eulogizing his part in the global war and the newspaper clippings. One day he had to turn back from a mission because a wing tank wasn't feeding, but his mechanic quickly fixed it and Hofer took off before he was checked in. He took a spin around Holland and Belgium, scouring for Huns and blazing away at flak posts in the Zuider Zee. On his return he saw Lt. Col. Clark bouncing over the grass towards his plane. "I'm in for it now," Hofer murmured to his crew chief.

"Where the hell you been, Hofer?" Clark angrily asked.

"Sir, I had to turn back," said Hofer.

"But these guns have been fired. Explain that."

"Oh, that, sir, I -- well, I did that before I aborted," said Hofer. Another time he was on the tail of a Jerry blasting away. He could see the half-inch slugs ripping into the Hun, but the Hun suddenly pulled away and left him, for Hofer had used up the gas in his fuselage tank and had forgotten to switch over to his wing tanks. Meanwhile, another pilot whipped in and opened fire on Kid Hofer's Hun.

"Break! Break!" shouted Hofer.

The pilot, led to believe that a Jerry was barreling in on his tail, broke sharply to port and Hofer zoomed in to resume his firing and destroy the Hun.

On the June 26 shuttle mission, he flagrantly disobeyed Blakeslee's orders, and chased a German fighter to the deck; he failed to rejoin. He navigated to Kiev on his own, and rejoined the Group. On the return, he again disobeyed orders to go off on his own, this time rejoining the Group in Sicily. From here, Blakeslee organized a combined Fighter Sweep with the 352nd and the 325th. On this mission, Hofer was shot down and killed over Mostar, Yugoslavia. He was credited with 15 kills in the air, and 15 more on the ground.



William Whisner
Only one Air Force pilot was both an ace in two wars and a three-time winner of the DSC.

Lt. William Whisner joined the 352nd Fighter Group's 487th Squadron at Bodney, England, in the fall of 1943. He had the great good fortune to study air combat under two men who were to become masters of the art: Squadron Commander Maj. John C. Meyer and Capt. George Preddy, whose wing he often flew.

As with many of the top aces, Whisner's score mounted slowly at first. On Jan. 29, 1944, while flying a P-47, he downed his first enemy aircraft, an FW-190. The 352nd converted to P-51s in April. At the end of the following month, Whisner shot down a second -190 in a 15-minute dogfight against the best German pilot he encountered during the war. The next day, he shared an Bf-109 kill with Preddy; then it was home to the States on leave.

Whisner, now a captain, rejoined the 487th Squadron in the fall of 1944 . On Nov. 2, he downed a Bf-109 using the new K-14 gunsight. On Nov. 21 he led a flight of P-51s on an escort mission to Merseburg, Germany. As the bombers left their target, a large formation of enemy fighters struck. Meyer (now a lieutenant colonel) told Whisner to take a straggler in one of the enemy's three six-ship cover flights. In a linked series of attacks, Whisner shot down four FW-190s in the cover flight and probably got another.

With no more than two -190s left in the cover flight he had attacked, Whisner turned his attention to the main enemy formation, exploding a -190 that had not dropped its belly tank. Evading three -190s on his tail, he shot down another that was closing on one of his pilots. Then, low on ammunition, he joined up with Meyer and returned to Bodney.

Whisner was credited with five -190s and two probables that day. His score later was revised by the Air Force Historical Research Center to six destroyed, making that day one of the best for any USAAF pilot in the skies over Europe. For that achievement, Whisner was awarded his first Distinguished Service Cross--second only to the Medal of Honor.

During the Battle of the Bulge, which started on Dec. 16, the 487th Squadron was moved forward to airfield Y-29 near Asche, Belgium. On New Year's Day 1945, Whisner was one of 12 Mustang pilots led by Meyer that had started their takeoff roll when a large formation of FW-190s and Bf-109s hit the field. In the ensuing battle, fought at low altitude and before the 487th had time to form up, Whisner shot down a -190, then was hit by 20-mm fire. With his windshield and canopy covered by oil and one aileron damaged, Whisner stayed in the fight, shooting down two more -190s and an Bf-109. He was awarded a second DSC for that day's work--one of only 14 USAAF men to be so honored in World War II. (Meyer received his third DSC, the only Air Force pilot to receive three DSCs in World War II.) At the end of the war, Whisner had 15.5 victories, which put him in the top 20 USAAF aces of the European Theater.

Bill Whisner returned to combat in Korea, flying F-86s, and becoming the seventh jet ace of the Korean War and the first in the 51st Wing. Whisner was awarded a third Distinguished Service Cross, the only Air Force man other than Meyer to earn that distinction. He also became one of only six Air Force pilots who were aces in both World War II and Korea. In the post-Korea years, Whisner continued his career as a fighter pilot, winning the Bendix Trophy Race in 1953. After retiring as a colonel, he finally settled down in his home state of Louisiana. On July 21,1989, Col. William Whisner died of a yellow jacket sting.


Donald Bochkay
He flew with 363rd FS of the 357th Fighter Group. He scored 14.8 (13.5?) air-to-air victories (10.5 in Mustangs), the top ace of this group. the last victories being a trio of Fieseler Storches. Don Bochkay frequently flew as part of a flight of four pilots that included Jim Browning (7.5 wins), Chuck Yeager (11.5), Bud Anderson (16.25), and Bochkay himself. Major (from March 1945) Bochkay planned and led a number of successful missions against German jet bases during the closing weeks of the war, downing two Me-262s. His last three aircraft were all unnamed, but carried has large "winged ace" insignia on the engine cowlings. Bochkay was not credited with any air-to-ground victories.

But he was credited with the most memorable line uttered by any Eighth Air Force pilot in World War Two. He had managed to obtain some silk underwear, and was using the lure of the fine lingerie to impress an English barmaid. "Stick with me honey, and you'll be farting through silk."

In 1970 Don Bochkay visited Leiston, the 357th's base, and wrote this letter, which appeared in Bud Anderson's To Fly and Fight: Memoirs of a Triple Ace:

Dear Zack,
If you go to England and on to Leiston, don't be too disappointed in what you don't see there. I was there on our base in 1970. I was looking for a door off our hut that had a record of kills for Yeager, Browning, Anderson, Peters, and myself. Burned in with a hot poker.
I would have given $500 for that door. I didn't find it. I still have a hunch it exists.
Our base at Leiston was being chewed up by a concrete eater when I drove up un one of the runways. No one but us knows the feeling that went through me when I drove up on the active runway to see the big monsters destroying our base.
I relived a thousand days as I looked down that main runway, (thought) of boys who became men and did what they had to do, men who backed them to the hilt with their skills to make it possible.
I shed my tears at Leiston when I was there in '70, and I will remember it forever.
Have a good trip if you go to Leiston, and don't be ashamed to cry.
Yours, Don
He died unexpectedly in February 1981.


Bruce Carr
Thanks, Luftwaffe, for the ride home

Downed far behind enemy lines, an American P-51 pilot made a dramatic escape with the unintended help of the Luftwaffe.

Bruce Carr ended World War II as a lieutenant with 14 victories confirmed and the Distinguished Service Cross. Despite all that, he denies any claim to heroism--a doubtful assertion--but he can't disclaim his role in a daring experience, to our knowledge unique in the history of that war.

Bruce Carr was a P-51 pilot with the 354th Fighter Group. At the time of this adventure, the group was based in France. In October 1944, while on a mission over Czechoslovakia, he was downed by flak. After days of evading--cold, hungry, and physically exhausted--he decided it was better to turn himself in to the Luftwaffe than to risk capture by the locals. He knew from the surrounding air activity that there was a German airfield not far away.

Lieutenant Carr found his way to the field and hid in the forest outside a fence surrounding a revetment in the woods. An FW-190 was parked there; its ground crew was completing servicing the aircraft. It was full of fuel and ready to go. Carr's plan of surrender took a 180-degree turn to the positive side. Maybe he could "borrow" the enemy fighter and fly back to his base in France. If he were caught tinkering with the bird, things would not go well, but it was worth a shot.

As dusk fell, Carr slipped through the fence and climbed into the FW-190. In the failing light, he did his best to familiarize himself with the cockpit and get ready for a takeoff at dawn. All switches and gauges were labeled in German, hence of no help. Then by the gray light of dawn, the young lieutenant found the switches for gear and flaps. Now to start the engine and get on his way before the ground crew arrived to preflight the bird.

To the right of the seat was a handle that he guessed might have something to do with starting the engine. Already there were sounds of activity on the field, so he didn't have much time for experimenting. Cautiously, Carr pulled the handle. Nothing happened. He tried pushing it. He was rewarded by the sound of an inertial starter winding up. Pulling the handle must engage the starter, he guessed. He cracked the throttle, wound up the starter, and pulled. The engine came to life with a roar. Taxiing through the woods with no parachute, helmet, or radio, he could see a green field ahead and no signs of unfriendly reaction. Carr firewalled the throttle, then roared across the field and into the air, leveling off at treetop altitude. He saw no sign of pursuit as he headed for home. Flying the fighter was no problem. An airplane is an airplane, as they say. He didn't have time to consider what would happen at the field when the Germans discovered one of their planes was missing.

All went well until he reached the front lines. Every armed Allied soldier in range opened fire on him. There was little Lieutenant Carr could do in the way of evasive action since he was blowing leaves off the tops of trees, but his luck held. No hits.

Another problem lay ahead: the likelihood of being shot down by his own airfield defenses. Without a radio, he had no way of assuring them that this was a friendly FW-190. It was best to get on the ground as fast as possible. He came screaming in on the deck, pulled up, rolled over on his back, reefed it in for a short approach, dropped flaps, and pushed the button he thought would lower the landing gear. There was no reassuring thump of gear coming down. As he pulled up for another try, he could see the AA crews uncovering their 40-mm guns. With no parachute, his only option for avoiding another encounter with flak was to belly in. This he did without injury.

As the FW-190 ground to a stop, Lieutenant Carr was surrounded by MPs, whom he could not convince that he was a 354th pilot on a delayed return from a mission. Things grew more and more tense until the group commander, Col. George Bickell, arrived and stuck his head into the cockpit. His first words were, "Carr, where in hell have you been?"

After his extraordinary experience, Bruce Carr was back on operations in a few days. By April 15, he was credited with 7.5 more victories, five on one mission, putting him among the top 50 World War II AAF fighter aces. Today, retired Colonel Carr flies a P-51 owned by Dr. Joseph Newsome--but, he says, a little more conservatively than in years gone by. And with the consent of the owner.


Henry Brown

Beating Four Aces

Lt. Henry Brown pulled off one of the most amazing bluffs of the war.

Lt. Henry Brown was on his second tour in fighters, based at Steeple Morden, UK, with the 355th Fighter Group. On the morning of April 11, 1944, in his Hun Hunter From Texas, he was number four in the 354th Fighter Squadron's Blue Flight, escorting bombers to their target on the outskirts of Berlin.

After the bombers unloaded and headed for home, the 355th turned its escort duty over to another group and prepared to strafe targets of opportunity, the most dangerous of fighter tactics. The four squadrons fanned out, each to find its own targets. Blue Leader picked the Luftwaffe airfield at Strausberg to the east of Berlin. The four P-51s went down in a screaming 400-mph dive, their props cutting weeds as they came in over the field.

On the first pass, Lieutenant Brown burned a Ju-52, then riddled a Ju-88 bomber on his second pass. Spotting an FW-190 fighter taking off, he performed a chandelle to the left, pulling up behind the German fighter and shooting it down just as he ran out of ammunition. While Brown was busy reducing the Luftwaffe's inventory, the other three members of his flight had formed up and were on their way home.

Climbing to 15,000 feet, Lieutenant Brown saw four fighters in the distance, heading west. Maybe they were members of his group. As he closed on them, he discovered that they were Bf-109s--difficult to tell from P-51s at a distance. In perfect firing position but out of ammunition, he reduced power and slid into their blind spot at six o'clock low. Why had they not seen him? Then he spotted two Mustangs ahead and below. The -109s were so intent on hunting the Mustangs that they had not seen him.

Brown called a warning to the Mustangs, which broke sharply to the left with the -109s now almost in firing range. He told the Mustang pilots he would try to disrupt the enemy formation. At that moment, the Luftwaffe pilots picked up on Brown as he closed on their tails, not knowing he was out of ammunition. Henry Brown didn't pause to calculate his chance of survival. He saw what needed to be done, and he did it.

There followed a 20-minute engagement in which Brown outturned his four adversaries, who held all the aces, forcing them one by one to roll out of a Lufbery circle and dive for the ground. While Lieutenant Brown hovered constantly on the verge of a high-G blackout, the two Mustangs he had saved disappeared to the west, leaving him alone in an unfriendly sky.

Having won the Lufbery fight against incalculable odds, Henry Brown throttled back and turned for home. In that moment of relaxation, one of the -109s climbed back up and got on his tail. Suddenly, Hun Hunter was taking hits. Fortunately, the Luftwaffe pilot overshot, giving Brown time to split-S to the treetops. His sigh of relief was short-lived. There were holes in his left wing, but more serious, his compass had been shot out. With no friendly aircraft around, he could only guess at the correct heading for England.

Brown called in the blind, giving his approximate position and asking someone to tell him the sun position on his canopy for a rough heading to the UK. At length, a voice came back, telling him to put the sun on the second screw from the top of his left canopy railing. Correcting his course, he realized he soon was going to be above solid-to-broken clouds. No more ground checks. At last, through a small break in the clouds, he saw the coast of Holland.

A call to Air-Sea Rescue got him a rough heading to Steeple Morden. From there, he got a home steer from Steeple Morden tower. Six hours and 15 minutes after takeoff, Henry Brown touched down at home plate. He found out later that the two Mustang pilots he had saved, and who apparently had deserted him, also had been out of ammunition.

For a day marked by superior skill and unsurpassed valor, Henry Brown was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross to go with his Silver Star, multiple Distinguished Flying Crosses and Air Medals, and a Purple Heart. He tallied 11 more air-to-air victories, ending the war with 14.2 (17.2?), plus more than 14 planes destroyed on the ground. What his score might have been had he not been downed by flak while strafing an airfield on Oct. 3, 1944, is only conjecture.

On the day he bellied in, his squadron operations officer, Maj. Chuck Lenfest, landed to rescue him, but Lenfest's P-51 became stuck in soft ground. Lt. Alvin White also landed in an attempted rescue. The downed men were escaping and did not see him. White was able to take off and returned home alone. Brown and Lenfest ended the war as guests of the Luftwaffe.

Henry Brown remained in the Air Force, serving among other assignments as test pilot, combat pilot in Vietnam, wing commander, and deputy director of Operations, 7th Air Force. He retired as a colonel in 1974, one of the most decorated Air Force officers, and now lives in Sumter, S.C.

[bobbysocks]

a stuka pilot gives an interview...3 parts

#1 shot down in french campaign

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxaOhs0Z1JM

#2 the greek campaign

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vM0L...eature=related

#3 attack on malta convoys

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BcD51...eature=related

[bobbysocks]

Darrell R. Lindsey

On August 7, the Germans launched a counteroffensive aimed at securing Avranches, on the west coast of France. There they hoped to anchor a line that would confine the Allies to areas already held in Normandy and the Cotentin Peninsula. A key element for the German armies was transportation to move desperately needed supplies and reinforcements to the front. Most of the bridges over the Seine had been knocked out. One link that remained was the railroad bridge over the Oise River at L'Isle Adam, a few miles north of Paris. It was heavily defended by many batteries of 88-mm guns (a major threat to the B-26s that normally bombed from an altitude of 10,000 to 12,000 feet).

Ninth Air Force sent the 394th against the bridge on August 9, 1944. Leading 30 B-26s was 25-year-old Captain Darrell Lindsey, one of the group's veteran pilots. This was Lindsey's 46th mission, bringing him to 143 combat hours. He was known for his skill as a pilot and for coolness under fire. Both would be tested that day.

On reaching enemy territory, the formation encountered heavy flak, which continued with few interruptions as they approached the target area. Lindsey maneuvered the bombers past successive barrages with only minor damage. Before starting the bomb run, Lindsey's lead plane was hit, but was able to hold course. Worse was yet to come. On the bomb run, his right engine took a direct hit and burst into flame. The concussion hurled the B-26 out of formation, but Lindsey regained control and resumed the lead, his right wing sheathed in flame. The wing tank could explode at any moment, but rather than giving the signal to bail out and disrupt the formation at this critical point, Lindsey elected to continue the attack. This was a target that could help turn the tide of battle in Normandy.

Immediately after "bombs away," Lindsey ordered the crew to jump while he held the flaming Marauder in a steady descent. The last crewman to leave the plane was the bombardier. As he crawled out of the nose, he shouted that he would lower the landing gear so Lindsey could bail out from the nose of the aircraft.

Using all his piloting skill, Lindsey was barely able to keep control of the doomed bomber, its right wing now totally engulfed in flame. He knew that lowering the gear might throw the plane into an uncontrollable spin, probably making it impossibie for the bombardier to bail out. He told the man to leave through a waist window while the aircraft was still under control. By all logic, the tank should have blown by this time. It might hold long enough for the bombardier to jump. lt did, but before Captain Lindsey could leave the cockpit, the wing tank exploded. The B-26 went into a steep dive and hit the ground in a bail of fire.

For destroying four railroad bridges and an ammunition dump between August 7 and 9, 1944, the 394th Group received a Distinguished Unit Citation. On May 30, 1945, Captain Darrell R. Lindsey was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously for his heroism and self-sacrifice on August 9, 1944. The Medal was accepted by his widow, Evelyn. Captain Lindsey was the only Marauder crew member to be so honored in World War II.

[bobbysocks]

scapled from the wichita eagle...pics @ http://www.kansas.com/2010/06/06/134...#ixzz0qcn8mwsc

Last Sunday, The Wichita Eagle published the story of Loren Corliss' harrowing escape from death 65 years ago during World War II.

His B-24 bomber was shot down by Japanese fighter planes over the Philippine island of Mindanao. He parachuted out and spent 45 days in the jungle before an Army seaplane rescued him and his crew along a beach where the surf crashed with violent force.

The date was Dec. 22, 1944.

No reader in Wichita was more intrigued by that story than a 92-year-old former farm kid from Perry, Okla., named Harold Strub.

In a desk drawer at home in east Wichita, Strub keeps a seaplane log book.

* * *

East Wichita, May 30, 2010

A retired Boeing worker, Harold Strub has lived in Wichita the past 59 years.

He saw the date Corliss mentioned regarding his rescue: Dec. 22, 1944.

Strub walked downstairs, frail and slow, to a desk, which happens to be a walnut desk he made in shop class in 1936 in high school.

He opened a drawer, pulled out an aging brown seaplane pilot's logbook, and turned the pages.

Within moments he put his finger on a log entry, neatly handwritten by him 66 years ago, about a harrowing seaplane rescue flight. The date on his logbook entry: Dec. 22, 1944.

Strub opened his Wichita phone book and found the name Loren Corliss, a stranger that Strub had never heard of. He dialed the number.

* * *

December 22, 1944

Mindanao, the Philippines

Off the beach on the east coast of the island, the wind was up, the waves looked appallingly high, and PBY Catalina seaplane pilot Harold Strub took a deep breath.

Off the beaches near Pensacola, Fla., during rescue flight training, the trainers had taught him how to land in a surf like that.

Strub was a tough, skinny Oklahoman, 26 years old, a veteran of many dangerous flights. But the instructions on how to land in a surf like this scared him:

1. Head your nose perpendicular to the waves.

2. Skim just above the waves at 80 mph.

3. Surf usually makes one big wave followed by five smaller waves; aim for the smaller waves.

4. Stall the engines just before you hit water.

5. Brace for impact.

Down below on the beach, though Strub could not see them, eight desperate and starving B-24 crew members waited for him.

They'd survived 45 days in the jungle. Filipino natives had brought them to this beach, to the base camp of an American guerrilla fighter named Wilson, a survivor of the battle for Corrigedor. Wilson had used his short-wave radio to call in the seaplane.

The Japanese patrolled this section of beach fairly often, shooting at anyone they regarded as a foe.

Strub had taken plenty of chances already in the war. He had one of the craziest jobs imaginable: fly a slow-moving seaplane right through the Japanese air forces, cruise above the islands of the Pacific, and rescue shot-down pilots and bomber crews after they parachuted into the sea during bombing missions.

It was harrowing work. At most, he could coax his seaplane up to 100 knots. A Japanese Zero could fly more than twice that speed.

During the course of the war, Strub had seen Zeros fly right past him. One Zero, during one rescue mission, buzzed right past his Catalina one day, just to show Strub that he was a dead man if the Japanese pilot chose to shoot.

But the Japanese let him be; they knew his seaplane was helpless, and that his job was to save lives, even the lives of Japanese pilots bobbing in the sea.

During 600 hours of combat rescue missions, Strub rescued 14 downed airmen from the sea.

Strub turned into the wind now, skimmed his Catalina into big swells.

At the last moment, Strub cut the engines, and felt a jolt as the plane hit the water. Another jolt as it hit a big wave.

Strub and his crew bobbed into the air, and then slammed down as wave after wave rolled under them.

He looked toward the beach and saw half-naked Filipino native boatmen trying to wrestle outrigger canoes into the surf toward him.

On the canoes, Strub could see the slumped forms of half-naked American airmen trying to float on the canoes out to Strub's plane.

Behind him, Strub heard his own crew begin to yell.

The big wave had torn a seam in the Catalina's aluminum skin.

Water was pouring into the seaplane. The crew turned on the plane's sump pump to pump out the water.

It was a race now, as the canoes approached.

Which would be faster: The water pouring out? Or the water pouring in?

* * *

June 3, 2010

A neighborhood in east Wichita.

The afternoon sun beat down hard in one 2010's first really hot days.

Loren Corliss, still in good shape after 88 summers, walked briskly up to a house, only 14 miles from his own, that he'd never visited before, home to a man he'd never seen face to face.

He felt a twinge of guilt; in the seaplane, after the seaplane pilot rescued them, Corliss had not even thanked the pilot. He'd been so jazzed about getting off Mindanao alive that he never even glanced into the seaplane's flight deck.

He'd just sat there shivering. In the steaming rain forest he'd stripped himself down to his GI shorts, but he was shivering now on the seaplane, wrapped in a GI blanket, thanking God that he'd made it away from the Japanese.

He remembered now, 66 years later, that he had never thanked the seaplane pilot, who had lifted them off the surf with guts and skill. When the pilot had landed them back at an island base halfway between Mindanao and New Guinea, the ground crew had taken Corliss off the plane and directly to the hospital. He'd never even seen the pilot.

At the screen door now, Corliss rang the doorbell.

* *

Mindanao, 1944

In the outrigger canoe, while the native boatmen wrestled them into the surf, Corliss hugged the wooden canoe, weak from starvation; in the previous 45 days, he'd lost 30 pounds.

He and his fellow B-24 survivors, stripping naked in the jungle, had picked hundreds of blood-sucking leeches off each other.

They were all terrified. They had fallen 10,000 feet through the air after their B-24 began to disintegrate. Their parachutes had landed them in a rain forest so thick they had to cut through vines with nearly every step.

In the canoe now, rolling up and down over the waves, Corliss saw the seaplane bobbing, and the seaplane crew members gesturing frantically at the native boatmen to hurry up. The seaplane boys looked frantic; their gestures said hurry- hurry-hurry-hurry.

They looked either angry or scared, Corliss wasn't sure which. Corliss thought it was because the Japanese were known to patrol this beach.

The natives rowed them beside the plane.

The Catalina crew members reached down and dragged them into the plane one by one. The pilot called out to the rescued men, asking one of them to climb into the nose: He yelled at the airmen that he wanted the plane's weight distributed more evenly, to help the plane lift off.

The pilot gunned the twin engines, turned directly into the waves and revved his engines every time a wave hurled them upward.

Corliss thought, as they hit wave after wave, that they'd never get off the ocean. He thought he was going to die. Corliss hoped and prayed that the pilot knew what he was doing.

He did not remember, 66 years later, any water sloshing around inside the plane. He would not hear, until 66 years later, about that hole in the seaplane's skin, and how the water poured in, or how the sump pump kept up with it.

All he would remember later was that they hurtled up over the rushing waves, and then hurtled downward on the far side of each wave, with the seaplane pilot gamely gunning the engines each time they went up.

At last, at the top of a wave, they lifted off.

They were free.

* * *

East Wichita, 2010

After Corliss rang the bell, the slim form of an elderly man appeared: pale, thin, balding, and frail, with a voice made faint by 92 years.

"Hello,'' the thin man said. The voice, barely audible, conveyed a warm and alert courtesy.

"Are you Harold?" Corliss asked.

"I am," said Harold Strub. "Please come in."

"Well," Corliss said, grasping the pilot's hand. "It is a small world after all, isn't it?"

Reach Roy Wenzl at 316-268-6219 or rwenzl@wichitaeagle.com.



Read more: http://www.kansas.com/2010/06/06/134...#ixzz0rVoDPCtj

[bobbysocks]

By Jim Mcbeth
Last updated at 11:48 AM on 8th June 2010

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/arti...#ixzz0rVtuU5i1


In the end, it was only time from which he could not escape.

Jack Harrison, one of the last of those involved in the 'Great Escape', has passed away, peacefully and quietly, at the age of 97.

It has been 66 years since the dark night when he waited with bated breath, preparing to crawl through ‘Harry’ and under the wire of Stalag Luft III.

Many years after the war the former RAF pilot, and his brave and resourceful comrades, would be immortalised by the iconic 1963 film - starring Richard Attenborough and Steve McQueen - which remains the staple fare of every Christmas Day celebration.

But, by then, the most audacious - and tragic - prisoner-of-war break out of the Second World War was only a memory to the Scots veteran, who had long since returned to his ‘real life’ as a husband, father and classics teacher.

Mr Harrison would go on to live a long and fruitful life, spending the last two-and-a-half years of it in the veterans' hospital at Erskine, in Bishopton, Renfrewshire.

Yesterday a spokesman for the charity that runs the hospital said: ‘It is with the greatest of sadness that we announce the passing of Great Escape veteran Jack Harrison.

‘Mr Harrison, thought to be the last survivor of the escape, passed away with his son, Chris, and daughter, Jane, by his side.’

The success of the film The Great Escape may have elevated the humble Latin teacher to the status of a war hero. But to his family, he will forever be ‘dad’. In a joint statement yesterday, his two children paid tribute to him.

They said: ‘To others, he was considered a war hero, but to us he was much more than that. ‘He was a family man first and foremost. He was also a church elder, a Rotarian, scholar, traveller and athlete. He took up marathon running in his 70s to raise money for charity.

He was also a caring father and grandfather and he will be missed by the entire family.

‘We are indebted to Erskine for the care and attention that he and we have received over the past two and a half years.’

Throughout his long life, Mr Harrison played down his important role in the daring escape bid from Stammlager der Luftwaffe III - meaning a camp for airmen - which was established at Sagan, in what is now Poland.

He was being unduly modest. Mr Harrison played a key role in the plot.

He acted as a ‘runner’ for Squadron Leader Roger Bushell, who was played in the film by Richard Attenborough.

Bushell was the mastermind behind the digging of the three escape tunnels, which were started in April 1943 and codenamed Tom, Dick and Harry.

His plan was to dig down to a depth of 30ft and then tunnel on three fronts towards the perimeter of the camp and into the woods beyond.

Stalag Luft III, which lay 100 miles south-east of Berlin, was a massive facility.

At its height, 10,000 RAF officers and non-commissioned aircrew were held there.

Planning the Great Escape required daring and ingenuity.

The prisoners would disguise themselves as civilians and split into three groups.

One group would trek out of the region, while others would use the railway network to effect an escape.

In an interview with the Scottish Daily Mail in 2008, Mr Harrison said: ‘The Germans knew about tunnels at other camps, so we had to be very careful - or you could be shot.’

Tragically, that would be the fate of many of his comrades.

The Gestapo captured and executed 50 of them within days of the escape.

However, no threat of capture or death could have persuaded the airmen not to do their duty and attempt to make it back home to rejoin their units.

Their exhaustive and intricate plan included creating fake documents and tailoring clothes.

By then, they had begun by digging Tom, Dick and Harry.

Tom and Dick had to be abandoned, but Harry remained.

The dirt from the tunnel was carried secretly into the camp where it was disguised as vegetable and tomato patches.

It was hoped that on the night of the escape – 24 March, 1944 - around 200 prisoners would go through Harry to the outside.

Each of the escapees was given a number that indicated his place in the ‘queue’.

Mr Harrison was Prisoner Number 96 and waited in Hut 104 to take his turn.

He was dressed as a civilian engineer, with fake papers to prove it, when he heard gunfire from outside.

Mr Harrison said: ‘The 77th prisoner was escaping when I heard the shots.

‘I was 96th in line and I was ready to go into the tunnel. I had my kit, false ID, railway passes and German money.

‘But unfortunately, “Harry” had fallen 30ft short of the wire surrounding the camp.’

Only 76 men had emerged before a guard, who had gone to the woods to relieve himself, raised the alarm.

‘We heard a rifle shot and it was all over,’ said Mr Harrison, who added: ‘I quickly burned the forged documentation in the stove and changed out of the civilian clothing.

Of the 76 who made it out of the tunnel, only three – two Norwegians and a Dutchman - eventually made it home.

The others were recaptured.

In an attempt to put off other prisoners seeking to escape, Hitler, Goering and Himmler ordered that those who were recaptured should be executed.

Mr Harrison said: ‘I knew quite a few of the men who were shot. For a while, we thought we would be next.

‘It was an anxious time. I was a long way from home and a very long way from my real life.’

The Glasgow-born veteran had been working as a Latin and classics’ teacher at Dornoch Academy, in Sutherland, when he was called up to serve in the Royal Air Force as a pilot.

On his first mission, in November 1942, to bomb German supply ships at the Dutch port of Den Helder, his Lockheed Ventura was shot down.

He was captured and arrived later that month at Stalag Luft III.

Mr Harrison, who was also a grandfather, recalled how he was released.

‘I was liberated as the Russians advanced,' he said.

‘We were marched for two days and nights and eventually we were loaded on to rail trucks and taken across Germany.'

Mr Harrison eventually got home. He recalled: ‘I had married my school sweetheart, Jean, in 1940 and she was living with her parents.

‘After the war, I worked as a classics’ teacher at the Glasgow Academy and we lived in the city until the 1950s.'

The family moved to Rothesay, on the Isle of Bute, in 1958 when Mr Harrison took up a post as Director of Education for the area.

Mr Harrison is survived by his son and daughter and two grandchildren, Mark and Stuart.

Major Jim Panton, the Chief Executive of Erskine Hospital, said yesterday: ‘It was a privilege and an honour for Erskine to care for Jack over the past two years.

‘Although a very modest and private man, he will be greatly missed by all of the staff and veterans in our home.

‘Our thoughts are with his family at this sad time.’

[bobbysocks]

The following two stories come from the book “Un Pilota del Cavallino Rampante”, (edition La Galaverna-Flaviana, Battaglia Terme, Padova, 1999) written by Tenente Pilota Paolo Voltan, 4° Stormo Caccia, Regia Aeronautica Italiana. They refer to two different missions, flew by Paolo Voltan on August 14th and September 8th, 1943.

translated by EAF51_Bear

August 14th, 1943, over Sicily

On 14th of August our flight took off with 8 planes. They were all Macchi C.205, armed with two 20mm. Cannon (finally!) and the usual two m12,7 mm. Machine guns. I was the wingman of Ten. Querci, and we were the third section, flying close to him on his right side, as for the general rule in combat flying (…). Our flight of eight planes climbed up to 3.000 mt. Our orders were to climb up to 6.000 mt., escorting a flight of RE.2002, flying at 5.000 mt. The difference in height of 1.000 mt. should have allowed us diving attack, in case an enemy formation would attempt to intercept the RE.2002 in order to stop their bombing attack (….)
We were flying over Milazzo, when a short burst from our flight leader warned us that an enemy formation was in sight. I rased the head, and high in front of us, a little on the left, I saw a formation of not less than fourty Spitfires, diving toward us.
As soon they were about 300 meters from us, they opened fire all together, and an avalanche of red tracers hit us, while our sections break on the left or on the right, attempting to avoid the enemy fire.
Querci made an hard break on the right, and I followed him carefully, while feeling my sweat running on my head. My hand was firmly keeping the stick, my finger ready on the firing button, in order to open fire as soon as needed.
Closing on maximum turn, Querci was trying to position himself at 6 o clock of some bandit, because after the first merge it was only a matter of ability. In fact the manoeuvrability of our Macchi enabled us to engage the whole enemy formation, until the RE.2002 were on target. The Spitfires, meanwhile, were all around us in the sky, flying in sections of two planes.
I was still flying near Querci, continuously checking around to watch possible treats. Suddenly in front of us we saw two Spitfires turning hard on the left. Querci opened fire, but due to the turning rate, the tracers missed them near their tail. I was ready to engage them, but then I saw two other Spitfires coming from the right, aiming at Querci plane. With an hard bank on the right I turned toward them, hardly missing to hit them both, but making impossible to them to open fire on Querci.
I suddenly realised I was alone, while all around I can see a furball of British and Italian planes, firing and running the ones after the others, in the middle of an hell dogfight. In that moment two Spitfires crossed in front of my plane, flying in very close formation. They should have miss me, because they were turning on the left, following an isolated Italian plane. In a matter of seconds I close on their six, pushing my Macchi on maximum turn without falling in a spin. A few seconds again and I would have been able to put the enemy wingman in my gun sight. I felt the plane trembling and shaking as usual, announcing the beginning of an horizontal spin. Pushing a little forward the stick I succeeded in stabilizing her, while I realised I was slowly gaining advantage on the bandis, that probably did not spot me yet. Shooting at the wingman would give me an advantage. If the leader would not know the wingman was hit, I could lately attack the second target with another burst.
The progresses I was making spiralling totally took my attention, and I forgot to check my six, where suddenly I could find another section of Spitfires. The bandits were finally in my gun sight. I knew that if I wanted to hit them, I should aim ahead of them. On the contray our continuous turn on the left would have pushed my bullets away from the target. When I let the first burst go, I had the confirmation of my thoughts. In fact the tracers showed my burst were missing the bandit, sliding down, away from his tail, leaving the two planes still free to aim to their hunt to the other Macchi. A second burst hit the wingman Spit. The plane banked: initially a dark smoke burst out of his engine, than a sudden fire blow on the whole plane, that went down as a torch. I got him!
The other was not yet aware of having lost his wingman, because was still engaging the other Macchi. This was still turning on the left while climbing, knowing this was the best way to get free from the dog on his tail. Looking around I could see planes flying in all directions, but no one of the British was following the RE.2002, that in the mean time should have accomplished their mission. On my gun sight I still had the other Spit, and I was committed not to leave him for any reason.
The victory I got on his wingman push me to a wider turn, and I had to close again, if I wanted to get the other too. The hard turn was pushing me on my seat, and moving my head in the different directions was an enormous effort. A few seconds again, and I could fire another burst on my target. The shape of the spit was slowly entering in my gun sight, well centred in the external circle. I should just wait a little, to put it right in the central cross of my gun sight. Than I had to go further ahead, in order to aim before the Spit, and balance the turn speed. When I shoot, a burst erupted from the Macchi’s guns, shaking the whole plane. My tracers hit the target that, being turning, was totally exposing his full shape in gun sight. I can see my bullets entering his wing, the cockpit, the engine, but the plane was still flying as nothing was happened. I was ready to shoot again, when I saw some red lights passing near my plane. I turned suddenly my head, and what I can see where the turning propeller blades of two Spits, with a spiral painted on the nose, creating a strange visual effect, and together with tem, the flashing machine guns shooting at me.
At that moment I was not really thinking what I was doing. My reaction was pure instinct. With a sudden break I turned my plane on the right, closing the throttles. The two Spits passed over me in overshooting, and I found myself on their six, but unfortunately too far from them.
I opened full throttle, trying to catch them, but they were really too far, and I would have needed too time to do that.. I needed some rest after all that emotions: I had a look around, and I realised I was alone. The remaining Spits were heading toward the Mount Etna. No other Macchi in sight. My altimeter was showing 6.000 meters (…)Watching the clock and the televel, I understood I was flying since 70 minutes, and it was time to return to homebase…
__________________

September 8th, 1943 -


My Squadron, 73^ Squadriglia, belonging to the 9th Group of 4° Stormo (Wing), was based at Gioia del Colle since August 28th, 1943. We were flying Macchi C.205, finally armed with 20 mm. Cannons, and a maximum speed of over 650 Km/h.
We scrambled at around 10,30 AM. We got notice of a formation of 65 B-24 Liberator south of Pescara, flying toward south, returning to their bases in Tunisia.
We take off in eight planes (…) we climbed at maximum rate at 6.000 mt. (...) The possibility of attacking a group of 65 bomber was making all of us excited. The first to spot the Americans was Rinaldi, my wingman (….)
The American tactic was always the same: flying in boxes, so they can enforce their offensive power. A formation of 65 Liberators may provide firepower of 650 machine guns, and approaching them as very dangerous. We knew that their guns can fire horizontally for about 300 meters, than the bullet would change their trajectory, loosing a great part of their speed. As a consequence Liberators gunner did not open fire until our planes were very near. Our tactic was flying in the same direction as them, on the side of their formation, at a distance of about 500 meters. Their speed was about 450 Km/h, and therefore we had a speed margin of about 200 Km/h. So we flew straight, over passing them, and then with an hard turn, attacking them frontally. This was the side in which B-24 were more vulnerable, due to dead angles caused by the engines, where the gunners cannot fire.
When we over passed the formation of about 500 meters, a little higher than the bombers, dive toward them and firing. The volume of fire hitting our planes was terrible, but the duration of the attack was only a few seconds. As soon we were approaching the closer, we made a roll, turning our plane upside down, and reverse in a half split-s and fast diving toward the ground. While turning, we were showing all our shape to the bombers gunners, but only for a few seconds. Continuing our dive until being out of sight, we climbed again on the opposite side. Then we flew again on the side of the formation, waiting to be again straight in front of them, in order to start the next passage. This kind of maneuver might be repeated several times, at least until the remaining fuel in our fighters allowed us to attack again.
That day, as soon we spot the bombers, while moving on our attacking position, a formation of eight Spitfires suddenly appeared on our right side. Fortunately they were not higher than us, and so they did not dive on us firing. The four Macchis on the right side of the bombers abandoned the attack route, turning toward the Spits. The other four, including me and Rinaldi, continued in their pursuit of the bombers..
From my cockpit I could see the furball between the others. The altitude was favourable to the Macchis, because until 6.000 meters our planes were practically unbeatable. Mariotti, followed by his comrades, went into the dogfight wit a terrible commitment. In spite of being four against eight, the Italians soon were dominating the situation. The maneuverability of their planes, and the ability of the pilots put them in the condition of being able to fire without being fired. The duel last about ten minutes, while we were flying south, following the bombers.
The intercept happened south of Termoli, and the fight continued toward Puglia, with our series of attacks … At the third pass one of the leading planes banked on his wing, while a long black smoke was erupting from his wing. After firing at him, when I rolled upside down and dived, I could see her well and clearly while climbing on the opposite side. The B-24 was flying without control, in a narrow spiral dive. Was the end: the huge beast was going down smoking, while I could see some parachutes opening over her.
But we need to make another attack, although we already flew over Bari, heading to Jonio see.
In the following pass another B-24 started to smoke heavily and to loose hight, without loosing control. At least other five bombers were heavily damaged.. We were now flying over Santa Maria di Leuca, and our fuel level did not allow us to perform another attack, therefore we headed home, very curious about learning the story of the other section.
They were already arrived at home base before us. One spit shot down and confirmed, maybe a second one. A poor score, but obtained by only four Macchis against eight Spitfires, that at the end decided to disengage (….)
Each fight was always different from the others. After this dogfight our debriefing conclusions were two. The fighters attacking the Spits make a few comments about the ingenuity of the British, being outturned by the Macchis, without succeeding in break, and therefore hit by our fighters, and running home at the end, helped by the fact that our Macchis were out of fuel, and therefore cannot pursue them.
The other section got a good confirmation about their tactics in attacking bombers, able to produce good results. The limited fuel was the main reason why of the limited results. But it is also important to mention that we were only four against 65 of those huge bombers, and the volume of fire shoot at us was really terrible (…)

[bobbysocks]

One of the least well documented episodes of the Battle of Britain concerns the activities of Corpo Aereo Italiano (CAI) when during the late stage of the battle the Regia Aeronautica was instructed to establish a force in Belgium to assist in operations against the British. It is not easy to see what the Italian high Command hoped this would achieve other than to boost home moral. Participation of the Regia Aeronautica at the end of the Battle of Britain was viewed as a political necessity - yet it was unwanted by the German High Command.
...............

On 29 October (the last day within the official limit of the Battle of Britain) saw a change in strategy - a daylight raid with a large fighter escort on Ramsgate Harbour. Fifteen bombers from 43o Stormo with Maggiore M. Tenti as leader with an escort of 39 Fiat CR.42s and 34 Fiat G.50bis plus a gruppe of Bf109E and Fs were briefed and took off. Three of the bombers were forced to abort due to engine troubles and two of them returned prematurely to Chièvres while the third was forced to land at Ostend-Stene.
The attack was performed at a relatively low level as if performing the Italian equivalent of the Hendon airshow, in formation wingtip to wingtip. All of the Italian were gaily painted pale green and bright blue, camouflage for a more exotic climate than Britain’s in late October, and made them stand out like peacocks among the ‘eagles’. The anti-aircraft gunners were as puzzled as everyone else by this strange sight in the sky, and it was a few minutes before fire was opened. The Italian armada then turned right in one formation, content to have over-flown enemy soil in order to provide Milan newspapers with appropriate propaganda and departed over Ramsgate - upon which 75 bombs were scattered at 17.45. During the attack five of the bombers were damaged and some of the aircrew injured. This would appear to have been as a result of AA fire. One aircraft of 243a Squadriglia (243-3) is so bad damaged that it need to force-land as soon as it reach Belgium. While approaching the machine-gunner 1o Avieri Giuseppe Monti panics and tries to parachute but the aircraft is unfortunately at a too low altitude and he is crushed to death near Courtrai when he hits the ground before his parachute deploys. The aircraft makes a perfect belly landing close to the mill at Kuurne with the four remaining crew-members, Maggiore Corrado Ferretti (commander of 241a Squadriglia), Capitano Romualdo Montobbio (pilot), Maresciallo L. Bussi and 1o Avieri P. Autrello, slightly injured. The rest of the aircraft all returns safely to Chièvres.

During the afternoon on 1 November 26 Fiat G.50s of the 20o Gruppo flew a sweep over Canterbury, meeting violent anti-aircraft fire near Folkestone, while 39 Fiat CR.42s of the 18o Gruppo swept over Ramsgate, Canterbury and Dover. No combats were recorded.

On the night of 5/6 November a night raid was flown by the ‘Chianti part’, as Fighter Command now had begun to call them, when thirteen BR.20s of 13o Stormo attacked Harwich and Ipswich without losses although one of the bombers returned with battle damage. Local newspapers unkindly reported that the bombers sounded like ‘rattling tin cans’ when they found out that Italians were responsible for keeping them awake!

In the afternoon on 8 November 22 Fiat G.50s of the 20o Gruppo flew an offensive patrol between Dungeness, Folkestone, Canterbury and Margate. They reported a combat with four RAF fighters, but didn’t submit any claims. Squadron Leader B. J. E. Lane (Spitfire Mk.II P7377) was bounced at this time by a reported Hurricane and made an emergency landing with Category 2 damage. It is possible that the Italian aircraft inflicted this damage, but it is also possible that Oberleutnant Hahn of I/JG77 who claimed a Spitfire destroyed at an unknown time inflicted this damage.

On the night of 10/11 November five Fiat BR.20Ms of the 43o Stormo made individual attacks on targets in the Ramsgate area.

November 11 (the same day half the Italian battle fleet was knocked out at Taranto by British naval aircraft) saw the largest operation mounted by the force. Although only ten BR.20Ms from 99o Gruppo (four from the 242a and and six from the 243a Squadriglia) led by Tenente Colonnello G. Battista Ciccu were involved the fighter force escorting was 42 CR.42s, 46 G.50s and supporting Bf109s. Again, the bad weather became an important factor, causing the G.50s and Bf109s to abort shortly after take off and return to base, leaving only the CR.42s as escort.
The BR.20Ms took off around midday, each of them loaded with three 250 kg bombs. They took the route Bruges-Ostend-Harwich and approached Harwich at 14.40 at 3.700 meters.

When the Italian bombers approached the English coast they were spotted by British radar and Hurricanes from 17 and 257 Squadrons were scrambled shortly after 13.30, whilst Hurricanes from 46 Squadron, already airborne patrolling a convoy off Foulness, were also vectored to intercept Bandits over the Thames Estuary by Fighter Control. The latter formation was slightly delayed while the investigated a formation which proved to be friendly and were forced to made a wide circle before attacking. Elements 249 Squadron were also on a convoy patrol patrolling the same convoy off Foulness.
Flight Lieutenant H. Peter Blatchford (in Hurricane V6962), leading 257 Squadron, sighted nine bombers flying in a tight ‘vic’ formation some 10 miles east of Harwich. These were heading west-north-west at 12,000 feet, and Blatchford climbed the squadron to 15,000 feet before leading them down in a beam attack on the starboard side BR.20 formation. 46 Squadron, meanwhile, was fast approaching from the port side and attacked almost simultaneously. As they did so they were attacked from above and behind by between 20 and 30 CR.42s.
Peter Blatchford first attacked the rear BR.20 to the starboard side, seeing no effect from his fire and passing across to the port side, where he delivered two rear-quarter attacks on the rear left bomber. This aircraft looped violently and dived vertically towards the sea, disintegrating before hitting the water. His second opponent was also probably attacked by Pilot Officer K. Pniak (in Hurricane V7292) of 257 Squadron, who attacked one bomber that began to smoke and burn and then turned onto its back before it dived into the sea 10 miles east of Harwich after one man had baled out. He then attacked another, which glided in towards the coast, trailing smoke.
Meanwhile Pilot Officer Kay of 257 Squadron attacked the extreme right-hand aircraft, which had broken away upwards, trailing smoke. This was given a burst by Pilot Officer S. E. Andrews of 257 Squadron and dived into the sea. Kay then attacked another with Pniak. It broke formation and headed for the coast. Flight Lieutenant L. M. Gaunce (in Hurricane V692 of 46 Squadron had also attacked the first bomber, noting that it was then attacked by two more Hurricanes (Kay and Andrews), and indeed was also probably engaged by Pilot Officers G. North and P. A. Mortimer of 257 Squadron and by Sergeant R. J. Parrott of 46 Squadron.
North, after making an unsuccessful beam attack on one aircraft, made a stern pass on another, which fell away, diving towards the coast. He chased it, expended all his ammunition, saw four bombs fall away and the undercarriage drop. Mortimer, who had previously made a head-on attack, hitting one aircraft before engaging North’s opponent, then attacked this bomber. The bomber then caught fire and dived into the sea. One man baled out but pulled his parachute release too early and his canopy caught on the tail unit.
Sergeant Parrott saw a BR.20 heading for the coast pursued by a Hurricane that was obviously out of ammunition (North). He made two firing passes under fire from the rear gunner and on the second attack the bomber’s engines burst into flames and it dived into the sea.
Meanwhile, the aircraft previously attacked by both Pniak and North came under attack from three 46 Squadron pilots; Pilot Officer G. Leggett had already attacked one BR.20, from which one of the crew had baled out before it crashed into the sea, and now he joined forces with Pilot Officer Hedley and Sergeant N. Walker to chase another in over the English coast heading towards Ipswich. After several attacks the BR.20 circled, losing height, and finally crashed into a wood some 10 miles east of the town.
The last claims against the Italian bombers came from Sergeant S. E. Lucas of 257 Squadron who reported that he had disabled one bomber by putting one engine out of action. Pilot Officer B. Davey of 257 Squadron attacked the bomber on the extreme right, attacking from underneath and using up all his ammunition. He saw black smoke belch from both engines. This bomber was then attacked by a Hurricane from 46 Squadron.
Spitfires of 41 Squadron had also been scrambled, but although they arrived too late to take part in the main battle, they were the first to sight the CR.42s. The Spitfire (Spitfire Mk.II P7322) flown by Flying Officer E. P. Wells was attacked, but he evaded and claimed one CR.42 damaged east of Ofordness before the biplane fighters disappeared. This event apparently delayed the Italians from interfering with the initial attack by 257 and 46 Squadrons. While the Hurricanes were ripping into the BR.20s, the Italian fighter pilots had appeared above. Peter Blatchford was turning to attack the bombers again, but saw many fighters. He engaged one, opened fire and it “waffled extensively”, but he was unable to conclude this combat as he was then caught up in a dogfight with others. He found that he could turn with the agile biplane, but quickly ran out of ammunition and rammed the Italian fighter, striking the upper mainplane with his propeller. The CR.42 at once fell away. Blatchford headed for base, but saw a Hurricane coming under attack from three CR.42s in line astern. He made a dummy head-on attack on each, causing them to break away and head east. On his return, Blatchford found that nine inches had been lost from two propeller blades and that they were also splashed with blood.
Meanwhile, Sergeant Lucas of 257 Squadron, breaking away from his attack on the bombers, saw enemy fighters below and behind. He turned and took one in a head-on attack, seeing it go down in a spin. He was then attacked by four more and quickly climbed into cloud, but saw his opponent crash into the sea. In fact it is likely that the aircraft he saw was not his opponent, but that of Flight Lieutenant Gaunce of 46 Squadron, who had seen a CR42 appear beside him whilst the rest of the 46 Squadron Hurricane pilots were still shooting at the bombers. He turned and opened fire at close range. The CR.42 dived and Gaunce followed spinning and manoeuvring violently with his throttle closed in order to stay above. He then lost sight of his adversary and pulled up, engaging two more and firing a deflection burst at one of them. He then saw another pair, one of which he chased with closed throttle, opening fire at 150 yards. The CR.42 took no evasive action, but continued straight on, losing height. He lost sight of it, but then approached another CR.42 from the side. After a full deflection burst from 80 yards, it burst into flames and dived into the sea 15 miles east of Ofordness.
Pilot Officer Karel Mrazek, a pre-war Czech Air Force pilot, of 46 Squadron was flying with the intercepting force when he experienced partial engine failure in his Hurricane (V7610) and fell behind the formation. He then sighted a number of twin-engined bombers flying in five sections of three, and identified them as Fiat BR.20s. He wrote:

"the Italians veered eastwards towards Southend then making off on a slanting dive for Margate, the Straits and Calais. As they turned away I saw three BR.20s go down in flames followed by their crews in parachutes.
At that moment I saw about thirty to forty unknown biplanes which I realised was a gaggle of CR.42s, supposedly protecting the bombers - as they (the CR.42s) crossed my path without seeing me, I gave the second a short burst at full deflection - it went down like a fireball. The other turned to fight - due to its great manoeuvrability it kept getting on my tail, but after a series of successive bursts I saw it begin to smoke and flame."
The first CR.42 fell into the sea 4 miles from Ofordness and the second 3 miles from Ofordness. After the first claim he also noticed another CR.42 crash into the sea nearby, apparently the one attacked by Gaunce. After the combat he had to put the Hurricane’s nose down and re-cross the coast to land at Rochester with empty tanks and ten bullet holes in his wings and fuselage. He claimed one destroyed and one damaged.
Mrazek served as Pilot Officer with 43 and 46 Squadrons during the Battle of Britain. Later in the war he was promoted to Squadron Leader and took command over 313 (Czechoslovak) Squadron. Later still he served as Wing Commander of the whole Czechoslovak Wing. Mrazek was awarded with both the DFC and the DSO during the war. He returned to Czechoslovakia after the war as a Group Commander and lived in the town of Jablonec. Mrazek passed away on 5 December 1998.

Flight Lieutenant M. Burnett of 46 Squadron had not engaged the bombers, but had climbed above as 257 Squadron attacked. Then a large formation of CR.42s appeared from cloud to the south. He took one of the leading pair, opened fire, and as he closed turned his guns on the other, firing until his ammunition was gone. He saw strikes on the fuselage of his second opponent, which broke left in a step turn, leaving the others in a gentle dive.
Pilot Officer Hedley of 46 Squadron saw a CR.42 about to dive or spin and opened fire, but as it went down another Hurricane hurtled down and destroyed it.
Finally, Sergeant L. D. Barnes of 257 Squadron, who sighted approximately ten groups of CR.42s in sections of four, attacked one group, using up his ammunition. His opponent at once dived past the vertical, but the other three out-turned the Hurricane, which took one bullet through the wing before he shook them off and returned to base.
This was not the end of the story, for 249 Squadron also had Hurricanes airborne on convoy patrol duties. Wing Commander F. V. Beamish sighted one of the returning CR.42s and claimed a ‘probable’ 20-30 miles east of Southwold, while Flight Lieutenant Robert A. Barton attacked an aircraft identified as a Junkers Ju86P, which he claimed “went into the sea like a torch”. This could have been one of the BR.20s - although Luftwaffe lost several other aircraft this day. It is more probable that this was Focke-Wulf Fw58 (3551 ‘0J + AK’) of Stab III/JG51, flown by Unteroffizier Karl Nispel + 1 crew. This had been sent out to seek three shot-down fighter pilots from the morning’s operations over the Thames Estuary and did not return.

cont..

[bobbysocks]

the one that got away...

Lt. Dale E. Karger
14 Jan. 1945

I was flying Greenhouse Green Four position on an escort mission to Berlin. Our squadron was sweeping out in front of the bomber stream when 100 plus enemy fighters were spotted coming from at least 2 directions. The squadron was still in a fairly close formation and still had our drop tanks on. I was in the tail end Charlie position in the formation. For some reason i glanced to my starboard side and was very much surprised to see a Me 262 jet opposite me up behind Greenhouse Two. The 262 was in so close in our formation that I was completely taken with excitement, and my thinking clouded up a bit to say the least. Up until this time we were on radio silence except for someone calling out the incoming bogies. I yelled on the radio, "There's a jet job on your ass!" which probably caused everyone in the group quickly check their 6. I was so excited I couldn't think clear enough to identify myself or the aircraft being trailed. I have no idea why the German pilot didn't hit his guns and take out the number 2 man. He had creeped in to a point blank position. One of the first things you are taught as a fighter pilot is to look more behind you than ahead, but I think the reason for me not doing that this time was the fact we were still in a pretty tight formation and it is rather difficult to look around as much when in closer.


The only thing I could think of to do under the circumstances was to swing my plane over and get behind the jet. The German must have anticipated this and immediately gave it full throttle straight ahead. By this time I was directly behind him lined up for a perfect shot. I squeezed the trigger anticipating to see tracers fly through the air....NOTHING happened! I squeezed again and again no guns. Gun switches ( heaters) were kept off as a precautionary measure to keep you from accidentally pulling the trigger and hitting one of your own people. Caught up in the excitement of the moment i didn't turn on my guns or drop my tanks. By now I was flustered and as I looked at the controls I drew a complete blank as to what switch to turn on ( yes, they are all marked). In the meantime due to his superior speed the jet was pulling out of range fast. After smacking myself on the side of the head a couple times, I regained enough composure to get the right switched on and let go a few quick bursts but to no avail. He was too far out of range.


I told this story to someone before and told them how lucky the guy was that I lost my cool because there is no way he could have out run my six 50 cal machine guns had the switches been on. The person I told the story to had another view of the whole thing that I had never thought of, He said maybe I was the lucky one and that maybe that jet could have pulled up behind me and shot my ass off first. Needless to say, I pondered that for a long while.


Well being as this whole thing was a fiasco from the start you would think nothing else could go wrong! As fate wold have it while I was above and out to the side of the group after the jet, the whole bunch turned left leaving me as we would say, "fat, dumb, and happy all alone at 25 to 30,000 feet." I figured I would make the best of a bad situation and so dropped my tanks to get ready for whatever would come next. Looking below me about 5000 feet I could see a big dogfight starting as everyone was turning left in a circle with lots of shooting going on. My next mistake was that I thought I would dive right in the middle of this mess and get some. As I did this I knew right away it was a bad, bad move. There were bullets flying and burning planes everywhere so I got out real fast! I figured I would sit on the outside and wait for a straggler to come out. It wasn't long before a lone Me 109 came along heading for the deck. I think he had his fill of what was happening and decided the easiest thing to do was go home. Anyway, in the meantime, Greenhouse Two ( the guy who originally had the jet on his ass) joined up with me as my wingman. As I started after the 109 at about 20,000 feet he made a slow decent East. I closed very quickly and throttled back, even had to drop a few degrees of flaps to keep from running over him. Still I ended up flying beside him almost wing tip to wing tip. When I dropped behind him to fire I was so close that I think most of the bullets were going around both sides of the cockpit and converging in front of him because I couldn't see too many hits. But enough of them found their mark. He may have been having engine or some other problems because he made no attempts at evasive maneuvers. When the 109 finally bellied into a field I made one quick pass and fired setting the craft on fire.

In spite of all the goofy things that happened this particular mission it ended up being pretty spectacular for the 357th Fighter Group. The sky was a perfect clear blue and any direction you looked you would see a couple burning planes going down. We were credited with shooting down 55 German aircraft and were awarded a Presidential Unit Citation and a commendation by General Doolittle. Our losses for the day were 3 to 4 as I best recollect.

This is probably one of the few stories my father ever wrote down and would comment on it saying that sometimes you you survive despite all your screw ups. Then again when I think of it, he was one month shy of his 20th birthday. When i think of the momentous decisions I had to make as a 19 year old...they pale drastically in comparison.

[bobbysocks]

the whole interview with franz stigler. not only the charlie brown incident but time in africa and ...

http://109lair.hobbyvista.com/articl...er/stigler.htm

[scottyvt4]

Bobby .......... dude tooooo much reading lol





truly awesome thread the detail in the accounts is staggering, well done fella keep up the fantastic work