This is a photo my uncle took when he was piloting a B-26 Marauder, not sure of the year. Looks like the ball turret was on top of the Marauder.
He was 23 when he was shot down and killed.
I had a father-in-law that was small in stature. He was solicited to transfer from the army to the army air corp. He turned it down because he didn’t want to become a ball turret gunner. He slogged ashore at Normandy instead.
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
—Randall Jarrell
(A great poem worth proper formatting)
Back in the 80s I attended an airshow near Rochester, NY with several older guys. As we walked around the B24 Liberator one of them stood and silently stared at the front end of it; and then softly said, “At the time we nuked Hiroshima and Nagasaki, I was in training to be a nose gunner in a Liberator. When Japan surrendered, that was no longer necessary.”
Being a ball gunner ranks up there with being a tanker in the “no thank you” job in the army.
I’d peel potatoes in Leavenworth for the duration.
I was thinking of that poem today. God be with all who served.
I read your post and have tried for at least thirty minutes to formulate a reply. The only thing I can contribute is a quote from General Patton, whose birthday is today:
It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather, we should thank God that such men lived.
— George S. Patton Jr.
I saw an interview with a former ball turret gunner. He said he didn’t feel particularly vulnerable in the ball turret because there were no safe places on a B-17.
This is a photo my uncle took when he was piloting a B-26 Marauder, not sure of the year. Looks like the ball turret was on top of the Marauder.
He was 23 when he was shot down and killed.
If you have Prime video, watch a few episodes of 12 O’Clock High. All the B-17’s you can handle.
God bless the USA!