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55 YEARS TO CLOSURE This is a story that begins with the events of Sunday, 17 December 1944 on a disastrous mission by the Fifteenth Air Force, US Army, based on the Adriatic Sea in southern Italy. We were trying to put an end to the German Odertal synthetic fuel refinery in southern Poland and thus destroy Hitler's most productive remaining fuel sources. The Luftwaffe Fighter Command was equally dedicated to prevent us. My Squadron, the 765th, never got to the target, and only one B-24 Liberator, piloted by Captain Chalmers, managed to survive the intense Luftwaffe attack over the Czech Republic and return to base. I was the pilot of Number 26, "Arsenic and Lace", of the 765th Squadron, the 461st Bomb Group and fortunate enough to survive along with four other crew members. We five sat out the rest of the war as prisoners in Stalag Luft I and compared notes on the events of that black Sunday. We had then, and for the next fifty odd years, no answers to the following:
These questions have haunted my thoughts continuously for well over five decades. This all changed beginning in May 1998, and this story is based on the events of the past year. It is perhaps how the well known radio commentator, Paul Harvey, might say: "- AND NOW I KNOW THE REST OF THE STORY" I first heard of the website for the 461st Bomb Group in May 1998 and logged in. I then learned that the 461st had an Association and that there were annual reunions. I made contact immediately, paid my dues and attended the 1998 reunion in Braintree, Massachusetts with my daughter, Claire. Germaine to this story, that first contact with the website made reference to a young Czech author who is documenting the air wars fought in the skies over his country. Rob Hoskins, webmaster, had included E-Mail from this man, Michal Sisovsky. It is still posted. The Sisovsky mail gave me goose bumps when I read that I was one of the specific people he was trying to contact. He even referenced my aircraft by name, "ARSENIC AND LACE". I had some difficulty making contact with Michal by E-Mail and finally used the postal service, mailing a letter to him a month before the reunion. Michal responded with a long hand written letter that I received in early October 1998. He included detailed maps of the region where most of our planes crashed on the Odertal mission that day, including mine. I was astounded by the information he has already assembled from various sources. I was dumb-struck by the old black and white photograph of a large and impressive memorial erected in the military section of the principal cemetery in the city of Olomouc, the city where I had spent my first night in a German jail. Interred at this memorial were my five lost crewmen and seven more Airmen from a Fifteenth AF B-17 that crashed the next day, 18 December. The photo showed a tall column erected at the head with the United States flag depicted, and a permanent top wreath. The entire memorial was covered by fresh flowers, and at the foot was another large wreath and what appeared as a ribbon woven throughout, described as parachute cord from "Arsenic and Lace". This memorial was dismantled in late 1946, when the U.S. Military exhumed the bodies for reinterrment in a military cemetery at Avold, France. Michal also told me of Memorials erected in outlying towns near Olomouc, one in particular to my friend and fellow pilot from the 765th Squadron, Tom West and the members of his crew that perished with him. I felt compelled to accept Michal's invitation to visit his country which I did in late April 1999. I had a general description of Michal, which was not needed. When I emerged from customs at the Prague Airport, I encountered the usual large crowd but focused promptly on a young man wearing a beautiful A-2 leather flight jacket with the Fifteenth AF patch on the shoulder!! THE LAST MINUTES OF ARSENIC AND LACE I was weary, helped along by the ten-hour time difference from California. After a few good Czech beers and early dinner at my hotel I crashed for a long night. Michal is now living in Prague, and not far from my hotel. We met again for the following afternoon and evening to plan our ten-day visit. Michal presented me with a detailed artist's color rendition of "Arsenic and Lace" that included the Nose Art; Squadron aircraft No. 26; the 461st tail markings; and the actual Serial Number on the tail!! My daughter Claire, age 20, flew in from New York the next afternoon. We did some sight seeing in Prague and then set off for Olomouc in my rented Opal Diesel on 30 April. The real story is about to start, but first let me briefly refresh your knowledge of the Czech people and their history. The Czechoslovakia that we have known is now two separate countries, Slovakia to the east and the Czech Republic to the west. Nobody seems to have a good reason why, but it seems that they were separate entities many centuries ago before falling under Austrian rule for four centuries, becoming known as Czechoslovakia. The Hapsburg/Austrian rule came to an end in 1918 and they became a free country. Their freedom was short. In less than two turbulent decades, Hitler marched into the Sudetenland and occupied the country. Men and women were conscripted into military and forced labor. In 1945 with the defeat of Germany, the people of Czechoslovakia again gained their freedom. This time instead of two decades, they only tasted of it for two years before falling under the Russian banner of Communism. With the collapse of Russia and her eastern Bloc in 1991, these people are again free and under self-democratic rule. They are now a proud member of NATO and their young people, like Michal, are filling the universities, and determined to stay free. Their Republic is only eight years old, but the history of what America and its Allies have contributed to the two past brief periods of freedom and now this third chance, has been kept alive in their households through several generations despite communist suppression of true history in the schools. They will not forget our deeds on their behalf. Now, to get on with the story: we were flying in bright sunlight over a solid white undercast with the top at ten thousand feet and the bottom at only about seven hundred feet above ground. I lacked visual knowledge as to our exact position that day, and there were conflicting reports in post mission records. I wanted to nail down the time-line geography for that day. We had been on an assigned north-northwesterly heading that would have us passing about eight miles to the west of Olomouc. However, our Squadron had been wide right of the single course line and we would have actually passed over the western edge of this large city. The Luftwaffe had initiated their attack shortly after our crossing of the Austrian border, about fifteen miles east-northeast of Brno. Captain Chalmers' debriefing report after the mission had placed Arsenic and Lace in the vicinity of Muglitz when he saw my plane lose the right wing following a fierce fire in the bomb bays and a burning No. three engine. Chalmers' location did not fit, but then, how could he be sure of what was happening to five other bombers, where and when, while looking after his own plane under a heavy attack by over 100 German fighters, as stated later by the commanding general of the Luftwaffe!!! With the known actual crash site of Arsenic and Lace on the outskirts of Olomouc I was able to rule the Muglitz report out during the next few days. After the FW-190 Fighters' 30 mm cannon hits had fired the bomb bays into an inferno, I issued the verbal order over intercom to abandon ship. Cliff Stewart, tail gunner; and John Modrovsky, ball turret gunner, were the first able to bail out from the tail, leaving the two dead bodies of Abe Abrahamson, radio operator; and Edwin Howard, flight engineer, behind. They touched down, after free fall, several miles south of Olomouc which ties with the wreckage site. I personally had gone in a head-first dive through the burning bomb bay about five minutes later. I left the dead bodies of Art Carlson, my bombardier, and Morris Goldman, upper turret gunner, behind on the flight deck. I had pulled Vro, my co-pilot who should have been long gone, from his seat and told him to follow me as I went head-first through the fire in the forward bomb bay. I was banging against the center cat-walk and the bomb bay doors that were partially open from the weight of the 500 pound bombs that I had previously released. I lost consciousness for a few moments before opening my chute at about five miles up. That altitude would require about thirty minutes of descent time which, with the westerly strong winds reported, should have put me at a touchdown point about eight to ten miles east of Olomouc. Michal had the actual crash area general information, and the collaboration of the Olomouc Feature Editor of their largest newspaper. They had printed notice of my pending visit, asking eyewitnesses to the crash of Arsenic and Lace to come forward. We met on our first morning with this Editor in his office. I was told that the Olomouc edition of their paper would carry a major article replete with photos. We then reviewed the responses to the Editor's (Peter's) request for witnesses. Of the fifteen responses, which had been checked out by Peter, two were selected. A date was set for 2:00 PM the next day for all to meet at the entrance to the huge cemetery in the Neredin suburb of Olomouc. Both selectees, a man and a woman, had been about ten years old at the time and had lived directly in the general flight path. Both were now about sixty-five, the man a newly retired medical doctor and the lady a retired widow now living in a smaller town some distance from Olomouc. We met at the appointed time in the stone paved entry to the cemetery, and while introductions were in progress I became aware of the burden on Michal Sisovsky in his role as our interpreter, and that role was to continue throughout our stay. For openers, while waiting for the delayed Editor, the Doctor got my attention, by pointing to the paving stones at his feet next to the curb of the roadway, and telling me, through Michal, that a propeller blade from one of my engines had created a five foot deep hole at that point!! Then Michal told me that the lady witness had traveled from her new home by train and bus to this meeting, carrying a bouquet of flowers for me! With the arrival of Peter, the Editor, we proceeded into the cemetery to visit the site of the former memorial to American dead in the military section. The military section is centuries old and honors all who gave their lives for Czechoslovakia. There are graves for many foreign soldiers, predominantly Russian with a red star on each head stone, who lost their lives driving the Germans from this land. I recall seeing a few British stones, one listing the names, ranks, and date for a Lancaster Bomber crew. There was one very large and tall memorial with a tall spire carrying the Russian red star on top. The Doctor explained that the large memorial I have described earlier for my crew members, had been next to this Russian monument. We next visited another section of this vast cemetery, where Arsenic and Lace had made her last contact with earth. To understand what I am attempting to describe, you must be able to mentally envision, as I have, how my bomber made its final approach back to earth and the succession of events. The plane had been on a northwesterly heading, after abandonment, and stayed on that course. Fire, explosions, and aerodynamic forces caused a rapid metamorphosis. She shed her wings, engines, propeller blades, turrets and bodies. The heavy bombs had gone long before. In the end, at this cemetery, there was only the fuselage still containing the center section of the wing with its remnant load of 100 octane spewing fire and smoke. As if using the vehicle roadway between beautiful grave sites as a runway, it made its last landing (albeit a very steep approach), accompanied by a fuel explosion brought about by the impact. The Doctor stated that you could smell the fuel for a mile around; that no one was a casualty; that the only damage at this location was flame damage to a few small trees that fully recovered. The "Whump" from the fuel blast had tipped head stones back at grave sites on each side of the roadway. The Doctor pointed out two beautiful large chapels left undamaged at each end of the service roadway, with the landing (impact) point halfway between! He also made note that the other two so far unmentioned survivors, Vro Francisco, co-pilot, and Milton Klarsfeld, navigator, had landed nearby. One actually touched down in the cemetery and the other just a short distance outside. This all fits. Milt had been trapped in the nose section, and Vro had refused to go through the burning bomb bay. The final explosion in the fuselage, probably at only about 1,500 feet, had expelled the nose turret and had also blown both of them clear of the fuselage and opened their parachutes! The Doctor wanted me to clear up a mystery for him. He had learned the names of my crew but had retrieved from the wreckage a heavy duty flashlight that survived in working order and bore the name REGAN. I explained that Sgt. Regan was my ground crew chief who looked after my plane between missions, supervising damage repairs, maintenance, and the readiness preparation for the next mission!! At this point we left the cemetery in a small caravan of three cars and traveled about two miles to an open field area on the final approach of Arsenic and Lace. The cemetery was visible a good mile away. The witnesses kept up a running tale of where engines, bodies, and major debris had come to rest. We then drove to a point midway between where we were and the cemetery. This was a small, old, and modest residential neighborhood. The Doctor had lived here as a child and it was from here that he had viewed that final approach from his old home. He then took us a block down the street to a corner lot where, until recently, there had stood the neighborhood beer pub. He stated that the nose turret of Arsenic and Lace had gone through the roof of the single story building, then the attic space, but had only half penetrated the ceiling. He had personally seen this turret hanging there over the beer tapping spouts. The body of David Brewer came to rest not far from this location. We thanked everyone for their time and contributions, and said goodbye to all except the lady witness who had come by train and bus. I drove her to her new home in the hills to the east of Olomouc. It was in this same general area a day or so later, while trying to find the small village where I had touched down, that we were kissed by Lady Luck!! We had been told in a village several miles to the south of where we were, by an eye witness to the crash of Lt. Fred Capalbo's plane, that he couldn't tie any specific village to my 54-year-old description. However, he told us that a book had been published at war's end in 1945 that recounted such events for all the communities surrounding Olomouc. He himself was a small community newspaper publisher. He had personally never seen the book, that there were few printed, but that he had heard of an older man in the area to the north who had a copy. So we put this search on our shopping list. Michal was tireless in the pursuit of this book and while I drove, he was in and out of the car asking questions of strangers. He finally came up with a possible lead to our quarry. We found the old man's house to learn that he had died. We were told that the man's son could perhaps have the book. We went to the son's home. He was at work. We learned that he ran a family business - a small lumber yard. We found the lumber yard. I was very tired and stayed in the car while Michal went in the small office building. Five minutes later Michal came bursting out the office door with a husky middle aged man who wore a big grin on his face while waving a book on high!! Michal was so excited that his English almost failed him as he told me that this was THE BOOK! The man wanted me to have it but could not give it to me. Local custom required that he sell it to me, which he did for $10 US. That evening back in Olomouc, Michal and Peter, the Feature Editor, poured through the book which, of course, was written in Czech. This book shed no light on my search for the village I was seeking BUT - there were three pages, including pictures, telling of where my salvo of twelve five-hundred pounders had struck! The bombs were not armed, but with all that weight and velocity they could wreak much more havoc than wrecking balls. They had fallen together and wiped out a farm house, the usual adjacent farm buildings, the farm family garden plot, and finished in a bordering vacant field. No fire was started, and no one killed. One man was injured but recovered! That night in Olomouc I went to bed exhausted about 10:30 PM. I awoke about three hours later, bolting straight up in bed, widely awake, almost physically feeling the mental joining in my mind of the two separate experiences, over fifty-four years apart. I now had all the answers to the long unanswered questions. I am still wide awake. I HAVE EXPERIENCED AN UNFORGETTABLE CLOSURE! |
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