Written by Harry Crosby and Glenn Flickinger
“A Wing and A Prayer” by Harry Crosby
The Bremen Mission
Harry Crosby’s memoir of his service with the 8th Air Force/100th Bomb Group in World War Two is the best personal memoir written about the air war. It ranks at or near the top of all World War Two memoirs written even alongside Eugene Sledge’s famous “With the Old Breed”.
Harry wrote his memoir in the 1990s, about forty years after the war and after he had become a PhD professor of Rhetoric. His writing is exquisite, his narrative style takes the reader through his war experiences as if the reader was sitting with him navigating his B-17 through the flak, the bullets whizzing by from German fighter planes and the stark terror of seeing other B-17s shot from the sky. His stories of life on base and on leave in London or sitting at Thorpe Abbots reading letters from his beloved wife are equally revealing and thoughtful.
One of Harry’s most intense, death-defying experiences is the October 8th Mission to Bremen by the 100th BG during “Black Week” at the height of the courageous and bloody week that earned the 100th the moniker “The Bloody Hundred”.
Attached is the Personal Report of that mission written by Harry a week later. It is a riveting read and served as the basis for Chapter 10 in “A Wing and A Prayer”.
Our VBC program on Thursday October 10th will be a discussion of the Bremen mission with Harry’s daughter, Rebecca Hutchinson, Mike Faley, 100th BG historian, and other family members from the 100th BG Foundation.
Glenn Flickinger
HEADQUARTERS
100th BOMBARDMENT GROUP
APO 634
U.S. Army Station 139
17 October, 1943
SUBJECT: Personal Report on the BREMEN Mission, October 8, 1943
TO: Commanding Officer, 100th Bombardment Group (H)
1. The prelude to this mission was normal. There had been a couple of days of prebriefing in which the pilot, navigator, and bombardier made secret trips to air division headquarters. The general idea was that we, and many hundreds of other planes of heavy-bombardment were out to “Hamburg” Bremen.
2. The unusual thing on this trip was that we were to lead the third combat wing. This meant additional strain and responsibility on the part of our crew but it was a load to which we were more or less accustomed after having been in this position a few times previously. Major John B. Kidd, who had done such a credible job leading the 100th Group on the important REGENSBURG Raid was the command pilot sharing the piloting duties with Captain E. E. Blakely, now squadron commander of the 418th Squadron. Our co-pilot, Lt Charles A. Via, rode in the position of tail gunner serving the vital function of formation control officer. Staff Sergeant Lyle E. Nord acted as radio gunner and assistant to Technical Sergeant Edmond C. Forkner.
3. Briefing, takeoff, and assembly of the of the group were as usual except that the group formed in the record time of eighteen minutes. The group climbed to 9,000 feet and passed over Buncher Eight, at Framlingham, about forty seconds behind the briefed time of 1246. The 100th Group, in the le ad position, was joined by the 390th and the 95th without difficulty. The Thirteenth Combat Wing passed over Spalding in excellent defensive position at the exact time as briefed, 1312. By essing slightly, our combat wing fell into position as the third combat wing as scheduled. At 1329 the Fourth Air Division, in unquestionably the best formation flown during my experience, passed over the English Coast nine miles north of Splasher Beacon Number Four.
4. The course flown was nearly as briefed but a few minutes were lost due to slight discrepancies in turns and metro data. The journey over water was made unnecessarily hazardous due to the fact that planes which aborted, instead of clearing the formation, persisted in attempting to fly through our combat wing formation. On one occasion an entire six-ship squadron in good formation flew between the 100th and the 390th Groups. Six minutes later a flight in equally good formation threaded itself through our formation. Two minutes later a single ship with what appeared to be a “T” marking on the tail, repeated the process.
5. At 1441-1/2 our combat wing started the turn onto land near the island of Borkonny. At this time, we had twenty-one ships on our group formation and our other two groups were in total or nearly complete strength. We crossed the coast at 1456 on course. Although the slight haze and a two-tenths undercast of low stratus were present, it was possible to determine our exact position by pilotage. Reception on GEE Navigational Equipment failed upon crossing the coast due to partially to jamming and lack of strength on transmission of the A marker. We approached Groningen on course and turned toward the Initial Point two miles to the left of course in an effort to clear the combat wing ahead of us.
6. On the approach to the I.P. it was observed that Emden, apparently remembering the two previous trips of the Eighth Air Force to that area, had sent up a dense smoke screen. Also it was noted by several members of the crew that FW 190’s, instead of devoting all their efforts on the Fortresses in a few cases turned on our escort, long range P47’s, and engaged them in combat. The escort apparently was ahead of us defending the lead combat wing of the air division.
7. The I.P. was reached at 1521. Earlier in this narrative I have classed this mission as “usual.” From this point on, that classification no longer holds true.
8. By now much of the ground haze had cleared away. My calculations had been proving accurate in my dead reckoning. But all these opportunities to check my navigation were unnecessary. Everyone on the crew knew that the intense black cloud ahead of us marked the vicinity of our target, the city of Bremen. I have been exposed to flak before. I remember that in all of those instances each little burst of “Flieger-abweher-knone” was a distinct mean-looking, little black ball. But now, over Bremen, each little ball had lost its individuality and the whole thing was now blended into a huge angry cloud. Too late I realized that our combat wing had been briefed to fly at an altitude too similar to that of the previous wing, for we sailed right into the midst of that cloud. I could just visualize the gunners on the ground checking back on their computations and sending up volleys using the same data. At any rate, two minutes before we hit the target our plane was hit by the first burst of flak. Our ball turret operator, Staff Sergeant William F. McClelland, announced in a calm voice that his turret had been struck, but not pierced, by a flak burst. From that time his turret operated in a jerky fashion.
9. Thirty seconds before the bombs were dropped a burst of flak hit our nose compartment shattering the window to the right of the bombardier’s head. One fragment struck the Bombardier, Lt. James R. Douglass, in the left side. It tore through his clothing and ripped his flak suit. Despite this distraction, Lt. Douglass continued the manipulation of his bomb sight and bombs away at 1525. Even accepting the fact that we had been hit by flak, annoyed by fighters, and had been searching for a target obscured by the typical smoke screen, our own and PRU photographs show that his bombs were dropped accurately and destructively.
10. A mere matter of seconds later, our Number Four engine was destroyed by flak, the control wires were shattered and the left elevator was ripped to shreds, plunging our plane into a sort of spinning dive, completely out of control. Just as in the previous paragraph I wished to emphasize the complete disregard of personal safety on the part of the bombardier as he concentrated on his job of destroying the target, I wish to emphasize a devotion to responsibility far beyond the call of duty in this instance on the part of three members of our crew, and later in this narrative to such actions on the part of the entire personnel of our crew. The situation was this: we were plunging down in a helpless, careening, dive. Flames were blazing from our Number Four engine. Our control surfaces were cut and torn. (I might add, parenthetically, that the 95th Group reported later that we were seen to fall into a flat spin, on fire, and that three parachutes were observed to open from our plane.) The normal reaction on the part of our pilots should have been to think of their own personal safety, of in case of extreme nobility of character perhaps they would have been thinking about the other members of the crew. But they did not, even in this crisis, forget for one minute that they were the leaders of a great formation. Their first thought was of the crews behind them. In unison, as we fell off into our dive, the words came over the interphone to our tail gunner “Signal the deputy leader to take over.” I can’t help but think that as they fought for their lives, they might have been excused for being too busy to think of their command, but such was not the case. By this signaling the remainder of the formation was notified immediately that we had been hit and were aborting. This act would have prevented any planes being pulled even a few feet out of position into danger from the enemy aircraft buzzing about. (It was the misfortune of the 100th Bomb Group that the deputy leader was destroyed at this time and so many of the flight leaders likewise that the group was left to do its best by tacking onto the 390th Group.) Back in the radio compartment our young radio operator knew what was going on. He knew he was in imminent danger of his life. But he also knew he had a duty to do. Consequently, he still remained at his position and radioed in to Wing Headquarters that “The target was bombed at 1525.”
11. For 3,000 feet Captain Blakely and Major Kidd fought to get that plane under control. It was only because of the superior construction of our bomber, and its perfect maintenance, plus the combination of two skilled pilots, that we ever even recovered from that dive, much less returned to our base. If I were an expert on stress and strain analysis, or a mechanic, or even a pilot, I would dwell at length on the manner in which the plane was restored to normal flying attitude. As it is, the procedure defies my description. But I am certain that it was a very great accomplishment.
12. At 19,000 feet we were thrown to the floor, shaken severely, but when we were able to look out the windows, we were temporarily assured to note that the ground was now in the right place. A hurried consultation was held over interphone to determine a plan for fighting our way back to England. The following facts had to be considered: we had lost all communication back of the top turret, so it was impossible to determine the extent of damage or injury. Our control wires were fraying as far back as the top turret operator could see. At least two of the crew members had reported being hit immediately after we left the target. One engine was in such bad condition that bits and finally all of the cowling were blasted off. We were losing altitude so rapidly probably because of the condition of the elevator that any but the shortest way back was beyond contemplation. So we headed across the face of Germany directly for home.
13. From this point till we crossed the coast at 1635 this narrative is necessarily lacking in details. I wish that I could have been in on the interphone communications which passed between the members in the rear of our ship. For one thing, I could have known the exact times in which we were subjected to tail attacks, and known the exact circumstances under which our gunners destroyed twelve for sure and possibly another enemy aircraft as the Luftwaffe continued its usual policy of singling out a lone aircraft and concentrating all attacks upon it. As it was, my lack of information and the fact that I was so busy getting us in the proper direction for home didn’t click with the information of our intelligence service and their RADAR control and we received credit for only the destruction of seven planes. But every member of the crew is positive of twelve.
We’ve always known we have a good crew. Back in 1942 when the 100th Bomb Group was formed, the first crew which served as the nucleus of the group was Lt. Blakely’s crew. It had been formed from selected material from three first phase schools. This condition caused the crew to suffer the stigma of being called the “model crew.” But Lt. Blakely kept them good. His conscientiousness caused them to get more flying hours in training than any other crew. They held several engineering records such as a flight for endurance and maximum performance which lasted for seventeen hours which drew them commendations from a general in the Second Air Force. I personally am a recent addition to the crew necessitated when their regular navigator was made group navigator. But with all of this, aside from being regular guys, and devoted to duty, and good at it, our gunners waited till that day to not only prove themselves but also to illustrate just how vitally important it is that all crew members must be tops at their job when that time comes.
14. As we ploughed across Germany with Captain Blakely and Major Kidd carefully nursing the loss of each precious foot of altitude and flying 120 miles an hour, we were subjected to the threat of innumerable attacks from enemy fighters. I will say that there were other straggling Fortresses who received a lot harsher treatment than we did that day. And I will also venture a reason for this fact. Ahead of us a lone B-17 was limping along. A flight of three Messerschmidts were harassing it darting in and out but not attacking it. Finally all three swooped in and fired for a long time at the bomber. The bomber didn’t go down but neither did any of the fighters. And those three small planes kept attacking that plane receiving no damage to themselves till finally the plane caught on fire. It was with a helpless feeling that we saw our last ally turn over, spin slightly, and then burst into a huge ball of flame. Now the victorious Germans turned on us. And now comes the reason that we were able to return. From that point on, there wasn’t one single attack made upon us that at least one enemy fighter wasn’t destroyed. I believe that Technical Sergeant Monroe B. Thorton got the first one. On this attack which came slightly from the right, Sgt. Thornton started firing when the fighter was about 800 yards away. About 300 yards the effect of his firing began to show and the propeller fell off. Lt. Douglass and I both saw the pilot jump… Thornton got a couple of others too. One of them was an ME110. It came at us high and from the right side. Another plane was flying with it in a stacked slightly echeloned position. Thorny says that it was firing at us before he was able to get his sights on either of them. The right engine of the fighter caught on fire and pieces flew off the left engine or wing. Our left waist gunner saw two occupants bail out and both chutes open… His third came very near to the Holland border.
15. Lt. Douglass got one. It was a JU88 that flipped around a long time before it came in on us. It came into about 300 yards and ended up in a vertical bank with its belly towards us. I saw almost the whole tail assembly shatter off before it fell into a spin. Smoke pouring from its rear as it went down.
16. Three minutes later another JU88 came at us from ten o’clock. I was positive that my shots were hitting the plane at its exposed belly but the plane did not go down. It made no more attacks.
17. Back in the tail, waist, and radio compartments, our gunners were paying a heavier price for their planes. About the time that we went over the target Lt. Via had reported that he was hit. We didn’t know whether he meant his compartment or himself. That hit was a serious flesh wound in his right leg. But this didn’t stop his shooting. As nearly as we can tell from his and his waist gunner’s reports, he destroyed his first for that day soon after Thorton hit his number one. Two ME 210s came in together after hovering for some time at 1,000 yards. Lt. Via picked out the second one and the left waist gunner and the radio gunner say it disintegrated in mid-air. His second claim was the partner of one that our top turret gunner destroyed. Thornton saw it blow up nearly five hundred yards out… Credit must be given to Lt. Via’s shooting but when another fact is considered, his performance can be called truly heroic. In between his first and second planes Lt. Via had had a projectile pass from the fat of his hip through his pelvis, severing his sciatic nerve, open several blood vessels and pass out his hip. Yet, even with this horrible injury, Lt. Via stuck to his position and didn’t come out till we had crossed the enemy coast.
18. I hope that mentioning them in any certain order won’t detract from the heroism of any of the gunners. S Sgt Lyle E. Nord was pretty busy scratching flak fragments out of his face, head, neck, and clothing, but he still managed to bring down a fighter from a difficult position. Two ME 210s came in stacked up from about 600 yards out. Nord took one of them and our left waist gunner the other. The plane side-slipped to the right, then blew up. Pieces of the fighter splattered against our plane.
19. I’ve saved the waist gunners till now. They each got two, but the price was great. S. Sgt Edward S. Yevich has a double compound fracture in his forearm and a deep gash in his leg. S. Sgt Lester W. Saunders fought a gallant fight against death but succumbed in a hospital bed one week after our return. Yevich had been seared across the back by flak fragments at the target so he had a grudge against the first fighter who approached from the left side. He got it going away and two members of the crew saw it explode in midair. Saunders, at the other waist window, had his first fighter by now, too. (It was an ME210). Almost immediately after Yevich’s first went down, a 20-millimeter shell tore through the left waist window into the pit of Sgt Saunders’ stomach and hurled him back against the other side of the plane. I believe it was the same shell which hit Yevich’s gun and ricocheted into his arm. Yet in this gravely wounded condition, both of those gunners actually retained their positions and each one of them later knocked out another fighter.
20. After his first remark, we hadn’t heard much from S. Sgt. William F. McClelland. It wasn’t till shortly before our crash landing that I learned why. He had destroyed two aircraft with his damaged turret before he himself was hit. The first flak that hit him tore deep into his scalp. But he kept at his position. Later another burst, or perhaps an exploding twenty-millimeter scraped his face and made shreds of his oxygen mask, headset, and clothing. He also received an injection of flak in his leg. When the last volley rendered his turret useless – the door was blown clear off – he climbed out into the radio compartment. As we crossed the Dutch coast another burst of flak hit the flak suit on which he was lying and threw him into a bloody heap.
21. All this time the pilots had been busy piloting and I was occupied with navigating. The terrain was distinctive so it wasn’t hard staying on the course we had selected. I did try to use the GEE box and I am positive I would have had a fix at 8,000 feet over the German-Holland border, but some sort of projectile came through the floor and shattered the cathode tube. The radio, along with most of the electrical equipment, was long since non-functional. We crossed Germany and Holland on a line thirty miles north of Lingein, Ommen, and Zwolle. We evaded all known flak areas and large towns. I remember a feeling of futility I experienced once when explosions burst in and around our compartment. I was so certain that I was safe from flak area yet here it was all around us. I yelled out over the interphone for someone to tell me where the flak was coming from. The bombardier told me that those explosions [were] from twenty-millimeter shells. I didn’t feel any better. I remember another instance when the bombardier turned around and looked at me. Two holes appeared on each side of compartment and cotton batting sifted down as a bullet went between us.
22. Finally at 1620 we hot the Zuider Zee. We realized our predicament was still acute but just the same, that water looked good to us all. To avoid known fighter fields we turned to a course of 340-degrees to cross out over the West Frisian Islands. I was uncomfortably aware that a few weeks ago a big formation on a practice mission [was] attacked by enemy fighters at precisely that point.
23. I hadn’t even considered the coastal batteries. At our usual altitude they didn’t bother us at all. But at 7,000 feet, flying at 120 miles per hour, even pop guns would have been a menace. They threw everything at us. Whole acres of some sort of light guns flashed up at our ship. Tracers from machine guns laced all around us. In credit to their gunnery, we can say that we were hit plenty. Our number three engine now was non-existent. The whole situation was a series of cracking noises much like the closing of a book as volley after volley hit their target. Captain Blakely and Major Kidd were risking everything in some last evasive action. One of them would see flak on one side and jerk the plane on one heading. The other would spot some on his side and back we would go. Their efforts were effective, though, because we got through their last defenses.
24. We had survived everything that the Germans could send up at us but there was still one thing to consider – gravity. Crossing the coast had cost and we were now at 3,990 feet and sinking rapidly. Major Kidd asked for a heading to the closest part of England and I gave it to him.
25. My ETA ran out and then some. As I checked back over my figures I glanced at my airspeed indicator and thought it looked suspiciously immobile. It was then that I learned from a consultation with the pilot that we were making only 120 miles an hour instead of 150 as I had believed. I hurriedly redid my calculations and gave a correction in our heading. But I knew that we were a long way from home.
26. Ditching seemed the next answer. Lt. Douglass went back to make the preparations. Two minutes later he was back with the news that we couldn’t ditch, that our crew members were in too bad condition to endure the movements ditching would cause. Moreover, our dinghy compartment was shreds and at least one of them was in ribbons. That was the first that we in the front had learned of the severity of the situation back in the rear of the plane. Our next out was to lighten the load of the plane. We threw everything away. Our guns went first and the ammunition with them. I threw away my flying equipment, my GEE box, my radio, anything with even an ounce of weight. Now comes an amazing fact: although our airspeed still remained at 115-120 miles per hour, a very small number of miles above stalling speed of our plane, Captain Blakely not only managed to keep the plane even but actually gained three hundred feet of altitude.
27. England seemed so far away. The ship was listing in such an attitude that our floating aperiodic compasses stuck on the side. I figured where the sun should hit the plexiglass front of the plane, and called the pilot to correct him every time the sun went someplace else.
28. We hit England at 52 47’ N.; 01 37’ E. By now our gas problem was serious. The very first airport sighted, at Ludham, seemed large enough and occupied, so we prepared for a crash landing.
29. Most of us ganged up in the radio compartment. Sgt Saunders walked unaided to the radio compartment and smiled at us as we bustled about. I didn’t dream how seriously he was injured because he kept cheering us up with his motions… And Sgt McClelland! When he noticed in his dazed condition that excitement was about, he thought we were again being attacked so he tried to crawl to his turret to help ward off the fighters he thought were present. It was almost impossible to stop him.
30. I do not intend to omit the conduct of T Sgt Edmund G. Forkner. He has always seemed young and perhaps excitable but he was all there on this trip. He had completely stopped the flow of blood from all wounds, he had disinfected all injuries. He had calmed his patients with morphine. He had them all covered with blankets to lessen the shock of the approaching landing and the mental shock of their pain. He had encouraged them all during the crossing. Moreover, even though his key had been shot away he still managed to send out distress signals by pounding his finger on his throat mike!
31. Thorton cradled Lt. Via with his body in the waist, since the latter’s condition prevented his being moved. The rest of us cushioned ourselves as best we could for a landing we knew was going to be rough.
32. And it was. The tail wheel hadn’t come down. The brakes were gone. One elevator was useless. Nothing worked properly at all, even the hydraulic system failed. And to add to it all, just as we hit the ground the frayed cables to the rudder snapped. From then on, even the pilots were just riding.
33. On the entire field there were two big trees together and the plane now completely beyond control veered toward them. The largest one was hit while the plane was going about 50 miles per hour. Luckily, it passed between the number two engine and the pilot’s compartment so we were swung around instead of being jerked to a halt. Nevertheless, the nose compartment was completely destroyed.
34. But we were on the ground. Even the triumph of this was negated when we learned that we had picked an unused field. The planes we had seen on the perimeters were dummies. And medical aid was still two hours away. We did everything we could. Aid was summoned immediately. The rockets we had fired had been seen from Coltishall so it wasn’t long till some RAF medical officers arrived. We are extremely grateful to F/Lt. Nolan of the Coltishall RAF Base for his medical care. Two ambulances arrived and our four wounded men, all busily engaged in cheering each other up, were loaded into them and soon were under expert medical care at the Norwich and Norfolk General Hospital.
35. I hope I haven’t omitted any of the details. I know I haven’t recreated any of the actualities.
36. It is my understanding that this narrative will be read, edited, and corrected by Major Kidd, and all members of the crew before it is accepted as the true log of this, our Mission to Bremen.
HARRY H. CROSBY, 1st Lt A C, Lead Navigator
