Mission: Bomb Airfield in Southern Germany.

I'll always remember with great fondness the "Flying
Fortress" which has been so much of my life, after all if it
were not for God and that airplane, I feel that my life would
have been very short and I would not have known interesting
people and places I have been in over seventy years that I
have enjoyed in this life..
The "Fort" was not just another airplane or even just
another heavy bomber. It was the best that had ever been. I'm
sure that others thought the same thing about the planes that
brought them back. That was the key to the whole love we had
for that great plane. All would get you there but it took
something very special to get you back to your home base
safely in one piece.
Maybe a running account of one particular mission will
help all to understand what I am saying. It's hard to picture
this but maybe I can paint a word picture of this experience
as I lived it.
Early one spring morning in May of 1944, we were wakened
in our barracks at our Air Base at Chelveston, England and
told that the mission that was planned was on for the day, so
we all got up, dressed and got our gear together for the
"mission" that the "Brass" had scheduled for us. Mind you,
this was about midnight so you can guess how sleepy we still
were. We then went to breakfast in the mess hall. We had
powdered eggs, toast of dark bread, ersatz sausage and
imitation coffee. By this time we had gotten kinda used to
this food.
We then went to "briefing" where we learned where we
were to go and what we were to do. All this time the ground
crews were loading the bombs, fuel, guns and ammo on to the
Forts and servicing the planes for the job to be done. We
were always given the best advantages that could be given to
any plane and crew of six crewmen and four officers. This was
because we were always lead or number two plane in the Wing.
We were a "Pathfinder Crew" and had the "Radar Bomb-sight" in
our plane. We could hit the target without seeing it with our
Radar bomb sight. We were told that day we were to bomb a
German airbase in southern Germany near the Swiss border.
That was a long trip of about twelve hours but we were very
excited to know that we were going to slap back at our enemy
where it could really hurt.
When our time came to go, we lined up on the taxi strips
and runway to take off and join all the other "Groups" that
were to go that day. Our Wing was to hit the airbase while
others were to go to other designated targets. Our trip to
our target was somewhat uneventful altho we did run through
some anti-aircraft "flak" but were able to stay clear of it
with very little damage to our planes. We made the target and hit it but sustained a lot of damage over the target and our
exit from it. Some few plane of our group went down and with
flak and many enemy fighters we sustained a lot of damage to
our plane. One engine had the oil line shot out so had to be
shut down. Another was on fire so had to be extinguished with
the built in CO-2 extinguishers and had to eventually be shut
down, also.
We could not keep up with the formation so had to drop
out and go down on the deck to stay away from flak and
fighters who were engaged with the rest of the group. None of
our crew was hurt although our plane was shot up
considerable. I, at this time was in the tail gun position as
we traded places many times in flight to prevent being bored
with one view. We had a near direct hit just behind me in
about the tail wheel position. I was wrapped up in three flak
vests so didn't get hurt. We could see holes and cuts in the
wings and fuselage from any position. We even talked about
aborting and landing in Switzerland but decided to try to
make it back as far as we could because we didn't want to be
"interned" in a neutral country for the rest of the war. We
were low enough that we could see German Ski Troops in their
white clothes on the Swiss border. We fired our "fifties" at
them but didn't hit anything as they were out of range.
We were very fortunate to make it back almost to the
coast without incident, but as we crossed the city of
Cologne, they opened up with every thing that would shoot.
Haystacks opened up, outhouses opened up and about every
place they could put an 88 mm. anti-aircraft gun. This could
have been bad but we were then flying well below a thousand
feet so they didn't have time to aim their guns. As we came
out over the English Channel we were losing altitude
steadily. We made our choice and threw out everything that we
could to reduce the weight of the plane; guns, shell boxes,
parachutes, extra clothing, anything that was loose or we
could tear loose was all thrown into the channel. We were
then holding our own but that wasn't the end of our troubles,
That old "Fort" kept right on flying even with all the holes
and damage, we could even gain just a little altitude and
that was looking very good to ten tired flyers.
Then it happened, we were entering the London area. We
couldn't go around because of low fuel. The pilot had leaned
those two old engines out till they were almost running on
fumes and this makes them get too hot. We couldn't gain
altitude and were coming in below the barrage balloon cover.
These balloons had cables to hold them in position around
London and they also had huge charges of TNT on the cables to
destroy any craft that came in contact or even close to them. That little Swede pilot, his name was Olsen, slid that big
old crippled bird between those balloons, cables and charges
as if it were a P-51 fighter plane. The British were even
firing their anti-aircract guns at us.
When we left London behind us we began looking for our
home airbase. We were so low then we could see the street
signs in the towns we crossed. All the rest of the Group had
landed by that time so we could come straight in for our
landing which was really an anticlimax to the mission. I can
truthfully say that was one day we literal kissed the runway
of that airfield when we landed.
I don't know if we shot down any German planes that day
but I know we hit our target and that old B-17G Fortress
brought us home so we could fly another day and one of which
was D-DAY June 6, 1944.
Maybe this will show just a little why I and thousands
of others loved that old Fort. I think the last three numbers
on the tail of that one was 369. After about two weeks of
work by an excellent ground crew that old plane was back in
the air with two new engines, new walkway, new guns and many
patches to keep the wind from whistling through it.
ex S/Sgt. Louis M. Belk
18 232 164; 8th Air Force
305 Gp. 365 & 422 Sqs.