Posted on 06/07/2012 7:16:37 PM PDT by giant sable
Sixty-eight years ago this week, my father, Ralph “Pat” Malone, bored with being confined to barracks with the rest of the 401st bomb group, sneaked off his base at Deenthorpe, England, and rode a bicycle into the nearby village to a pub to meet a local girl he was sweet on. Hours later, as he rode back, he noticed that all of the lights on the base were on and, hidden behind a rise in the landscape, the 36 B-17s were already revving up.
Neat story.
BTTT...Thanks for posting.
I see no claim to copyright for this article, so here is the whole thing:
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Remembering Those Poor Bastards
Michael S. Malone · 22 hours ago
Sixty-eight years ago this week, my father, Ralph “Pat” Malone, bored with being confined to barracks with the rest of the 401st bomb group, sneaked off his base at Deenthorpe, England, and rode a bicycle into the nearby village to a pub to meet a local girl he was sweet on. Hours later, as he rode back, he noticed that all of the lights on the base were on and, hidden behind a rise in the landscape, the 36 B-17s were already revving up.
He managed to get back on base, hop a ride to the flight line and jump into the Badland Bat on what would be his 28th mission. His crewmates had covered for him, as the Badland Bat was the lead plane of the 615th squadron and, as bombadier, he was supposed to be at the briefing with the plane’s navigator. He missed the commanding officer, Colonel Bowmen tell the men, “Gentlemen, remember the date, June 6, 1944. Remember it because your grandchildren will probably have to memorize it. This is D-Day.”
The planes took off and formed up over southern England with the rest of the 8th Air Force, then headed across the Channel. Looking down at the Armada, my father said there were so many ships that he thought he could cross the Channel on their decks and never get his feet wet. Despite being born in Bremerton, Washington and raised in Long Beach, he recalled that there were more ships in the Invasion that day than he had ever seen in one place before.
As they reached the Normandy coast, flying over Omaha and Utah beaches, he looked down from his unique position in the plexiglass nose. The landing areas flickered with flames and explosions from the siege of the capital ships just offshore. He could see the hundreds of landing craft heading in. He said into the intercom, “Those poor bastards.” There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the crew.
They flew in only a few more miles. It was astonishing for these veterans of Schweinfurt, Hamburg, Cologne and Berlin to encounter no flak and no fighter planes. Five months before, they had been part of the raid on Oscherslaben, the greatest air battle in history, and had only been saved from fiery death by the Medal of Honor heroics of Major James Howard, who had single-handedly fought off 30 German fighters with his P-51. But today, D-Day, the Luftwaffe was all but grounded; the dreaded black dots coming out of the sun never appeared.
As the bomber approached Ver-sur-Mer, just in from the beach, my father set the Norden bombsight’s cross-hairs on the target, took control of the Badland Bat away from the pilot, North Dakota farmer Paul Campbell, opened the bomb-bay doors . . .and when the moment came, hit the switch to drop the bombs. Only my father, looking into the bombsight, and the tail gunner saw them bloom across the landscape below. It was a textbook run.
My father switched off the bombsight and Campbell, again in command — as he would be for a total of 80 missions — banked the Badland Bat for home. By 10:30 they had landed back at Deenthorpe and settled in for an early lunch. They congratulated each other on their easiest mission to date . . .and tried not to think of their fellow Americans fighting and dying on Normandy’s beaches.
Two weeks later, having completed his 30 missions, my father came home.
That James Howard was some fighter.
Thanks for reposting that as the linked article too dark to read - cataracts.
Geez.....what a story.
My infantry Dad went in the third wave on D-Day. Said by then it wasn’t so bad.
FWIW I flew Hueys in Vietnam. We inserted the “grunts” into hot LZs, came under lots of fire, but then headed back, put the helicopters into their revetments and got hot chow & a nights sleep. Crew rest, you know.
To this day I worship the infantrymen & the Marines of all our wars.
Actually, the bombing raid was a bust. They all [USAAF and RAF]missed the target. The naval bombardment, however...
My Pop was a first wave combat engineer at Utah Beach with the 4th ID.
Bravo!
I believe that the correct spelling is “Edenthorpe” and not Deenthorpe. Typo on someone’s part along the line.
I believe that the correct spelling is “Edenthorpe” and not Deenthorpe. Typo on someone’s part along the line.
But you were a damn big 'high value' target in a hot LZ.
Salute and thank you for your service, Sir. It took a lot of guts to do what you did every day.
The United States didn't get into WWII until after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941 - I was four months old.
When it ended in September of 1945, I was four years old, and living just outside Fort Bliss Air Force Base.
I watched tens of thousands of aircraft coming back from the war - landing to be mothballed and eventually destroyed for metal and parts.
At a local pub, I also saw many a serviceman on the way home - many that had lost arms, legs, and eyes. The pub allowed parents to bring in their kids, and to this day I'm thankful that I got to meet and talk briefly to some of those 'poor bastards' - among the greatest heroes this nation has ever known.
But the other info appears to be legit.
Yes. I worked with a SSgt, back in the mid-80s, whose dad was a chopper pilot over there. His dad told him, once they went into a hot LZ. On the way out, they took a bunch of fire, came down, jumped on another bird, which also took a lot of fire, and came down again.
He never elaborated on what happened after that, but he did survive the war.
They often don't want to talk about it. I had an Uncle who was aboard the Enterprise all during WW II. He would sometimes talk about the good times, but the bad times, nope.
It was the same with my grandfather in WW I. He let out a few interesting stories, non-combat related, but the rest, no.
A little more research will show you that there were two Badland Bats (I and II) of which Ralph Malone was part of the crew. The first was lost over Berlin in April ‘44 with a substitute crew. BB II survived the War.
A little more research will show you that there were two Badland Bats (I and II) of which Ralph Malone was part of the crew. The first was lost over Berlin in April ‘44 with a substitute crew. BB II survived the War.
As a kid I read everything I could find about the Flying Tigers, so that name jumped out at me.
It's the same guy, and he flew with the same determination and sense of duty when he was with the AVG.
Even the original naval bombardment, by the battleships and cruisers, missed most of the targets.
What turned the tide that morning was the destroyers and D/Es charging in as close as they dared to the beach, turning broadside and hitting the beach fortifications with everything they had.
Some of the escorts that provided impromptu fire support for the troops that day returned to England that night with their magazines literally empty.
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