You've been reading newspaper stories about the aerial offensive over Europe by General Eakers Eight Air Force. You must know that it's tough sledding because you'll undoubtely recall the day sixty American bombers were lost in a single attack on Schweinfurt, Germany.
But the European air war isn't tough merely because planes are being lost. How would you like to ride along on some combat missions and see for yourself what can happen up there in the brillent sunlight and freezing thin air five miles above Germany in that little world which is a Flying Fortress with its ten-man crew? You may be certain there will be drama and excitment aplenty, but if you can't stand the sight of blood, perhaps it's best that you stay on the ground and stick to reading headlines.
Charlie Hudson came to this base a few weeks ago, a 29 year-old bombardier fresh from the States. He's a rugged ruddy-faced Irishman, who used to be a "roughneck" in the oilfields around Kern County, California, and fought sixty-three bouts as an amateur welterweight. He sounds like a good man to ride with so let's crawl up into the nose and follow him on his second combat mission.
This morning Charlie is flying in a Fort named the Baccaneer. The target is Frankfurt, deep in the Reich. It is a day few of the men will forget because twin engined Messerschmitt 110s keep circling the bomber formations trying something new. They are firing rockets. Nearing the target there is a panic stricken cry on the gravel-voiced interphone. It's the plane's radio gunner. "Sir, The two waist gunners are lying on the floor back here. They're dying, I tell you, they're dying!".
Charlie slips out of his armored flak suit, puts on a portable "walk-around" oxygen bottle and mask and starts back to the waist. On the way he grabs two more walk-around bottles from the cockput and radio room.
The one waist gunner, Jim, is lying on his back, unconscious. He is a hideous blue and frost covers his face and clings to his eybrows. The other gunner Harry, though conscious, is sitting in a stupor, staring blankly, unable to move. He has vomited on the floor.
Charlie slaps the frost off Jim's face, and puts one of the temporary oxygen masks on him, then puts another on the other casualty. He tries the two guns and finds both are frozen and out of commission, so he closes the waist windows to cut out some of the freezing gale which is whipping through the ship. As he closes the right window he notices that they must be approaching Frankfurt. Hastily he props the unconscious Jim between two ammunition boxes so that his regular mask now hooked into an undamaged oxygen line, will reach his face.
At that altitude every step is sheer labor, and though he is exhausted, Charlie struggles the length of the bomber in time to work over his instuments up in the nose and get his bombs away on target.
Then he makes his way back to the waist, Jim has fallen over to one side, pulling his oxygen mask partly off, Harry seems to be perking up a bit but still is drowsy and stupid. Charlie rubs Jims arms, legs and face in an effort to restore circulation. A few minutes later Charlie is back in the nose manning his gun.
Back at the home station the Buccaneer fires two red flares as it come in for a landing. To the people on the ground this signal means "wounded aboard", and an ambulance speeds to meet the taxiing ship. Charlie Hudson sighs: "I'm the tirest, I've ever been in my life." and heads for his bunk.
A couple of days later Jim and Harry are none the worse for their experience, though at least one of them owes his life to Charlie.
Well that wasn't too bad, how about going on another of Charlies missions? This one is to Bremen. The ship has a nude painted on the nose and is named Hell's Belle. Far out over the North Sea the pilot of the ship flying alongside the Belle calls up on the radio: "The door has come off your ball turret and the gunner is falling out head first. He's hanging out in the slipstream with his head, shoulders, and most of his Mae West outside the turret."
Once agian Charlie jumps out of his flak suit, grabs a couple of walk-around bottles, and heads back through the ship. Meanwhile the ball turret gunner has managed to pull himself back into the turret and has rotated the power operated turret upward so that the open door is inside the ship. But he has caught his head in the mechanism on the way up.
When Charlie reaches the turret he finds the sergeant limp, with his head hanging and blood pouring over his face and into the bottom of the turret. His forehead is cut nearly from ear to ear, about an inch above his eyebrows, and part of his scalp is laid back like a peeled orange, which Charlie puts back into it right place. Charlie grasps him under the armpits, and struggling against his own weakness due to lack of sufficient oxygen, slowly drags him out of the turret. The blood runing over the sergeant's face is freezing and he is choking on chunks of ice. Charlie puts his finger in the boy's mouth and removes the ice. Then he takes off his own oxygen mask and places it over the gunner's face. Charlie's face is covered with the other fellow's blood and he finds that he too has been hit by something over the eye and some of his own blood is streaming down his face.
A thousand jumbled reactions and thoughts rush through Charlie's brain in a fleeting moment. He even recalls a recent newspaper story and considers parachuting the wounded gunner out over enemy territory, hoping a German doctor will find him before it is too late.
Crawling into the radio room he gets himself an oxygen mask and then passes out for a few moments from shear exhaustion. When he comes to he returns to the ball turret gunner, slits the arm of his jacket with a knife, administers a shot of morphine from a nearby first aid kit, drags the boy into the radio room and plugs in his heated suit.
The ship is nearing the target, and once again Charlie drags himself up to the nose from where he already can see Bremen's drydocks. Once again alot of hurried, minute adjustments, and it's "bombs away". Then he mans one of the nose guns until the friendly fighter escort arrives on the scene, than he returns to the radio room to comfort the injured gunner as much as possible.
Back at the base there are red flares and the sergeant is rushed to a general hospital. A few weeks later he is back on the base with a scar across his forehead little worse than another wrinkle, thanks to the skill of his doctors.
Mission number four was the Focke-Wulf factory at Anklam. Orders on this mission were to drop from a much lower altitude than the normal 19,000 or higher altitude. At the very last minute, before they had a chance to drop their bombs, the ship took a direct anti-aircraft hit into an engine and it immediately burst into flames. With fire flickering back across the wing. Charlie and the navigator are sweating over their nose guns and the great bomber is vibrating as gunners throuhout the ship pour out their protective fire. A flak fragment crashes through the nose glass, hitting Charlie on his left wrist. He feet fly up in the air and he is sent sprawling in a heap of shell casings on the floor. The fragment put a hote through his wrist the size of a silver dollar, breaking the bone. Moore the navigator, helps him to his feet and attempts to give him first aid.
"Get back to your gun and keep firing at the so and so's, I'm all right" Charlie insists. Then he takes out his knife and cuts a slit from srist to elbow through his leather jacket, flying suit, sweat shirt and pajamas. After giving himself a shot of morphine, he pokes his wonded arm through the low slung neck of his Mae West life preserve, using it as a sort of a sling and returns to his heavy 50 cal machine gun, maneuvering it, aiming it and firing it with his right hand.
He notices that the Fortress on his right wing is gone. (It didn't return to England) Then a fighter attacks the bomber on his left wing, setting three engines ablaze. The ship pulls away to one side. Apparently the pilot has sounded the bail-out alarm. Four parachutes blossoms out and then the ship disintegrates in mid-air with a terrific explosion. It must have been the gas tanks. The tail spins crazily in one direction, the wheels in another, and debris fills the air looking like a slow motion film. Bodies can be seen pin-wheeling upward. Then, right in the midst of the smoke and debris, a parachute mysterliously opens up and floats away. Charlie looks away, He doesn't want to see more. He resumes firing.
Again there is a whoo-oo-oom and Charlie feels a searing pain as another piece of flak comes through the nose burying itself in his already wounded left arm. He is knocked sprawling again, but scrambles back to his gun and tries to continue firing, but the Fort is going through some violent evasive action, diving, climbing and slipping, one moment flying with the top element, the next with the lower.
Then Charlie fires his last cartidge. The navigator goes back to the radio room to get some more ammunition. Too exhausted to carry a heavy boxful, he takes off the lid, grabs one end of the cumbersome 350 round belt and staggers back through the ship dragging the long chain of bullets behind him....across the narrow catwalk through the open bomb bay....over the base of the top turrent where the gunner reaches down between bursts to help inch the belt along...under the cockpit where the co-pilot leans down to give a few tugs...down into the nose where it takes both men to load the gun...and the firing resumes.
There is another explosion and pieces of metal come through the roof, lacerating Charlies right arm twice, above and below the elbow, Charlie is down on the canvas for the third time in one round, but his fighting blood brings him back to his machine gun. That ship must get home to England!
Now the plane is out over the North Sea. The smoking engine stops running altogether and Lighting Strikes(aircrafts name), falls farther and farther behind the disappearing formation, unable to maintain sufficient speed. Dropping down nearly to water level for protection against pursuring fighters, they head for home barely skimming the whitecaps. Moore pores over his maps and keeps an eye open for check-points on the English coast. The fuel is low.
With no brakes, due to the damaged hydraulic system, the ship lands at the home base firing red flares to attract the ambulance. The pilot guns the motor on one side taxiing the ship around in a big curve across the grass of the field. , and it finally comes to a stop. Charlie is removed and speeded to a hospital.
After twenty-eight days of stiching, Skin grafting and bone setting, he is back on the base ready to go on his fifth mission as sson as they take the cast off his arm.
Now you've been on three bombing missions with Charlie Hudson. If you go on two more they may give you the Air Medal, but you have a long way to go too complete your required 25 missions.
HERE IS A LINK TO CHARLIE'S OWN ACCOUNT OF ALL 37 MISSIONS:
