WWII
STORY: THIS IS IT !
World
war 2 B-17 bomber follow the story of this world war 2
B-17 crew, as told by a man who was there
Foreword: The attached letters were written to
my sons, Richard and Bob, and to two of my grandchildren,
Brant and Margaret Jane, now in college. I wrote the
first one fifty years from the day
I flew across the North Atlantic Ocean, and about the
same day Brant started another year at Auburn University.
The children and others seem to enjoy the letters, and I
enjoy writing them.
All I write is from
memory, notes I made at the time of the event, and
talking to David Hutchens and Hilbert Braun, the tail
gunner who saw a lot from another view. I remember a lot
dimly and some vividly. I shall never forget the short
interval of time when four Me-110's were on our tail just out
of 50 caliber machine gun range. They were firing rockets
at us, and had done significant damage to our plane.
Another one or two hits would have finished us when Lt.
Walker Mahurin, in a P-47, came diving out of the sun and
in one pass flamed all four German planes. Or watching
the total destruction of another Bomb Group flying next
to us, and wondering if the wulfs would turn on us next.
Bill Goodman
July 28, 1993
About fifty years ago, I
was at an Air Force base at Gander, Newfoundland, waiting
for favorable weather to fly to England. We had picked up
a new B-17 at Salina, Kansas, and had flown it here. We
also picked up a Major Fred Key. Key Field in Meridian,
Mississippi, is named for him and his brother Al for
their aviation exploits. Al was later Mayor of Meridian,
and Fred was an outstanding pilot and leader. Salina was
a modification center and had the largest hangars I had
ever seen. They were installing two forward firing fifty
caliber machine guns in the nose of all new B-17's. We
picked up a new, modified B-17 here to fly back to
Walla-Walla and then to England
Departing Salina and
heading for Walla-Walla, Washington, we ran into a front
that we could not go by , over, or through, and we had to
make an instrument approach and land at Boise, Idaho.
This was the first precision instrument approach and
landing David had ever made, and we hit the high cone,
turned to the outbound leg and descended to 2000 feet
above ground level. We made a 180 degree turn and hit the
low cone at 1200 feet. with gear and flaps down with
power set for takeoff, We descended through the cloud
until-There was the runway directly ahead for an easy
landing. The next morning David went by himself to
Operations to file a flight plan but he had never done
one. However, a young lady took his arm and said "
Can I help you?" He turned around, and it was a
friend who had taught him to fly a Piper Cub before the
war and who was now a ferry pilot for the Air Corps. She
helped him fill out the forms, and after refueling, we
departed for Walla-Walla. After picking up our luggage we
departed for Gander, Newfoundland.
Gander was cool after the
heat of Kansas. We had no recreation-- this was a place
to refuel and wait. We needed a tailwind, no icing in
route, and good weather in England. We planned the trip
to fly the great circle route, take off at dusk, and land
at Prestwick, Scotland, early in the morning. Prestwick
was pretty much out of the combat zone, and we didn't
want to face combat with German fighter planes at this
time in our experience. We departed Gander at dusk with
the setting sun behind us on a heading of 60 degrees
true. We were near the magnetic pole, and the compass
spun erratically. The tailwind was not there as forecast,
and we were flying in clouds at 12000 feet. As the night
quickly darkened, we began to pick up light icing on the
airfoil surfaces and the propellers. It was probably
warmer at a higher altitude, and we began a climb to a
higher altitude. The icing increased, and the de-icer
boots on the wings broke off large chunks of ice which
made a loud noise when they hit the tail surfaces.
However, the propeller deicing equipment cleaned the
props real good. Finally, at 15,000 feet, we flew into
warmer air. So much for weather forecasts. We still had a
problem, and a serious one. Because of the clouds we had
not been able to secure a position fix by the stars- a
three star fix. We should have been following a homing
beacon, but it was being jammed by the Germans. We flew
on. In the cockpit no one was sleeping. The engines
droned on. There was an occasional noise which worried
everyone. We continued to transfer fuel from the
auxiliary tanks to the main tanks. Suddenly, POW! WE WERE
IN THE STARS! A quick read of three stars, a plot of the
three stars, and we knew where we were. A ten degree
course correction right, and we are headed for Donegal
Bay.
September 30,1993
We made landfall at
Donegal Bay, Ireland, just as the first glimmer of dawn
began. The day was July 27, 1943. We changed course to
head to Prestwick, Scotland, where we would land. As we
crossed Northern Ireland, a distance of about 120 miles,
the sun rose, and I was astonished by the beauty of the
countryside with the deep green of the fields and the
deep blue of the many lakes. Ireland and Newfoundland are
in the same latitude. Newfoundland is arctic in nature,
but Ireland is temperate because of the warming effect of
the Gulf Stream. We then crossed the Irish Sea, and hit
the downwind leg of the traffic pattern (good
navigating).
Prestwick was untouched by
war. If we had landed further south, we could have been
interdicted by an enemy fighter, and we were not ready
for combat at this time of our training and experience.
We were 10.5 hours from Gander. We spent the night in a
classic English hotel-- red brick, immaculate, chamber
maids in uniform, scullery maid (beautiful) scrubbing the
front steps, white tablecloths-china-crystal-silver in
the dining room. It was cold, and I was cold. The next
day we traveled to London by train. The engine was a real
chufferbelly, puffing giant clouds of black smoke and
small clouds of spewing white steam. A slow train is a
wonderful way to see rural and small town England. I
think every house and barn had a thatched roof, and half
the wagons were pulled by oxen. The passenger cars were
divided into rooms, each seating about eight people, with
doors for exit from each room to the station.
We stopped many times, and
I exited at one station for a cup of hot tea. I was
interested in the pastries-called pasties- small round
fried pies obviously containing apples or some other
fruit. I purchased tea and pie. The tea was wonderful,
but when I took a bite of the pie, I could not eat it- it
was a kidney pie. Never buy a kidney pie.
The trip to London took
twelve hours and we hunted for a hotel room to spend the
night but we had no luck so we changed to the subway,
then to another train, arriving at Ridgewell at midnight.
We were at our home in England, and I had seen many
things for the first time.
(this
story is and remains the sole property of the author. It
is presented here with with his gracious permission. All
rights are retained by same)
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