To Kingdom Come (42 page)

Over the interphone I said to Cal, “There are too goddamn many of them. I don’t like it.”

As is customary the navigator kept the crew informed of our exact position to aid in escape procedure, should we be shot down, and he now informed us that we were just flying over a fringe of land on the Dutch Coast. Almost immediately I saw five ME-109s diving toward us out of the sun. All gunners were alerted and tracked the approaching aircraft, holding their fire until they were in range. We had little to worry about with this first attack as our friendly fighters had also observed them and were right on their tails giving them so much difficulty that they were never able to press home their attacks. Our entire friendly cover was drawn off behind these five aircraft, and almost immediately engaged by another large force of enemy fighters from the south. This was the last I saw of any effective fighter support.

As we drove toward the heart of Germany at 300 miles an hour, I began to feel mighty lonesome, and searched vainly in all directions for a converging force of friendly fighters. I called Fighter Control and told them that I was without support and asked for aid, but was never able to ascertain whether my message had been received.

Five minutes later I could see large numbers of small black objects rising on both sides of the formation and flying parallel of our course. It was not necessary for them to get close enough for positive identification—I knew them to be Huns, as they soon proved themselves. From this time on action became so violent and combat so exciting that it is difficult to tell a cohesive story. The enemy aircraft continued to climb and pull ahead of us until there were two columns of pursuit ships of approximately twenty-five each, strung out just outside of machine-gun range. Drawing ahead of us four or five miles the ends of the columns turned in 90 degrees across our course, peeled off in elements of five, which flew in abreast wing tip to wing tip head-on to our formation; successive waves of fighters being so close that when our gunners fired at the first wave, the next two waves would get through unmolested. Every gun in the formation was firing continuously. As the waves of fighters would dive toward me, my eyes would be fastened to the leading edge of their wings, waiting for the first burst of 20-millimeter fire. Suddenly the entire wing would burst into flame as all of their guns bore upon us. 20-millimeters would leave a chain of white doughnuts hanging suspended in the air, and within a matter of split seconds after the firing had started, the pursuit ships would be to and through the formation. These first attacks were made with no effort whatsoever at evasion. They flew into the B-17 formation, firing as they came. Such suicidal attacks effectively driven home are sure to obtain results.

Both our aircraft and the enemy’s were going down in great numbers. Normally the tail gunner reports losses, gives the position and time that B-17s are shot down, but the action was too fast and everyone was too busy. One of my wing ships was seen to burst into flames [2Lt Henry J. Eich, 1 KIA 9 POW]. He dove away from the formation and almost immediately exploded—a blind flash of red flame and smoke. Nothing could be seen of debris and only a black cloud hung temporarily in the air to mark where the ship had been. Fighters could be seen spinning earthwards and portions of wings, segments of their control surfaces, and miscellaneous gear flew off as they attain greater speed and plummet to the ground. There seemed to be no end to the Hun fighters and as we shot them down, others rose and took their place.

Not once did the intense attacks let up or dwindle. Most that I observed came from head-on, but it was obvious that we were under attack from all directions as no gunner ceased firing. The Hun had decided that we were going to Berlin as our course was straight for this important target, and he had airborne every available aircraft in the Reich. Among the ships attacking us were not only ME-109s and Focke-Wulfs, but also night fighters and other twin-engine aircraft.

I was heartsick and yet proud as I saw the terrific pounding my boys were taking and the valor and determination they exhibited as they closed their dwindling formation, flew even closer, and fought their way on to their target.

Repeatedly we were under fire from antiaircraft batteries on the ground as we passed principal cities in Germany, but compared to the fighter action, this flak was of no interest and caused us not even enough alarm to record or remember its position or accuracy.

While still under attack I made a rapid survey of the remaining aircraft in my lead wing. I called “Cowboy Baker,” my Low Group Leader, and asked him how he was doing. He answered that he only had five aircraft left of his original eighteen, and since the Low Squadron of the Lead Group had been entirely wiped out, he moved what was left of his group into the position originally held by my low squadron.

Just then my attention was distracted by my second wing ship being shot down [2Lt William A. Purcell, 10 KIA]; this position being immediately filled by another aircraft in formation [2Lt Vern L. Moncur]. Diving toward me now was another formation of Fws. One of these seemed determined on knocking us out by collision. Cal rolled our aircraft to the left in almost a vertical bank and the FW shimmed over our wing, missing us by so little that the distance was impossible to estimate. My top turret gunner without thinking yelled over the interphone, “That was too goddamned close.” As we rolled back to the horizontal, I perceived a huge hole in my right wing where a 20-millimeter had passed through, but it appeared to have missed the gas tank.

Losses by both the enemy and ourselves had now reached such proportions that the fighting was either becoming less violent or we were becoming immune. Long before this I had decided that this was one mission from which I would never return. Our opposition had been such and our losses so great that survival seemed impossible. Never has the 8th Air Force been turned back from a target by enemy opposition, and not one of my boys was willing to let this be such an occasion.

Combat had become so violent and we so occupied that no contact had been made with succeeding units to determine how they were faring for a period of over an hour and a half.

We were now within 10 or 15 minutes of our I.P., where we would turn on course toward the target. The radio operator contacted me by interphone and told me that the Division had scrubbed the mission for many of the Combat Wings due to weather conditions at their targets. Though we had received no instructions, I was left with the decision as to whether to proceed on to the target or return to our bases with the main force. I fully realized that should I proceed I would become the sole target of all that remained of the Luftwaffe and their undivided attention would almost certainly wipe out what was left of my force. Visibility was excellent and it appeared that the target would be visual. I felt that our losses had been so great that success of the main mission must be accomplished. I informed the Combat Wing and my crew that we would continue and attack as briefed.

Turning from the I.P. toward the target we observed one lone P-51 diving into the midst of our attacking enemy and fight with glorious disregard to his own safety and determination to break up their murderous attacks upon us. As he rolled and dove through their formation with all his guns blazing, we saw him shoot down successively five enemy aircraft, and though he could never hear our encouragements, cheers went up from every American in formation. Out of ammunition and nearly out of gas, this lone fighter finally had to leave us and return to his base with our prayers and hopes for his safety. He made it and later each of us had the opportunity to extend our personal thanks for his brave assistance.

On our bombing run we stopped all evasive action. The bomb bay doors were open, the interphone was turned over to the bombardier and navigator, and no more fighter attacks were called. A red flare was fired to announce the approach of the target and caution the Wing Men to close up into a tight bombing formation. Ahead lay the town of Oschersleben. On its outskirts was a compact, distinctly marked factory area, the goal which we had come so far and fought so hard to reach. A juicy target presented itself just before we reached Oschersleben, for underneath us was a large enemy airdrome with aircraft of many descriptions, but we would not be distracted from our main goal. With our reduced numbers not one bomb could be spared from the main target.

Enemy attacks had never ceased, but now our goal was so close attention was concentrated on its success and all of our opposition that was made to the fighters must be made by the gunners alone, as no evasion was possible. Slowly over the interphone came the voice of the bombardier, “Three Minutes to go, Two Minutes, One Minute, Bombs Away!” As much as we wanted to turn and proceed toward home, evading enemy fire, we held our course and heading momentarily until we were assured that all bombs had departed toward the target.

I watched the open bellies of my wing ships as the 500-pounders dropped in close succession and descended as rapidly disappearing black dots toward the target. We turned toward home, and looking back I could see the entire factory suddenly burst into a huge cloud of dirty black smoke which blossomed upwards for 5,000 feet and then mushroomed out to a white edge cloud with a dark center. Our destruction could be seen when we were a hundred miles on our way toward home. Opposition still continued, but by this time it was spasmodic and by single aircraft instead of large formations. Occasionally a B-17, which could no longer struggle on toward home due to the punishment which it had received, would drop down and descend earthwards.

We were far from being safe yet, but after what we had gone through and the success we had obtained, we felt elated and justifiably proud.

I sent a WT Message to the Division reporting the target bombed visually with excellent results. A quick survey was made to determine the number of aircraft still with me, their condition, and the ability of the stragglers to keep up. Four ships could be seen with feathered props. Many were having difficulties in conserving what gasoline was left to get home. Despite my reluctance to remain over Germany any longer than necessary, I reduced power, slowed down the formation to keep it compact, and started a gradual let down as we again approached the North Sea. Once over the channel we felt relatively safe, for the Hun has repeatedly shown himself to be a coward when fighting over water.

Our let down continued and at 10,000 feet we yanked off our oxygen masks, grinned at each other and shook hands with a heartfelt warmth, and lighted cigarettes.

At the English Coast the setting sun had turned west into a glorious mass of color shading from the pale pinks to the deeper reds, purples and blues, as though to welcome us home safely to a green peaceful countryside which lay beneath us and seemed well worth fighting for.

Oschersleben might be classed as just one of many such battles fought by the 8th Air Force, but there was something a little special about this mission. It was the turning point in the battle between our forces and the Focke-Wulf. Up to that time, if anything, the Germans actually had a slight edge on our fighters, but never again after January 11 was he able to put up large opposition to any of our missions.

Our route across Germany into the target and back was well marked with tragic reminders of the conflict. It was a steady and unbroken trail of crashed airplanes, white parachutes, and dead soldiers, both from our forces and the Germans.

Once and for all we proved that the American lad has the guts and the determination to reach his goal, regardless of the opposition; and the spirit exemplified on January 11th at Oschersleben is the same spirit which will win this war and keep America victorious so long as she keeps the principles of our free land high like a torch and our flag unfurled.

(General Travis’s letter appears courtesy of Gary Moncur. It was first published by the 303rd Bomb Group Association.)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The principal source of inspiration for
To Kingdom Come
was my friend Martin “Andy” Andrews. I first met Andy when I was a college student looking for a summer job. By then, he was an accomplished independent filmmaker. After he hired me as his gofer, we spent many hours together traveling from one film location to another.

Over that summer, I learned that he had been a B-17 pilot during World War II, and had flown some of the Eighth Air Force’s most harrowing missions in 1943 with the famed 306th Bomb Group, the unit that served as the model for the book and motion picture film
Twelve O’Clock High
. While always self-deprecating about his own accomplishments, Andy’s stories about the bravery of his fellow pilots and crew members instilled a sense of awe in me. Andy became an important role model in my life.

In the course of researching
To Kingdom Come
, I had an opportunity to travel across the country to meet the pilots and crew members whose stories I hoped to tell. Researching and writing this book has been one of the most rewarding professional experiences of my life.

The men whose stories are in this book were not unique. There were tens of thousands of young Americans just like them who put their lives on the line flying the early deep-penetration raids into Germany when the Luftwaffe fighter command was at its peak strength.

It was my goal in this book to ennoble their sacrifice by focusing on a small group of men who flew one of the many tough missions. Through their eyes, I thought, the reader would have a chance to understand what it might have been like for many of the airmen in those perilous times.

In order to tell this story, I reviewed more than twenty-five hundred pages of official documents specifically related to the Stuttgart mission. A compendium of the military sources I found is catalogued in the bibliography section of this book. Studying these documents, along with the cables and communications of the senior commanders before and after the battle, enabled me to develop a reasonable understanding of why this mission was ordered, what happened during the course of the battle, the results of the mission, and the impact of those results on the prosecution of the air war against Germany.