HERSHEY BAR

There should be some interest by someone in advertising
when I say, I owe my life to a Hershey Bar. Well not quite
but here is the story as I lived it.
I was with a B-17 Pathfinder crew in WW2 when we were on
a mission to bomb some selected target in southern Germany in
April of 1944. I was flying my regular left waist gun
position on our way in to the target some time after we had
cleared the French coast heading south and somewhat east.
Flak was heavy and because of that we had no enemy fighter
opposition. We also had no friendly fighter escorts for the
same reason.
I was sitting on an ammo box watching the flak blossom
all around us and wondering when one of those bursts would
have our name on it. Those flight suits that we wore had
pockets on the legs and so when we sit down many time things
would fall out of them. Just then a Hershey bar i had stashed
for future snack fell out and landed in the plywood catwalk
on the floor of the plane. I looked at it for a moment and
then decided to pick it up. When I bent down to retrieve it I
heard a "Whomp" and sat up to look out a small hole about the
size of a quarter just at eye level. That piece of shrapnel
fell to the floor from the other wall of the plane. When I
picked it up it was still warm from the explosion.
I don't think it could have been fatal but you can bet I
would have gotten a headache if I hadn't picked up that
errant Hershey Bar.
I still have that piece of German 88 mm. flak as a
souvenir. lb