The Wild Blue: The Men and Boys Who Flew the B-24s Over Germany 1944-1945 (24 page)

On this mission, as on all the others, the ground crew noted that Lieutenant McGovern brought back theDakota Queen with more gasoline in his tanks than all the other pilots. In the ground crew’s opinion, this was the mark of his flying ability. Ken Higgins remarked, “I don’t know how you describe a good pilot. I do know George, though, and as far as I was concerned, he was the best. Because he always got us back on the ground.” Another member of McGovern’s crew said, “If he ever panicked, I never knew about it. Whatever happened, that sort of nasal twang of his came over the intercom as clear and flat as it was on the ground.”16 Valko disliked Seigal. He went to McGovern to ask him to get Seigal transferred out. McGovern put it up to the other enlisted men. “I decided they had to live with him,” McGovern said, “so it was up to them to decide.” The vote was four to one to drop Seigal. McGovern had him replaced with a tail gunner from another crew, Sgt. John B. Mills. Mills was tall and he had to hunch up a bit to get into position, but he liked being back there in the tail. In February and March, McGovern would sometimes tell him to get out of the cramped quarters when theDakota Queen was halfway back to base. “We’re not going to see any fighter planes today,” McGovern said, “so come on up and stretch out a bit.” But Mills would be asleep. One good thing, according to McGovern: “He didn’t get sick.” On one mission, with Sam Adams gone, McGovern had a substitute navigator-bombardier. Weather forced his squadron to abort. The lead pilot said to jettison the bomb load. The standard procedure was to drop the bombs either over the Adriatic or an unpopulated area. Sgt. Tex Ashlock was watching the ground through the camera hatch when the bombardier let the bombs drop. They fell on a farmhouse. It disappeared in a rolling cloud of smoke. In Ashlock’s mind it was murder, pure and simple.

When theDakota Queen got back on the ground, Ashlock grabbed the bombardier.  “Listen, you son of a bitch,” he yelled. “I saw what you did. I’m not going to have anything to do with you again. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a disgrace to humanity.”

When McGovern got out of the plane, Ashlock went to him to report on what had happened. McGovern asked, “There isn’t any doubt in your mind it was deliberate?”

“How could it not have been?” Ashlock replied.

McGovern thought for a few minutes, then said, “You know, if we bring charges, it’s going to be your word against his - an enlisted man against an officer.  It’s going to be hard to make it stick without any other evidence of witnesses.”

McGovern let that hang, then added, “I’ll tell you one thing, though. We aren’t

going to fly with that guy again.” And they didn’t.17

For the 455th Group, according to its historical account,Flight of the Vulgar

Vultures, “January was our least productive month to date.” Fewest missions

flown - seven in all - putting 168 bombers over targets, dropping a total of

200,035 tons of bombs. That was the lowest total since February 1944. The group

could only hope for an improvement in the weather.18

CHAPTER NINE - The Tuskegee Airmen Fly Cover

February 1945

FEBRUARY BEGAN WITH MARGINAL WEATHER. Then it got worse. The first mission for the 741st Squadron, on the first of the month, had as its target the oil refinery at Moosbierbaum, Austria, but the weather was so bad en route and at the target that the group leader decided not to bomb. All planes returned to base.

Oil refineries and the marshaling yards in Austria and Germany were the primary targets that month. On February 5, McGovern flew to bomb the oil storage facilities at Regensburg, Germany. Clouds covered the target but the squadron dropped its bombs, using the pathfinder method of following the actions of the lead plane. The results were unobserved because of the clouds. No one in the squadron was lost. Two days later, on another mission to Moosbierbaum, the flight leader’s bombsight was inoperative so no bombs were dropped. The bombardiers dropped the bombs over water, then the planes returned safely.  On February 8, twenty-four B-24s hit the Matzleindorf marshaling yards at Vienna. The clouds covered the target, but the Americans dropped fifty-four tons of 500-pound bombs, again using the pathfinder method. The flak was intense but all the bombers made it through. However, one B-24 with the group’s markings took a position off the number two man in one of the boxes. It was a plane that had been forced down, then repaired by the Germans. It shadowed the squadron, radioing down to the gunners on the 88s the altitude, direction, and speed of the squadron, which was a practice, that while not frequent, was used whenever the Germans had the opportunity. The lead pilot realized what was happening and told every gunner in the squadron to train on the German-manned B-24. As the gunners did so, the aircraft’s pilot saw what was happening. He made a 180-degree turn and got out of there.1 By February 1945, the defensive capabilities of the Luftwaffe were almost nonexistent. The Germans had little or no fuel left for training pilots, and their ME 109s had just about been blown out of the air. What fighters were left had few runways available. For his part, McGovern never saw a German fighter attack theDakota Queen. Flak, of course, was another matter altogether.  Following the Battle of the Bulge, as the Allies moved up to the Rhine and prepared to cross the river, the Red Army was headed toward Berlin and Vienna.  The shrinkage of the front lines forced the Germans to pull back. The American, British, and Russian air assaults on Germany were increasing in number of bombers flown and damage done. So the Germans concentrated their 88s around their cities, to defend their few remaining oil refineries and most of all their marshaling yards. That meant that even as the Allies were winning, their bombers were flying through ever heavier flak concentrations.  And the Germans had developed a jet-propelled fighter, the ME 262, the fastest fighter in the world. Their problem was a shortage of fuel and trained pilots and airfields. Had the ME 262 been developed earlier it could have been a war-winning weapon, but it was not. When a group of the jets attacked an Eighth Air Force formation, it was havoc for the Americans, as the jets were three times faster than the American bombers. But that didn’t happen very often. There were not enough of them.

One reason for the shortage was the sustained Fifteenth Air Force attack against factories making jets and against the airfields where they underwent final assembly. Altogether the Germans built 1,400 jets, but only a small percentage of them got into the air. The Regensburg airfield was one of their bases. A photo reconnaissance by the Fifteenth Air Force on February 8, 1945, showed 48 ME 262s on the ground. The Fifteenth mounted missions to hit them on the field.  The 455th, and its 741st Squadron, participated in the February attacks. The group destroyed twelve ME 262s and damaged four others. Other participants put more jets out of action. This proved to be a knockout blow. Individuals or small groups of jets continued to be seen, but no squadronsized formations.2 Indeed, as the official Army Air Forces history put it, “The few prize jet aircraft that appeared . . . offered little opposition but hopped almost comically from one airfield to another or to the emptyAutobahnen behind German lines.”3 Pilot Lt. Glenn Rendahl, in the 514th Squadron, 376th Bomb Group, flying out of San Pancrazio, Italy, near Taranto Bay, was attacked by ME 262s. In February 1945, he was on a mission to Austria when he had “runaway turbo” problems. He was over the Adriatic. “The cure for the turbos,” he related, “was to move a good amplifier, after locking in its setting, from the slot for that engine into a slot in need of boost, then set and lock the desired setting there.” He did so, but by the time he had fixed the problem he had lost 5,000 feet of altitude and some speed. His formation was out of sight. “We could never catch them, so we would just have to look for and join with another formation.” As Rendahl gained enough power to start climbing again, “I took a look back over my left shoulder - just as you would before you pull a car out of a parking place.” As he did, “Oops!” He saw “two German jet fighters with black swastikas on their sides sweeping in from our left and I saw their tracer bullets already coming into our plane.”

It was a favorite strategy for the German fighter pilots to catch stragglers flying alone. It was often an easy kill. Rendahl called over the intercom, “Jerry’s at seven o’clock level, when are you guys going to start shooting back?” The upper turret gunner called back, “Hold your fire, here comes three of our P-51 escorts from high overhead.” With the P-51s coming at them, the Germans turned and ran, then dove for the ground of northern Yugoslavia just to the east. The three P-51 escorts stayed right on their tails until they all went out of sight. Rendahl managed to hook up with another formation “and added our bombing strength to their mission in what we regarded as a very useful contribution.”

Later, Rendahl praised the P-51 pilots: “If we had not had an escort trio watching us from above, and timely enough to be there quite soon after the shooting started, we would have surely been subdued by two of the Nazis’ latest jet fighters doing what they specialized in. Without the intervention of our escorts and their willingness to risk their lives for those of us whom they had never met, we would have been most fortunate to end up in the Adriatic Sea below us. Or we might have stretched it to Trieste, which was then German-occupied.

Most likely, some of our crew would be lost either way.”4

The P-51 pilots were African-Americans of the 99th Fighter Squadron, Fifth Air Force, flying out of Terni, north of Rome. They were called the Tuskegee Airmen and they were justly famous. The men of the bombers seldom saw them, because they stayed up high to watch over the formations. As Rendahl put it, “When you needed them they came, and with a full head of steam.” He called the performance of the Tuskegee Airmen “exemplary.” He felt that “their vigilant watch over us that day saved ten of us from a potential tragedy. We, plus all our families, will forever be grateful to them.” He added, “The important thing is that when our nation goes to war, real patriotism has only one race. You are either American or you are not. There are those who want to kill you, and then there are those who want to save your life. It is that simple, and undeniable.”5 Pepin of the 741st Squadron spoke for many. “It was a favorable day for us when we caught escort protection from the men from the 99th Fighter Squadron. Because of the P-51’s long-range capabilities, they were able to escort us to and from most of the targets. It was quite a vision to observe these great pilots engage the German jets and prevent them from attacking us. We would watch them as they dispersed the enemy with their superior skills. They never let the Germans get close enough for our gunners to fire at the enemy.” Unfortunately, Pepin added, “they could give us no protection from the flak; we just had to plow through and pray a good deal.”

The U.S. Army in World War II was a segregated force. In Pepin’s words it was “still practicing discrimination. But those P-51 Negro fighter pilots did not discriminate.” Once late that winter Pepin was in Foggia when he and his buddies met some of the 99th Fighter Squadron pilots. “We showered them with our thanks and respect. The drinks were on us.”6 The men of Tuskegee admired the B-24 pilots and crews without stint. Lieutenant Edward Gleed said, “We didn’t want any part of that flak” the bombers flew through. “It was a horrendous sight to see six B-24 Liberators with all that flak starting to come up and - bang - there’s only five airplanes left and one big ball of smoke.” Lieutenant Herb Sheppard said his most vivid memory of the war was “the sight of bombers being hit by an 88 and the bombs going off - a big red eruption with black smoke going by you.” Lieutenant Jefferson recalled, “Planes fell in flames, planes fell not in flames, an occasional one pulled out and crash-landed, sometimes successfully, sometimes they blew up. Men fell in flames, men fell in parachutes, some candlesticked [when their parachutes didn’t open]. Pieces of men dropped through the hole, pieces of planes.” The Tuskegee Airmen prayed and wept. “Have you any idea of what it’s like to vomit in an oxygen mask?” According to Jefferson, “These bomber guys had seen the inside of hell.”

The African-American pilots loved their P-51s. Lt. Woody Crockett called the plane “a dream. It could climb, turn, and fight at low level and at high altitude.” The Mustang carried six .50-caliber machine guns, three in each wing.  Lt. Lou Purnell said, “If that plane had been a girl, I’d have married it right on the spot. Damn right! It was like dancing with a good partner.” They painted their tails bright red. Lt. Herbert Carter explained, “We wanted the American bombers to know we were escorting them. The red tails would also let the German interceptors know who was escorting those bombers.” Their task was to protect. Their orders were to stay with the bombers, whatever happened. “Protect them with your life” was the saying. They flew about 5,000 feet above the bombers, meaning they flew at 30,000 feet or even above.  Lieutenant Sheppard felt “the extra five thousand feet gave us an edge if we had to ward off attack. If you have speed, you can get altitude, and if you have altitude, you can get speed. That P-51 really accelerated when you put its nose down. Man, altitude just disappeared like smoke in the wind.”7 On a February mission, McGovern heard in his briefing that the 99th would fly as escorts. After dropping the bombs and turning for home, he looked out the window and saw German jets looming in the distance. “Our group leader tried to establish radio contact with our fighter escorts,” McGovern said, “but couldn’t.  There was some pretty harsh language on the air, questions about where the ‘blasted niggers’ were. Just then, the squadron commander of the black pilots broke in and said, ‘Why don’t you all shut up, white boys? We’re all going to take you home.’ And they did. They drove off the enemy fighters.”8 Ken Higgins looked out and saw the P-51s flying at the side of theDakota Queen.  The black pilot saw the camera in the camera hatch and called up on the radio, “Is that a camera in there?” Higgins said yes, and the pilot said, “How about taking my picture?” Higgins did.

Over the radio, he heard some fighter pilots talking: “Red Tail One to Red Tail Two. Is that you behind me?” Another voice: “Who that?” And the first voice: