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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781450270403 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 12/08/2010 |
| Pages: | 232 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.49(d) |
Read an Excerpt
BLOWN TO BITS
20,000 FEET OVER PLOESTIBy LEON COOPER
IUNIVERSE, INC.
Copyright © 2010 Leon CooperAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-7040-3
Chapter One
TIMELINES
DECEMBER 7, 1941
On a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon, a handful of happy lads played softball on a sandy lot across the street from my cousins' home in Portales, New Mexico. The Great Depression was still dragging on as two dozen family members—aunts and uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews, fathers and mothers—gathered for a Sunday afternoon visit. At around 2 PM, a neighbor, Bill Simms, hurried past our ball game, stopped momentarily and held up a tabloid-size newspaper with the bold headlines: "U.S. IN WAR!" The tranquil atmosphere was shattered in the blink of an eye! "This can't be true!" I told myself. My cousins—Leo and Boots Robinson—and the other kids were equally stunned. Mr. Simms rushed over to the house with the dreadful news. The adults huddled around the radio in the cramped living room, as Uncle Winfred tuned in a station. We children considered what was to come.
The Japanese had launched a sneak attack on Pearl Harbor, sinking ships and killing thousands of innocent people in one of the most dastardly military actions the world had ever known. Their military forces had been warring against China since 1931, before launching a full-scale invasion in mid-1937—burning villages, destroying crops, and committing unspeakable atrocities against the people.
Although I was not quite twelve at the time, I still recall those events as though they occurred yesterday. More than sixty young men from our small community of Melrose, New Mexico, marched off to war. Some were still in high school. Of the two dozen who didn't come home from the war, most were buried where their blood spilled at some faraway place. I knew every one of these courageous men. They were my neighbors, upper schoolmates, cousins and friends. They attended our churches, walked our paths, were in my scout troop; we worked, rode bicycles, and played together. A part of each is forever instilled in my being.
Words are not sufficient to honor those who placed their lives in harm's way for each of us—living in peril every day, every hour, every moment—bravely facing a ferocious, destructive enemy. Their dedication and heroism was beyond measure. This book provides the reader with an accurate account of the personal experiences of twenty-four courageous Americans whose lives became intertwined in the hellacious skies over Ploesti, Rumania, during World War II.
May 5, 1944
14:30 hrs: BAM! The Shilay-Lee shuddered from the concussion of an 88-millimeter shell that exploded below and off to the left, rocking the huge aircraft off center! Lt. Julius Altvater, his eyes intently focused into the view scope of the Norden bombsight, toggled the control lever to the left and to the right, attempting to keep the heavy bomber on track toward today's target—the huge oil refining complex just outside Ploesti, Rumania. Lt. Robert Boyle had switched control of the ship to Altvater three minutes earlier as they approached the I.P.—the initial point of the bomb run. BAM! BAM! Other shells exploded nearby. The German gunners were accurate on this day, having set the barometric fuses so their shells would detonate at the same elevation at which the main body of the formation was flying. Bursts of black smoke were everywhere, indicating where shells exploded, scattering thousands of razor-sharp steel shards—"flak"—into the path of the oncoming bombers.
14:31 hrs: BAM! The Shilay-Lee lurched like a bobsled bounding over a hard bump. CRACK! PING! PING! Metal shards pierced the aircraft's wings, one piece slicing into the right inboard engine, knocking it out of commission. Boyle quickly feathered the propeller in order to reduce drag. The noise of air rushing through broken panes in the plastic nose was nothing new to Altvater; he kept his eyes glued to the view scope as the target zone approached the cross-hairs in the bombsight.
14:32 hrs: CRASH! A piece of shrapnel ripped through the Plexiglas nose, instantly destroying Lt. Robert Barker's navigational instruments. He rushed forward, jerked the nose turret doors open and yelled to Sgt. Wayne Simmons, asking whether he wanted his parachute. Barker figured there was a good possibility they might have to abandon the aircraft. Simmons nodded his head "No" and pointed his gloved hand forward, indicating that he'd remain in the turret. Simmons closed the turret doors and scanned the sky for enemy fighters. It was scary. It seemed like a hundred shells were exploding every second, some so close that they rocked the ship, causing it to lurch and shudder. Puffballs of black smoke and invisible flak were everywhere, so dense that it appeared as though one could walk on it!
The oil refinery, now a raging inferno, was sending up huge, columns of black smoke that rose higher than the bombers.
14:33 hrs: BOOM! The Shilay-Lee convulsed violently but continued to fly. The plane's intercom system went suddenly dead. They had suffered a direct hit from an 88-millimeter shell!
14:34 hrs: Simmons glanced to his right and noticed the inboard propeller had stopped rotating—the number-three engine was dead! The number-four engine was belching smoke but otherwise operating, and the right landing gear was dangling below. He was concerned but not overly worried, because he'd experienced rough situations on previous missions. The plane was still flying with the remaining three engines running at full throttle. For the moment, they were keeping up with other bombers in the formation.
Sgt. Vernon MacNeil retracted the ball turret to find himself in a vicious firestorm! A shell had penetrated the forward midsection and exploded, sending metal shards in all directions. Sgt Robert Bluhm lay on the floor near his waist gunner position—blood oozing from under his flight helmet! He was not exactly conscious and appeared unaware of what was going on. A piece of shrapnel had penetrated the front of his helmet and helmet liner, punctured his insulated flight cap and knocked him daffy. The sound of rushing air was deafening, whooshing through dozens of gaping holes in the fuselage. Visibility was difficult, and heat from the fire was searing. MacNeil grabbed a fire extinguisher and tried to put out the flames as Cpl. Douglas Millar, a photographer who happened to be onboard, attended Bluhm.
14:35 hrs: Heavy smoke and thick ground haze caused by bombs from other aircraft made the target difficult to identify with high certainty but, when the cross-hairs in the bombsight passed directly over the A.P.—the aiming point, or presumed target in this case—Altvater pressed the bomb release—"BOMBS AWAY!" He yelled.
He rose to find a gaping hole in the forward nose and air rushing by at hurricane force. He wondered aloud—"Where's Barker? Had he been blown out of the plane?"
14:36 hrs: Altvater rushed toward the flight deck, having to crawl around the nose wheel housing and other obstacles.
14:38 hrs: Altvater found Barker holding Copilot Sam Moore's body back off the control column and Pilot Boyle trying to fly the Shilay-Lee with his left arm—his right arm and shoulder had been hit by shrapnel from the explosion—he was bleeding and in bad shape. Boyle yelled for Altvater to help Barker pull Moore out of the copilot seat—but, his bulky flight suit and the confined space made it impossible to pull him out.
14:40 hrs: Sgt. James Benardini, top turret gunner and flight engineer, dropped down from the turret and helped extricate Moore; they laid him on the floor. Benardini immediately set about assisting Boyle in dealing with the seriously disrupted systems—engines, propellers, fuel, electrical, hydraulics ...
14:42 hrs: MacNeil made his way up the catwalk, having to contend with slippery footing from hydraulic oil that had sprayed over everything. Arriving at the flight deck, he found Lt. Sam Moore lying on the floor, a jagged metal shard protruding from the back of his neck. Boyle was flying the badly crippled ship with his left arm, and Barker was in the copilot seat assisting him in keeping the Shilay-Lee in level attitude and on course with the rest of the bomber group.
14:43 hrs: MacNeil informed Boyle of a bad fire back in the midsection. Boyle didn't reply—he was much too preoccupied with simply trying to keep the plane airborne.
14:45 hours: Altvater and MacNeil took up the fire fighting chore. The situation appeared hopeless, flames having engulfed the oxygen tanks that were now feeding the flames!
14:48 hrs: The fire crept ever closer to the left-side fuel tank located near the wing root attachment. Aluminum components were beginning to melt—it was obvious that the Shilay-Lee was about finished. Realizing the futility of their efforts—wind scattering the spray in all directions, much of it back into their faces—and with the heat being intolerable, Altvater rushed to the flight deck and informed Boyle that it was a losing battle! The Shilay-Lee was beyond hope, and the end was near—VERY near!
14:49 hrs: With the situation extremely grave—the plane would surely blow up at any moment—Boyle asked Barker how far it was to Yugoslavia, hoping he could nurse the mortally damaged ship back over neutral territory. Structural parts were beginning to fail from the searing heat produced by the unstoppable monster blowtorch. There wasn't enough time—it was too risky! Boyle nodded for them to get out as he wrestled to hold the Shilay-Lee in level attitude.
14:51 hrs: Altvater fought his way back through the flames and yelled at his nearby mates—Sgt. Hugh Moore, the tail gunner; Sgt. Allen Christianson, the left waist gunner, and Millar and MacNeil! "Get outa here fast—NOW!
14:52 hrs: MacNeil and Millar disconnected Bluhm's electrical and oxygen lines, rolled him over, checked his parachute harness, and dragged him to the open bombay. In his semi-conscious state, Bluhm was unable to comprehend the situation. He resisted their efforts and had to be forcefully persuaded. They shoved him out—head first.
14:55 hrs: Millar bailed out, followed by Christianson.
14:57 hrs: Moore bailed out, followed by MacNeil.
15:01 hrs: "Where's Simmons???" Altvater wasted not a second! He rushed forward as quickly as he could—fighting his way back through the fire, climbing over obstacles, weaseling around the nose wheel housing, finally arriving at the forward nose. Simmons, unaware of what was going on back in the mid-section, was startled by the turret doors suddenly being jerked open—It was Altvater.
"Hey! Let's get outa here—Fast!"
A German FW-190 fighter plane appeared from underneath, just as Simmons turned. The enemy pilot, seeing that the Shilay-Lee was mortally wounded, held his fire and waved at Simmons. Simmons lowered his guns, returned the wave and leaped from the turret. Grabbing his parachute, he followed Altvater rearward. They pushed their chutes ahead while crawling around the nose gear housing and through the tight passageway.
15:05 hrs: Arriving at the flight deck, Simmons observed Lt. Sam Moore's body lying on the floor. He was dead—probably killed instantly. He noted Boyle having a badly injured right arm and bloody shoulder but otherwise managing to fly the fatally crippled ship pretty well.
"Where's the rest of the crew?" He puzzled! There wasn't a second to think about it!
15:07 hrs: "Get outa here before she blows!" Altvater yelled!
15:08 hrs: Simmons attached the snaps to his parachute and made his way to the bombay. What he observed was beyond description—the entire midsection was engulfed in flames, with angry tongues of fire leaping from the floor to the ceiling!
15:10 hrs: He took one look and, without hesitation, leaped through the open bombay and disappeared below.
15:11 hrs: After free-falling for several seconds, he pulled the ripcord; his parachute blossomed and gave a gentle tug as it caught air at around 16,000 feet. He felt as though he were hanging in the sky, not falling. It was suddenly peaceful—eerily quiet for a few seconds—until the silence was interrupted by an explosion off to the west. It was the Shilay-Lee! His heart sank, assuming the rest of the crew had been blown to bits. To his relief, he looked up and spotted two parachutes between himself and the broken ship, gently floating earthward. He watched the Shilay-Lee, now separated into two parts, the larger front section still headed west as though in flight until plowing into the Rumanian countryside not far away.
A lifetime of events had transpired in little over half an hour.
The frigid cold at 20,000 feet was replaced by the late spring warmth in the skies above the countryside northwest of Craiova, Rumania, as the ground started racing up toward Simmons. To the west, other parachutes floated gently downward as the 'friendly appearing' landscape rapidly rushed up to meet them. What fate awaited these American 'intruders,' once their feet touched down on this foreign, unfriendly soil?
THIRTEEN DAYS LATER—MAY 18, 1944
10:32 hrs: German FW-190s and Me-109s suddenly came out of nowhere, attacking from the rear, sweeping diagonally across the top of the formation from left to the right and promptly disappearing back into the clouds. The 80% cloud cover allowed them to play 'cat-and-mouse' games with the bombers. They wondered, "Where are those dreaded P-51 fighter escorts? Are they waiting above, to come out of hiding and rip us to pieces?" The harassment continued off and on for the next several minutes, with several bombers getting badly raked. Unaware that there were no escorts on this day, the German pilots were playing it cautiously.
10:47 hrs: Sgt. Jack Haney walked along the narrow catwalk, arming the 500-lb bombs by removing the safety pins from the nose vanes. A quick check confirmed that all was in order and that the bombs should drop properly—the spinner on the nose of each bomb would 'unscrew' in the airstream several seconds after falling earthward, thus freeing the inertial plunger that would detonate the bomb upon impact with the ground. The pilot, Lt. Leo Bollei, activated the switch that opened the bombay doors, once Haney had returned to his tail gunner position and advised Bollei.
10:48 hrs: Enemy fighter planes were now attacking from every angle. Sgt. Leslie Jensen rolled his 44-inch ball turret to the right and peered directly between his knees—the only decent field of vision from the turret—looking straight down the middle of the twin 50-calibre Brownings. "One ... two ... three ... four." Four parachutes blossomed from a B-24 Liberator trailing fire as it went into a slow, descending turn back under the Hearts and Flowers. Jensen spun the ball turret back to the left in time to line his sights on a trio of Me-109s veering to avoid collision with a B-17 they'd attacked. He fired off a quick burst—"TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!" A puff of smoke, and the fighter on the right literally exploded in the blink of an eye! "Got him!" Turning back, he counted: "Five ... six ... seven ... eight. Where are those other two?" The wounded B-24 was a goner. Perhaps he'd missed seeing the ninth and tenth parachutes.
It was lonesome in the ball turret except for the plane's intercom system through which Jensen communicated with the pilot and crew. It was especially worrisome on this day, because 150 bombers had been called back to base because of deteriorating weather. Sixty-four other bombers continued on, either because they didn't hear the radio message to turn back, or they ignored it. Worse still, the fighter escorts had also returned to base, not realizing some of the bombers were proceeding without escort protection.
Jensen had the best seat in the house for observing everything below the plane. Unfortunately, he was witness to a B-24 going down and a couple of B-17s getting badly shot up. He noticed two other bombers trailing smoke but apparently not in really bad shape at the moment. Fortresses often returned to base trailing smoke and having gaping holes and missing pieces.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from BLOWN TO BITS by LEON COOPER Copyright © 2010 by Leon Cooper. Excerpted by permission of IUNIVERSE, INC.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS....................viiTribute....................ix
To Touch the Face of God....................xi
Introduction....................xiii
1. Timelines....................1
2. War Comes To America!....................15
3. The Men and Their Aircraft....................19
4. Crew of the "Shilay-Lee"....................35
5. Crew of the "Hearts and Flowers"....................43
6. Duties of the Crewmen....................49
7. The "Shilay-Lee"—Off to Africa....................59
8. The "Hearts and Flowers"—Off To Africa....................77
9. The "Shilay-Lee"—Last Trip to Ploesti....................85
10. The "Hearts and Flowers"—Fourth Trip to Ploesti....................93
11. Bucharest....................101
12. Goodbye, Bucharest! Hello, Italy!....................123
13. Major Stanley L. DeGeer, P-51 Pilot....................131
14. Home Is Where the Heart Is....................141
15. Looking Back Over Time....................145
About The Author....................153
A. This Project....................155
B. 15TH Air Force Bomber Groups & Squadrons....................159
C. 15TH Air Force Bomber Losses....................161
D. American POWs Held In Rumania....................163
E. American POWs Who Died at Bucharest....................195
F. Airfoil; Why It Generates Lift....................197
G. Propeller; Why It Produces Thrust....................199
INDEX....................201