THE STORY OF A TYPICAL MISSION (cont'd)
The I.P. (initial point ) is ahead and you get ready for your run. The gunners are now throwing out the "chaff" (strips of aluminum that will slowly fall to the ground and hopefully interfere with the radar on the flak batteries below ) and also searching the sky for any enemy fighters. As you turn on to the target, your bomb bay doors are opened and you wait and watch the lead ship. The lead bombardier is now sighting on the target and his bombsight has complete control of the plane. Any correction he makes in the bombsight automatically maneuvers the plane and all the pilots try to keep a tight formation. Flak is getting thicker now and no way to avoid it. The sky ahead is getting darker as both flak and rockets are being shot up at you. They're throwing up a barrage, knowing that you have to fly through it in order to reach the target. As the lead plane puts in a few corrections the other planes settle down and hold a tight formation. The flak is closer now and you can hear the sharp "crack" as it bursts outside. You fly through the grayish puffs of smoke with your heart in your mouth. A plane ahead just had to "feather" his "number one" engine and you silently hope and pray that the last burst didn't get anyone. A little dust flies around in the nose of the plane as two small holes appear on the side..... "That was close." The target is below and you anxiously wait for the bombs to drop so you can get, "The Hell out of there." Finally ...... "Bombs Away", and you can see long strings of bombs falling toward the target As your plane unloads its bombs you can feel it rise a little. You're sure glad to get rid of them and also hoping they did some good. --- "Now to get back home in one piece." The lead plane starts a gradual turn to the right and everyone follows suit, eager to get out of there. Flak is still coming up but it's different now .... knowing that you are leaving the target. As the planes are banking and the bomb bays are being closed, you look behind you. The sky is black with flak bursts and some of them are tracking the formation now. Below, on the ground, you can see a few small orange puffs as the first of the bombs explode. Then more puffs appear until a billowing black smoke covers the target area. More bombs are falling in there now and doing a good job of it. A feeling of satisfaction come over you as the formation straightens out. Your heart-beats seem to keep time to the engines. Suddenly you hear those fearful words over the intercom, "Enemy planes attacking the Group behind us." All the gunners immediately turn their turrets to the rear for a possible attack on us. The pilots tighten up the formation and you wait, tensely. You're praying with all your heart and soul now --- just waiting. You ask yourself why you ever decided to get into the Air Corps. After what seems like an eternity --- the gunners call back and and tell you that those fighters pulled away. Then you see our P-51's streaking out after them. The feeling you have for our "Little Friends" can't be put into words ..... they were like our "security blanket," I guess. You are still tense but the immediate danger is over for now. Every once in awhile the navigator breaks the silence to inform the pilot of a turn ahead or a charted flak area coming up. At last, you can see the Channel in the distance and you know it won't be too long now. The navigation is faultless and you finally cross the coast of France. You note that there are more clouds over the Channel now than when you flew over it a few hours ago. The formation is losing altitude and you see some of our fighter escort streaking for home, playfully chasing each other. It's now safe to take off your heavy flak suit and in a little while you can also remove your tight oxygen mask. After having to wear it for about five hours it is a relief to get it off and breathe without any restrictions. Your face stings at first but it feels good. You suddenly realize how stiff you are and your fingers are numb from the cold --- but you're alive and that's what counts. The formation crosses the English coast and heads for home, losing altitude all the time. That "checkerboard" below sure looks good to you. You are looking forward to a hot meal and your "sack"--- you feel "pooped out." The lead ship soon shoots a flare to signal the planes to start the peal-off. The runway looks inviting to you as you float toward it and your wheels finally touch the ground. You're back home safe and sound and now you can relax a little as you taxi to your hard-stand where you watch the Crew-chief use his signals to motion the pilots into their parking spaces. With a final waving of his arms the engines are cut off and figures can be seen emerging from the silent planes. After a good stretch, you start looking for those flak holes. You stop to realize how lucky you were and that it was almost miraculous that no one was hit by all that flak they shot at you --- silently giving thanks to whoever is "watching over you." Each one gathers up their equipment and you wait for a truck to take you back to the briefing room. It's broad daylight now -- the sun is shining and it sure feels good to be back. You suddenly realize that you are hungry --- having only a candy bar and some chewing gum since breakfast. At last a truck pulls up and you pile into it. The gunners have to take their guns back to the armament shop and the rest of you go to the equipment room to change before being interrogated by an S-2 Officer. While waiting for your crew to be interrogated you get in line for a cup of coffee and a doughnut that the Red Cross girls are handing out. There is also the opportunity to have a shot of scotch or bourbon if you wish. As for me -- alcohol was the last thing I had a taste for right now. The interrogation covers answering questions about the mission, such as: when and where enemy action was encountered; results of your bombing; location of flak areas; weather conditions; and any other pertinent information . You find out at the interrogation that no one in the Group is missing today and you silently give thanks in your hearts. You have �one less� to go now and you hope that the next one is as lucky for you.
- John C. Albanese, Bombardier, 833rd. |
The panorama below resembles a huge quilt. You can see
towns, rivers, railroad tracks, and even the big Autobahns that Hitler had built to quickly disperse his troops and equipment. A few fighters can be
seen off to your right but you are relieved to hear the gunners say, "P-51's at three o'clock low". We are on the constant lookout for enemy
planes. You are getting closer to the target area and you can spot some flak ahead of you.. You think, "This is it."
Note: The above narration is
intended to describe the events that can take place during a combat mission. The truth is -- there is no such thing as, a "typical" mission. No
two are alike. And what may be taking place in one plane could be a lot different -- in another. I chose not to elaborate with descriptions of
wounded men or extreme battle damage. My own story covers those personal memories.