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Mission #20 -- History of a Successful Mission Here is the Rest of the Story! As found in Maj. Goree's file. Author Un-named 7 May 1944 Plan "Able" arrived from Wing Headquarters about midnight. Very plain were the words - Bucharest Chitila Marshalling Yards. The staff looked it over and the precision planning began to take shape. The lead crew, who could picture the entire trip from memory, were to have another chance. The fourth Group effort to put the marshalling yards on the dead list. (Editor: Missions 6, 12, 14, and 20) Lt. Elmore already had the late weather report in hand. His prediction for the trip was bad enough to cancel the mission. But it looked like the big planners meant business when they concluded that the Fifteenth would have to take weather losses if there was still a chance of destroying the vital target. Not much time lapsed between planning and crew awakening hour. It was wet, dark and dirty when the trucks rolled out of the squadron area, filled with crews bound for briefing. The mission was still "standing up" because the long black ribbon stretched across Albania, Yugoslavia through Rumania almost to the Russian fighting line. Two hours still remained before take off and lots of minds held hope that the bad weather would cause the mission to be cancelled. Two hours later we took off. The low clouds at the brace prevented a normal Group assembly. The boys were at a fine stage in their progressive improvement and an assembly above the stratus overcast was affected on schedule. Trouble could be seen out toward the Adriatic as we started for the Wing rendezvous area. The cumulonimbus build-ups predicted a rough journey. The lead crew had been to Bucharest twice before under extremely poor weather conditions, so the experience was no novelty. Lt. Veiluva, the lead pilot, and Capt. Goree, the Group commander for the mission, traded off at frequent intervals because of the necessity of flying instruments in the haze which eliminated a horizon or view of the surface. However, in the mile visibility, the wing men managed to hold position. Lt. DeWitt did a superb job of navigating. We missed all of the flak areas en route and the undercast was solid. As we neared the Danube the undercast began to climb to 20,000. The lead group of the Wing was too low to make it, so it turned the lead over to us and left for an alternate target or home base. About the same time the radio was jammed by other groups who were abandoning the chase. Someone in our Group called up and asked if we were going to give it up. When they received the negative reply, he answered, "I don't go for this hero ." On we went feeling very lonely. Like the break of day, the weather cleared about the middle of Rumania. We had a clear shot at the target; the reward for hanging on just a little longer. A few fighters began to appear but they weren't aggressive after their first pass assured them that we could defend our formation. We didn't have the aid of fighter cover. The target was coming into range and we still had thirty miles to go. Rotten luck hit the lead ship. With the target almost discernible and twelve minutes away the nose section oxygen supply failed. Sgt. Pusso rushed two large walk around bottles up through the bomb-bays to the nose section. New life for Lt. Iconis and Lt. DeWitt on the bomb run. Here was zero hour and Lt. Iconis discovered that the pilot's direction indicator wasn't working. He gave Lt. Veiluva several oaths that sounded like, "Left, God dammit, left." Then came the dark flak clouds, they were putting up barrage flak some distance ahead of us. The sweetest words ever spoken, "Bombs away," followed the last course correction from little Ike. They started the gentle slow roll or the maneuver called, "Let's get the hell out of here." The flak was near and the familiar sound of hail was in our ears, but it seemed as though we were successfully evading the worst part by our horseshoe turn. It wasn't all missed, for the tail gunner. Sgt. Kursawe, called to slow down for cripples. At the same time, Sgt. Zimmerman, a cool boy, began reporting that the bombs were knocking the hell out of the yards. He could see our first pattern, then the second sections which filled in all spare openings. With these words of encouragement, the dark trip home seemed unimportant for a minute. I believe that most who have been through it know the solid feeling that comes from being out from under attack with the target well hit and the cripples all successfully covered. As we approached the Danube, thunderheads began to take shape once again. This time the problem was the reverse. The Group had to get down through the weather and back to the base. Capt. McQuillin dropped behind with the second section. I could see Koska take B Flight out wide as soon as he was called. The flight loosened up and about one hour later we were over the Adriatic in the clear. Everyone was accounted for and it looked as though our work was through for the day. When we checked the ditching channel on the radio the words came in all too clearly ..Mayday, Mayday. Mayday... and then the long count for the fix. One more "Mayday" and that was all. We contacted "Big Fence" and they gave us a heading from our position in the middle of the Adriatic to a point due south and thirty minutes away. We told them we could stretch our gas and take up the search. Then we turned to 180º and started for the indicated spot. We knew it could be no more than an oil slick on the smooth rolling sea. Within one minute of our ETA we spotted a possibility. As we circled lower we could make out two rafts with ten men. Right here was the most successful hunt any of us ever experienced. As we circled the wet and poor crippled men, a Spitfire came into view. The Spitfire would head for us and then head back to direct the rescue launch. One hour after the first contact with the rafts, the launch pulled along side and took the men aboard. Our gas was very low so we headed straight for the field. We all agree that this was the end of as successful a day as any of us would ever know. |
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