Kiel, January 4, 1944
THE FIRST DAYS of 1944 were quiet ones at the Eighth’s airfields. There was no mission scheduled New Year’s Day, nor the day after. At Molesworth there was aerial activity, but it was mostly at the hands of the RAF. On January 1st British pilots buzzed the base with a trio of captured German aircraft—a Ju-88, an Me-110, and an FW-190—landing after their demonstration and allowing the Group’s personnel to get a hands-on look at their enemy’s best aircraft. The next day another British pilot put on a show with a captured Me-109, and the field also hosted two four-engine Lancasters of RAF Bomber Command homeward bound from a raid against Berlin.
A mission laid on for January 3rd was scrubbed, but it was a different story on January 4th. An ambitious attack against the U-boat yards at Kiel was in the works, a round trip of 825 statute miles from the English coast. The escort was to be continuous with the drop tanks then available, but the effort would put the B-17s and B-24s near the outer limit of friendly fighter range.
The plan called for six First Division wings accompanied by seven PFF ships to lead. Three more PFF ships were to follow with three B-24 wings of the Second Division and four wings of the Third Division, making up a total force of 569 heavies. The bombers would be shepherded by 70 Lightnings from the Eighth’s P-38 groups, the 20th and 55th, together with 41 Mustangs from the 354th Group of IXth Fighter Command. A sizable diversion was also planned. Seventy-five B-17s in two wings from the Third Division were to attack Münster. Ten Thunderbolt groups, 430 P-47s in all, would serve as their escorts.
Members of the 303rd watch as a British pilot warms up a captured FW-190 for takeoff at Molesworth on New Year’s Day 1944. Note the base’s huge “J” hanger in the background and the Fortress at the extreme left with the “triangle C” on its tail. (Photo courtesy Wilbur Klint.)
For the Eighth to dispatch 15 combat wings on a single day’s operations was no mean accomplishment; to achieve it, corners had to be cut. One place where the knife was wielded was the fourth CBW of the First Division force. It was a Hell’s Angels show all the way, Elmer Brown noting that “our 303rd Group put up two complete groups of approximately 20 planes each, and called it a wing.”
He recorded something else of no small significance for a man who had recently questioned his own ability to fly lead: “I was the lead navigator for the wing and Kaliher was the other navigator in our ship who worked with me. I was flying with Hullar’s crew. Col. Stevens, our CO, was our copilot and the wing leader. Orvis was the bombardier.” They were in Vicious Virgin, with Lt. E.G. Greenwood as tail observer and Merlin Miller taking over Marson’s position at the right waist.
Chuck Marson did not stay home, however. This was Bud Klint’s first mission with his own crew and Marson manned his right waist gun.
“This happened,” Klint explains, “because of the ruptured eardrum which Charlie got when we ditched on September 6, 1943. He also was hospitalized by a trick knee that continued to give him trouble. When he was unable to fly with Bob’s crew they got a replacement gunner, and when my crew was assigned, he was available in the gunner pool. Charlie was assigned to me and I was certainly proud and happy to have him on my crew. He was an excellent gunner.”
Klint’s crew was assigned the No. 5 position of the lead squadron in The Flying Bitch, the chin-turreted B-17F that Hullar’s crew had taken to Norway on November 16, 1943.
Lt. Jim Fowler’s crew was assigned the No. 3 slot of the lead squadron in G.L. Sheets, the B-17G they had flown on their first mission. At the briefing, Lt. Barney Rawlings was drawn less to this fact than to Colonel Stevens, the “Old Man” who was leading the wing today.
“He struck me as a big, rough bear of a man, with an admirable quality of courage. In the briefing he always made the same remark: ‘Well, it may be rough, fellows, but you got to bow your neck. You got to bow your neck.’”
Today Colonel Stevens would be risking his neck along with the rest of them.
Vicious Virgin took to the air right on time at 0800, and soon 37 Forts were winging their way to Kiel. The task of guiding them there now rested with Elmer Brown. He wrote: “According to the metro winds we got in our briefing flight plan, the winds were supposed to be 320 degrees at 110 knots at bombing altitude of 25,000 feet. I could tell from the way the winds were drifting us on the way to the English coast that they were not as metro had forecasted and the metro winds for the balance of the trip wouldn’t hold true either.
303rd Bomb Group Mission Route(s): Kiel January 4, 1944. (Map courtesy Waters Design Associates, Inc.)
“We left the coast at Cromer at 14,000 feet climbing on course over the North Sea. By use of Gee fixes and air plot I determined an average wind in the climb from 14 to 20,000 feet. The wind was 07 degrees/60 knots. I couldn’t get any more Gee fixes, so I had to estimate what the wind would be for the balance of the trip. I figured the wind from 25,000 feet would be from the same direction, 07 degrees, but I increased the velocity to 80 knots.
“This change in wind meant that we would reach the target about 30 minutes later than scheduled, but we would have a tailwind coming home and should make it back to the base at approximately the expected time. We were to make a rendezvous with P-38s and P-51s in the target area, so I had the radio operator advise the base that we would be late at the target.”
George Hoyt remembers getting the word out: “Our briefing told us that P-38s would cover us over the target area, but as we were running late due to the winds, Elmer calculated we would miss our escort without word getting back to England. So he asked me to break strict radio silence and call back to HQ that we were going to be 30 minutes late getting to the IP. I tapped out the message in Morse code, and Jerry immediately chimed in with jamming. My response was with the appropriate ‘Q’ signals for ‘Weak Signal,’ and ‘Jamming.’ In seconds a signal of vastly increased power came from England acknowledging our position. It nearly blasted me out of the radio room.”
The 303rd needed all the help it could get, for its ranks were seriously diminished—there were six aborts in its low group. Lt. Jim Fowler pressed on, despite worries about the gaps in the Group’s ranks:
“We flew the group as a combat wing composed of a high [sic] and lead group—a flimsy formation, made more flimsy by numerous aborts…Felt very vulnerable with our small formation and with no friendly aircraft preceding us to the target. Sighted fighters just before passing to the north of Heligoland but they stayed off to the south. Sighted fighters, probably P-38s, as we neared the Frisians. Missed our landfall and came in too far south, and increased error by turning south.”
Brown was actually bringing the Group in far closer to its planned landfall than Lt. Fowler realized, and his diary contains a suspenseful account of his struggle to find the target:
“[My estimated] wind worked very well as I DRed about 350 miles over the North Sea, and I was only a few miles north of the intended course upon reaching the German coast. As we approached the German coast we had a 10/10 undercast, so we decided the bombing would have to be by Pathfinder and flashed a green Aldis lamp at the PFF ship that was flying the No. 2 position to take over.
“The pilot of the PFF ship was Brim, a fellow who was in 42-1, my flying class with me. That morning was the first time I had seen him since I washed out of flying in July 1942. We were about 10 miles from the coast and we wanted him to take over so he could make a good landfall.
“PFF gave us a red light indicating his equipment was not working. The Colonel said to me, ‘Take us in and we will have to do visual bombing.’ The clouds thinned out a little bit at the coast, and through a thin cloud I picked up the island where we crossed the coast.
“From there on I was strictly on DR. I turned on what I thought was the IP. We went down the bomb run but couldn’t see anything but 10/10 solid clouds below us. The ETA ran out but we continued on the same heading for three minutes more.
“The Colonel said, ‘We had better do something.’ As the flight plan called for a 90-degree turn off the bomb run, I had them turn 90 degrees to the left.
“The Colonel said, ‘Let’s try the secondary target’ (Flensburg). So I gave him a heading for Flensburg, which took us east of Kiel.
“Soon after making the turn the bombardier saw a smokescreen on the ground through a thin cloud and haze. I told the Colonel that was the Kiel smokescreen and that we ought to drop the bombs in this area. He said, ‘OK, if you are sure we are over Germany.’ The bombardier took over, made a sharp turn to the left, and tried to synchronize on a couple of high smokestacks. Clouds crossed over before we could synchronize, but we dropped the bombs anyway.
“Our other group couldn’t stay in formation in the turn and their lead navigator was afraid we were over Denmark, so they didn’t drop their bombs. We were the only wing over Germany at that time. The flak over Kiel was moderate, but very accurate. We got a small flak hole in the fuselage right below where I was sitting. The Colonel and the crew were getting restless when we were flying around and couldn’t find the target.”
There was plenty to be concerned about. Lt. Fowler wrote: “Wandered around Danish peninsula. Passed over Tubick Bay [Lübeck Bay] and followed Baltic Coast up for possible visual run. Caught heavy and very accurate flak at point assumed to be Kiel and dropped bombs. Got out of there.”
George Hoyt remembers how close the flak came, too: “As we came over the Kiel area there were 10/10 clouds obscuring the ground completely. I heard all the talk over the intercom about what to do, as the flak was increasing in intensity. During the run over the target, when the bombardier spotted those smokestacks on the ground, I was looking back over the vertical stabilizer from the radio room hatch. I saw four black puffs burst in a row about 150 feet behind us, right at our altitude. Then four more puffs burst only 50 feet behind us. My experience told me that this was radar-directed fire, and I figured the next volley would be right on us.
“I called the pilot and said, ‘This flak back here has got us zeroed in exactly, you had better kick it around.’
“But Colonel Stevens said, ‘We’re on the bomb run and we’re just going to have to sit here and take it.’
“That third salvo of four bursts went off, and I realized that, while they had our forward motion tracked right in, this volley was off on altitude. It burst right below us, even though the other two volleys were right on in altitude. I thanked the Lord at that moment. It was really close.”
Colonel Stevens’s only comment afterwards was: “There was quite a bit of flak around that area…We flew a pretty good formation over there and should have dropped our bombs in a good pattern. We saw a lot of heavy black smoke coming up through the clouds as we left.”
Bob Hullar also observed that “We had good navigation and I think we hit the target. Our bombardier aimed at some tall chimneys sticking up through the smoke.”
Klint wrote: “‘Brownie’ was our lead navigator, and took the Group in by a combination of dead reckoning and visual navigation. He was further hindered by a beautiful smokescreen which had been laid over the city, but in spite of that, we got some bombs in the general area. The center of our bomb pattern was about six miles off the aiming point, but considering the way we went in that wasn’t too bad. Flak over the target was as accurate as any we had yet seen, but only moderate in intensity.”
Elmer Brown and Lt. Orvis had done a good job in the circumstances. Brown learned later that “most of the bombs hit in the Kiel Fjord (water) about 100 feet short of a torpedo factory. We did get a couple of hits on some buildings. This was at the eastern edge of the town of Kiel about five miles from our aim point, which was the center of town.”
On the way out, Brown also observed a thrilling sight: “As we left Germany, we met about seven or eight wings of Forts and Libs going in.” But it was at this point that the Luftwaffe arrived, too.
As George Hoyt recalls, “After we turned off the bomb run, the bombardier called to say he could see many German fighters climbing to meet us from below.”
Hullar’s crew reported about six Me-110s and 210s trying to sneak up the Virgin’s vapor trails to make tail attacks, one of which made a strong impression on Hoyt.
“A couple of calls of fighters came over the interphone, and I saw a blue-gray Me-210 swing wide around our tail. He took up a position off at three o’clock and somewhat higher than us, about 400 yards out. I called him out, and swung my gun, but it wouldn’t move over that far.
“Suddenly four single-engine fighters zoomed over my top hatch from eleven o’clock to five o’clock. Silver-looking objects dropped from them, falling behind our formation. I called on the intercom, ‘It looks like they are dropping bombs on us back here.’
“Then, seconds later, four more fighters flashed over us from five o’clock high, dropping what I now saw were wing gasoline tanks. I called, ‘Those are P-51s, they are ’51s dropping their wing tanks!’ Up above us a P-51 came by chasing a German fighter, and then several more came into view on Jerry’s tail.
“All of this flipped by in about 10 seconds, and as I shot my vision back to see where that Me-210 at three o’clock went, I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was still flying along in that position, only this time a P-51 was pulling right up behind him. The P-51 opened up with his wing guns and I could see strikes hitting all over the fuselage of that 210 with pieces flying off. He caught the Jerry flatfooted. Smoke belched out of one of the 210’s engines, and he dove down out of my field of vision with the ’51 right on his tail.”
Lt. Fowler also noted: “Me-109s and Me-110s came in from below but didn’t offer much trouble. About this time P-5 Is showed up and with P-38s took care of most enemy aircraft. Our gunners got a few shots but no claims…Not much trouble going out. Enemy fighters were kept down by P-5 Is.”
Sitting next to Fowler, Lt. Barney Rawlings had a feeling of near euphoria: “Everything that bomber pilots were supposed to encounter, we did. We had a satisfying dose of flak and a satisfying dose of fighters. I felt, finally, for the first time, that I was able to call myself a combat pilot. I was at war.”
Another side of being at war would soon show itself to Lt. Rawlings. As the Group passed over light flak at the enemy coast the 427th Squadron was about to lose one of its most experienced crews.
Lt. F.C. Humphreys and his men had been through 15 missions, including Second Schweinfurt. This day they were aboard B-17G 42-31526, Sweet Anna, a brand new bomber on its first combat flight. What happened to the crew caused many to take note.
Lt. Fowler wrote: “Humphreys, leading second element, evidently got hit by the flak, and started dropping back. McGarry, on his left wing, moved up on ours…”
Bud Klint, flying off of Humphreys”, right wing, recorded: “After we left the target, he began to fall behind the rest of the formation. We stayed with him awhile because we could see no apparent signs of trouble. However, when he began to drop farther and farther behind and below the rest of the Group, we and the other wing ship had to leave him and return to the rest of the formation.”
Klint’s crew. Bottom row, L-R, Sgt. McGrew; Sgt. C.E. Walsh, engineer; Chuck Marson, right waist; Sgt. F.B. Knight, ball turret; Sgt. L. Ratliff, radioman. Top row, L-R, Sgt. N.F. Smith; Lt. E.L. Jenkins, copilot; Lt. E.P. Eccleston, navigator; Lt. R.W. Meagher, bombardier; Bud Klint, pilot. (Photo courtesy Wilbur Klint.)
Elmer Brown wrote: “Soon after leaving Germany, Humphreys dropped out of formation and started lagging behind. Klint being his wingman went with him until he realized Hump was in trouble, so Klint caught up with the formation. Hump was losing altitude fast and was last seen by Woddrop’s crew, who had to lose altitude and left the formation, as they were low on oxygen. Hump was last seen flying west about eight miles off to Frisian Islands about 06 degrees 30 minutes E.”
After the Group got back to base, the crews learned that Humphreys had radioed for help. Lt. Fowler “heard Humphreys had sent an SOS and asked for QDM [a request for course heading]. We hope he may have ditched or headed for Sweden.”
Klint wrote, “‘Hump’ later sent an SOS to the base, but nothing further was heard from him. He was reported MIA and presumed to have ditched in the North Sea or to have gone to Sweden.”
Brown recorded that “His regular bombardier was Orvis, who was with us, and his regular navigator was Culpin, who was with Woddrop.”
The hopes for Sweden were not borne out. As with Mr. Five by Five and Captain Cote’s crew, no one knows the exact fate of Sweet Anna or Lt. Humphreys’s men.*
Elmer Brown ended his diary entry by writing: “The rest of us got back OK,” but two men were wounded by flak and there were five cases of frostbite. Nineteen bombers were missing and two fighters failed to return; in return, a total of 11 enemy aircraft were claimed. The Münster bomb wings reported good PFF runs, but bombing results over Kiel were inconclusive because of heavy clouds and the smokescreen.
VIII Bomber Command was unhappy enough with the outcome to order a major effort against Kiel the next day. On this operation, however, the bombers would get an especially early start. Takeoff at Molesworth was scheduled for 0715, a full 45 minutes before the launch on January 4th. It was a change in plan that would have fatal consequences.