Toward the end of August, Hut No. 24 in the 603rd Squadron barracks area for flying officers was made available for the last three crews over in “the tent city”. These crews were Lee, Moore, and Newman and the twelve of us, who by now were good friends, moved into our new quarters. For some unrecalled reason, we named the hut Moore’s Folly. In the midst of this happiness about our good fortune in getting out of the tents and being grouped with friends, I had no foreboding about much sadness that would follow within the next eight weeks. By November 2, seven of those twelve bunks were empty or occupied by new residents.

6. Kiel (August 30)

New radar technology (nicknamed Mickey) was now being made available, and the bomb groups had capability to bomb targets through cloud coverage that were invisible to the naked eye. The radar equipment imaged the ground and above ground structures, and it replaced the ball turret in lead planes. Also, it required a specially trained operator. The new device was used on our sixth mission when we bombed dock facilities at Kiel near the German coast on the North Sea and south of Denmark.

Scuttlebutt also indicated that this radar might potentially reduce crew losses. Since we could now sight targets and bomb them through clouds, effectiveness of the flak guns probably was diminished. Those gunners could still detect our formations with their aiming radar, but experience had shown that firing accuracy was considerably better when fire could be redirected with visual observations of previously fired exploding shells relative to positions of a bomber group formation.

Another change in our crew on this mission was the substitution of Jack Sauer from the Moore crew, for Whit, as our bombardier. Whit was still having problems with his eyes that resulted from Plexiglas chips encountered during our earlier crash. Jack amazed us as the ultimate laid-back Californian. He actually slept in his nose seat on the lengthy return journey to England over the North Sea. He was probably dreaming of his girl friend in London.

Meanwhile, the Newman crew composition of non-commissioned personnel also had been altered. Bernie MacKenzie, lost in the previous crash, really had never been replaced. Most B-17s were now flying with one waist gunner (nine men in a crew), rather than two. This change had been made because of the diminished threat to the 8th Air Force bomber stream by German fighter attacks. Steve Kernitz (tail gunner) requested reassignment to ground duty and was replaced by Arnold Money, who moved from ball turret gunner. Norman Bergsma (radio) was no longer with the 398th BG. He was replaced by Melvin Cohen, who moved over from the Moore crew. From that point on a number of different men flew with us as turret gunner.

7. Ludwigshafen (September 3)
8. Ludwigshafen (September 8)

Our next two missions were to attack German chemical facilities along the Rhine Valley at Ludwigshafen. The second one was a disaster for our Hut No. 24. On the way toward the target, we had no view of the ground. Suddenly, we encountered a severe flak attack. We were flying right wing in a three-ship element led by Vince Moore’s crew. Unknown to us, his nose area was pulverized by a near flak burst. Jack Sauer was killed with a severed jugular vein. Gino Franceschini had a shattered arm. He was saved by crew members who put a tourniquet on his injured limb.

Vince Moore turned to leave the formation and our pilot, Herb, followed until he heard via radio that Vince was aborting, and then headed back to the formation. We were now two minutes behind the group and dropped our bombs on their smoke markers that showed the original bomb release. The flak gunners had us boxed in. Herb did evasive action and we got back into the formation. The flak bursts were especially scary since we saw their red centers on explosion, as well as the clouds of black remnant powder.

I was told in debriefing that the Group Lead had strayed over the city of Luxembourg on our route to the target. This city had been marked on the map as having heavy flak gun protection, and our route supposedly should have skirted those gun emplacements. With only my DR calculations on our traverse, I was not able to determine whether or not we had strayed from the designated route.

Two bunks were now empty in Hut No. 24. Gino had many subsequent operations on his arm, both in England and later in an Army hospital at Phoenixville, Pennsylvania. My special memory of him while we lived in the tent city was standing outside the tents on occasion and, looking eastward, he would throw up his arms in defiance and say, “No mother’s SOB over here is going to get me.” Those SOBs did not finish him, but they did get Jack Sauer. Vince Moore, Jack’s pilot, had the sad task of traveling to London to inform Jack’s female companion of his death.

9. Eindhoven, Holland (September 17)

The British Army, in trying to break out from the Cherbourg Peninsula, landed paratroops further north behind the German front lines in early September 1944. These troops were surrounded by enemy units and were being massacred, as shown later in the movie A Bridge Too Far. The 8th Air Force was asked to help free them from their enclosure. Our squadron was asked to fly at 13,000 feet altitude, with good ground visibility, and break up into three-ship elements to bomb specific small target areas.

Our element was to bomb an emplacement of four heavy artillery guns. We searched several times for the target, with Steve Devlin (Jack Lee’s crew) as lead navigator. When Steve located the target, their bomb bay doors would not open. Our three planes returned to Nuthampstead and landed with our bomb loads. Steve took a lot of ribbing in Hut No. 24 about that misadventure. In fact, in remembrance of the occasion, our barracks dog, a Scottie, was named Stevie.

10. Hamm (September 19)

This attack was on the largest railroad marshaling yards in Europe. Again, we had a war-weary plane and had difficulty in staying in formation. Target resistance was light flak, but German fighters selectively hit the group behind us in the bomber stream and decimated them. After leaving the target, we encountered a dense snowstorm at our altitude although we had been briefed for sunshine. Ships separated and meandered around aimlessly. Whit, our bombardier, made snowballs from piles that had penetrated around his gun turret and threw them at me. After the snowstorm, we joined another group within the bomber stream for the journey home. Many fragmented and jury-rigged formations returned to the English coast.

11. Köln/Cologne (September 27)
12. Munster (September 30)
13. Kassel (October 2)
14. Neubrandenberg (October 6)

Target selections by 8th Air Force Command indicated that we now were trying to disrupt movement of supplies and troops to their ground forces, who were fighting the Allies on the Western Front. We hit the railroad marshaling yards in Cologne, Munster, and Kassel, where their Tiger tanks were being produced. Luckily, at Cologne we hit the railroad yards and left the impressive cathedral intact. It remained standing throughout World War II.

When our group got to Kassel, the entire northern section of the city appeared to be aflame. One flak shell from their guns exploded beneath our tail section. Money had a three-inch hole in the Plexiglas covering around his tail turret, but he was not hit.

Our second trek over the North Sea to the airport at Neubrandenberg was uneventful. Even with an elapsed mission time of ten hours, we met no attacks from German fighter planes, although they had been expected to hit us.

15. Schweinfurt (October 9)

Everyone in the briefing room knew that the ball bearing plant at Schweinfurt was one of the most heavily protected plants in Germany. When we were briefed to attack the plant at an altitude of 16,000 feet, silence quickly followed the universal groans and curses. Underlying full cloud coverage was expected and bombing was to be controlled by Mickey radar in the lead ships. On the way to the IP, I saw a tremendous flak barrage in that general location. On the intercom, Paul said, “Frank (me), I’m glad we’re not going over there to those guns.”

I replied, “Paul, sorry, that is where we are headed.”

The density of flak bursts was greater than I had seen, before or after, during my entire combat tour. Surprisingly, we escaped with minimal damage, but our sister group from the 1st Wing, the 91st BG, was shot to pieces and lost a couple of planes to the flak gunners.

16. Köln/Cologne (October 15)

This mission, my second jaunt to this city, was a catastrophe for the 398th Bomb Group. First, we lost several of the lead personnel of the 603rd Squadron in a crash during takeoff (Khourie). I remember talking to the bombardier and navigator during the truck transport to the flight line. They obviously had no premonition about their fatal crash. Second, the Group Lead had a problem in keeping us positioned within the bomber stream as we approached the IP. As a result, he had us do a 360-degree circle and approach the target twice. We were subjected to continuous flak bombardment for eighteen minutes, with many bursts so close that the red centers of the shell explosions were clearly visible. Third, during this attack a plane in the low squadron piloted by Larry De Lancey had its nose shot off by a direct flak burst. He and the co-pilot, Phil Stahlman, brought the plane back and got it onto the grass beyond the end of the runway. After that plane landed and cleared the runway, the remainder of the Group was able to set down. Pictures of that plane, similar to the enclosure, are in most air museums dedicated to World War II.

After leaving our plane, I walked to the runway for a closer view of De Lancey’s plane. A vertical groove in the bombardier’s turret, underneath, showed the path of the 88-mm. shell that exploded into his body. A few pieces of his flesh were evident in the remnants of the nose structure about his turret.

The navigator, a few feet beyond toward the pilot’s compartment, received only a few scratches and had been pushed away from the burst by its explosive pressure. Years later another flyer on that mission told me that he also had seen the pieces of flesh, removed them, and buried them in a field beyond the runway.

During this flight and on some practice missions, I checked out our bombardier, Whit, to become navigator for our crew. Herb, in consultation with Squadron Operations, decided that he should be my replacement on the Newman crew. That story follows.


From World War II Odyssey by Bill Frankhouser, pages 97-106. Published by Hamilton's, Bedford, VA, 1997, ISBN 1-883912-03-2.