Posted on 01/27/2003 5:37:14 AM PST by SAMWolf
are acknowledged, affirmed and commemorated.
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Losses on the first large-scale Ploesti raid were staggering, heroism unsurpassed. Why did Ploesti merit that unprecedented effort? In mid-1943, seven refineries in and near the city were producing an estimated 35 percent of Germany's oil and an equal proportion of her aviation gasoline. Some Allied planners thought that destruction of the refineries might even force the Nazis out of the war. The task force put together for Ploesti was composed of two Ninth Air Force B-24 groups--the 376th and 98th--based in North Africa and three B-24 groups from Eighth Air Force--the 93d, 44th, and the recently arrived 389th--that were moved from their UK bases to fields in North Africa near Benghazi, Libya. The attack was set for Sunday, Aug. 1, in order to minimize casualties among impressed workers at the refineries. It was meticulously planned and thoroughly rehearsed, including two full-scale practice missions against a simulation of the Ploesti targets, laid out in a remote area of the desert. In concept, if not in execution, the plan of attack was simple, its essence: surprise and precision. The bomber stream would be led by the 376th Group under Col. Keith K. Compton, followed by the 93d, 98th, 44th, and 389th in that order. Specific buildings within the five refineries in Ploesti; the refinery at Campina, 18 miles northwest of the city; and one at Brazi, five miles to the south, were assigned to elements of the five groups. The task force, totaling 177 B-24s with Brig. Gen. Uzal Ent as mission commander flying in Compton's aircraft, would take off between 4 and 5 a.m., fly north in a tight column of groups to Corfu (off the coast of Greece), then climb over the mountains of Albania and Yugoslavia to the Danubian plain, where they would descend below enemy radar coverage. At Pitesti, the first Initial Point (IP), the 389th would break off to the left and proceed to the refinery at Campina. The four leading groups would drop to 500 feet and continue to the final IP at Floresti, where they would begin a 13-mile bomb run on five refineries in the city and the one at Brazi, descending to treetop level for bomb release. All six refineries would be hit almost simultaneously by a single wave of bombers, flying line-abreast, that would saturate the defenses. That was the plan. Winston Churchill is credited with observing that "in war, nothing ever goes according to plan except occasionally, and then by accident." Ploesti was no exception. In the long flight over the Mediterranean, the column lost some of its cohesion, with the 376th and 93d Groups slightly ahead of the other three. Then, near Corfu, the lead aircraft with the route navigator went out of control and crashed. (Ent and Compton were not in the lead bomber, but in a position to assume the lead when a final turn to the bomb run was made.) A second 376th aircraft bearing the deputy route navigator followed down to look for survivors. Unable to climb back in time to rejoin the group, it returned to Benghazi. Now ahead of the formation towering cumulus clouds rose above the mountains. The two lead groups threaded their way through or under the clouds, while the 98th, 44th, and 389th penetrated the cloud line at varying altitudes. By the time those three had reformed a column and resumed a heading for Pitesti, the first two groups were 29 minutes ahead of them. Because of radio silence, Ent and Compton could not contact the trailing groups. Not knowing whether or not those groups had turned back, they decided to follow the operations order even though they might have to go it alone. Thus, the five groups actually proceeded toward Pitesti as two widely separated forces. A surprise attack on the refineries in Ploesti by a single wave of some 140 bombers, that dominant key to success at an acceptable cost, was beyond redemption. The chain of circumstance was not yet complete. The 376th and 93d Groups made their turn at Pitesti and headed for the final IP at Floresti. Halfway between the two IPs lay the town of Targoviste, which closely resembled Floresti. Flying at very low altitude, the 376th mistook Targoviste for the IP and turned southeast on the briefed bomb-run heading, which took the two groups to the west of Ploesti--an error that wasn't discovered until they were on the outskirts of Bucharest. At that point, Ent broke radio silence, ordering the two groups to turn north and attack targets of opportunity in the complex of refineries. The 93d Group, led by Lt. Col. Addison E. Baker, a National Guard officer who had been called to active duty in 1940, caught a glimpse of refineries off to the left. He and his pilot, Maj. John Jerstad, who had completed his combat tour but volunteered for the mission, bored in on an unidentified refinery, which turned out to be Columbia Aquila, a 44th Group target. Enemy defenses, much heavier than anticipated, were thoroughly aroused. More than 230 antiaircraft guns, supported by many barrage balloons and smoke pots, surrounded the refineries, with perhaps 400 fighters in the area. Into a maelstrom of ground fire, Baker led the group. Short of the refinery, his B-24 was hit and burst into flames. Baker and Jerstad could have bellied in on open fields or pulled up to bailout altitude and probably saved themselves and their crew. But this was a mission on which some thought the outcome of the war might hinge. Without wavering, they led the bombers straight on to the refinery before crashing into the ground. Both Baker and Jerstad were awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously. Off to the right of their funeral pyre, a second element of the 93d bombed two refineries assigned to the 98th Group. Meanwhile, five B-24s of the 376th Group led by Maj. Norman C. Appold hit the Concordia Vega refinery, originally assigned to the 93d, and "emerged covered with soot" as other 376th bombers unloaded on various segments of the Ploesti complex. While the 376th and 93d were making the best of a bad situation, the other three, led by veteran pilot Col. John R. "Killer" Kane, commander of the 98th, turned at Pitesti as planned. The tail-end 389th under Col. Jack Wood broke off to the northeast, bombing the refinery at Campina to complete destruction. Four aircraft were lost to flak, one of them piloted by 21-year-old 2d Lt. Lloyd H. Hughes, who was on his fifth combat mission. His B-24, hit by ground fire, leaked streams of gasoline from wing and bomb-bay tanks. Below lay wheat fields, where Hughes could have landed, but instead he drove on through the smoke and flame created by the bombers ahead of him, struck his target, and came out with his left wing sheathed in flame. His desperate attempt to save the crew by crash-landing on a lake bed failed when one wing of the blazing B-24 hit a river bank and the plane exploded. The mission's third posthumous Medal of Honor was awarded to Hughes.
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The heroism of Sad Sack II's crew typified that of the more than 160 crews that bombed refineries at Ploesti in the low-level attack of Aug. 1, 1943.
Most readers of AIR FORCE Magazine are familiar with the Aug. 1, 1943, low-level attack on refineries near Ploesti, Romania. A carefully prepared plan for simultaneous strikes on assigned targets by a force of almost 170 B-24s was disrupted en route by bad weather and navigation error. It was, nevertheless, a day of unsurpassed heroism. Leaders of the five B-24 groups saved a broken plan from disaster--but at a terrible cost. Nearly one-third of the B-24 force was lost in combat or forced by battle damage to land in neutral Turkey.
Many stories and several books have been written about that mission, but less has been said about the heroism of individual crews. The story of Sad Sack II, a B-24 from the 66th Bomb Squadron, 44th Bomb Group, epitomizes the valor and self-sacrifice of so many on that mission.
The 44th, an Eighth Air Force group, had been sent to North Africa to participate in the Ploesti mission. Col. Leon W. Johnson, commander of the 44th and later a four-star general, led 37 of his bombers on that mission.
Unlike the two groups that preceded him, Colonel Johnson turned at the correct initial point and led 16 of his planes to their target--the Columbia Aquila refinery--while 21 of his bombers broke off to attack another target. The 16 descended to their bombing altitude of 250 feet. They could see that their target had already been hit by another group in the confusion of the disrupted plan, but Colonel Johnson, who would later be awarded the Medal of Honor, elected to continue his strike as planned.
As the 16 B-24s approached their target, which was obscured by heavy black smoke, they came under concentrated small-arms and antiaircraft fire from all sides. Before "bombs away," Sad Sack II, piloted by 1st Lt. Henry Lasco, took many hits. Left waist gunner SSgt. Charles DeCrevel was shot through the thigh. Tail gunner Sgt. Thomas Wood was killed. The No. 2 engine was knocked out, and its propeller would not feather. It seemed to the crew impossible for any plane to survive a bomb run through the maelstrom of smoke, fire, and exploding delayed-action bombs that engulfed the target. This was it.
At bombs away, navigator 2d Lt. Harry Stenborn's chest was torn open by an 88-mm shell. He managed to crawl along the bomb bay catwalk to the rear of the aircraft, where he collapsed and died. Top turret gunner TSgt. Leonard Raspotnik and radio operator SSgt. Joseph Spivey were hit. Neither survived. Lieutenant Lasco knew then that they could not make it back to North Africa. He decided to head for Turkey.
By this time, Sad Sack II was at treetop level, vibrating badly, and barely able to remain airborne. Several Bf-109s attacked the critically damaged bomber. The wounded Sergeant DeCrevel continued to fire at the enemy fighters, downing one, while ammunition boxes exploded around him. He was wounded by more shell fragments. SSgt. Albert Shaffer, the right waist gunner, kept shooting at the fighters, though one of his legs had been almost severed by enemy fire.
The bomber was down to about 50 feet with one wing low when a Bf-109, coming in level at 10 o'clock, shot the pilot through the face, stunning and temporarily blinding him. Copilot 2d Lt. Joseph Kill leveled the wings just before Sad Sack II bellied into a corn field. Bombardier 2d Lt. Dale Scriven was killed in the crash; both of Lieutenant Kill's legs were broken, and one of his ankles was dislocated.
Lieutenant Lasco was pinned in his seat by a harness that would not release. He finally managed to free himself, remove the tangle of wires around Lieutenant Kill's legs, and drag him out of the burning wreckage through a hole in the fuselage. Still dazed, Lasco staggered off to look for help. While he was gone, Romanian peasants stole Lieutenant Kill's watch and ring, beat him, and left him for dead.
Sergeant DeCrevel fought his way out of a plane he later described as "a pile of burning junk." Then he remembered that Sergeant Shaffer was still inside, immobilized with only one functioning leg. DeCrevel went back and dragged Shaffer out of the wreckage. After stripping off his own smoldering clothing, DeCrevel also went for help.
Of Sad Sack II's nine crew members, all had been wounded and five killed. The four survivors--Lieutenants Lasco and Kill and Sergeants DeCrevel and Shaffer--became POWs in Romania until they were rescued by Fifteenth Air Force B-17s in late August 1944, after the Germans had retreated before advancing Soviet troops.
Aug. 1, 1943, will always be special in USAF history. It was a day of supreme heroism on a unique scale, when hundreds of men laid their lives on the line--and many lost--to complete their mission.
Thanks to Will Lundy, the 44th Bomb Group's historian, and to retired Col. William R. Cameron, who participated in the mission.
I thank your Uncles for paying the price for my Freedom.
I recently read the bio of Robert Morgan, the pilot of the B-17 "Memphis Belle".
At one point he was a pilot of a B-24C. His group was scheduled to deploy to N. Africa. At the last minute it was decided to promote all the co-pilots to pilot and keep the old pilots in the US. Shortly thereafter he was assigned to the 91st BG and got his first ride in a Baker Wun Seven. He said something like he was SO HAPPY to get out of that B-24 and into a -17. He didn't realize before what a dog the Liberator was.
Walt
The British also flew Liberators on anti-submarine patrols over the Atlantic due to their greater range - noble duty but without the fighter opposition the Forts encountered over daylight Europe.
The Liberator had another advantage over the Fortress in that some models had a retractable ball turret, meaning that if the plane didn't crack up in a wheels-up landing it was easier to repair than the Fort, which needed special tools to retract the ball gun underneath the fuselage.
About the only things they got right in "Memphis Belle" were the name of the airplane, the fact that it flew 25 missions and the names of its crew. One of the worst cases of Hollywood rewriting history that I've ever seen.
For a good 8AF movie (albeit in largely fictional circumstances as well), "Twelve O'Clock High" is one of my favorites of all time.
If you have a server to store the pictures, I can tell you how to post them. If you just have copies on your hard drive and need someplace to store them. Freep mail me and I'll help yopu get them loaded and posted
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