United States Army Air Force

My father had been working back in the States to get me transferred to the United States Army Air Force and was so enthusiastic about the idea that when it was offered to me by the military, I agreed to the idea.  I really wasn’t too interested.  I felt more Canadian than American and I had to leave all my friends, but I went ahead with it.  Transfer also meant more money and becoming an officer.

When we left Stranraer in early September I was put on leave of absence and assigned to quarters in London to wait for my assignment to the American Army Air Force.  I was there for over a month and spent some weekends with the Websters.  My rank as a navigator in the RCAF was a Staff Sergeant, while a navigator in the American Army Air Force was an officer, and this was of some attraction to me in this change.

Finally, in late October I was accepted as a Technical Sergeant and assigned to the airbase at Grafton Underwood, not far from London.  I was advised that a commission as an officer was being approved for me and that it should not take more than a month or two for this.

I was given more instructions and new uniforms and flying equipment.  The officer in charge called me in and asked if I would do them a favor and fly as a Technical Sergeant because of their need for navigators, and he said that my commission should be ready any day.  I didn’t see how I could refuse and was assigned to a new crew who had no navigator.  Believe me, I did wonder about their shortage of navigators and bombardiers, particularly as they both were in the nose of the plane, but decided I wouldn’t think of it.  My training here included the fine points of using a parachute, which would, as you will find, come to be very useful.  I made the best of my situation, which was strange; I lived with the enlisted men.  I studied and went to briefings with the officers, but I thought this wouldn’t go on too long.

I had met the crew members, and we as a crew were briefed one day before our first mission and had subsequent briefing as to our particular job.  Always at this briefing and at later ones I was conscious of a large poster showing the order of leaving a plane by parachute if it were needed.  The members of the crew had large numbers on their bodies.  The navigator had a huge ONE on him; this number stuck in my mind.  I was weighed down with information and worry--would we get to the target and back.

We Americans flew day missions and the British night missions.  I had watched both from the ground, hundreds of planes sweeping out towards the continent.

I went to bed early thinking of these hundreds of planes.  I didn’t want to be tired, but I couldn’t sleep.  I couldn’t relax and was awake all night going over what I had to do as a navigator.  By the time I got dressed, I had reviewed everything in my mind and assured myself time after time it would be right and I’d get back.

We breakfasted together as a crew.  These breakfasts were carefully prepared so that nothing we were eating would bother us.  It was suggested we buy a big candy bar to have later on the way back.  We were quiet; I am sure everyone was thinking of their job and of the plane.  We all had seen most planes returning in good condition, but some with wounded or dead crew members and some even crash landed as they came in to land.

After breakfast we put on our flying gear in our barracks, and when I was ready, I grabbed my bike and rode down to the airplane.  While I rode, I said the Lord’s Prayer twice.  This seemed to help.  I was about to do this momentous thing and do what I had trained for so many months.  I am sure I wasn’t scared; I just was aware of this sober endeavor and the possible results.

We all assembled around our plane and quietly took our places.  Mine was in the nose of the plane immediately in front and below the pilot.  The bombardier Sam Drake was right in the nose ahead of me, where his equipment was for ejecting the bombs.  Through the doorway to the pilot’s position I could see the engineer Gotty, whom I got to know very well.  His position was behind the pilot and the co-pilot.  We had two waist gunners and  a tail gunner.  We all had our parachutes on, in such a position that we sat on them.  I sat on mine at my desk.  The parachute made it awkward for me to get into the plane.  Sam and I had to go through a trap door that was between us, and in order to get through this door, it was necessary to reach up with both hands, jump up and pull ourselves into the plane through this opening to the floor.

Our plane, a B17, was one of the biggest planes at that time.  I had plenty of room.  My desk was on the left side of the plane with a window right over it and behind me so that I could see quite a bit.  I could also see out the nose of the plane through Sam’s window.

One other thing, we each had flack vests.  They were made of heavy metal rings such as you see in chains.  These vests were for our protection should we be attacked, we were to instantly slip the vests on.  There was a problem though; they were exceptionally heavy, and they couldn’t be slipped on over our heads.  You needed one or more friend to help.

We took off in an orderly fashion, one after the other, and as we headed out towards the English channel and the continent, we could see many other groups from other air fields joining until there was a massive number of planes, all flying in formation. The lead planes, of course, did the major navigation, and all the navigators like me just kept records and checked their bearing in case of emergency such as our being left alone.

I was busy every minute, but I could see the white puffs all around us, and I realized these were from enemy anti-aircraft fire against our planes.  I did think of the spirals of wire shot up at us in attempt to tangle them in the propellers.

When we arrived at the target, the pilot was subject to the bombardier’s directions, and no evasive actions could be taken; we had to fly straight and steady.  This was difficult for all of us as the bomb bay doors opened and finally the bombs were dropped.  At last the pilot could control the plane as he felt best--what a blessed relief.  I guess I had held my breath almost the whole time we were on the bomb run.  All the time during this run we could see the white puffs of anti-aircraft attacks.

On our next mission we were to be alone.  It was over Norway, no bomb run, just in search of information.  We flew east out of our airport and on to Norway.  There we were to gather information and pictures.  It was an eight-hour tour, eight hours of anxiety because we were alone and if attacked, we would probably have very little chance of not being forced down or destroyed, but the whole time we didn’t see a plane.  I didn’t eat my candy bar until we were almost back to our base, I was much too nervous.

Our third and fourth missions were much like the first one, and by then we all were much more adjusted to our jobs.  On the fourth mission we experienced a big problem during the bomb run.  The bomb bay doors were open and the bombs were stuck.  No matter what Sam did, they wouldn’t budge.  Both waist gunners and Gotty worked to loosen them during the agonizing few minutes.  We all realized we had to get rid of the bombs.  We couldn’t land with them stuck; we probably couldn’t close the bomb bay doors.  With the bombs gone, we were away with our formation.

On these missions we had seen other planes going down.  None of us saw parachutes and wondered if anyone survived.  It was a sobering experience to get back and find in some barracks some crews’ personal belongings being collected to be returned to next of kin.

©Joseph H. Harrison 1999