1943

A B-17 bomber's starboard gunner's tale of terror in the sky

  I was screaming into the intercom when a 109 tore through a B-17's fuselage less than 300 feet away from our own ship. It was the "Baby Beau." The crash ripped the bomber's tail away sending her into a vertical spin. I watched horror stricken as she tumbled from the sky.
"C'mon Goddamn it C'com" I desperately mumbled to myself. "Bail out you guys. C'mon."
I never saw a single chute. 
Another 109 came roaring out of the clouds right at us. I could see his guns spitting tracer rounds homing in on our starboard engines. I squeezed the triggers on my .50's. The guns shook the marrow of my bones as their deafening ripping sound filled the cabin drowning out the monotonous, thumping drone of the aircraft engines. The 109 dove underneath us. Butch, our tale gunner was screaming into the intercom.
"Bandits!! Bandits!! Six oclock!! They're crawling all over us!!"
Every .50 on board was firing now. The noise was incredible. Like an angry god's wrath. They're were loud, angry pinging sounds as rounds ripped though our fuselage. Andy, our port gunner took a round in the leg. He went down screaming as blood flooded over the deck.
"Oh Jesus I'm hit!! Oh God!!" AAAAAARRGGGG!!!!!"
"Andy's hit!!" I screamed into the intercom. "We don't have a port gunner!!"
Then I heard the Captain's voice bellowing in my ears.
"You're going to have to cover them both Jimmy."
"We're still an hour from the target and it's hell going so do the best you can airman"
"Yes sir!" I replied
I jumped down to the deck, pulled out my knife and cut open Andy's flight suit. There was a hole in his thigh the size of my fist and it was bleeding like Niagara falls. He wasn't gonna make it. I tried not to show horror on my face so he wouldn't be so scared. I failed.
"Jesus Christ it hurts!" he cried. "How bad is it?"
"You're gonna be okay buddy." I reassured him. I was lying.
I pulled a tourniquet from the first aid kit and the only shot of Morphine. I tied that tourniquet as tight as the virgin mother around Andy's leg and gave him the morphine. Blood was everywhere.
"I'm sorry I got hit and left you in a lurch Jimmy" He moaned. "Here, take my lucky necklace. Your gonna need it."
Andy reached into his flight Jacket and took his Saint Anthony necklace off. I closed his fingers around it as he went to hand it to me.
"No buddy." I said. "You keep it. You need it more than me."
The truth was we both needed a Miracle.
I had to cover both port and starboard fuselage guns, Andy was bleeding out, we were an hour from the target and the Krauts were tearing us apart. Sheer adrenaline and terror was crushing in on my skull and my stomach felt like it was about to explode. 109's were swarming around us like hungry flies at a picnic. Another one opened up on us. There was a deafening bang as the bomber lurched to one side. I looked out the starboard gunners window and saw flames shooting out our number four engine. The flames went out in a few seconds but the motor prop wasn't spinning. We were down to three engines. Another B-17, "Southern Gal" billowing smoke from her two port engines with her tail rudder shot off broke formation and headed into a bank of clouds with two 109's in pursuit. She was a goner. I prayed her crew had a chance to bail out.
Desperate to hit a 109 I stayed on my guns scanning the sky for the enemy. B-17's were everywhere. five hundred aircraft sent to rain destruction down on a Kraut munitions plant deep in the heart of the Father land. We were bringing the fight to the enemy's door step, if we got there.
A few minutes went by with no 109 attacks which could only mean one thing. I saw the first dreadful black puff about 800 feet off our port side. FLAK. It was worse than the kraut fighters cause you couldn't fight back. All you could do was grit your teeth and pray. It was the worst feeling in the world. Within minutes we were enveloped in a blanket of FLAK. It was like going down a bad road in a jalopy with no suspension. Another bomber "lil Miss Perfect" took a direct hit from a FLAK shell and flew apart in front of my terrified eyes. It happened so fast the crew didn't have a chance to react. They were all killed. Suddenly I was thrown against the fuselage wall and slammed onto the floor. There was a loud, indescribably horrible sound, like a sick cow bellowing in agony. The plane started violently bucking and shuttering as she rolled to one side. I held on to the fuselage struts for dear life. Andy was bouncing around the cabin like a sack of potato's. I grabbed hold of his flight jacket with one hand and held him down as best I could. My ears were ringing like fire alarms and my head felt like it had been beaten with a baseball bat. Smoke was filling the cabin. I felt a powerful pull on the back of my flight jacket. I turned around to see Butch screaming in my face.
"We're goin down!!! We gotta bail!!! Move your a*s!!!!"
I was to stunned from being thrown around the cabin to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation.
"Where's the rest of the crew?" I asked.
Butch grabbed the collars of my flight jacket and shook me with all he had.
"MOVE YOUR GODDAMN A*S JIMMY!!!!" He screamed.
We grabbed a hold of Andy and made our way to the hatch. It was already open when we got there.I pulled the cord on Andy's chute and pushed him out. The chute deployed and cleared the bomber wing. At least he didn't go down with the ship. The Bomber was rolling and shaking apart around us. I fell backward away from the hatch up against the fuselage wall. Butch grabbed my flight jacket, pulled me back and screamed "GO!!"
I jumped.
My ears were full of the drone of B-17's and exploding FLAK as air rushed by and I felt the weight of the ground getting closer. I pulled the cord and my chute deployed. I felt naked and terrified as I slowly floated through a sky full of aircraft and flesh ripping hot flying metal. I looked down and saw three open chutes. I knew one of them was Andy. I looked up and saw one more, Butch. I had no clue where the rest of the crew were. As I desperately searched the sky for more chutes I caught a last glimpse of our B-17 "Star Gazer" going down in a spiral of smoke and flames. She had been the center of my life for almost a year and now she was gone. It was all to much to comprehend and I felt lost and alone. Images of my ma flashed through my mind and I wondered if I'd ever see her again. The war was over for me.

Author's Note

US 8th Army Air Corps B-17 crews had the highest US attrition rate of the war with 1943 being their darkest year. A B-17 had ten crew members and when one was shot down most of them were killed or captured. Rarely did they ever make it back to England to fly again.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

This is great stuff, Baby, something I can really get my teeth into. I had a friend who flew 27 missions over Germany in a B-17, and he told me stories that jibe with what you say here. Technology as it is now, it seems so ludicrous that we had no fighters with enough range to escort them. What a waste! Those guys were made of some tough stuff, I tell you. I also knew a WWII fighter pilot who was shot down in the Pacific twice. He said he just crawled into his one-man life raft and waited a few days for someone to find him. No big deal.

[Baby Ricochet]

Thank you Sam. I saw a B-17 at an airshow once. It was about the coolest thing I'd ever seen in my life but compared to today's technology it was out and out rinky dink. The airmen who got into them knowing what they were facing must have had cajones the size of tractor trailers just to crawl into that hatch.

[Samuel Dickens]

Yes, they're surprisingly small. The best we had at the time, though. The guys who flew them had the full support of the country and their mission was crystal clear, but still, those balls were big.

[Baby Ricochet]

For sure

[Will]

Damn, I love it. So real, intense, and personal. I feel like I could really relate to the character, and you set up the scene so marvelously, I felt like I was there. When you venture away from the poetry, you certainly don't disappoint! Nicely done, Mark!

[Baby Ricochet]

Thank you Sir

[Rebecca Buller]

This was fantastic! At 26, World War II seems so far removed from me, but it's because of those incredible men & women that we're able to be here today. To all those who served (and continue to serve), a simple "Thank You" isn't enough. A truly amazing story!

[Baby Ricochet]

Thank you Rebecca

[Rita L. Sev]

This is really good, Mark. I was drawn into your story, feeling the terror and suspense as it unfurled. You are teaching history through the persona of one who lived it; well developed character for such a short piece.

A few grammar issues, easily fixed if you were looking to publish.
An amazing piece!

[Baby Ricochet]

Thank you Rita

[quinfinn]

my dad flew those missions in the big war, told me many a tale. he said the Messerschmidts were like fire from the sky, hell on earth (or above the earth) and many a plane went down. he said that when the redtails emerged on the scene (P51 Mustangs) that the fight was virtually over and they destroyed the German air war . i think you wrote this brilliantly, it evokes many memories of the old stories and makes me proud that my dad was among those who made it home. he went on to fight in Korea and in the nam....i have never been so proud to call him "dad" as you have made me with his resonant and highly effective write. thank you.

[Baby Ricochet]

Thank you quinfinn. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

[quinfinn]

it made me teary eyed, my friend. i miss my Dad......august 17th, 2006

[Baby Ricochet]

RIP airman.

[quinfinn]

thank you. you would have loved him, and he ...you!

[Baby Ricochet]

:)