The last minutes of the "Fightin Pappy" PREFACE
CRASH LANDING ON THE WAY TO BECOMING A "KRIEGIE"

Good airplanes try to bring their crew back to earth safely after experiencing a variety of thrills in aerial combat together. This is the story of what happened to a B-17F assigned to the 526th Squadron, 379th Bombardement Group (Heavy) and its crew on October 9, 1943. It was the thirty-sixth mission for the Triangle K Group and the fourth for the crew. The target was an aircraft, components part plant in Anklam, Germany. As pilot and aircraft commander, it was my responsibility to make the final decision in flight insofar as actions taken by the crew and myself - and there were some tough ones to handle.As this point, I´m not sure why I an trying to attempt to write or recording what I think I remember. Forty-seven years have not always been kind tomy memory. Some things are still very vivid, yet other happenings that day are not as clear. Perhaps I can bring it all together. We must remember things were happening at a great rate of speed.The story starts a USAAF Station 177, Kimbolton Airfield, near the village of Kimbolton in East Anglia, located about 60 miles north of London. Unlike the majority of the 8th Air Force Bomb and Fighter Group units that were located mostly in the Wash area that borders the English Channel, the 379th was many miles west of the shore line. It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear and the temperature mild. Autumn was in the air. Aircraft No. 42-5407, "Fightin Pappy", the four Wright Cyclone 1200 HP engines in the sync and roaring, rolled down the runway and gratually lifted above the Huntingdonshire farmland with our crew and a lethal bomb load aboard. We were off and away to join our fellow "FLYING FORTRESSES" for the foray over Germany, but "Fightin Pappy" would come to rest in "Festung Europa" with nine fliers becoming POWS and, sadly, one dead. After we crawled out of the plane following the crash landing, Lt. Ford, our navigator, told me us we were in California ! It appears there was a place nearby on his map called California. We were close to Denmark and it might have been in that country. We agreed, we rather it would have been California, U.S.A.  What follows is a detailed account of what occurred on that fateful day to the exent that I remember it more than forty-seven years later.

Col. Vernon R. Smith, USAFR, Ret.

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The trouble started on the way to the target when #3 engine started to spout a stream of oily smoke, I immediately feathered it. Following the loss of #3 engine, the decisionto be made now was, should we return to the base in England or continue on with the mission? We had already turned south, leaving the North Sea coast line behind us and were entering Germany. We were heading toward our next check point which was the Finger Lakes loacated directly north of Berlin. To leave the formation at this time, alone, and head home by ourselves would have been an invitation for the fighters to jump on our single aircraft. They would have probably chased us back to England and right into the mess hall. There was no visible enemy activity against our group at that time we could see. Due to our low altitude, we were able to maintain psition in formation without much effort. Even only on three engines all instruments and gauges were normal and there was no chatter on the intercom from the crew about German fighters. I than made the decision to continue with the group to the target, Anklam, on the south shore of the Baltic Sea in the Bay of Rega.When the group turned northeast from the checkpoint at the lakes, we immediately started to pick up German fighters. Some were the Abbeyville Kids Squadron which we had whit us for quite some time. There were also many types of single and twin engine fighters.
This was the beginning of the running battle with increasing intensity as we continued to the initial point (I.P.). We were now under constant fighter attack. The attacks continued past the I.P. and to the target area. As we turned off the target, we picked up many other German fighters with various types of colors and markings. Some of them appeared to be Udet Squadron from the Russian front. The crew reported that the bomb drop was very successful. The fighters were attacking from the front at 12 o´clock and there were attacks of all types: higher, lower and level attacks. The air battle continued on past the target area. The intercom was full of calls from the gunners´  advising the directions of the fighter attacks. Judging from the crews coments, the German Luftwaffe at one point, had just lost three pilots with aircraft in a hell of a hurry.As we turned off the target, we picked up many more fighters with varieties of colors and markings, singles and twins. They were now mostly attacking from the front at 12 o´clock. We ran into about as many aircraft hits when we were using evasive action compared to not using it. I noticed at this time that some of the twin engine aircraft were flying above us and dropping objects down through the formation. I saw a lenght of chain whistle by our plane. The four abreast attacks continued. On the next to the least of the four-abreast running attacks, our top turret gunner scored very good hits on the leader of the attacking FW190´s. In fact, the hit were so good that the FW190 practically disintegrated in the air. The engine attacks were very similar: frontal, mostly level and now at point blank range. 20mm shells were striking the nose of our aircraft and we were struck in the roof area of the cockpit. Some of the 20mm were explosive types which took out hunks of the windshield. We were also hit in other parts of the B17, but mostly on the right side. There must been hits on the control mechnism because the controls were especially sloppy - and jerky. Also the ailerons were not as responsive as they have been. The elevator controls were only partially responsive amd jerky. There was a lot of activity with the gunners according to the intercom chatter. The tail gunner called and asked for some more 50 caliber ammunition to be take back to the tail. The reply by the waist gunner was he did not want to walk around because he might fall out of the aircraft through the holes. We than suffereda heavy explosive strikes of a rocket hit on the right wing. The head on fighter attacks were very effective. We received many hits on the nose of the aircraft - some explosive and some were solid. We were than struck on the windshieds and in the pilots compartment. Explosive shells disintegrated putting the windshield glass, Plexiglass and aluminium gragments in the cockpit area. The explosion showered us with windshied pieces; some of them hit me in the face.

Similar, I assume, to that of time, I was blinded; however, afew wipes over my eyes cleared the blood and I was able to see - another miracle. I than checked around the cockpit to see how things were with my co-pilot, Bob Greehalgh, and top turret gunner, Joe Lemischek. Were they okay? Injured or what? Joe was getting out of the top turret and was standing on the floor of the cockpit to the rear of my seat. He was putting on a chest pack parachute but with my name on it. I then stood up, grabbed his butt and called to his attention that he had my chute. I suggested that he stay on board the aircraft and the water was cold as hell. I said, "Don´t bail out yet". I got back into my seat to continue my battle with the crippled aircraft. The aircraft was now turning into a right wing low position and it appeared to be going intoa spin. We were now getting some strong G-forces; I put the controls forward to get the nose down to get speed so that I could get more control back. We were than raked again by the fighters, including rocket and 20mm bursts. The Rocket damaged the right wing leading edge and just outboard of #4 engine, continuing back toward the rear wing spar, #4 engine cowling was badly damaged on the outboard side. And the right wing was pealing off skin back to the spar ahead of the fuel tanks. We had already lost the right aileron which was blown off. The right side of the plane literally had no lift, and there was a possibility that the spar had been bent which could have been a major cause of the continuing down pressure on the right wing. These simultaneous hits of the rocket and 20mm hit and loss of the right aileron had caused the aircraft to again slowly start a right turn. The other controls did not appear to have enough power to keep the right wing up. I just had to keep it up level and try to avoid a spin. A thousend thoughts race through a pilot´s mind when faced with an extreme emergency. The full output of engines #1 and #2 was badly overpowering the right side lift and now the additional damage to the #3 and #4 engines required additional action. I cut all the power on all engines. I felt that the only way to save the aircraft and avoid a spin was to dead-stick with no power and fight it down to the water whit all the controls I could muster. Whit #1 and #2 turning with no power, it gave us a bit of limited drag on the left side of the aircraft which was an instant aid to us and our controls. The maneuver got more drag on the left side and got rid of some of the drag on the right side.Next, I opened the #1 and #2 cowflaps and closed cowflaps on #3 and #4. But I was not sure if I was going to be forced into a flat spin or if I could prevent it. I must avoid a flat spin! I next put the elevator controls forward, nose down, trying to gain speed and hope that I might overcome some of the uncontrollable drag caused by the damage and the loss of the lift from the right wing, the stabilizer, and elevator air foils.

Now with the elevator controls forward, the plane was accelerating rapidly and it was wailing like a banshee - a hell of a nose. We could feel that parts of the aircraft were vibrating violently and coming apart. With the increase in speed, I again felt that I could control the plane to some reasonable degree. Looking back, I thing one great factor in recovering partial control was that when the #4 engine cowling blew off, it evidently hit the right elevator and stabilizer control surfaces, knocking them off the tail. Still losing altitude, our problem now was to keep best possible control. N I needed to slow the aircraft down to a reasonable speed and prepare for a crash landing, ditching, or, if we could bailout.I than began to manipulate the cowflaps. I was surprised that opening the cowflaps had so much favorable effect on our control. I still needed to get maximum possible control and try to turn the aircraft toward the German coast. I knew I had to slow the aircraft so it would not disintegrate on contact with to ground or water. We were now descending over 350 MPH and I had to gamble that the wing flaps could give me more control and stability and help slow the aircraft. I was now thanking God I was flying in an aircraft with electric flaps, which can be very slowly milked down. A slow drop of the flaps would help our controls if we keep them from flying off the aircraft. However, the flaps are designed primarily to help slow the plane for landing; they are very susceptible to high speed damage. Very slowly, I started lowering the flaps. Thanks heavens they didn´t fly off. I was then able to experiment to see how much flaps I could get down and keep control. I was now getting confident that I could slow the B-17 down to a reasonable crash landing speed.I was able to get the airspeed down to approximately 200 MPH and still keep the wings level. However, the plane was still trying to turn to the right. I even tried to open my side window to see if it had any effect on the flying characteristics. It didn´t. I couldn´t think of anything else I could do to chance the lift or drag to help keep the right wing up. I slowed the plane down to 170 MPH, but the aircraft was now sending me warning signals about an approaching stall. If I went much lower on my airspeed, I´d be stalling. It looked like I was locked into an approach to either water or land at about 180 MPH. I continually fine-tuned the wing flaps into serveral different degrees of settings to see if the "bird" could do better. I found when going under the 180 MPH the controls would buffet badly. So I decided I would stay at 180 until actual contact whit the ground was made. I was very conscious that I had to hit the ground flat and not cartwheel.

 

At these excessive speeds, cartwheeling would have spread us all over the landscape of Germany, and probably would have torched. Now we alerted the crew for an emergency landing.The ditching procedure in a B-17 requires the crew, except the pilot, to go to the radio room. Facing the tail, they sit on the fllor with the crewmen behind each other in the line position. They also back their rear into the lap of the guy behind them. As we were to learn, the power line pole, the tree tops, the barn, the cattle and the canal splash proved the S.O.P. to be a good one. The pilots are the lucky ones. They get to see first what is going to happen next. All of the happenings are interesting and get your attention at 180 MPH. By now, don´t you agree? However, the high speed of the glide made it apparent that I had to get lower and find a way to fly slower. I was getting more glide than I wanted. I thought I had a fighting chance to get the aircraft on the ground if I could get down about 1000 feet lower and get under 180 MPH. Then I could concentrate on my selected landing area. Visually I located my landing target and got set for an approach. Th reach my target, a sweeping 360 degree descending turn was needed. To get the aircraft back into level flight after making the turn and heading back toward the shore spot again, was another thing, however, our problems multiplied. In the turn, during a better, cloer look at the landing area, I saw there was a high shoreline stone dike to be flown over. To get to the proposed landing area, I had to increase speed to get more glide to get over this dike. This involved more fine-tuning of the flaps. On top of the damn dike, which up to now had been our main obstacle, was an electric power line! I was now getting the impression  that   this wasn´t my day!!  I aimed the aircraft to hit the line pole on my main wing spar. I aimed to place the pole outside of my left window and elbow and as close as possible to the main wing spar root. I had to prevent the aircraft from cartwheeling when we hit the power pole. To avoid cartwheeling was our next problem. With a solid thump and shudder, we snapped off the power line pole about 50 or 60 feet above the ground. Evidently, I flew under the main wires, because when I looked back from the ground after the crash landing, the top power wires were still there. Some one else besides myself was watching. Obviously the Good Lord was watching over us again! Next, further inland past the dike, we flew thru the tops of a maple tree. Next we crashed into a barn-like structure similar to a Lancaster County, Pennsylvania tobacco drying barn. We were now headed toward the meadow which had been my targeted landing spot. I had selected the spot from about 2000 feet on our way down. Kindling wood - sides of barn slats were flying everywhere. I finally had a good look at my proposed landing area. Guess what? The meadow was full of cows and horses. Still gliding, I now had to get the aircraft flat on the ground and avoid a cartwheel. I was not sure who was still aboard. I hoped they had all stayed as I suggested to Joe. The crew had been told to get ready for a crash landing or ditching. They had removed the gunner from the ball turret and in doing so, left the barrels of the gun straight down. This fact became very important for our safe landing and short skid. The gun barrels were the best brakes I´d ever had the pleasure of using on the aircraft. They were an integral, rugged part of the craft and acted as an excellent brake, digging in the soft soil of the meadow and the sides of the canal. If I weren´t for the barrel-braking effect, we could have skidded into the next county. Our skid path in the meadow looked like spring plowing in the Lancaster County countryside. Tech Sgt. Johnnie Bryant was hit in the chest by a 20mm shell in the last few minutes of the battle. He was our radio operator. When Johnnie let go of his hot gun, he sat down on the floor of the radio compartment. He leaned his head forward on his chest and died surrounded by his friends and crew. He died a hero and actually he never quit firing at the enemy until he was pulled down to the floor by Sgt. Hinman when we started to hit ground obstructions.

We then touched down among the cows. The horses were much smarter than the cattle. They had seen and heard our approach, were neighing and kicking but run away and out of the path of our landing. The last we heard of the cattle was thump, thump, thump, thump. We next plowed toward a section of a canal. Our nose splashed into it and then hurtled over the rest of the canal, into a nice peaceful meadow. However, we were airborne again. Still in motion, I expected we would end up in a line of trees at the end of the meadow. However, the gut barrels being straight down were very important for our safe landing and short skid. The gun barrels were the best brakes I have ever had the pleasure of using on an aircraft. They were excellent brakes in the soft soil and the canal edges. They were so good they kept my nose banging against the wheel yoke. What a day! What a ride! I could have kissed any one of the Boeing factory workers who had put a nut, bolt or screw into that B-17. I wish they knew it.We carried Sgt. Bryant´s body out of the A/C and on to the grassy meadow. I then went to work on burning of the A/C. We had no device aboard the plane to start a fire. None were allowed on the aircraft. I got a parachute from the plane, crawled up on the wing, took the filler cap off and started to stuff the silk into the filler cap hole to try to soak it with gasoline so I could start to set the plane on fire. I wanted to burn the aircraft but I don´t smoke so I did not carry matches. I ask Sgt. Hinman if he had any matches. Then I heard from near the tail of the plane, "Hände hoch !" That was from the German soldier standing therer with his rifle on point. He next said, "For you the war is over." And it was. Not a very fitting ending. No matches, no fire to torch the plane. This was one part of the war that was hell. We didn´t get to burn the bird. I had hoped that I could have burned the airplane that some day it could fly again in that happy flying sky above. Not enough could be said about my crew. They were exceptionally brave men. All self-starters, very dedicated, and performed in an outstanding manner. They did everything right in this crisis situation. Their box score of German fighters, considering the number of missions,was exceptionally high. I am proud to have served with them, each and every one. My oxygen mask had absorbed quite a bit of the flying debris from the windshield. Some cuts on my face were quite deep. The doctor said the particles of debris imbedded in my face were not worth going after at this time and too painful. He indicated they would eventually become infected, and would then come to the surface of the skin. Then the wounds could be treated. A few small pieces in my tongue were bothsome for a while causing a thick tongue. I was surprised that my bandages were made of crepe paper. It was my first indication of German shortages. The German doctor who examined me was very efficient, not really friendly, but professional.Two pilots of the group that shot us down came into the hospital. They had called the Red Cross to find out where we had been taken. They also said the Red Cross official was going to visit us that night in the Kiel hospital. He arrived on schedule. When the Germans first came into my room, they saluted and introduced themselves. They wanted to know if I was okay. Was the restof the crew okay? Did we get good medical care? They were very interested in the landing and had gone out to the side. The wanted me to know they were very sorry their buddy strafed us when we were still in the aircraft on the ground. They seemed genuinely concerned about our status. They said very few bomber crews crash land, most always bail out due to fire. It looked like our number wasn´t up. We were able to glide back to land and survive. The Red Cross official did visit us. When he was a young man, he had visited the United States and really wanted to chat with us. A non-military conversation was a bit ticklish to accomplish. When the pilot with the Red Cross told me that already knew our names, ranks and serial numbers and that I was born in Dallastown, PA, that was a surprise. They told me where we were flying from in England. The Red Cross representative volunteered that the Red Cross would get the word to the crew´s families that we were POW´s and alive. He also said we should be complimented on getting that battle damaged aircraft safely on the ground and surviving the crash landing. He added, "That was a hell of an approach and landing". He was right.That evening in the hospital in Kiel with two German pilots and the Red Cross official, it was certainly not what I expected. There was very little interrogation. The Red Cross executive was very eager to talk about his visits to the USA. He was a fine old gentleman and spoke perfect English. I did thank them in English as best I could for the interest they had shown about my crew´s health. They did not know where Sgt. Bryant´s body had been taken. I was moved from Kiel before I had an opportunity to inquire further from the Red Cross or the Germans at the hospital. When they got up to leave, I extended my right hand which they immediately shook and smiled broadly. Proof that there is a "Brotherhood of Airmen" and it was still alive. There was no animosity between the Germans and myself. I sort of had the feeling that they felt today it was a draw.

A four-engine bomber B17 for four German fighters courtesy my gunners. Kiel to Stalag Luft III at SaganFrom Kiel, I was taken to Frankfurt on Main to POW cage. This cage was located across the street from the factory target we had been briefed to bomb a few days before we were shot down. Mission was scrubbed. The day I arrived at Frankfurt, the air raid sirens sounded and I could hear the planes flying overhead. However, there was a heavy cloud cover and they were unable to drop. It seemed different being on the other side of the bombs. I was taken to an interrogation center and did not get along with my interrogation officer. He was a fist class "SOB". He wanted to know more about the ammunition we were firing. I didn´t answer him; one reason - I didn´t know a damn thing about headlight ammunition we were allegedly using. He put me back into solitary confinement for non-cooperation and announced that he´d see me the next day.The following day started out worse. He insisted I knew about our armament. We exchanged some very caustic words. Actually, he spoke better English that I did.. We went over these questions for three more days. He told me on the third day, he was the head of the German Language Department at the University of Illinois at one time. He informed me that they now had a jet fighter aircraft and they were going to blow us "Luft" gangsters out of the sky. His next comment was, "Since you refuse to cooperate, I´ll turn your Sgt. Freed over the Gestapo and they will work him over." That made me as angry as I had ever been in my life. I told him, "I hope you´re smart enough to understand what I am going to tell you. This war can´t last forever and when it´s over, I´ll come back, find and kill you if you touch that 17 years old kid!" He didn´t like to be spoken to in that manner. He than put me back in the solitary cooler. The next day, he brought me back to his office. I repeated again what I had told him. He than said, "Smith, there´s too much German in you. Get the hell out of here." I found out later, I was held a couple of days longer than the normal interrogation takes. He must have liked me. The next day, I was send to Stalag Luft III at Sagan where I was interrogated by the Americans. That was better. They wanted to verify I was an American and not planted as a spy. So there I was, a guest of the Third Reich for the next 20 months. In my opening remarks, I stated that all good airplanes wanted to bring their crew members home safely. Our B-17 proved beyond a doubt that it really tried. Here is a list of what I remember of its oustanding efforts to keep us alive.1. It did not torch and burn after a multitude of fatal hits from German fighters machine gun hits, 20mm cannon hits and rocket hits while we were airborne. 2. It refused to torch after the crash landing.3. It was smart enough to know what pieces of metal it could shed in the dive and still keep enough control surfaces that the aircraft could be successfully controlled to the ground for a crash landing. 4. It had enough backbone with ability and strenght to be able to slowy lower its flaps in a dive over 350 MPH and keep the flaps in working order.5. The flaps made it possible to slow down our descent and slow the aircraft for landing. We were actually a gliding set of flaps. No power.6. It had the right aileron shot off. It had most of the skin on the right wing outside of the #4 engine peeled from it and survived.7. The ball turret guns in the down position survived the impact of the landing. And the guns stopped our skid on the ground by plowing into the soft ground. The guns were excellent brakes. That braking action saved us from skidding further and possibly into the trees at the end of the meadow.Col. Vernon R. Smith, USAFR, Ret. F O R T R E S SThere´s pride in her every movementAnd the strenght to forge aheadTill the job is done,And the battle wonTough half her crew is dead.There´s more to her than engines,More than a pair of wings,Than rivets and rubber tiresAnd all the man-made things.She has the heart of a warrior,We know for we´ve seen her die,And her gallant fight was an awesome sightFar in the dome of the sky.She has a soul immortal.She fills her mission well,With her head held highWe´ve seen her flyStraight to the jaws of hell.She has a will of irion,She seeks no chance to hide.Tough her flight be straightTo the firey gateNo fury can turn her aside.Great is her fame and mighty,And great is her gallant crew,Wherever their baseThey´ve won a placeBy the side of the damous few.You think of her only as metal,Welded and riveted strong.She´s a living thing,A Queen on wingWho carries a warrior throng.Strangers may one day replace herHigher and swifter to fly,But we´ll always recallShe´s the top of them all,The Queen of the azure sky.

Poet unknown, submitted by John F. Bremer