Garysk

[GaryK]

NOTE: A new 'war' was started in July 2023, with the 509th being based at Giulia Airfield, Foggia, Italy in January 1944. AARs from this point on are for the campaigns of that confict.

[GaryK]

After Action Report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Fighter Aircraft 1942 – 45, Table 5-3SB).

Nervous trepidation filled all of us as the curtain was whisked back on our first mission. Multiple whooshes of released breath followed, as we saw that it was to be a short hop across the Adriatic. A couple of local training flights since arriving ten days ago means that we are sort of prepared, but this mission would be a lot different if we had to fight our way to the interior of Europe.


Mission: As it happens, we made it through without any problems. The aircraft purred all the way there and back - well done, Woody's groundcrew team - and our escorts saw off our only bogey as we returned across the sea.

Over the target, after Long released our load on the airfield, Hughes called out from the tail that something was coming in on our six. We were then surrounded by explosions as a salvo of rockets detonated. Some shrapnel hit the fuselage, but there was only minor damage and no injuries.

As usual, there were a few of our comrades that had more trouble. One of the 78th's Liberators had an engine fire on takeoff, and aborted (Aircraft identified as Stupid Dragon); one of the 80th's Fortresses also aborted on its hardstanding (Zig-Zag) and Monotonous Maggie, another B-24, had the bad luck to be taken out by an attacking fighter colliding with it. Only 3 chutes were seen.


So - a successful first mission that didn't stretch us too much. I think this has been a great shakedown for the crew and aircraft, but I am certain that there will be more taxing missions ahead.


1Lt Donald Green, Pilot Commanding
B-17F-80BO-42-30008 "Blitz Buggy"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

Please note: this AAR was written by 2Lt. Ralph Long, ranking officer remaining in the crew of Blitz Buggy.


We were all a little more nervous at the length of this mission, but the skipper’s positive outlook gave us confidence that we could see it through.


Mission: Things were quiet after takeoff until west of Rome, when several bandits – all FW190s – swooped in on us.

While this was the first time that we’d worked with this P-38 squadron, they were excellent, chasing off all but two aircraft of the two groups that attacked us.

Unfortunately, while the one diving in from above missed, the one directly behind us riddled us with shells. I heard the skipper complain that the ailerons and rudder were now stiffer, and then Ward came on the com to tell us that the radio was totalled.

Our tormentor came in again from dead ahead, hitting us again, but not seriously. Perez reckoned that he’d hit the Jerry, but obviously not enough to put him off his aim.

Things went quiet until over Pisa, when a mixed group of 109s and 190s homed in on us. Our escorts did their job again, with only the bandit coming in from vertically above us remaining.

The remaining 109, however, paid us back for the escorts’ skill. His burst nailed us solidly, and the plane immediately began to dive and roll left. I could also hear screaming coming from the pilots’ compartment.

Heading aft, I saw Perez supporting Woody as he moved out of his seat, while also trying to hold the bomber level. Looking at the skipper, his head was a mess, and he was at least unconscious, if not worse. Ward arrived from the radio room to help the yelling Woody back there where his wound could be dealt with.

Perez and I got the skipper out of his position, unfortunately confirming that he was dead as we did so, judging by the blood and brains left on his seat.

Perez immediately took control of the plane fully, and got us back straight and level. Long was still giving instructions to get us back on target, oblivious to the situation. Perez commented over the com, “I have control now – both pilots are out of the game – keep it simple!”

I stayed with Perez in the co-pilot seat, to help him keep us on course until the bombsight autopilot was engaged.

With the fighters gone, the flak opened up, and one accurate hit put several holes in the plane, but appeared to have done nothing serious.

“Great work, Perez – hold this course,” Long said encouragingly. This was followed by the bombsight taking over, then “Bombs away – no they’re not! Hang on… Bombs away!” Long added that one of the many hits we’d taken must have clipped the bomb release controls.

As soon as the bombs were gone, Perez took command of the aircraft. “Mr. Long, please get up here and relieve Mr. Brooks. Sir, please take your normal station and get us on course for home. Bert, get down here and take over my position. You’re on engine and fuel controls unless you’re needed in the top turret.”

Perez was controlled in his demands, and his matter-of-fact attitude transmitted itself to the rest of us. I plotted a minor course correction to get us back into the exact spot in the squadron’s formation, and Perez managed to follow my instructions precisely.

After Long joined Perez as co-pilot, Ward informed us that Wood was comfortable, with the bleeding slowed and pain dealt with through morphine. Sadly, it was Ward’s opinion that the co-pilot would probably lose his right foot due the extensive damage it had suffered.

Thankfully, the trip back to Foggia was quiet. A couple of threats appeared en-route, but our escorts were again on the ball, and nothing got close enough for us to have to defend ourselves. Perez continued to fly skilfully, also helping Ward with advice on keeping the fuel balance and engine revs within limits.

With the radio out, we had no way of contacting base, or our squadron, about our situation. Perez had Ward fire one yellow and two red flares as we orbited the airfield, waiting for the rest of our squadron to land. Eventually, we got a green flare from the tower and runway controller, so we entered the most dangerous part of the flight – the landing. Perez was as calm and controlled as he had been since taking over a few hours earlier. He kept up a running commentary to Ward on the engine controls, as well as asking Long for a bit more help with the heavy flying controls, especially as the right flap refused to deploy. We hit the ground pretty hard, bounced twice, but ended up with all three wheels on the runway. There were cheers from around the plane as Perez turned us towards our hardstanding.

When we stopped, Long called me up to the pilots’ compartment.

“I... I can’t move, guys,” Perez stuttered bleakly. His hands were locked tightly around the control yoke, with his fingers white – which matched the colour of his face. We encouraged him with statements about how well he had done getting us all home. After a minute, he burst into tears, released the yoke, and threw up between his legs.

We helped him to exit the plane, where we found one stretcher with Woody on it, unconscious, and another with a blanket over poor Don.

Long and I handed the shaking Perez over to the medics as well, as we bade a final farewell to our plane’s commander.


It’s fallen to me, as the ranking officer left in the crew, to write the letters home about our two pilots, and handle the post-flight administration.

After such an encouraging mission a few days ago, reality has hit back hard. All the stories of the speed at which things can change on these missions have now been proved to us.

Unfortunately, Ward was correct in his prognosis on Woody: we soon got word that our co-pilot had had the remains of his right foot amputated, and would be evacuated back to the USA for rehabilitation. We all managed a sad reunion in the Base Hospital before they flew him home, and drank to the memory of our deceased skipper.

Perez was discharged next afternoon, but continues to have sunken, hollow eyes and an expression that can’t hide the stress he suffered having to take over the plane.

I’m not sure when our next mission will be, but new flight crew will be needed, so I will have to speak to Capt. Shea to get the positions filled.

War is hell.


2Lt Carl Brooks, Ranking Officer
B-17F-80BO-42-30008 "Blitz Buggy"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG


Addendum: For his actions in taking over the plane after the pilots were incapacitated, Perez has received an immediate promotion to T/Sgt from our Squadron Commander. Also, after discussion, the Group CO has recommended T/Sgt Perez receive the Distinguished Service Cross. The final decision on that now rests with HQ 15th AF.

[GaryK]

After Action report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).


Well, this is a pretty tough assignment. I’ve taken charge of the Buggy after both their pilots were incapacitated on the Pisa mission. Talking with 2Lt. Brooks, who has looked after things for the past 48 hours, it seems the crew were quite shaken by the brutal reality of aerial warfare, but have started to unwind a little. That is, all bar T/Sgt. Perez. With his promotion and pending DSC award for his actions over Pisa, he is now a local celebrity within the Group. However, talking to him reveals some deep effects due to what he had to do. Brooks is going to keep an eye on him, as will I, and we will seek medical help if his mental worries do not improve.

He has been awarded a 72-hour pass by the Squadron CO, but does not want to take it until it will not interfere with his attendance on missions. I will be pressing him to take it after this next mission to Perugia, no matter his preference then.

The tight mission schedule meant that I only managed one shakedown flight with the crew before the Perugia mission, but they seem solid, if somewhat subdued. Perez is a different man when in the air. His focus on his engineering and gunnery duties is exemplary, and his respectful suggestions about the operation of the plane while I got used to its foibles were well received.

A shorter mission this time, which saw a few smiles in the crew, but it could still be just as deadly as the previous one – hopefully not.


Outbound: The take-off was without incident, and – despite the horrific weather – we managed to rendezvous with the squadron formation and take up our position. As we did so, we saw a B-24 heading back to base with an early systems problem. (Aircraft later identified as "Jersey Bounce")

Things were quiet until around Pescara, when a whole gaggle of fighters decided we were their meal of the day.

The Jugs escorting us were brilliant – they chased off the Me109 and C.205 manoeuvring to get a shot in, then dealt with the next wave of opponents before they were close enough for us to identify. They also managed to shoo away two of the final three Me109s, leaving only the one above us in our 1030 area.

Our gunners opened up as it came in on us: Perez in the top turret, Brooks on the left cheek gun, and Thompson in the left waist.

I was surprised by the amount of swearing and invective coming from Perez: “Come on, you bastard, you’ll get what’s fucking coming to you. Time to die, you Jerry murderer!”

His tone was completely different to his business-like demeanour when looking after the engineering requirements, and I wondered whether this was another symptom of the stress he suffered a couple of days ago.

It certainly didn’t affect his aim, as he was soon yelling that bits were flying off the 109. Thompson also reckoned he managed to wing the bandit.

The Jerry pressed his attack, and the damage dealt by our gunners must have been enough to put him off, as he failed to hit us, then dived underneath and swooped away home. Hughes, on the tail guns, was unable to give him a parting gift, but at least the Jerry wasn’t coming back.

As we recovered from that, Perez called out, "Look out above!" Peering upwards, we manoeuvred our bird out of the way of a spinning, burning B-17 (Later identified as "Junkyard Dog"). Not sure how many - if any - made it out.

Things went quiet until we were on the run-in to the target, when we again became the focus for several swarms of bandits. Before that, however, Perez came over the intercom with, “Something way above us, guys.” This was quickly followed by, “Bombs! There are bombs coming through the formation!” Immediately after this, there were several loud concussions, but everyone called in their area clear afterwards

Next up were four FW190s, but our P-47 buddies chased away the one ahead and below, leaving another in the high slot there, plus the other two high and low behind us.

Long couldn’t nail the one ahead of us, who skilfully banked and twisted to put off our bombardier’s aim.

Ward couldn’t hit the one above and behind us, but Perez, with another stream of foul language, put a solid stream of slugs into it, resulting in the pilot immediately breaking off. [Rolled an FBOA result for Perez, followed by a 7, then a 5, then a 4 on table 5-7A – this resulted in a serious wound for the pilot, who could not continue to attack.]

Hughes couldn’t hit the final bandit, below and behind us, but Carter nailed the Jerry from the ball turret, causing him to miss and break off for home.

Unfortunately, the 190 remaining ahead of us was very accurate, putting several shells into us. The rudder immediately became much stiffer to move, but the main concern was Carter’s yelling from the ball turret: “I’m hit! Goddam it hurts! Need some help, guys.”

Our deadeye opponent smoothly switched vectors and came in again on us from high on our port side. Thompson reckoned he got some of the 190, but Perez didn’t manage to add to that damage. The skilful bandit fired on us again, but although he hit us, there was no significant damage. He then broke away for home, cutting right across close in front of us, waving to us as he departed. [Rolled an 11 for a possible collision, thankfully modified to 10 by the -1 Ace pilot modifier. Phew!]

Three 109s took over as the Butcher Bird left us, but the escorts managed to discourage one of them from getting close enough to us to attack. Once again, we had one ahead and above us, with the other high on the port side.

Sperry and Perez (the latter again accompanying his shooting with more swearing) both managed to damage the one in our 12 o’clock, but Thompson’s yell of “Gun’s jammed!!” from the left waist meant that the other bandit had a clear run at us.

The one ahead, obviously shaken by our gunners’ fire, missed and then immediately broke for home under us. Hughes’ triumphant yell from the tail as he opened up on it signalled the Buggy's first kill, with the 109 going down, and the pilot bailing out.

The remaining bandit missed, pulled a hard left turn, then came in from the position of the previous 109.

Both Long and Perez reckoned they hit the bogey, but it was Perez’s decimation of the nose, engine and propeller that knocked the Jerry from the sky.

“That’s what you deserve, you fucking murderer – rot in Hell!” Perez’s foul-mouthed running commentary continued to accompany his accurate gunnery.

As we passed the IP for the bomb run, I had Thompson and Ward get Carter out of the ball turret and into the radio room, where Ward gave him first aid. I instructed Thompson to take over the ball turret, leaving Washington to cover both waist guns.

At the same time, Slammin' Sally called in on the squadron frequency to let us know they were aborting after losing their bombs during evasive manoeuvres.

Worse was to follow: our gunners were powerless to help as a couple of 190s stitched up Tootsie from our squadron, resulting in a fierce fire in the starboard wing, and the plane heading earthwards. Thompson reported seven chutes making it out, which is better than none.

I focused on keeping the bird on course, following Long’s directions until the sight’s autopilot took over. There was some flak, but none that bothered us at all.

Long called out “Bombs gone!”, and I made the turn for home, with Sperry’s help. Ward came over the con saying that he had managed to stop Carter’s would from bleeding, and it looked like the gunner had some serious damage to his left shoulder.

We were slightly distracted by the B-24 Knockout descending past us to lower altitude, but under control. Obviously some system failure requiring them to fly lower. Hughes called out that another Liberator was descending astern of the formation (Later identified as "Bonkers"), also under control.

Washington managed to free up the left waist gun, which was fortunate considering our next encounter.


Inbound: Surprisingly, there was no flak at all after the turn for home, but another pair of fighters (an FW190 and a 109) picked us for their attention. The P-47s chased off the 190, but the 109 – dressed in Regia Aeronautica (Italian AF) colours – came in on us at our altitude on the port side.

Perez, Washington and Thompson (now in the ball turret) sent out a serious greeting to the Italian, with both the turrets hitting. Perez’s triumphant “That’s for the skipper, you fucker!” finally revealed the source of his aggressive approach. Between the two of them, Perez and Thompson severed the right wing of the 109, with the violent spin ensuing obviously preventing the pilot from bailing out, as no chute was seen.

“Two of the bastards down today, Sir,” Perez commented as he returned to his engineering station. “One for Woody, one for the skipper. Many more to come, hopefully.”

While the sentiment was appreciated, it was delivered in a calmer tone than the rest of the mission, without the invective that had peppered the engineer’s speech up to this point. I am hoping that he has got this out of his system.

The rest of the mission was quiet. The only minor excitement was taking over as tail-end Charlie after Irascible Girl called in that they were having to descend due to oxygen and heat problems.

As we approached the landing field, I had Perez fire off a red and a yellow flare to alert the groundcrew to provide the help we needed. Despite the very heavy rudder, which I let Sperry manage, we executed a smooth landing.

Green Hornet, from our squadron, called in that they couldn't get the starboard gear down, but they executed a textbook belly-landing to the right of the runway, leaving it clear for the rest of the Group.

The Group's final casualty of the day was Pleasant Surprise from the 80th, which executed a wheels-up landing that went south at the last few seconds, resulting in the loss of the aircraft. Thankfully, all of the crew walked away without injury.


Not a bad first mission. The crew were excellent, with all stations performing their roles well – especially the gunners. The injury to Carter also showed the crew’s resilience and adaptability. I am very encouraged for future missions, although I will still be keeping a close watch on Perez, to ensure that whatever was eating him before and during this mission doesn’t cause him future problems.

Carter has a nasty fracture in his left shoulder blade, so will be out of commission for a couple of weeks. I will have to request a temporary replacement to cover any missions over that time. I pushed through the form for his Purple Heart as well.

Our two successful gunners both ended up with one confirmed kill each. This is hopefully the start of a high score for all in the crew. Time will tell, but they were a much more relaxed bunch after this mission than they were before it.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17F-80BO-42-30008 "Blitz Buggy"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45)

With bad weather sticking around, myself and Major James insisted that Perez take his 72-hour break. Apparently the weather in Naples was not as bad, and along with the various activities he got up to, this had him looking a lot better. Hopefully, whatever was still affecting him after the Pisa mission, he got out of his system last time up.

Sgt. O’Callahan – or ‘Irish’ as he insisted we call him – turned up to replace Carter in the ball turret. He settled in with the other guys well, but we didn’t have a chance for a training flight with the weather really clamping down.

We did visit Carter, at his temporary job in the squadron offices. His left arm and shoulder are strapped up heavily. So there is no way he would be able to do his job in the aircraft. He gave us a rueful smile as we left, pointing at the mountain of paperwork in front of him.

The briefing for the mission to the south of France was encouraging: yes, it’s a long way, but most of that distance we will be free of enemy attention.


Outbound: As soon as the Group was formed up and moving off on our outbound heading, the fun started. The Italian AF paid us a visit with a 109 dead ahead, an Re.2000 off our port side and a C.200 above us off our starboard bow.

Our gunners opened up, and Long’s yelp of shock when he took the port wing off the 109 with the nose gun made everyone chuckle. Washington made solid contact with the one above our starboard bow – not as dramatic as Long’s effort, but enough to cause the enemy pilot to miss us. An excellent opening engagement was completed by our guest, Irish, in the ball turret, when he caused the Re.2000’s prop to seize up (due to an engine hit?) and it spiralled away groundwards.

Things stayed quiet until we were northwest of Corsica when a Ju88 and the sleek shape of a Fiat G.55 both managed to get into our six – one low, one high. Our gunners were on form again, with the poor Ju88 having both Irish and Hughes riddling it with bullets. One of Irish’s bursts took off the starboard wing, outboard of the engine, causing it to enter a sickening spin. No crew escaped.

Unfortunately, Perez and Ward failed to damage the Centauro, which put a couple of shots into us – thankfully hitting nothing vital. The pilot then swooped under us and circled back off our port side. The G.55 has to be one of the nicest-looking aircraft in any air force, but that doesn’t mean we won’t shoot them down. Showing his inexperience at coming in from that direction at our altitude was the pilot’s last mistake. His approach gave Thompson, Perez and Irish clear fields of fire, and the two turrets hit home – Irish again applying the fatal blow as the Centauro’s port wing snapped off at the root. The pilot got out, having had a lesson in tactics!

As the French coast came into view, a couple of FW190s dodged the Spitfire escorts and homed in on us – both ahead of us; one high, one level. Long was again accurate with the nose gun, but only damaged the Butcher Bird dead ahead; Perez also hit the other 190 above us, but he also could only damage it. Both 190s missed, and began to break off. Then disaster struck!

The one above us broke off cleanly, but the one dead ahead came very close to the front of the Buggy, then pulled a right turn. However, as it passed out of our sight at the front of the aircraft, almost instantly there was a huge impact somewhere to the rear, the sound of an explosion, then multiple voices shouting over the com. Sperry and I were completely occupied trying to bring the bomber under control, so I called for quiet on the com, and a damage report. Long, Brooks, Perez and Hughes all reported OK, with Hughes adding that something had happened forward of his position. Irish confirmed he was OK, but both guns in his turret had been hit by debris from above him and were unserviceable. There were no reports from Thompson or Washington. Ward came on, confirming he had taken a look in the waist area. “It’s a mess, skipper.” His voice went silent, and we could hear him retching before speaking again. “That last bogey hit the waist area on the upper right side. Most of the roof is missing, and the skin is buckled on that side. There are bits of 109 all over the waist area. Washington and Thompson are both goners, I’m afraid, and it ain’t pretty.”

Sperry and I managed to get the plane under control again, but we needed almost maximum right rudder just to fly straight. “There’s no way we can complete the bomb run with the aircraft in this state. Ward – call in our abort to the squadron, then get Irish out of the ball turret. Irish – when you’re out, you’re on both waist guns; check them out and let me know their status. Long – jettison the bombs, if you can. Perez – get down here and help us work out how we can get home.”

The crew moved quickly to follow the orders, but I could hear Perez – who had been much quieter this trip – again swearing about “fucking Jerry bastards” and how many he was going to kill for this.

Inbound: We were soon sorted out, as much as we could. Irish reported both waist guns operational. Thankfully, Long was able to jettison the bombs successfully as well. Sperry, Perez and I worked out that with full rudder trim and some juggling of the engine power on the starboard side, we could crab along, but slower than normal. However, the aircraft was flyable. Ward called in to say that he and Irish had placed our comrades’ remains in body bags.

Our speed left us much more open to attack, but it seems our bad luck had run out for the day, as the only German aircraft we saw turned away for home without attacking us.

The rest of the formation actually overtook us during the flight home, so it was getting dark by the time we had the airfield in sight. We radioed in our situation, confirming it with red and yellow flares. I told Perez to keep adjusting the engines, if needed, and asked Sperry to just focus on the rudder controls; I would look after pitch and roll. Somehow, despite the state of the aircraft, between us, we managed to land in an almost normal manner. However, the grinding and creaking coming from the airframe as the plane’s weight settled on the runway was not normal!

I took an exit from the runway as soon as possible, then shut down the aircraft, not willing to tempt fate any more. We were met by groundcrew, medics and fire trucks. Sadly, we carried Washington and Thompson’s bodies out of the aircraft and into the ambulance.

“Four missions!” Perez blurted out angrily. “Four missions and three dead. That along with poor Woody being sent home without a foot and Ozzy with a bust shoulder. None of us are gonna see ten missions, never mind twenty-five!” He stormed off towards debrief, not waiting for the truck. I sent Brooks after him to try to calm him down. Talk like this won’t help the rest of the crew, and it may be that Perez needs some medical help, or an extended break from flight duty. We will see.


A terrible day – two more young men slaughtered, and more letters home for me to write. The day finished on another low note: S/Sgt. Wood, our crew chief, caught up with me very late in the evening, after towing the aircraft into a hangar for a full inspection.

“Sorry, sir, but the Buggy’s a bust. That 190 hit pretty hard, and although the overall damage don’t look much, the fuselage frames are cracked and warped in the waist area, not to mention some of them missing the top ends where the roof was taken off. She’s CAT-E, sir.”

I returned his salute as he departed, picking up another piece of notepaper on which to request a new aircraft.

Nobody felt like hitting the bar after a day like today, even though Irish got awarded one and a bit of his kills, plus Long had his 109 kill confirmed.

Brooks stopped by for a chat, saying that Perez is still very wound up about today’s casualties and will bear careful watching in the next few days. I am going to request an assessment at the base hospital for him, as there are nine of us depending on him up there.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17F-80BO-42-30008 "Blitz Buggy"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

Another relatively long trip, with the possibility of opposition almost all the way there and back. Hopefully, our escorts will be on the ball to minimize our danger.

Perez has been reported staying late in the NCOs’ bar, but his performance in the ground training days we’ve had, due to weather, has been exemplary. I have had a quiet word, asking if he’s OK, but just get a smile and “I’m fine, Skipper,” in return.

S/Sgt Wood, our crew chief, was all smiles when he asked me to come over to the hangar on the 22nd. The reason for his mysterious summons revealed itself as we turned into the open hangar – a brand-new B-17G, already christened “In Like Flynn”.

The inability to get any flying done in the new bird is worrying – surely this bad weather cannot last much longer? Our new waist gunners, Haley and Stafford, had a chance to get to know their crewmates over beer and cards, but it would have been nice to have seen them in action before their first mission.


Outbound: Once again, as soon as the formation was complete and we headed out over the Adriatic, the fun began – and in earnest.

Multiple waves of FW190s, totalling ten aircraft, buzzed our squadron and focused on us as their target. Three were sorted out by our little friends, but the three remaining in the first schwarm came in from starboard and dead ahead – high and low.

Guns thundered all around the aircraft, and within 30 seconds, none of the remaining 190s were flying, and they had failed to hit us. Perez had got two of them: one on their initial approach, and the second after it missed us and came in on its second attack. O’Callahan got the one to port, shooting up its fin and rudder, leaving it spiralling out of control.

The second wave was close behind their unlucky comrades, and our guns met them again. With one ahead and below us, another off our starboard bow above us, and the final bandit off our port side above us, almost every gun on the plane was firing. There were lots of cheers, but all three pressed their attack – until a surprised “Yo!” from Ward, our radio man. The expanded field of fire of his gun on this early G-version of the Fortress had allowed him to pick off the one at 9 o’clock. The other two, having been damaged, and then failing to hit us, dove away for home rather than come back for more.

The final enemy pair split up, with one directly behind us, the other high off our starboard bow. No spectacular kills this time, but both were damaged enough to ensure they missed us, then they too headed back to dry land.

One of the 80th's planes also got a lot of attention, and we saw it jettison its bombs and turn for home. (Aircraft later identified as "Great Expectations")

Things quietened down until we were south of Pula, in Yugoslavia. A Me110 shaped up to attack us, but one of the 14th’s Lightnings saw it off. Shortly after, Hughes called out, “Incoming from behind!” from his position in the tail. Smoke trails from rockets whooshed past us, but none connected.

As we approached the coast near Grado, another couple of groups of bogeys homed in on us. Those Lightning guys were right on it, downing one of the 190s in the first group, and chasing off the other two. Their buddy chased off the Me110 in the second group, leaving two 109s to bother us. Long, loving the more effective chin turret on this version of the B-17, damaged the one ahead and below, while Perez made solid contact with the other off our port bow. Both bandits missed, and continued away from us, attended by our escorts.

Surprisingly, opposition over target was far less than it had been over the sea. Only a couple of Me210s headed towards us, with the escorts seeing one off before it got in range. The other, ahead of us, exploded as Long’s fire from the chin turret hit a fuel tank, or ammunition.

Almost immediately after that, there were curses on the com from all round the plane as the Fortress off to our right in the formation - Slammin' Sally - blew up after being attacked by some 109s. A sad, "Poor bastards" was their eulogy from Irish.

The 78th also had problems, with one of their aircraft going down in flames, and only two chutes appearing. (Aircraft later identified as "Miss Velma")

Moving into our final approach to the target, the flak started up, rocking the aircraft with a couple of near misses before hitting home. Sperry and I noticed the rudder pedals become heavier to move, but there were no other consequences, as far as we could tell.

Long was very happy with the release, but had little time to relax as we turned away home, because we were quickly joined by another 190 and an ANR Macchi C.205 Veltro. The Lightnings saw off the Italian, who was the lucky one, as Haley shot the left wing off the 190 from his left waist position.

As we left the target zone, we saw a B-24 descending from the formation. (Aircraft later identified as "Bottoms Up")

Inbound: Heading south over the Adriatic again, the escort fighters saw off a slow and low Ju88, but the Italian with him, in a G.55 Centauro, expertly moved in above our tail. But not for long. Although Hughes didn’t manage to connect with the tail guns, Perez nailed the Italian’s engine, causing an explosion and an immediate bail out – his fourth kill of the day.

Things went pretty quiet for the rest of the way home. Our number three engine started running rough, but a little TLC from Perez soon had it purring again. We also had another rocket attack from the rear, but it was just as ineffective as the first.

Just over halfway home, the 78th came under attack, and we saw a Liberator go down with its starboard wing on fire. Irish wasn't sure, but thought everyone got out in the end. (Aircraft later identified as "Valkyrie")

We were soon over dry land again, and took our turn on approach to the airfield. On selecting the flaps, Sperry called out, "Port flap red warning!” Probably a souvenir of our flak hit. We both made adjustments to correct the yaw and sink this caused, putting our new bird on the ground without further incident.


A much better result than our last mission. No casualties, everyone in high spirits, and Perez not turning the air blue every time he fired his guns. Things could be on the up.

The final tally was amazing: 25 aircraft chose us as a target this mission, and none hit us! The Buggy, over four missions, only encountered 7 more.

Perez seems better, having downed four aircraft in this mission, but the Gunnery Board weren’t kind to him, awarding only one and a third kills. However, he, plus all of those still here who brought the Buggy over from the States are officially rookies no more – that was their fifth mission, resulting in the award of the Air Medal.

There was a good night together in the Club, and Long got more good news, as his bombing result was the best of all the missions flown so far.

At last – a mission with only positive paperwork afterwards – long may it continue.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-50BO-42-102379 "Blitz Buggy"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

Our third relatively long trip in a row, but at least it appears we will have better cover on the way to the target. We treated Irish to a night in the Club on the 28th (with limited beer consumption due to the next day’s mission) to wish him well for the future as he left us due to Carter’s return. I will keep Irish in mind if we ever need another replacement, as he was a real asset. Good to have Carter back, who seems itching for something to do, having missed the gunners’ free-for-all last mission.

I still think Perez isn’t completely over the horrors of his first three missions. He was knocking back multiple whiskies while we had single bottles of beer, and got antsy when I ordered him out of the bar. I also noticed the hand holding the whisky glass had a constant tremor, but he has been rock solid in his duties when in the plane.

The new plane (and the crew) performed really well on our last trip, and while there were a few groans at the briefing when the route was revealed, we have stronger fighter cover (at least on the way there) so I am optimistic about the sortie.


Outbound: We got a little further out over the Adriatic compared to the last two trips before we encountered any opposition. Both times, it was Hughes’ call of “Rockets from behind!” that woke us up; both times, nothing hit home.

Further north, off the coast from Pesaro, we – briefly – saw our first opposition: two Me109s that were chased off by our escorting Lightnings.

A few miles later, a couple of FW190s and a single ANR Re.2005 came in on us, but were again seen off by our escorts.

As intel had predicted, there was actually lighter opposition over the target, and nothing came our way. We were not so lucky with the flak however, getting hit once on the way in and three times on our egress. We got off lightly, with little damage to the aircraft, plus Stafford’s steel helmet probably saving his life from a shrapnel hit to the head. It rang his bell a bit, and put a decent dent in the helmet, but he said he was OK to carry on.

In between that action, Long reckoned it was another good hit on target for our bombs.


Inbound: No enemy aircraft challenged us after we cleared the flak, and we turned for home with the rest of the formation.

As we headed back down the Adriatic, we had our third rocket attack of the day! Thankfully, just as inaccurate as the previous two.

Our final action of the day saw two Me109s come in from behind us, high and low. They didn’t last long, with Perez nailing the high plane’s left wing, causing it to spiral out of control, quickly followed by the low one being blown up by Hughes as he hit the fuel tank.

As we got closer to base, Stafford said that he was seeing double, so I had him sit in the radio room until we landed.

The landing was without incident, and an ambulance arrived to meet us, summoned by our red flare.


We got Stafford to the medics, who whisked him away for further examination. He arrived back an hour or so later with a report saying that he was concussed and off flight duties for 48 hours. I cheered him up by showing him the form going into the Squadron office for his Purple Heart.

Perez had another bad night in the bar. He got drunk, started swearing about “fucking Jerry bastards” and threw his glass, shattering some of the bottles behind the bar. I couldn’t prevent the MPs taking him away, and he is now on CO’s report. Brooks and I think he needs help, but we’re not sure we can persuade the higher powers that this is the case.

(Perez has reached 5 stress points and is very close to serious problems.)

Not the best end to the night, but the missions are ticking along now without serious problems – let’s hope it continues.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17F-80BO-42-30008 "Blitz Buggy"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action Report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

Thankfully, after some enforced slack days and ground training due to weather, a shorter mission than the last three.

Perez’s confinement to camp and dawn/dusk guardroom visits after the CO’s report seems to have calmed him down a bit. I will be keeping an eye on him, however.


Mission: The mission began with a potential abort when Carter reported in that his ball turret was jammed just after he got into it on the climb out. Once at our rear position in the squadron formation, Perez went back to check it out. He reported in that there was a loose electrical plug, and Carter then confirmed the turret serviceable again after the plug was reconnected.

Nothing bothered us on the way to, and over, the target. The flak pumped away at us, but no shells even came close. Long wasn’t happy with his drop, compared to the last two missions, but visibility below us was very bad. Much lighter flak on the way out of the target area was also accurate, and the opposition air forces didn’t appear.

Things hotted up – sort of – as we headed for the Adriatic coast, with the appearance of a couple of Me110s. Our fighter friends chased one away, and the other (low off our starboard side) barely got within range before Carter blew up the Jerry’s starboard engine, which took off most of that wing. No chutes were seen as it tipped crazily earthwards.

And that was it – a quiet run home, and an uneventful landing. Makes a nice change!


For the first time after a mission, we had no crew wounded and no aircraft damage. The debriefing took all of ten minutes, then we stowed our gear and met up for chow and drinks.

Thankfully, a quiet night, with Perez keeping himself constrained to a few beers. I bought the first round in celebration of three of us catching up with the surviving original members by completing enough missions to receive our Air Medal.

I’m sure that the war will be back to bite us more seriously in the very near future.

1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-50BO-42-102379 "In Like Flynn"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action Report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

Perhaps the previous three sorties were building us up for this one – the longest trip that the Group has flown since arriving in Italy. While the distance brought a few groans, at least most of the trip is over water, and a short part of it over friendly land too.

So – a little resignation at the distance involved, but an overall positive acceptance of the mission by the crew.

Perez seems a little better, although there is still the sharp look when any conversations touch on the dead and missing from his original plane. I’m hoping he can hold it together, as he is a definite asset when we are in the air.


Outbound: A fast start for this mission! Within ten minutes of leaving the formation point, we had our first business of the day. The first wave of fighters we didn’t even see – our escorts radioing in that they had chased them off.

The second pair came from a different direction, and while the P-47s dealt with the FW190, his companion – an ANR Me109 – came in on us level on our front right side. The Italian didn’t last long with both Perez (top turret) and Brooks (starboard cheek) making contact. Brooks kept firing after the bogey went out of Perez’s arc, which resulted in the 109’s port wing folding upwards, and the aircraft heading downwards. No chute was seen.

As we continued to the north-west, a Luftwaffe 109, plus an Italian Re.2005 – the sleek ‘Archer’ of the ANR – shaped up to have a go at us, but the Jugs got to them while they were still a long way out of range for our guns, and chased them off.

Things went quiet after that until on approach to Toulon, when it got hot very quickly! First up was another Archer, this time paired with a Jerry FW190. Those RAF ‘chaps’ dealt with the 190, and the 2005 probably wished he’d run off too, as Perez nailed him solidly, destroying a lot of control surfaces, resulting in the aircraft departing controlled flight. It didn’t look like the pilot made it out.

Our next customers were three more FW190s, with the Hurricanes seeing off the one that came diving in off our starboard bow. The second was ahead and above us, and the last was directly behind.

Our defensive fire hit home, but not too effectively, as both bandits put several shells into us. A neat hole appeared in the aircraft’s skin above Sperry and I, but the shell missed everything after that. Simultaneously, swearing could be heard from both Perez and Ward. Ward came on the com first, saying that the radio had been totalled, but there was no fire, or other damage. Perez came down from his top turret, looking shaken, to inform us that both the guns in the turret had been destroyed by a direct hit from one of the 190s. Not great news, losing two guns – and Perez’s accurate gunnery – before we were clear of the target.

In the meantime, the one ahead of us had moved to high on our port side, while the one behind had held his position, but moved to below our altitude. Our gunners were on target again, but – again – both 190s survived, although their shots as they attacked again were wildly inaccurate. They had both had enough for the day, moving away towards home, but the one from behind us nearly clipped the fin as they went past, bringing back bad memories for the old ‘Buggy’ crew still with us.

The flak was next, and it added to our woes by rocking us with a direct hit that left a hole in the port wing, but no damage other than cosmetic.

Long again put our bombs bang on target, and we made the tight turn on to our homeward leg. As intel had briefed, flak on the way out was almost non-existent. One shell did burst close enough to rock the plane, but left no other damage.


Inbound: After the flak dissipated, we were back in a flying circus with the Luftwaffe. First up was a pair of Me109s, but the Hurricanes took care of one of them, leaving the other to come in on us from above our tail. Some solid gunnery from Ward and Hughes caused enough damage to put off the bandit’s aim, and pilot decided to dive away for home after one unsuccessful pass at us.

Immediately after that, a pair of 190s replaced the 109s, with our escorts again dealing with one of them, leaving the other high off our port bow. Brooks managed to stitch a pattern in the Jerry’s fuselage, which (again) was enough to cause inaccurate fire from the attacker, who also decided to call it a day after one pass at us.

Within a minute, we had another two 190s, plus a Me410 on us. These RAF guys are just as good as our fighter pilots (possibly because they’ve been fighting over two years longer than we have), and they again dealt with one of the 190s, leaving the other dead ahead, and the 410 above our tail. Long was successful with his fire from the chin turret, putting several hits into the 190, while Ward and Hughes again teamed up to give the 410 a hard time. The 410 failed to hit us and turned away for home, but the Butcher Bird ploughed several shells into us, with no immediate effect. I expected to see him bank round for another go at us, but he dived under us, straight into a split-S, and left for home. [FBOA result from chin turret fire]

As we pushed out over the Med with Corsica in the distance, Haley, Stafford and Carter came on the com within seconds of each other, complaining about shortness of breath. Perez was on the move immediately, taking back some walk-round bottles while he investigated. With his turret out of action, he was just happy at having something to do. Within a couple of minutes he came on the com. “Nothin’ obvious back here, Sir. I’ve tried all I can do while we’re flying. It’s either an oxygen regulator failure for the waist area, or one of those shots has clipped the feed pipeline. We’ll have to descend, as we’re still a long way from home, and these bottles won’t see the guys through to the end.”

Unable to radio in to the rest of the squadron, I waggled the wings a couple of times to signal we were leaving the formation, and then dropped to ten thousand feet over the next few miles. Thankfully, being over water meant that we wouldn’t get any extra flak fire, but we might still attract extra fighters once closer to land.

We did get attention from another two 109s as we got within range of the Italian coast, but the P-47s saw one off, leaving the other dead ahead of us. Mixed emotions for Long, as he did hit the 109, but also had one of the guns in the turret jam whilst doing so. Thankfully, it was enough attention to cause the 109 to miss, then break off for home.

As we approached Giulia, the weather was atrocious: high winds, rain and low visibility. This wasn’t helped by Sperry drawing attention to the flap red warning light, and the immobile position indicator for those surfaces. No flaps meant a high landing speed in very unfavourable conditions. We could hardly see the lights, or the green flare that signalled our turn to land. Things were fine until the last second, when a gust caught the fin and we yawed sharply to the right. Sperry and I managed to hold the sideways motion, but the starboard wing sank, and the landing gear hit. We bounced and rolled, until the port gear hit, then managed to get both on the ground and get proper control. I wouldn’t want to experience that again!

[Rolled a 2 for landing, -1 for the flap instrument damage from earlier equals 1! Thankfully, the result on the table is ‘Crew safe; aircraft repairable overnight.’ Close one…]


Everyone was tired after the many hours in the air, but relatively cheerful that we had made it through safely. We got attention from a lot of enemy aircraft, and while our gunners didn’t down many, the multiple hits for significant damage contributed hugely to our safe return. The crew are a solid team now, and (other than Perez’s occasional black moods regarding the fate of his buddies from the previous aircraft) seem relatively happy.

This was a tough test, which we got through, and that I hope will help cement crew relations for the future.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17F-50BO-42-102379 "In Like Flynn"
9th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action Report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

The Group returned to a slightly shorter mission this time, but with the route being flown, it looks like we’ll be fighting almost the whole time we’re airborne.

The total grounding since the last mission, due to weather, has not improved Perez’s mood. He has started drinking again, and got into a verbal altercation with an MP at the base gate. I intervened to get him out of trouble, but he is very restless when not in the aircraft – where he becomes a total professional. There is definitely something deeply troubling him. I hope it doesn’t come to a head while we’re on a mission.


Outbound: We had only got just off the coast of Pescara when the fun started. Two 190s and an ANR Centauro homed in on us. However, the escorts dealt with one of the FWs, and also chased off the G.55.

The remaining 190 made up for his missing comrades: he landed multiple hits on us, destroying the radio, knocking out Long’s heated suit, and making the ball turret completely inoperable. Perez got a glancing hit in as the Jerry approached, but Hughes landed a more serious one as the 190 passed under the tail, resulting in the pilot deciding to head for home, rather than attack again.

I sent Long to the spare heater connection in the radio room, to swap with Brooks once we’re in range of the target. Chatting with Ozzy in the ball turret, I suggested that we abort, as he was in grave danger if something terminal happens to the plane. However, his heat and O2 were fine, so he insisted we continue.

Slightly further north, a 109 and an ANR C.205 decided to join the party. The guys from the 325th saw off the Italian ‘Greyhound’, and he was the lucky one, as Perez took off part of the Jerry’s port wing, sending the plane into a death spiral from which the pilot didn’t escape.

We had no trouble from the coastal flak as we crossed the northern Italian coast, then shifted heading towards Verona.

There were no fighters waiting for us over the target, although one flak shell hit us, putting some extra ventilation in the waist area without hitting either of the gunners.

Long was very pleased with his drop on the target, and nothing bothered us on the way out, either. (3 x ‘Random Event rolls over the target area! – ‘Good Shepherds’, ‘Rabbits Foot – crew’ & ‘Experte attack’)


Inbound: Over the coast, however, there were several FW190s waiting for us. The Jugs dealt with one, but the other two slapped us good, hitting us multiple times as they avoided our gunners’ defensive fire. While most of the shots were just more holes in the skin, Haley reported in from the waist area that Stafford had been hit in the left arm. Stafford himself butted in, saying that he was ok to continue, and that Haley was strapping him up until we got home.

(Rolled a fuselage walking hit, then proceeded to roll ‘superficial’ for all areas bar the waist, which was a wound roll for a gunner. Lucky…)

Hughes did a great job damaging one as it changed position, then doing the same to the second as it homed in on our 6. This damage must have been enough to put off both pilots’ aim, as they missed, then bugged out for home.

That was the last of the action for this trip. However, the tension rose as we circled on to final approach to Giulia, with Ozzy still stuck in the ball turret. Thankfully, no hidden damage revealed itself as we prepared to land, so Sperry and I were able to set the plane down without causing Carter any nightmares.


We taxied in and shut down, but I could hear Perez cursing as he prepared to exit the aircraft. I found him punching the frame of the exit and cursing anything German or Italian he could name, with tears rolling down his cheeks. [Stress level 6 reached]

He asked me, “Another one of us wounded? How many is it gonna take until we win? I can’t keep seeing buddies hurt and killed like this!”

Despite Stafford repeatedly telling Perez that it was just a scratch (actually, a torn arm muscle). Perez would not calm down, so I had the medics take him to the Base Hospital as well as our waist gunner. They kept both airmen overnight, and then Perez after that for further observation and interviews.

Stafford reported back that he’ll be out of commission for a week, until his muscle heals. He cheered up when I told him that he now has the most medals of anyone in the crew, with the award of his Air Medal, and an Oak Leaf Cluster to go on his Purple Star.

I am worried whether Perez will get over whatever is bothering him. I feel for him, due to what happened last month, but the Air Force will take action if he cannot snap out of it.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-50BO-42-102379 "In Like Flynn"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action Report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

A real short hop this time, but it looks like the target area is going to be hot.

Perez turned up at the briefing, having convinced the medics that he was well enough for this trip. I’m not sure that this is the case, however, and he’ll bear careful watching.

We also had to welcome Sgt. Ed Levin into the crew as temporary replacement for our injured waist gunner, but had no chance to get him any practice with such a short turnaround between missions.


Outbound: The battle started almost as soon as the Group turned on to the heading for the target after forming up. Hughes yelled, “Rockets incoming!” from the tail as we were still going through some checklist items, but nothing came close to us.

These were quickly followed by four FW190s, which were more accurate. Our escorts were busy elsewhere, but with two bogeys ahead and two behind, high and low in each area, all four of our twin gun positions gave them hell as they started their attack.

All gunners reported hits, but the most obvious was dead ahead, where Long had clipped the tip off the 190’s wing, causing it to roll at a frightening rate and fall away earthwards.

The defensive fire appeared to have done its work, with two of the three remaining Jerries missing, and then heading home. Unfortunately, the one high behind us was not put off. His fire raked the waist area, from where there came screams and cursing. This last FW, for some reason, didn’t come around for another attack, but also broke off for home. (FBOA result)

Haley eventually came on the com, just as I’d ordered Ward back to check on what was happening. “The new guy – Ed – he’s gone, guys. I think he took a direct hit to the top of his legs; it just about blew him in half. There wasn’t anything I could do but watch him die.” Haley sounded far from his normal self.

There was no time for brooding, as the next group of fighters could already be seen on their way in to the Group. I quickly told Long to stick with his position until the bombs were gone, then go and cover the right waist position.

The air over and around the beachhead area was thick with opposition, and we were soon busy again. Three Me110s piled in on us, with our escorts taking out one of them before he could open fire.

Perez dealt with the one off our starboard bow quickly, causing its port engine to blow up as it moved into attack us. The last one was low in our six o’clock, with both Ozzy and Hughes hitting it, but failing to finish it off. The Jerry put a couple more holes in the fuselage before breaking off with two smoking engines.

He was replaced by the heaviest flak that I’d seen in a while. A series of thumps rocked the plane, but engine and flying controls appeared unaffected, and nobody suffered any wounds.

“This one looks really good, guys,” Long commented as he released the bombs. “Heading back to the waist area, skipper.”

The flak was a little lighter on the egress from the target, and nothing hit us. However, as we cleared the flak area, we were joined by another schwarm of four Me109s: one ahead, one to port, and two off the starboard side. The Lightning escorts chased off one from the starboard side, and guns thundered all around the aircraft.

Our gunners were on the ball today. All three remaining bandits were hit, with the ones to port and starboard being eliminated. Long, having moved to the starboard waist gun, picking up his second kill of the day.

The remaining 109 was inaccurate with his return fire, then turned away for home. Unfortunately, four FW190s were quickly in place to take over, with the 1st FG dealing with one of them for us.

These were a bit more persistent than their predecessors, but – while our gunners failed to down any – they did enough to put off the aim of most of the incoming fire. The couple of shots that hit us, once again, appeared to do little to our plane, and the Jerries soon gave up and headed for home.


Inbound: Thankfully, the short return trip to Giulia was without incident, and we were soon on the deck again.


Ward and Haley brought out the body bag with poor Sgt. Levin in it for the medics to take away. I watched Perez very closely, but he displayed none of the emotions we saw at the end of the previous mission. Maybe because it was a new replacement that was killed, not Dale Stafford? He still bears watching, as I feel that this situation is not yet over.

A pile of paperwork followed this trip: five of the original crew reached ten missions, so receive an Oak Leaf Cluster for their Air Medal, and poor Levin got his posthumous Purple Heart. However, when the bombing and gunnery results came in, I had to apply for two DFCs! Long put all bar 3% of our bomb load on target, according to the photo-recce, and Perez was credited with a full kill on the Me110 he destroyed, making him our first Ace gunner.

This definitely lightened his mood, but we are still waiting on the final result of the CO’s DSC application on Perez’s behalf, which will hopefully be successful and help him get past what is affecting him.

All in all, a mixed mission. Great work by all in the very busy target area, tempered with sorrow at the loss of Levin, whom we never actually got to know. I’m beginning to realise that this is how war progresses, through ups and downs – sometimes very close together – but I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-50BO-42-102379 "In Like Flynn"
9th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

A bit of a break after the short run to Anzio was followed by our longest mission to date – and probably the most dangerous – as we take our first foray into Germany.

The date of the mission allowed Dale Stafford to rejoin us, and the short break has also seen an improvement in Perez’s attitude.

There was initial silence when the mission map was uncovered, followed by groans and whispering. Maj. Stockwell’s speech, however, clearly pointed out how important this trip was to the overall strategic plan. Also, many of the guys here have relatives pounding their way up Italy on foot, so we should maybe count our blessings that we, at least, have a chance of going home if we can complete the 25-mission tour. There may be a little doubt on us making that, however, as we had been nominated as tail-end Charlie for this long trip. I wish our turn had come last mission!


Mission: Despite the dire warnings from intel, we didn’t seen any opposition until we hit the northern coast of the Adriatic, when it got lively. Our first customers were a Luftwaffe FW190 and ANR Me109 ahead of us, with another Me109 – a Jerry – high on our tail.

Perez was unable to hit the FW, but Brooks, on the right cheek gun, took out the Italian 109 off our starboard bow, blowing up the engine and sending the pilot down with his plane.

Hughes also successfully dealt with the one on our tail, doing serious damage to one wing, making the plane unflyable.

The FW190 managed to put some hits into us, but there was no immediate effect on the aircraft. As the pilot manoeuvred for another run at us, Perez joined the party, blowing up the Butcher Bird’s engine oil tank, resulting in the disintegration of the aircraft.

The cheers were short-lived, as another FW190 attacked from ahead and above us, with his Me109 partner coming in above our tail. “Where’s our goddam escorts,” Perez snarled, and – for once – I had to agree with his outburst.

Perez was unable to repeat his destruction on the new bandit, but both Hughes and Ward managed to nail the 109 in our 6, but not fatally.

The FW missed us, and swooped around to come in dead ahead for another pass, but the 109 was more accurate, with some shells thumping into the rear of the aircraft.

Stafford called out, “Shit! I’m hit!!” He quickly followed it with, “It ain’t bad guys, just a cut cheek.”

I thought worse was to follow, as both Long (on the chin turret) and Perez could not hit the FW out in front. Even worse, Long reported that one of the chin turret’s guns had jammed.

The 109 had moved round to come in low on our starboard side, but Stafford (despite his wound) was the only one who managed to hit it. There were cheers when it lazily turned over and went into an uncontrolled dive. (Initial FCA result on the cockpit; follow-up roll killed the pilot).

The FW190 had one more go at us, but – amazingly – missed totally, then headed off for home, with Hughes’ parting shot failing to connect.

Within in a minute, the gasping voice of Hughes came on the com. “Struggling to breathe, skipper,” he wheezed, “Looks like my oxygen connection is fubar.”

I ordered him forward to the radio room to pick up a walk-round bottle, while I had a quick chat with Brooks. Our nav confirmed the worst – if we dropped to 10000 feet so oxygen wasn’t needed, we wouldn’t make it over the Alps to the target.

I ordered Ward to call in our abort situation, plus advise that someone needed to take over our tail end slot, then Sperry and I put the plane into a dive to get us down to thicker air, as we reversed course for home.

I told Long to dump the bombs once we were over the sea again, which he did, then reported the good news that he had unjammed the chin turret gun.

Haley gave Stafford the once-over and confirmed that his wound was more of a shaving cut than anything else, so Stafford got a bit of a ribbing, as this would be his third Purple Heart in six missions!

Moving out over the sea meant that we wouldn’t have extra flak, even at this low level, but would attract more opposition than if we were up over 20000 feet.

A couple of Me109s turned up about halfway home, but were seen off without further damage to the aircraft.

We soon touched down back at Giulia, but as we lowered the tail, a terrible grinding came from the back of the aircraft. I pulled the plane off the runway as soon as possible, and shut it down to await a tow back to the hardstanding.

When we climbed out, it was apparent that our tailwheel was damaged beyond repair. The medics who turned up, as per the usual procedure, took a quick look at Stafford and cleared him for an immediate return to duty.

A crew truck picked us up and took us to debrief, then we had to wait to see how many of our comrades made it back.


Unfortunately – like every trip – each squadron had missing planes, and the stories from our friends about the massive furball over the target made us secretly glad that we’d missed out on that ‘fun’.

The post-op admin was minimal this time, but all bar Hughes got at least some credit for the enemies that they shot down. I put in the paperwork for Stafford’s second OLC for his Purple Heart, grinning at the ‘wound’ that earned it for him

The Group took a bit of a mauling, and I couldn’t help thinking we were lucky that the damage happened south of the Alps – if it had been the other side, we’d be POWs by now, or at least interned in Switzerland.

Still – our duty at the tail of the formation means that we will skip that position for a few missions, at least.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-50BO-42-102379 "In Like Flynn"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action Report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

A massive break ensued after the ‘meat grinder’ (CO’s description) of the Regensburg mission. The 78th’s B-24s suffered the worst, but every squadron lost planes to the opposition, as well as to the Alps – many didn’t make it over, or couldn’t make it back, due to failures preventing them from climbing high enough. Those that did manage to get over going north and were damaged after that ended up in Switzerland. Better than dead, but still a loss for the Group.

The two-week break was not planned that way, but the terrible late winter weather saw our missions on 26 February and 3 March aborted en-route due to visibility.

The break, however, appears to have benefited Perez. While still gruff when the Luftwaffe is mentioned, his position as one of the senior NCOs on the squadron means that he has been given the responsibility of honing the training of the newer gunners in the unit. This appears to have given him a new, more positive, focus and I hope that this continues.

There was some trepidation at what this mission’s target was going to be, but the revelation of the target and route was a pleasant surprise. Not too much in the way of opposition, not too much flak, but – unfortunately – less fighter cover.


Mission: The trip turned out to be relatively short, but relatively active as well.

Despite the promise of few attacks throughout the trip, we ended up with quite a few groups of Luftwaffe planes looking to make it our last.

The first couple of groups came in on us as we flew near Rieti – a Ju88 and Me109, followed by a Me110. Our fighters were few, but effective, seeing off the Ju and the 110.

The remaining Me109 dived down on us in our six o’clock, but Perez nailed its starboard wing, causing the pilot to lose control.

For, I think, the first time ever, we saw no enemies attacking us on our approach to the target. The flak was also ineffective. Long released our bombs over the target, but commented ruefully, “I don’t think I’ll be getting a medal for this drop!” The post-op recce confirmed that – only 30% of our bombs hit the target.

A couple of Me109s tried to attack us on our egress, but the fighters were on the ball again, chasing both off.

On our return trip, the only attack on us came in roughly the same place as the one on our way out. First, a couple of Me109s swooped in on our port side. Our escorts got one, and that was quickly followed by Carter and Haley causing the other one to break off and spin earthwards.

A wave of three more followed up, including one from directly above us, but – again – our escorts managed to chase one away. A real good job today by those guys, considering how few there were. We were left with a 109 diving on us from above, plus one high off our starboard bow. Long, on the right cheek gun, plus Stafford in the waist, opened up on it and Stafford managed to put some lead into the cockpit area which probably killed the pilot, as the plane immediately dived out of control.

Ward, on the radio room gun, plus Perez in the top turret tried to take out the very fast-approaching 109 above us. Ward couldn’t get a bead on it, but Perez struck it in the rear fuselage, causing the tail section to snap off. This fatal damage had the aircraft zoom past us and continue down, out of control. Ozzy reported that he saw no chute before it left his sight.

The rest of the trip home was quiet, and despite the filthy weather, Sperry and I managed a smooth landing at base.


A really good mission, with no damage to the plane, and no casualties. Even better, the gunnery board were in a generous mood – for a change – and our gunners got a decent amount of credit for their efforts.

The post-flight admin had no casualty or damage reports to complete, and no letters home to devastated families. All I had to do was apply for the OLCs due to me, Sperry and Ozzy for completing our tenth mission.

While everyone enjoyed the post-mission night in the Club, there is always the nagging thought that the next one might be more like the Regensburg trip. However, the ground fighting appears to be going well, with slow progress against tough defence, so this may result in fewer opposing planes in the future.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-50BO-42-102379 "In Like Flynn"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action Report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

A much shorter break this time between missions, with only one false start. When the route was revealed, it was the same as exactly one month ago: Toulon, with the target being the U-boat repair facilities. Our last trip there wasn’t too bad, so we were all hoping for the same again.


Mission: It pretty much turned out that way! We saw no opposition until over the target area, when two Ju88s approached low on our starboard side. They were easy meat for the RAF guys, however, with the Hurricanes from Calvi chasing them off and downing one of them.

The flak before and after the bomb run didn’t hit us and one of the two Me109s which engaged us on our egress was chased off. The final bogey didn’t last long as Long hit something in the nose area which blew up.

Things went quiet again until just short of Naples, when four FW190s turned up. The Jugs escorting us quickly cut that down to two. The remaining pair split up, one coming in high ahead, the other high off our tail.

Perez was dead on with his gunnery at the one ahead of us, resulting in another exploding Jerry plane, with no chance for the pilot to escape.

Ward reckoned he damaged the one behind us before it dropped from his zone of fire, but as it closed in, Hughes finished it off, taking out the starboard wing flying controls, resulting in the aircraft entering a fatal dive.

The short distance home was quiet after that, and even with the bad weather, we had no trouble putting the plane down safely.


A long old trip, with a couple of hairy moments, but overall – successful. Perez seems to finally be getting over his issues stemming from his mission to Pisa, and the extra responsibility the Group has given him deserves some credit for that. His gunnery was rewarded, as were the other two claimants today, with the board awarding an unprecedented two and half kills out of three claims.

Woody and his groundcrew also got a pleasant surprise after such a long trip: no battle damage, and just the routine after-flight checks to be done.

A decent day out, but there is always the nagging doubt about what the next mission will bring. Some of the guys are now halfway to 25, which (so I’m told) is when the worry about each mission increases. Let’s hope we can all make it through.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-50BO-42-102379 "In Like Flynn"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

Another quick turnaround between missions. A day off, then two in the classroom before the mission board revealed another trip north. Thankfully, not as far as the previous one, but a ball-bearing factory is going to be a high-value target, so I’m betting it gets hot as we get close.

Perez seems to be enjoying his training work with new gunners, as there have been no more outbursts, and his drinking has returned to normal consumption. My worry now is Ozzy, who (while he tries to hide it) has developed a tremor in his right hand – noticeable when he smokes and drinks. Worth keeping an eye on.


Mission: Filthy weather on take-off didn’t affect us, and we were right on course for the Group’s formation when we broke through the cloud cover.

Things were quiet for a long time, hotting up as we approached the Yugoslavian coast at Rijeka. A C.205 from the remains of the RNA took up position below and behind us, while a FW190 dived down from directly above. The latter’s speed meant that Ward and Perez both missed, but so did the Jerry.

Both Ozzy and Hughes hit the Italian to our rear, and this resulted in the starboard wing separating, causing a dive from which the pilot did not escape.

Things were quiet until the run-in to the target, when we were bounced by two FW190s. No sign of any escorts, so they had a clear run at us. They split and came in from 1030 low and 130 high. Perez nailed the higher one, but not fatally. However, he did enough to make the Jerry miss, and the 190 continued down and away from us.

His friend was less lucky, first being hit by Haley from the left waist, then followed up by Ozzy from the ball turret, who must have hit a fuel tank, as the FW disintegrated in a ball of fire.

Just prior to the final turn on to the target, a load of bombs fell past us, but none hit.

The heavy concentration of flak around the target hit us twice, causing a loud, “Shit!” over the com from Long. A couple of seconds later, Brooks reported that Long had a nasty cut on his forehead, bur no other damage. He said that he would stick a field dressing on it so Long could take us in to the target.

Long, to his credit, managed to drop on target, but was unsure how effective it had been.

As we turned for home, flak hit us again, but only put another set of holes in the nose plexiglass.

Two unlucky Ju88s joined us shortly after that, one low off our starboard bow, the other directly off the starboard side. Ozzy quickly dealt with the low one, and Perez was not far behind against the other. Both planes spiralled downwards, but chutes only appeared from one of them.

A more dangerous group appeared – three FW190s. One was ahead and above us, one directly behind, and the third at our altitude off our starboard bow. Perez nicked the one ahead of us, resulting in him missing us and bugging out for home. Hughes’ cheers signalled that he had dealt with the one behind us. The last one was met by a fusillade of fire from the ball and chin turrets, along with the right cheek and waist positions. While all bar Long, on the chin turret, managed to hit the Jerry, the consensus was that it was Stafford that got the vital hit that as it flew down our starboard side.

The trip home was a lot quieter, with no more action on the way. Our landing, despite the weather, went well, with no hidden faults induced by the flak.

We had shot red and yellow flares on approach, and despite protestations from Long, the medics decided to take him to the base hospital, just to check for concussion.The gunners did well out of their harvest, with Perez and Stafford getting full credit for a Ju88 and FW190, along with Hughes getting a half credit for another FW and the C.205. Ozzy and Haley missed out, but the latter was somewhat mollified by the award of an oak leaf cluster to his Air Medal for completing ten missions.

I filled out the paperwork for Long’s Purple Heart, thankful that it was for a ‘scratch’ rather than a fatality.

Overall, a great result after a very dangerous mission. Our gunners were outstanding on this trip, and made up in skill for the absence of a decent escort. I feel that we did get lucky with the flak hits, which could have been a lot more serious. However, I have learned to look on the bright side after missions like this. I’m certain that there will be some ahead of us where our luck runs out.


1Lt Franco Vorelli, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-50BO-42-102379 "In Like Flynn"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

B-17G "In Like Flynn"

Extract from Red Cross representative interview with Sgt. Oscar Carter, held on 19 March 1944 at Camp P. G. 118 near Bolzano.

"We'd dropped our bombs on the main target, and turned for home. There warn't no bogeys on the egress from the target, nor no flak either - strange! A few seconds later there was explosions all round the plane - Roger in the tail reckoned he'd seen rockets coming in from behind us.

I could see oil and flames coming from number 4 engine. I could hear Perez confirm he'd used the first extinguisher, but the flames got worse. After he pulled the second extinguisher, the fire went out and the prop got feathered. With no bombs on board, we'd no trouble keeping up with the squadron, so we was set fair for home - until just near the coast.

A whole bunch of 109s jumped us, and even with those Jugs what had just taken over our escort chasin' off several, we still had some on us. None I could see, more's the pity. One suddenly came under our nose, but at the same time, I could hear the thumps that meant we'd eaten some cannon shells. This time, I saw number 1 engine spit flames, and heard it start to rev up. Perez was as cool as ice, calling out the extinguishers. No luck this time, and the revs kept increasing as the whole bird started to shake and rattle.

Next thing, the skipper's voice comes over the com: "Bail out, bail out, bail out." This was followed by three rings on the emergency alarm bell, in case anyone's com was out. I started praying I wouldn't be forgotten, but within seconds, Alby and Leo had me out of the turret. We got our chutes on, and then exited through the rear main entrance when we heard the single long peal on the bell. The skipper held the kite level while we all got out, and I was counting the seconds as the plane started to dive. Thankfully, the last chute appeared, meaning that the skipper got out ok. Looking around, I could see that all of us had made it out, but I wasn't sure if any of my buddies were injured.

After landing, we were picked up pretty quickly by the German Army. I ended up in Padua with Albert, Leo and Dale. Dunno what happened to the others. I got shifted here within a week, and found Perez here. He was with the officers when he landed and was swept up, but he reckons that they got took to a different camp.

Please tell my maw that I'm fine. We ain't treated too bad here, and hopefully our ground pounders will be turning up soon. I sure hope all the other guys are OK.

Sgt. Carter was liberated from P. G. 118 after the final German surrender in 1945. All other crew members survived, and were reunited after liberation on their way home to the USA.

[GaryK]

After Action report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).


Arriving with our plane shortly after the Bolzano mission concluded, Maj. James wasted no time in calling me in for a chat. “Hello, Lieutenant. I’m afraid that there won’t be much time for local training. See that your aircraft is prepped and ready to fly by 0800 tomorrow morning, weather permitting. Welcome to the war, son.”

There wasn’t much more I could do, other than say, “Yes, sir!” salute, and leave. The Major joined us yesterday for a one hour check flight, which seemed to go ok. While not smiling, his comment of, “You’ll do fine, gentlemen,” was apparently high praise. He ordered us to attend our various briefings in preparation for the mission to Verona

That was quite an experience, with some muffled groans as the more experienced aircrew saw the route north so close to the coast, then the murmur of approval when we heard that the 1st FG will be with us all the way. These jockeys have covered the Group several times, and have a reputation as hard fighters, who really do their best for us mud-movers. I was happy to see that the Major had tucked us into the middle of our Squadron’s formation, probably as safe as you can get, as we are the middle squadron in the Group’s formation.

Not all the crew who trained with us stayed with us. We’ve picked up a new navigator, radio operator, waist gunner and tail gunner, but they seem to be competent, judging by the shakedown flight.


Outbound: We lined up for take-off with my instructor’s words clear in my memory: “Taking off is the second most dangerous part of every mission – you have tons of explosive on board, and you have to persuade something heavier than air to leap joyfully into it.”

No such trouble here – max sustained power from Mitchell on the engines, release the brakes, and we were rolling. Ryland’s calm call of, “V1…,” then a few seconds later, “VR,” got us into the air without a hitch.

With good weather and the rest of the Squadron clearly visible, Stone’s course correction was hardly needed, and the Group was soon formed up to turn towards Verona.

Things stayed quiet until most of the way up the Adriatic coast, until we were attacked by a couple of waves of bogeys east of Bacucco. The single 190 ahead of us was quickly chased off by the Lightning boys, and the follow up wave’s single 190 was also dealt with by them. That left an ANR Me109 coming in on us from level on our starboard bow.

Several guns fired in anger for the first time, and Mitchell’s burst stitched across the Italian’s right wing flying controls, resulting in a spin from which the pilot was lucky to escape. A huge cheer flooded the com, as everyone celebrated our first kill.

The coastal flak further north failed to connect, and we proceeded into the target area. The first opposition was a couple of Destroyers, but the escorts saw both the 110s off. They were quickly back to deal with two of the three FW190s in the next wave, leaving only one dead ahead of us. Mitchell was again first to open fire, but while bits flew off, the bandit didn’t deviate from his attack. Walcott then found the range with the chin turret, resulting in a ball of fire erupting from the engine, enveloping the aircraft, resulting in it breaking off and diving earthwards, out of control.

The final defensive group were more Me110s – a trio this time, but the Lightnings quickly reduced that to a single aircraft, slowly climbing up directly below us. “This should be fun,” anticipated Crawford in the ball turret. Sure enough, in a couple of bursts, the gunner must have hit a fuel line, as there was fire around both engines, as well as the cockpit. The doomed aircraft turned turtle and dived, with Crawford reporting no chutes making it out of the plane.

The bomb run went without a hitch, with Walcott pleased with the drop.


Inbound: As predicted by intel, there was no flak on the egress from the target. However, there were three more waves of aircraft. The three FW190s, an Me109, Me410 and an ANR Re.2005 were all dealt with by our little friends, leaving a single 109 ahead and above us.

Mitchell was again first to open fire, and – again – hit the Jerry. This time, something terminal happened in the engine, as the prop stopped moving, causing the aircraft to flip over, then stall and fall away towards the ground, shortly followed by the pilot bailing out.

“Goddam it, Mitchell!” exclaimed Walcott, “Have you got magic in those guns, or something?”

This resulted in the gunners all chanting, “Magic! Magic!” until I got them quiet again. This is how nicknames are born.

The coastal flak missed us again, and we weren’t bothered by enemy attacks until off Ancona, when three more 110s thought we were a likely target. The Lightning guys dealt with one, leaving one coming up directly underneath us, and one low off the tail

Hughes, on the tail guns, joined in the ‘one hit – one kill’ party, causing the 110’s fuel tank to explode, preventing any crew escaping. Crawford was unable to repeat his earlier performance, but did enough to scare the Jerry so much he missed us, and then decided to head for home.

The rest of the trip was quiet, and we put our bird down gently, bringing a successful end to our first mission.


Quite a few of the Squadron wandered over to congratulate us, and there was lots of chat on the way to debrief between the gunners, describing their shots in more and more detail (as well, of course with more and more hyperbole!)

Poor old Magic, who had two claims in, suffered the worst from the vagaries of the Gunnery Board, only getting credit for half of a kill. Walcott and Crawford both got full credit, with Haley receiving a third of his.

Still, it was enough of an award to keep us in the bar for a while to celebrate. We also chipped in to the collection to send over some booze to the 1st FG, who did a lot of the donkey work today.

More experienced pilots keep telling me that not every sortie is like this, but we should enjoy this one before reality hits home.


1Lt Louis M. Marlowe, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-55DL-44-6507 "Lucky Patch"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

After a couple of days of training, and an aborted mission, we headed for the briefing on our first assignment outside of Italy.

The guys were still buoyed by the great gunnery performance in the previous trip, but veterans kept telling them that not every mission is so successful.

The mission itself looked pretty straightforward, and there was a definite appreciation of 1st FG when they were announced to be, once again, our escorts.


Outbound: A slightly concerning take-off, as a gust of wind made us yaw severely, but it was quickly corrected by Ryland before we left the ground successfully.

Things stayed quiet until we crossed the Yugoslavian coast south of Kotor. Three 109s came in on us: one ahead and below us, another above and off our starboard bow, and the last from directly above. The Lightnings dealt with the one at our 130, and Crawford nailed the one ahead of us. No flames, nor explosion, and no sign of damage – it just rolled over and dived earthwards. Mitchell missed the diver, but he missed us too, and sped away home.

The quiet resumed until we hit the target zone. Another two Me109s greeted us, high and low off our 9 o’clock. The escorts got rid of the low one, and Mitchell disposed of the other as it moved into position to fire on us, chopping off part of its port wing, sending it earthwards out of control.

The flak then started up, much thicker than our last trip. Several voices came on the com at the same time as the Major's plane, ahead of us, took a direct flak hit that knocked it out of formation, going into a steep dive that didn't look under control, flames billowing behind it.

I called for focus on our own mission, as the formation adjusted for the missing aircraft. Walcott called, “Bomb doors open – autopilot engaged; my aircraft,” as the bombsight took control of the plane. A couple of minutes later, he followed with “Bombs away! Wait – bomb release fail. Trying again – no go skipper, your aircraft - turn for home.”

The Patch, with the bombs still on board, was very heavy to move, and it seemed that we might have trouble keeping up with the squadron, but Mitchell dived down from his turret to adjust revs and mixture to allow us to maintain position in the formation.

I ordered Walcott to leave the bomb bay doors open, despite the drag, in case they failed to open again after they were shut. He confirmed that and began going through the procedure to try and get the release system working again.


Inbound: The same as our previous mission, there was no flak on the egress from the target. The Jerries' ammo situation must be serious. However, we were joined by three more 109s, all higher than us: ahead, off our starboard side, and off our port bow. Our escorting fighters must have been busy elsewhere, as all three made it into position to take us down.

Mitchell hit the one ahead of us, but although the bandit started smoking, it pressed its attack, missed us, then went into an inverted dive and headed for home. The quick manoeuvre threw off Haley’s aim on the tail guns, so he didn’t add to Magic’s damage.

Sanford missed the one off our starboard side, and Middleton also missed the one off our port bow. However, Stone – on the left cheek gun, took out that one as its port wing erupted in flames and pilot broke off his attack.

Unfortunately, the cheers were cut short as the one left with us hammered several shots into us before circling around to off our starboard bow for another run. Most caused little damage, but there was a scream from someone, then a horrible wet gurgling over the com, which sounded like, “I’m hit.”

A quick com check found that it was Stone, in the nose. Walcott rushed back there, abandoning his bomb release checks, and very quickly gave us the bad news. “Bernie’s gone, guys – huge hole in his chest – he was dead before I got here.” This brush with the harsh reality of war silenced the plane for a few seconds before the defensive chatter started again.

Crawford and Sanford missed the final bandit, but Walcott had moved back to the chin turret controls, and took revenge for the death of our friend by removing the 109s port wing, sending it earthwards.

As we moved clear of the target area, I had Walcott stay in the nose, with its three guns, and detailed Mitchell to check out the bomb release system. I really didn’t want to be landing with a full bomb load, as that is a recipe for disaster. I then got Southey to leave his radio and take over the top turret until Mitchell had finished.

As we headed back towards the coast, after a few minutes, Walcott reported that he had got Stone’s body into a body bag and cleaned up the area a bit. He also mentioned that the bombsight had been hit in the attack.

Shortly after that, as we got close to Andrejivica, Mitchell reported, “Got it! Loose plug on the final connection to the bomb bay junction box. Try the bombs again, sir.”

[Mechanical failure in zone 3 put this system out; a random event (Internal damage repaired) over the target zone allowed it to be fixed.]

While it would have been better not to do this until over the sea, I ordered Walcott to jettison the bombs – which worked perfectly. “Bomb bay doors closed,” Walcott announced. I ordered all crew back to their normal stations, and Magic came to adjust the engines now the extra weight was gone.

The last action of the day came over Podgorica, when two Me110s attacked us from directly beneath and low behind us. The fighters dealt with the one underneath us, and Crawford winged the one in our 6, with Haley missing.

The 110 missed as well, and decided that it was lunchtime, heading off for home.

We saw a few more Jerries on the rest of the journey: two Ju88s and an FW190, but the escorts ensured that none got close enough to open fire.


Firing a red flare as we approached Giulia was a new experience, but our landing was good, and we were soon at our hardstanding.

Walcott and Mitchell gently manoeuvred Stone’s body out of the front hatch into the arms of the waiting medics. We stood in silence as the ambulance drove it away.

I wrote the first of what I hope will be very few of these letters. As Bernie was engaged, not married, I addressed it to his parents. However, I will go through his personal effects before they are shipped home to see if I can get an address for Maggie, his fiancée, and send her a letter too. I raised the paperwork for his Purple Heart and twisted a wry smile as the Gunnery Board awarded him half a kill for the 109 he downed.

Only Crawford missed out on any kind of award for the aircraft shot down today, but there was no celebration this time, just a sombre gathering to remember our fallen comrade.

The advice given to me four days ago was correct – not every mission is dead Jerries and 60% of your bombs on target; sometimes, the Jerries hit back.


1Lt Louis M. Marlowe, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-55DL-44-6507 "Lucky Patch"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG

[GaryK]

After Action report: (using TfT)
(Optional rules: Crew-chief effects; Crew Stress; Jasta 6 German Pilot Quality; Peckham’s Random Event Variant Table; Axis Aircraft 1942-45).

We only had just a couple of days to bed in our new navigator, Mack. The boys are still a bit in shock at Bernie’s demise, and this latest trip might be just as bad.

A big surprise when the board was revealed and our ship’s name is the lead position. We either really impressed the boss last week on our shakedown flight, or we are short of experienced crews! Still, it did raise morale a bit, giving us the responsibility.


Mission: A decent take-off and climb out was the start of our first lead mission. It was also the start of an hour and a half of quiet, until a Me109 tried to engage us near Pristina, but was quickly intercepted.

We were not engaged over the target either, but a distant medium bomber lobbed some rockets into our formation from the starboard side. One exploded close enough to put some holes in the rear fuselage skin, but no serious damage or anyone wounded.

We were luckier with the flak, and Walcott had an easy run-in to the target, putting the bombs where they needed to be. On the egress, neither flak nor bandits bothered us, and we were soon on the way home.

Heading back towards the coast, a couple of Ju88s took us on. Again, one was intercepted, and Walcott quickly dealt with the other using the chin turret.

Over the Adriatic, we had more rockets fired at us, but they missed this time. This was quickly followed by a couple of FW190s, only one of which was engaged by the Lightnings looking after us.

The other had been left alone as he was diving in from directly above. Unfortunately, neither Magic, nor Southey could stop it. There was a tattoo of thumps around the aircraft, then the Jerry zoomed past us, continuing his dive away towards Italy.

A comms check revealed everyone OK and a few more holes in the Patch – two of which showed that a cannon shell had come right through our compartment behind me and Ryland.

And that was it for our first trip as lead ship. A quiet recovery to Giulia, and a smooth landing, despite the poor weather.


Nothing much to write up after this one, but with more opposition and a little less luck, it could have been a lot worse. Walcott is now smiling, and the gunners frowning, as the half kill that he was awarded on the Ju88 puts him in the lead over the rest of the crew. Worth a couple of drinks, at least. Nice to see the boys smiling again, but who knows what is around the corner?


1Lt Louis M. Marlowe, Pilot Commanding
B-17G-55DL-44-6507 "Lucky Patch"
79th (H) BS, 509th (H) BG