War Stories of the 2nd Bomb Group
During World War II
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War Stories of the 2nd Bomb Group During World War II |
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AIR BATTLE OVER THE WHITE CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS Moravia, Czech Republic 29th August 1944 - 60 Years Later
by Loy Dickenson, President, 2nd Bombardment Association
This trip actually began in 1944 when I was shot down over Czechoslovakia. MOJMIR BACA found me near a forest and took me to his family's home where they sheltered me overnight at great risk to themselves. The friendship with Mojmir Baca his wife Elishka, his children and grandchildren have meant a great deal to me. Baca came to visit us in Denver in 1979 by means of airline reciprocity with the United Airlines. At that time Mojmir worked as a mechanic for Czech Airlines. Over the years we have visited in Czechoslovakia and now the Czech Republic.
The Czech Republic was under the communist yoke in 1984. The velvet Revolution took place in November 1989 and our subsequent visits have found the families increasingly better off. We have grown closer together over the years as several of the grand children have come to visit the United States.
Marcella Turcinkova is one of Baca's four daughters. Her husband, Jenda Turcinek, is the son of Dr. Turcinek, the doctor who met me when I was taken into custody in Slavicin the following the battle. Granddaughter Jana Turcinkova came to Denver as a Rotary Youth Exchange student, sponsored by Denver Mile High Rotary, in 1995-96. She is now a doctoral candidate at Mendel University in Brno. Her brother, Honza, is a graduate student at Mendel, also in economics. The youngest brother, Pavel Turcinek, just completed a year as a Rotary Youth Exchange at Golden High School, Colorado. When we saw him he was in the midst of taking 26 exams to allow him to stay with his graduating class. Honza and Pavel had visited pilot Bill Garland and his family in Sedona, Arizona in 2002.
Another Baca daughter, Hana Vaculinova, husband, Stanislav Vaculin and their children, Lenka and Radim live with their grandparents in a three story house built by Baca in 1960. Lenka and Radim have visited the U.S., Lenka, several times. Baca's other daughters, Elishka Papouskova and Myrak Stankova have five boys between them who speak passable English.
The following is a brief summary of our visit to the Czech Republic and Slovakia from August 24 through the 31, 2004. My companion was Jim Noles, 59, of Florence, Alabama, Retired Army Brigadier General and good friend of Bill Tune. His son, Jim Noles, Jr., is a 37 your old attorney in Birmingham. Jim Junior is an accomplished writer and historian. One of the reasons Noles senior decided to accompany me, is that his son is writing a book about the life of Bill Tune and thought that reporting from the scene of a life-changing event for Bill would be of help to the author.
Tuesday, August 24: Jim came into Vienna on KLM and I arrived on British Air. We were met by Mr. and Mrs. Jenda Turcinek, their son Honza and daughter Jana Turcinkova. We had rented a car but did not want to drive unguided to Brno in the dark, thus the kindness of the Turcinek family in guiding us to their home. The Turcinek home was built up from a one story to a two-story house with a full basement by the Baca family in the early 1990's. We ate and drank wine and told stories into the night.
Wednesday, August 25: The next morning Jana took us on a walking tour of downtown Brno, ending at the equivalent of our NPR radio station that we learned had been established in 1923. The reporter who was to interview me was not able to be there and Jana was pressed into service. We believe that she had been set up. She conducted the interview extremely well. Jana came about her connection with the radio station when she was a visiting scholar at Vienna University on a scholarship from the European Union in 2001-02. During that time she had an open afternoon and volunteered at the Vienna public radio station. This fall she will lecture on Economics at a university in Finland.
Later, on Wednesday afternoon, we drove to south Moravia, near the Austrian border and the towns of Znojmo and Novy Saldorf. Here, along with a few of the Turcinek neighbors, we tasted wine at four wineries. The first was not too different from a winery in California. The others were distinctly different in that they were all caves dug deep into the hill. One of these sported some ancient equipment including an 80 or 90-year manual corking device, not too different than the one our wine club in Colorado uses. Upon entering the winery one must walk down hill a short distance where the wine maker told us about his wine. The wines from this region are almost all whites since the climate and soil did not do well for reds. We got back to Brno about 10PM ready to go to bed but we must have a few nibbles and try a few of Jenda's red wines. Color these folks 'convivial'. Earlier he had shown us the wine-making equipment in his basement. From crushing to corking he as a complete setup and produces quite nice wines.
Thursday, August 26: We did not make a fast start on Thursday but did get on the road to Slavicin (slav a chin) by way of Zlin, the administrative capital of Zlin District of Moravia. Jana was our guide. Upon arrival we were greeted by Mojmir and Elishka Baca their daughter Hana Vaculinova and granddaughter Lenka. Stanislav Vaculin arrived later from work. Both families live in the two-story house built by Baca in 1960. By the dinner hour son Radim arrived to join us. Jim and I bunked upstairs with Hana and family.
Friday, August 27: On Friday morning we meet at the Information Center (similar to a Chamber of Commerce) where there is a well laid out display of aircraft parts from B-17's, banners, plaques and photographs of the carnage from 60 years ago. Baca and his friend Dr. Lumir Horak and others now passed on, have turned over the reigns of managing and maintaining the Slavicin Museum to younger but just as eager and as committed volunteers. It is truly amazing how thoroughly they have searched the grounds where the ten airplanes came down in an area at least 50 miles from south (in Slovakia) to the north at Metylovice. They are still finding parts and within the last year had found the number three engine from Tune's airplane#159. It was buried deep in a bog not far from Rudice (roo dee che). On display in the Slavicin Museum is the engine from a German ME109 fighter airplane discovered much the same way in the early 1990's.
At the Info Center we met Michael Zitnik, who is in his 40's, and with him are two cameramen and a photographer. We all travel to the City Hall in Rudice for an audience with the Mayor. It was near this town where Bill Tune's "Tail End Charlie", #159 crashed. We drove out into an open field perhaps a quarter of a mile off the road to find a small metal plaque fastened to a tree with the name "Tree Memorial" and was originally placed here by Zitnik's father in 1976. Hanging below the plaque is a small vase containing fresh flowers. We returned to this field on Sunday morning for Mass.
During this time someone had called the Mayor of Rudice to tell him of my plight. Less than twenty minutes after we got back to the cars the Mayor showed up with a brand new sweat suit for me to change into. He also brought along a case of pilsner beer which he believed correctly would be welcomed by the crew on hand. From this point we drove to the nearby village of Rudimov, which is, the location of the Baca farm house 60 year ago and was within 400 yards of the point where I had parachuted. Our little group decided that we needed to visit the town of Luhacovice (Loo ha ko vee che) to see the shops and the Palace Hotel where Lenka worked. Luhacovice is well know in this part of Europe as being a spa and source of healing spring waters. Jim Noles was delighted to find an appropriate gift to take home with him. He claimed that this was out of character for him and could expect many brownie points when he got back to his wife in Florence, Alabama. These shops had quite nice crystal and quite reasonable prices compared to Vienna and Zwarovski. Joining us that afternoon was Baca grandson, Adam Stanek, the son of Mojmir's fourth daughter, Myrka. A tall, handsome 18 year old, Adam is learning the restaurant business waiting tables, but also learning the trade to become a chef. Adam and Grandpa later went to check race Cars.
Photos: Click to enlarge...
Saturday, August 28:* Saturday, the 28th was the beginning of two days of ceremonies commemorating the 60th anniversary of what has become known as the "Air Battle Over the White Carpathian Mountains". It commenced in Slavicin with a reception at City Hall. Here we met the Mayor, Pavel Studenik, Deputy US Ambassador Ken Hullas and his wife, Barbara, US Military Attaché, Colonel Ed Gallagher (USAFA grad) and his wife, Julie, and many others. Michael Zitnik and his cameramen were with us again and stayed with us until late Sunday afternoon. About 10:00AM there was a Holy Mass at St. Vojtech Church. After the service the congregation was directed to the cemetery on the grounds immediately behind the church where another ceremony would take place. It was a commemoration for the 28 dead American** airmen who had been buried there after the Air Battle of 29 August 1944. A 20 man Czech*** Army Honor Guard marched in, presented arms and came to attention as the Band played the three national anthems of the Czech Republic, Slovakia and the United States. This was followed by the haunting notes of Taps......
At this point a series of dignitaries presented beautifully designed wreaths. Each wreath was carried to the base of the Memorial plaque by one the Honor Guard. Each of the dignitaries in turn knelt to straighten the ribbons, then stood erect and nodded their respect to the memory of the 28 airmen who had been buried there. The Mayor made remarks that were translated into English and then introduced the Deputy Commissioner from the Zlin District who also made brief remarks. The third speaker was Kenneth Hullis, the Deputy US Embassy. I seem to recall that there may have been one or two more and then it came to moi. Lenka Vaculinova stood with me and translated a paragraph or so at a time. I had written my talk out for her and for myself but as I was being introduced it came over me that an ad-lib was in order. So this is how it came out.
"It is an honor to be invited to take part in this commemoration. I would like to ask the committee to invite me back at the time of the 100th anniversary." It should be noted that the same remark was used at all seven of the memorials. At the five towns and villages in the Czech Republic it was acknowledged politely. The two occasions in Slovakia the audience laughed out loud. Jim said "they got it" Following is the 'talk'.
"We join here to commemorate the sacrifices of 41 brave airmen who gave their lives in the name of liberty. The Air Battle of 29 August 1944 over the area of the White Carpathian Mountains was witnessed by our friends on the ground. You and your fathers, mothers, aunts and uncles are the heroes. You and they had lived under the yoke of dictatorships. You also live with the legacy of the historic example of Masaryk, Benes and Stefanic whose love of democracy has inspired Czechs and Slovaks for all of the 20th century. The Americans who died here did not come from Los Angeles, Chicago or New York. They were from the towns, villages and farms, from the heartland of America....Sheridan, Arkansas; Bowling Green, Kentucky; Roseau, Minnesota; Provo, Utah; Everett, Washington and Sharon, Pennsylvania.
As former president John F. Kennedy wrote in 1962, 'Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we will pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and success of liberty.' If it needs to be, we would come back and do it again! Thank you."
As the Mayor closed the proceedings, he called attention to the approaching paratroopers coming down from the sky. The grounds were packed with people, that made it a challenge for the troopers, but they managed to successfully land within the grounds to the appreciative applause of the crowd.
Well over 150 people were invited to luncheon where we continued meeting new people and many presentations of gifts and awards took place. One group was 6 or 7 Czech fighter pilots who escaped their homeland and flew with the RAF. Col. Emil Bocek, the president of the RAF club in Brno, was one of the group who greeted us warmly. They, along with a group of Veteran Paratroopers, were present at each one of the seven Memorials. Almost everyone had a camera. Two of our friends, Jenda Turcinek and Jirik Fleischer, a Brno Rotarian, were omnipresent with their movie and still cameras. It was during this luncheon that Ambassador Hullis and Col. Gallagher became quite interested in Lenka Vaculinova and her situation. Lenka is engaged to a Californian and was awaiting approval of a "Fiancé Visa' to the US. Her appointment for an interview at the Embassy in Prague was scheduled for September 10th. When that day arrived so did Lenka at the Embassy. She gave a blood sample and waited 40 minutes at which time she was presented with her validated passport. The interview and physical had been by-passed. Hen Hullis took her on a tour of the Embassy and Julie Gallagher entertained Lenka at lunch at the Attaché Mansion. All in all, it was a thrilling experience for Lenka.
After lunch we were off in caravan style to Sanov (shan ov) where the B-17 named 'Wichita Bell' #096 came down on a hillside near the town. Pilot Thayne Thomas was the only survivor. He was one of three who were picked up by partisans and on Sept 17, 1944, flown out on an OSS rescue mission - more on this later. Mayor Krecji greeted us and we went through pretty much the same routine as described in Slavicin, except that this event was on a hillside about 1 1/2 miles off the paved road. One of the Mayor's sons, Lumir Krecji, is a research MD at Yale University. Lumir was unable to be there, but his wife Julie and their two children were in attendance. I regret that we did not have more time to visit with this family. The citizens and others had commissioned a sculpture of an Aerial Heart that I cannot describe adequately. (Perhaps when we have some photos.) The Ambassador and I did the official unveiling. It was about 5 feet across and 3 1/2 feet high and will become a permanent fixture on this lonely hillside. When the official stuff was concluded I persuaded Ken that we needed to go into the crowd and shake hands and to express our appreciation for them being there, and we did. Ribbons had been put in place around the area of the proceedings in such a way that the crowd of people were 80 to 100 feet away from the Memorial and the podium. In addition, the well-behaved audience was not aware that they could come forward to visit with us and to see the Aerial Heart up close after the ceremonies. On the whole it was an impressive site and will have meaning to citizens of Sanov and Moravia for decades to come.
At about 2:15PM we left again for Khrov (car hov) where the imposing monument was first unveiled in 1994. This place is where B-17 #048 crashed with the loss of 9 men. We were never able to make contact with the survivor, Irving Thompson, the co-pilot, after the war. The crowd here was quite a bit larger than Sanov, perhaps 400 people and they had to climb a pretty good hill to get to the tall monument. The area is festooned with flags and a lively crowd was on hand to be witness to this event. The Czech Honor Guard was on hand to do their arms drill and presenting of wreaths. The band, which numbered about 36 men, did their part to add to the pomp and ceremony as they did at all seven memorials. Khrov and Bojkovice (boy ko vee che) together are nearest the size of Slavicin, which meant that this was the only other memorial ceremony to witness the paratroopers who had a much bigger stage to parachute on to. Since the Monument had been unveiled in 1994, the committee decided to add a touch. An Oak tree and a Linden tree (the latter being the Czech nation tree) were all ready to be planted. The Bjokovice Mayor, the Zlin Deputy and I were outfitted with shovels that were pointed at the pile of earth. We shoveled energetically if not proficiently until the tree was properly planted. After the ceremony had concluded, I was exchanging pleasantries with the Paratroopers' Veteran Club of Zlin, when Antonin Sulak presented me with his maroon beret complete with an impressive pin. How do you thank people like this?
Our caravan, excluding the band and the Honor Guard was lead to the Masaryk Elementary School where the usual suspects assembled for dinner and wine. The was followed by a Q & A with yours truly being "A". Lenka and Jana helped with the back and forth translations. There were the questions you would expect. One questioned the wisdom of the strategy of leaving us unprotected from the German fighters to which I could only add, amen! Another wanted to know whether the Germans had tortured us. No. In fact we were treated well since their own airmen were the most admired of their military. Another: we did not have a good diet by any means, but toward the end the Germans did not either. Red Cross parcels came to us from Switzerland until the Battle of the Bulge, December 16th. These food parcels were designed to provide nutrition elements that it could be assumed would be missing from our diet. From then until March when the parcels were shipped in from Sweden, it was tough going.
By evening we were back at the Baca house with just family and a full moon. It was our last night all together and a special one it was. There was a friendly back yard dinner party in and around the tent-like gazebo. Wine and more wine. Later the gathering moves upstairs to Hana's dining room where there was picture taking, drinking of more wine and then the singing. This is the unforgettable part. Hana began by coaxing her sisters, Marcella and Elishka to join in and soon Jenda, Grandpa and Grandma Baca were singing. It was rollicking good harmony and the faces of the singers told you that they were having fun and that they loved each other very much. It was beautiful to behold...Later, Jim and I chatted about the lack of Participation on the part of the youngest generation. Jana, Lenka, Radim and the three Papouskova boys, Mirek, Petr and Radek, all between the ages of 17 and 26, were part of the audience. Was it because this generation had been deprived of some of their culture and heritage? It happens that the folk songs that entertained us were quite bawdy and the youngsters were too embarrassed to join in.
Sunday, 29 August: This day was the 60th anniversary and we drove off to Rudice where we were on Friday. We met again at the City Hall and form a 4-car caravan with Stan, Jenda, Jim driving plus the camera car. We arrived to find a large gathering enjoying coffee and breakfast and later walked to the cemetery for the commemoration. At Rudice the memorial commemoration honored the memory of Russell W. Meyrick and Joseph Marinello, the casualties from "Tail End Charlie", #159, which was piloted by Bill Tune. Ambassador Ken Hullis had left to return to Prague for a school board meeting and Col. Gallagher took the lead US role in Sunday's ceremonies. The Czech Honor Guard made its entry as does the band. The speeches and the wreath laying took place with the expected changes in the cast. About 9:30AM everyone drove several miles to the field and the spot on the edge of the forest near the Russell W. Meyrick 'Tree Memorial. Here Mass was held. This is the third year that Mass has been held at this spot on the last Sunday of August. This year the 29th happened to be on a Sunday. The service lasted from 9:45 to 10:30, with 300 to 350 attending. When the service concluded, the crowds milled around taking pictures and greeting people. I was visiting with Ed and Julie Gallagher and happened to look at my watch, which stood at 10:41, the exact moment of the beginning of the air attack 60 years before. A little 'surge' of realization came over me. Back in Colorado it is 2:41 AM and at that time of day I am not given to 'surges'.
We were due in Vyskovec (vis ko vech) at 11:30AM and it's 30-40 minutes away. Again we found ourselves on a hillside but this one had an excellent view of a lovely valley, farmhouses dotted the scene that was verdant green. At this place is an impressive vertical monument, similar to the one at Khrov, was put in place 8 or 9 years ago. It was here that pilot Merrill Prentice aircraft #885 met its unfortunate fate. We paid our respects to the memory of nine airmen who gave their lives here. All nine were buried initially in the Slavicin cemetery. The sole survivor, the navigator, Charles McVey, now lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee. A new Mayor exchanged small gifts with us. The Honor Guard and band did their part with as much enthusiasm as the first time the day before.
We moved a short distance to the Valmont Recreation Resort that featured a restaurant, pleasant ambiance, and a glass of wine and fine food. This refreshed us for the next stop across the border in Slovakia. Before the Gallagher's leave, Ed told us that he and Julie attend about 20 of these commemorations each year. They all involved downed airmen, because flyers were the only Allied military that they encountered during the war. He stated further that his counter parts in other countries do not have this experience. The Czechs and Slovaks will never forget what being freed from the Nazis meant to them. The presence of many children and young people at each stop was noticeable.
When we crossed the border into Slovakia there was the sense that things are not quite as good as it had been in the Czech Republic. Farmhouses and barns were in need of repair and towns not as well kept up. We did find a good crowd gathered in the shade around the perimeter of the cemetery. We met a host of new officialdom, plus a Master Sergeant McMullen representing the US Embassy in Bratislava. We were here to honor the six men who died when "My Baby" #473 crashed nearby. The pilot, Robert McCloskey, survived, as did Navigator Willard Netzley, Bombardier John Curran and James Jones, Engineer. The co-pilot died in Brno hospital and the lower turret ginner was buried in Slavicin. The remaining four men were interred in a prominent spot with quite distinctive markers. The commemoration ceremony, including the Czech Honor Guard and our loyal band, was well done and well received by the audience.
The last stop was at Nemsova (Nem shauv ah), Slovakia, which was near the village of Antonstal where B-24 "Rough Cobb" crashed. Pilot Billy G. Ray survived along with eight of the crew. Andrew Solack was the only American from the crew to perish. The B-24, #313, was a part of the 454 Bomb Group, also flying out of the 15th AF in Italy. A new memorial plaque naming Andrew Solack was unveiled against a milti-rock tableau. It was the last of 7 memorials we visited over the two-day weekend. There were 11 or 12 Boy Scouts in the audience, which prompted me to comment on their presence and to recall my own scouting days 67 years ago. After the program several of them came up to me gave me the Scout handshake. It had been a long time since I had done that. Mayor Jan Mindar and Stanislav Micko the vice chair and organizer of the day were very cordial and invited us to attend a dinner function later. We had to decline because we wanted to drive to Banska Bystrica and get to our hotel before it got dark. From my hotel room at about 11 O'clock I would see a fire works display. It was the celebration of the Slovak National Uprising that also took place 29 August 1944.
Monday, August 30: The reason we came to Bystrica was that a good friend, Jim Downs, was being lionized for the book he wrote - "WWII:OSS Tragedy In Slovakia". His book had been translated into Slovak and 'State' had invited him to come to visit for a Symposium, the weekend celebration and recognition of the Slovak National Uprising (SNP). In August 1944 the Russians had overrun Bulgaria and Rumania. The Slovak partisans had been successful in being able to organize a large force. With 10,000 troops and what they thought would be Russian support, the Uprising got under way. This really got German attention and immediate steps were taken to quell it. It turned out that the Russians were not in any way interested in supporting neither an action they could not control nor one that would be bourgeois. While all this was going on the OSS and the 15th AF had been successfully rescuing flyers out of Yugoslavia, and had made a plan to do the same in Slovakia. The OSS put together a group known as DAWES to insert into Slovakia to support the partisans. Two B-17's from the 15th flew these men into Banska Bystrica on September 17, 1944. With the engines still idling, 17 American and British evacuating airmen boarded and were flown back to Italy. Three of the men on the August 29 mission #263, Pilot Thayne Thomas, co-pilot Clarence Jackson and Tail Gunner Robert Donahue were among those flown to freedom that day. Thomas died in 1996 and Donahue in August 2003. We never did find Jackson after the war.
That morning we had breakfast with Jim and Patsy Downs and were joined by Barbara Zigli of the Embassy in Bratislava. Barbara arranged to have Downs autograph copies of the translated book to send to Mojmir Baca and Jirik Fleischer in Brno. We met Lora Berg and Stephen Crosbie, also from the Embassy, who were helpful in keeping us up to date on the arrangements. Noles and I walked to the Banska Bystrica museum that we learned had been designed and built during the communist years. The outside had a dreadful, fortress-like appearance. On the inside however, we found it to be quite well organized. The exhibits included a great many mannequins in military dress of every kind almost all from the 20th century and with emphasis on WWII, e.g., flak vest, electric flight suit, lined flight boots, soft leather cap, etc. We had the good fortune to meet Jan Babincak, Historian and interpreter from Bratislava. He helped us with translations of the exhibit descriptions and gave us background on the Slovak Uprising and the Historical Symposium.
Back at the hotel we learned that most of the visiting types (veterans, Embassy people) were being taken for a ride in a small airplane to the town of Prievidza, that is about 35 air miles away but about 85 miles by road. We were invited but declined since our plan was to get to Bratislava before dark. We met Richard Moulton, a B-24 nose gunner. After being shot down on June 26, 1944, he was taken in by Slovak partisans. Another was Leo Kituskie, a retired dentist from Glenside, PA. Leo was on a B-24 crew from the 45th Bomb Group and was also befriended by partisans.
After the 'flying group' left for the airport, Jim and I checked out, had lunch and headed down the road to Bratislava. We did arrive in time to do a little sight seeing on foot. Later we went into 'Centrum', the city center, with all of the cobbled streets and ancient buildings one will find in all European cities. Bratislava is livelier than the rural towns and people gave the appearance of being fairly well off. The literally hundreds of restaurants and shops we found in the narrow confines of the dozen or so streets we wandered. A casual dinner, wine and a cigar at a sidewalk cafe was a fitting end to our week long adventure. Early the next morning we are off to the Vienna airport and to our separate destinations.
After thoughts: The memories of the last 60 years involving Baca and his family have had a lasting impact on me. After the unpleasantness of the 40's, we moved on through school, career and family. We stayed in touch with the Garland's and Zupan's, but it was not until 1994 that I found that Bill Tune and Fran Flynn were still with us. In 1994, all five of us attended the 50th commemoration of the 'Air Battle' in Slavicin and Bojkovice which was a memory none of us will ever forget. Our relationships were strengthened and deepened by the experience in the Czech Republic.
The relationships with Baca, his children and grandchildren, especially Lenka, Jana and Pavel, helped to increase the bond to the point we are now extensions of each other's families. It could well be that their lives have been affected more than ours, and that may have been part of a grand plan. Look at it this way, had my jump been made 30 or 40 seconds earlier or later than it did, none of the foregoing would have come to pass. Last, and most important, is the feeling I have carried with me for many years that the Czech people are deeply conscious of the value of the liberty that they now enjoy. If only that realization were better understood by Americans.
By Loy Dickinson - Association President 2004-2005
Photos: Click to enlarge...
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Jim Down's Book
"WORLD WAR II: OSS TRAGEDY IN SLOVAKIA"
The story opens with American airmen, victims of the
Luftwaffe, falling out of the sky. It continues with the
OSS Organizing plans to rescue them as the Slovak
National Uprising erupts. The Slovak government,
which has been a friendly partner to the Third Reich,
suddenly finds elements of the population caught up
in the revolt. Berlin recognizes the strategic reality of
their threatened rear, and Hitler orders his SS storm
troopers to crush the uprising. Actually, the SS units
are patch-work units hastily organized. Nevertheless,
a succession of explosive tragic events follows.
Chapter I Blechhammer Raid
The beginning chapter is about the Blechhammer Raid conducted
by the 15th Air Force from Italy which included the 2nd Bomb
Group at Foggia. Pilot Ira Corpening and Co-pilot Jack Kellogg
tell the story of the loss of their B-17 and fate of the crew.
"This is a superior bit of writing, I was fascinated as I read it"
Richard K. Radtke, President, 2nd Bombardment Association.
(Available for sale at most Book Stores)
"The Uninvited Guests"
As a result of Mission #263 by the 2nd Bomb Group
on August 29, 1944 to peivoser oil refinery in
Czechoslovakia (Complete story described in
"Mission #263" on book page)
1st Lt. William S. Tune, Lead pilot of the 20th Squadron
and 23 other officers of the United States Army Air Force
were uninvited guests of the
German Government at Stalag Luft 1 prison camp
At Barth, Germany until the end of the war in 1945.
(during this period Lt. Tune filled his time drawing pictures
of their surroundings and living quarters these picture are
shown below.
Click on the Thumbnail print to enlarge it to readable size
Then click back (in the upper left hand corner) to return it to
thumbnail size.
Stalag Luft
Four Pictures Drawn By Bill Tune (20th Squadron Lead Pilot on Mission 263) while a POW
at Barth, Germany. Loy Dickinson (Group Vice-President) was also on this plane but
was housed in another barracks in the same POW camp, however, neither of the men knew that
until after the War ended and they were sent home.
Bill Tune's drawing of the camp at roll Call.
Tune's Home at Amendola Airbase in Foggia, Italy
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The Saga of "Sweet Pea" courtesy of 2nd Bomb Group Association History "Defenders of Liberty"
These picture courtesy of former S/Sgt James Reiman 2nd Bomb Group
Sweet Pea returned to Amendola Air Base in Foggia, Italy and immediately upon landing came to a stop and collapsed as you see it here. The Flying Fortress was indeed a special plane.
The 2nd Bomb Group B-17 # 38078 on Mission 279 to Debrecen, Hungary Marshalling Yards on Sept. 21 1944
The Flight Crew Story
This raid produced one of the great flying fortress survival stories of the war. 2nd Lt Guy M Miller and crew of "Sweet Pea" were approaching the target when an 88mm anti-aircraft shell slammed into the plane's mid-section exploded, and nearly tore the Fortress in two. Huge sections of the waist on both sides instantly disappeared, control cables were cut, electrical and communications systems went powerless and silent. Half of the bombs fell out of the bomb bay, the lower turret was jammed with the gunner inside, and the explosion blew deadly debris in all directions. The left waist gunner, Elmer H Buss was killed instantly. The right waist gunner, James F. Maguire had multiple wounds but was saved by his back pack parachute serving as a flak suit, saving his life. The tail gunner, S/Sgt James E Totty was mortally wounded and died on the airplane. The radio operator, S/Sgt Anthony Ferrara was peppered like buckshot with shrapnel fragments in the chest.
The stunned crew started its battle for survival. Lt Miller and his copilot, Lt Thomas M. Rybovich struggled for control of the airplane and begin assessing what they had left to do it with. Most of the control cables were cut and his major control was through use of the engines which miraculously, were undamaged.
Lt. Miller thought about ordering bail out but decided against that when he learned he had one dead, three wounded, and one stuck in the ball turret. The wounded were gathered in the radio room for first aid. The bombardier/gunner, S/Sgt Robert R Mullen came back from the nose section and helped Sgt Gerald McGuire, upper turret gunner, bring the mortally wounded S/Sgt Totty from the tail to the radio room. McGuire did finally succeed in freeing Cpl William F Steuck from the ball turret. Later it was learned that turret was resting on only three safety fingers which were all that kept the turret from falling out of the airplane with Steuck inside. There were still six bombs hung up in the racks and Mullen climbed into the bomb bay and released them one by one with a screw driver.
Against seemingly impossible odds, Lts Miller and Rybovich now faced the reality of trying to nurse their mangled airplane and its battered crew across several hundred miles of enemy territory and almost 600 miles back to base. Navigator, 2nd Lt. Theodore Davich plotted a course and the pilots very gingerly set what was left of "Sweet Pea" on the long trek homeward. (This account is set out in the book "Defenders of Liberty" but I thought it such an outstanding achievement for this crew I would repeat it here.)
A First Hand Account of the Landing from Someone on the Ground The story as told by Jack Botts, Radio Operator, 414th Sqdn, 97th BG, Amendola, Italy. I was with the 97th BG, and we also had bombed the Debreczen target that day. I was standing on top of our plane, swabbing out the top turret barrels, when somebody pointed off to the south. There was this plane, making wide swings about 5 miles away, obviously trying to line up with our runways. We couldn't see damage from that distance, but were curious because of the odd maneuvering and the distress flares being fired. The plane passed us about 100 yards away as it landed, and we all yelled in surprise at the big hole through its waist. Four of us jumped into a jeep and drove over to where it stopped. The tail wheel had collapsed about half way down the dirt runway (between a steel mat and an asphalt strip), causing the plane to ride to a stop on the ball turret. We arrived at the plane with several other jeeps just as the crew was getting out. Somebody yelled that the ball gunner was still in the ball, so a couple other guys and I opened the turret and pulled out the gunner, who was in bad shape emotionally. He had not been able to move the ball nor communicate with the rest of the crew. One photo shows the turret hatch laying on the ground where it fell when we opened it. Another account that I read reported that the ball gunner had been freed from the ball on the way back from the target. It's a small matter, but it still stands out in my mind after nearly 65 years. My wife and I revisited Amendola in 1990 and the Italian air base that is there now was laid out much as it was way back then. That was one of the finest flying feats I had ever witnessed, since there were no tail controls in that plane. We in the 97th always had a good relationship with those in the 2nd BG, and I wish all its surviving members well. Best wishes to you.
The 2nd Bomb Group sheet metal and engineering crew that put "Sweet Pea" back together.
Putting the final touches on the body work. Most of metal came from parts of other Fortresses that had been junked. Sweet Pea was returned to duty and the original pilot, Lt Guy M. Miller took her up on her final mission. After that she was put into ferry service between Amendola and Casablanca (pictures compliments of former S/Sgt James Reiman)
The Ground Crew Story The story as told by S/Sgt James Reiman in an email received July 7, 2003
"A tough old bird flew again! I was inducted into the service in Saginaw, Michigan March 1943. After basic training it was off to sheet metal school 555 and then shipped overseas to Casablanca, North Africa for more training. Several months later several of us from the 339th Air Service Squadron were sent to Amendola Air Field near Foggia, Italy. We were immediately attached to the 2nd Bomb Group. I was in sheet metal work repairing many B-17s. On this day, September 21, 1944 the mission left our field early morning and after the mission was complete the main body of crews returned to our base on schedule as usual. We could tell that certain planes did not make it back. It had to have been about 2 hours later when we heard this lone B-17 with what sounded like engine trouble coming into our base. We were working in our repair area near the third runway, a dirt runway which was built for emergency landings. As I looked up at the B-17, the fuselage physically appeared to be swinging from side to side. I couldn't help but think that the pilot and co-pilot were doing one heck of a job bringing her in. They held her tail up off the ground as long as they could and the tail had not snapped off yet. It came to a stop just a short distance from our work area. Little did I know of the condition of the crew until later. I walked over to look at the damage which was a lot of sheet metal work and said to myself, "God, you could drive a army jeep through the hole of the waist of that B-17". It was resting on the ball turret under the B-17 as it collapsed from lack of stability in the center area. I examined the damage and realized that the only thing holding the plane together was the four metal struts on top and bottom of the fuselage. They had to have been very weak from the trip and the explosion of the shell.
It was standard procedure that we work in pairs to complete our work as it would speed up completion time. After we salvaged the parts, my partner, Emmett Shearer, of then Oakland, California, and myself repaired the plane. Sweet Pea went back into service shortly after but only as a transport plane. She had seen the last of combat by now. I cannot remember how many days and hours we put into the repair, but the area of repair was a vital part of the aircraft and everything had to be done just right. I do remember that Boeing considered it the most damaged B-17 that ever came back after being hit while on a mission. Emmett said he saw a picture of it in Washington DC at the museum and also in the Boeing Museum of Flight in Seattle, Washington.
To this day, I vividly remember the sight of Sweet Pea coming into the runway and what pride Emmett and I shared in completing what was told to us as an impossible task. Today E. A. lives in Washington State and I still live in Michigan. We can still recall those days and our comradeship throughout the war."
E. A. Shearer (left) and James Reiman (right) at Amendola. Thanks to a lot men for your help in this story! And sspecially Brian Reiman. ( DFC, webmaster)
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The Story of Skippy
The following picture of Skippy and his story of service was sent to us by Brian and Beverly Sullivan
(Recent note from Burt Thorman which helps complete the story.)
Dave: After my first visit to the website, I realized that the story of Skippy was incomplete. When the Group came into the Field, Skippy would race down the hardstand for Spinning's plane. The day that Spinning did not return, the dog was disconsolate and finally returned to the tent area. The next day or so, the Groups had him charging down to the hardstand, only to be disappointed. After that, hearing the planes returning, he would start to get up and then stop and sag in sorrow. It was a very sad thing to watch, until someone going home took him back to Peg Spinning - Burt Thorman
Ken W. Spinning and Skippy
In a June 2005 interview with Al Nash (429th Tail Gunner in Little Butch #42-29594), he recalled as mission intensity increased, Skippy became gunshy because of the amount of noise and clutter from nearby .50 cal's and had to be grounded. He would always be available when his master would prepare for a mission. The ground crew would have Skippy view the takeoff and he was always available for the landing.
The following newspaper article was sent to the 2nd Bomb Group from Frank van Lunteren, Dutch historian, Arnhem, the Netherlands
Pilgrimage to Amendola
By
Linda Gartz
Linda Gartz and husband, Bill Lasko at Amendola
Amendola Military Air Base, Italy - Home of the 32nd Stormo (Bomb Wing)
My husband and I arrived in Rome on Friday, October 30, 2009. The trip was originally planned to explore the historical sites in Sicily with another couple, starting on November 2nd. But as I studied the Italian map, I realized that across the peninsula from Naples (from where we’d take the ferry to Palermo, Sicily) lay Amendola, the airbase where my uncle, Lt. Frank Ebner Gartz, a member of the 2nd Bomb Group, had been stationed during World War II.
It was only in April of 2009, that I first learned about Amendola, even though I’m in possession of more than 230 letters written between my uncle and my parents, my grandmother and neighborhood friends. Because the airmen were not allowed to disclose their exact location, the letters only described his location as “Italy.” But the envelopes held a clue, noting “49th Sq., 2nd Bomb Group” in the return address. After many dead ends attempting to locate former crewmates of my uncle through Air Force internet sites, I prevailed upon my brother, Paul, an aerospace engineer for Boeing, to come up with some ideas. He put me in touch with the Museum of Flight in Seattle, and through its representative, I learned about the 2nd Bomb Group website.
Todd Weiler, the 2nd Bomb Group’s historian, helped me download the list of my uncle’s missions and the crewmen with whom he had served. Sixty-four years after the end of World War II, I learned what no one in our family had ever known: that my uncle had successfully flown twenty-five missions between January 20th and May 1st, 1945, out of Amendola, Italy, near Foggia.
I determined that before meeting our friends in Naples, we would leave a few days early and make Amendola our first destination out of Rome. I knew there wouldn’t really be much to see there – the airbase, a few runways—but an inner voice told me I should go. After reading all of my uncle’s letters, I had come to know him—his quick wit, his easy-going, fun personality, his rascally nature (able to break a few rules—and a few hearts—to have a good time), and his achingly sweet side, unafraid to express feelings of love and loneliness.
I had flown in a B-17 back in June when the Liberty Belle came to the Aurora Municipal Airport, near Chicago. I had crawled under the pilot and co-pilot’s seats to get to the front of the plane, where my uncle had sat at the navigator’s table, directly behind the bombardier. I had looked out through the Plexiglas nose, envisioning the “carpets of flak” that had engulfed the aircraft, peered down through the Norden Bomb site, and handled the machine guns that bristled on all sides of the B-17, thinking of each manned by a young crew member, defending their ship and their lives against enemy fire. I had attended the 2nd Bomb Group Reunion in San Antonio and met many crewmembers, some of whom had flown with my uncle, but none remembered him. To complete the sense of “being there”—of seeing the area where my uncle had been stationed and served, I needed to go to Amendola—and this trip would probably by my last chance to do so. I looked at it as a pilgrimage of sorts, an opportunity to pay homage to all the men who served here so gallantly and to the young man whose death broke my family’s collective heart.
*****
Lt. Frank Ebner Gartz (everyone in the family called him by his middle name (ABE-ner) derived from my grandmother’s family name) had spent two years training for his eventual deployment overseas. From January, 1943, to December, 1944, he had criss-crossed the country, training in Santa Ana, California; Boise, Idaho; Biloxi, Mississippi; and Miami, Florida. He had attended the College Training Detachment in Stephens Point, Wisconsin, and went to navigation school in Hondo, Texas. Like most of the young men who served in the Second World War, he had virtually never been out of the confines of his small community. Growing up on Chicago’s West Side, knowing little of the rest of the country or the world, he, along with millions of other young American boys just out of high school, were being prepared to embark on an outrageously bold mission. Very simply, these “boys,” as everyone called them, were being sent forth to save the world from tyranny.
Ebner graduated from Air Force Navigation School on September 18, 1944, and the next month finally got hands-on experience in a B-17 when transferred to Rapid City, South Dakota. The rumor going around was that they would ship overseas by Christmas—and that’s exactly what happened.
He didn’t know exactly where he was headed, but on Christmas Day, 1944, he took off for Africa, spending New Years Eve in Marrakesh. He wrote home about it:
We stopped off in Africa for a while and had the time of our lives. It was the start of a 2 week vacation in which all we did was eat, sleep, haul wood and coal for our fire and play cards, raise hell, get drunk, and have a hell of a good time….We had a lot of fun in the Medina of Marrakech. It was off limits, sooo we saw all of it.
A little rule breaking seemed in order before the reality of combat, but bad weather kept them in northern Africa for two weeks before they finally made their way to Amendola. Of course, he was not allowed to reveal where he was, so all of his letters simply note the date and “Italy.”
His first mission was on January 20th, 1945, to bomb the oil storage at Regensburg, Germany, but he wasn’t assigned missions fast enough for his liking. Requiring thirty-five missions under their belts before he could return home, my uncle was eager to get them over with, despite the dangers. At the end of February, he wrote his buddy, Ted Symon about his lack of missions in the graphic language he reserved for friends:
I haven’t been flying much these days. I guess I’m on someone’s shit list or I haven’t been brownnosing enough. I’m through with that kind of crap. If they want to fly me, I could be back in the states in 4 mos. But I guess it will take me 7 or 8.
He would only have to complete twenty-five missions in the course of the next three and a half months, before the war came to an end. He navigated to targets in Austria: Vienna, Bruck, Trens, Linz and Salzburg; Italy: Verona, Bolzano, Malborghetto, Bologna (3 times between April 15-18), Germany: Ruhland and Regensburg again; Prague, Czechoslovakia; Maribor, Yugoslavia; and Sopron, Hungary.
He developed a philosophical attitude about death, as he wrote in one letter to my father about his mission on March 16, 1945:
Today I flew my 10th mission, and it was the hottest thing I have seen so far. There was more and bigger flak. We bombed an oil refinery in North Eastern Vienna and those people don’t like us to drop our presents to them.
Lt. Booms, my bombardier, had a rough time. He said that they threw everything they had at us including their kitchen sinks. Booms has to sit up in that Plexiglas nose where he can see all that stuff exploding around him. It sort of gets on his nerves. I was trying to explain to him that when your time comes it doesn’t matter where you are…your number is up, and that’s all there is to it.”
He flew his last mission to bomb the marshalling yards at Salzburg, Austria, on May 1st . He had made it through the war unscathed. His time was not up. Yet. when May 8th, VE Day, arrived, the family was overjoyed. The youngest son had made it through the war safely. He’d be coming home! But then he was presented with an amazing opportunity. He wrote his parents on June 8th:
I’m trying to get an appointment here in Italy flying for the 15th Air Force Headquarters, which will be flying Generals, Congressmen, and Ambassadors to various places in Europe. There’s a lot of fellows trying to get in, but I may have a chance.
He landed the job, and it was a honey: great contacts, a chance to see the world on the government’s dime. How could a twenty-one year old say no? He wrote:
The army is finally paying off for the times I flew over Vienna on a carpet of Flak.
He was stationed in Caserta, Italy, navigating to deliver VIPs all over the Mediterranean and Europe. He flew to Athens, Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Egypt, the French Riviera (…where the girls wear a handkerchief and call it a bathing suit.), Frankfurt—and seemed to have a girl in every port. By August he was preparing to come home, but was still hoping for a pass from the Russians to visit his mother’s father in his home town in Romania.
His letters slowed down in late September and everyone assumed he was too busy to write, until my grandmother received a letter on October 17, 1945, dated October 5th, that stopped her heart:
Dear Mrs. Gartz:
The Hospital Command regrets to inform you that your son, 1st Lt. Frank E. Gartz, 0-2071572, 4th Air Service Sqdn, 62nd Troop Carrier Group, who was admitted to this hospital October 5, is now considered to be seriously ill. Frank is in the early stages of Infantile Paralysis, [polio, infecting the spinal cord] and it is impossible at this time to say what the outcome will be.
The outcome became clear a few weeks later when all the family’s letters, sent out in a flurry that horrid day, to console Ebner, came back with a bold DECEASED stamped across the front, a sickening reminder of what they couldn’t have known: Ebner was dead on October 12th, five days before they even knew he was sick.
The airbase at Caserta is no longer in existence, but I was determined to see Amendola, where Uncle Ebner had thwarted death twenty-five times, only to be brought down by the deadly stealth of a virus. Trying to make sense of it, I could only turn to Ebner’s own philosophy that he had shared in a letter to my father:
and if the good Lord has some other way [for me] to die, I’m not going to get it on the battlefield.
Having come to know my uncle through his letters, after having flown in a B-17, after meeting the men who had served in 2nd Bomb Group, I wanted to see Amendola--the very location – where Uncle Ebner had breathed the air, stared at the distant mountains, watched the sun sparkle on the Adriatic, climbed into his aircraft and navigated his crew to and from all those missions that helped bring World War II to a close.
*****
Several months prior to leaving for Italy, Todd Weiler, The Second Bomb Group’s historian, had provided me with an Italian Air Force contact. I wrote to Master Sargeant Antonio DiSipio, who responded to my email inquiry: “We are always pleased to meet relatives of the men who contributed to a page of Italian history, and in particular, to the Amendola Airbase.”
Sargeant DiSipio asked me to send a scan of our passports, and gave me his cell phone number to call when we exited the autostrada, near Manfredonia. From there he said it would be about a ten minute drive to Amendola.
After picking up our rental car at the Rome airport, we drove on the E-8, directly east through the mountains of Abruzzi and toward Pessara, on Italy’s Adriatic coast, then south on E55 to Foggia. I snapped a few photos of the surrounding fields, wondering if anything would look familiar, after all this time, to the men who had been stationed at Amendola. One thing I know they would not have seen were the dozens of high tech wind turbines bristling up across the countryside, their enormous blades rotating slowly in the autumn air.
Exiting at Manfredonia about 2:30, we called ahead to alert Sgt. Disipio of our imminent arrival and followed the signs to Amendola. On the road to the airbase, we passed a grove of olive trees and within minutes were driving alongside a chain link fence topped with coils of razor wire, the air traffic control tower rising in the distance.
As we pulled up to the entrance, the massive, green-barred gate opened to let us in. Sgt. DiSipio and two other Italian Air Force members flagged us to a parking spot. We exited our car to say hello to Sgt DiSipio, dressed in full uniform. He extended his hand. “Buon Giorno. Welcome to Amendola.” He introduced us to his assistant and the base’s historian, Sgt. Michele Rosito, the latter two dressed more casually in navy blue v-neck sweaters.
“Buon Giorno. Mi piacere.” (“Hello. I’m please to meet you,”) I said. My husband didn’t speak Italian, so we deferred to English, which Sgt DiSipio spoke quite well.
“Would you like some coffee?” He asked.
“Sounds wonderful.” It was the perfect suggestion after more than four hours of stressful driving. We followed the Airmen in their car down tree-lined roads cutting through the airbase, passing green dormitories where Italian Air Force trainees lived. In a few minutes we arrived at the officers’ club, which had a full “bar,” as it’s known in Italian–for coffee. “This is our drug,” he quipped. “We come here at least four times a day.” We each placed an order with the barristo, the man serving the coffee. “Un café lungo,” I requested – espresso with twice as much water as what the Italians routinely drink, to tone down the powerful brew. Two sips, and it was gone.
I looked around. One wall of the officers’ club was covered with plaques. On the other side of the wall was an enormous, gleaming mess hall, certainly not in existence in 1944-45.
After drinking our coffee, the officers led us outside to a large square, named in honor of a pilot killed during training exercises: Piazzale Magg. Pilota Giuseppe Carronne. (see photo). Several aircraft were on display: the Vampire, a British fighter; G91 Yankee (Italian), and a T33 American Trainer.
Sgt. DiSipio said that the airmen at Amendola deploy to Afghanistan. The Predator (a UAV) is routinely flown out of Amendola. We saw the predator’s hangar, but weren’t allowed to photograph it. Stenciled on the hangar was an outline of the Predator with the following warning (in English): “You can hide, but we’ll find you.”
Historian Michele Rosito then brought us to a small theater and set up an English version of a documentary he had produced. Using historical footage and photos, the documentary recalled the bombing of Foggia for of its strategic importance, the use of Amendola by the 15th Air Force as a base for bombing Axis positions, the laying of the pierced steel planking runway for the B-17 Flying Fortresses, stills and footage of the B-17s flying and dropping bombs, and various stills that captured life at the base. It concluded with the evolution of Amendola’s function as an airbase post-World War II to the present. Sgt. Rosito gave me several copies of his documentary, which will be made available for the Second Bomb Group website, barring any technical difficulties.
It was getting late, so I requested to see more of the outside of the base before sunset. The area where the 2nd Bomb Group’s tents had been set up during WWII was off limits, but we were able to go to the place where the B-17s had taken off on their missions.
As we drove around the base, Sgt. Rosito pointed out to us a couple of chunks of crumpled metal. They were all that remained of the metal grids, (probably “pierced steel planking”) that had been laid out on Amendola’s muddy fields more than six decades ago to form foundations on which the heavy B-17s were stored in between missions and to create the runway for take-offs and landings. Only these few scraps of twisted, rusty metal remained.
We then drove to a vast field, where Sgt. Rosito showed us where the original runway had been laid. I tried to envision, on this placid field, the sight of dozens of B-17s, loaded with fuel and bombs, engines revving, taking off one after another, flying into formation. I asked the Sgt. Rosito to take a photo of me pointing to where the runway had been (which should also be available on the website).
Our last stop was the museum Sgt. Rosito had created in honor of the Italian Air Force and the American 2nd Bomb Group. He had arranged several rooms of memorabilia to remind visitors of the role this airbase had played in winning World War II. On either side of the path leading to the entrance, the nose and tail of a now rusty bomb were pressed into the ground, like two sentinels standing guard. Inside, the first room was devoted to the commanders of Amendola over the years, their photographs spread across an entire wall. Nearby Sgt. Rosito had mounted a photo of Italian Airman, Fiorello LaGuardia, the man who would become the future mayor of New York. He had trained at Amendola.
Sgt. Rosito had arranged displays of respiratory equipment (gas masks), uniforms, boards of instrument panels that had been used to train pilots, models of aircraft, including the B-17, aerial photos of bomb sites, a fragment of an aircraft window (called tettuccio), the motor from a Bristol Orpheus 803-K13, and an aerial photo of the 2nd Bomb Group in formation “flying over the new Amendola Airfield in the spring of 1944” (see photo). I ended my visit to the museum by signing its guest book as a family member of a Second Bomb Group Navigator, and thanking them for their hospitality and devotion to Amendola’s history.
As the sun set, we bade goodbye to our hosts. Their gracious reception and eagerness to share Amendola’s past were evidence of their respect and gratitude for the American Airmen who had served here and whose courage brought eventual peace to Italy and the world.
2nd Bomb Group Memorial Plaque Unveiled
15th Air Force Wall, March AFB, California
September 25, 2002
General James H. Doolittle First Commander of the 15th Air Force 1943 (Second Bomb Group Plaque covered in blue).
President Richard Radtke unveiling the new
2nd Bomb Group Plaque with former president
Edwin (ED) Hodges.
Four members were POW during World War II: Loy Dickinson, Earl W. Martin, Edgar McDonald, and Jack Kellog.
Historian for the 2nd Bomb Group
Earl W. Martin presents copies of
"Defenders of Liberty" and
"The Second Was First" To Hisperia High School Color Guard for the Event.
Chris Oren of the AF JROTC unit is accepting.
President Richard Radtke going past the Color Guard to Unveil the Plaque.
The Color Guard for the Unveiling of the Second Bomb Group Plaque at March AFB was furnished by the 872nd AF JROTC Squadron from Hisperia High School, California.
Plaque Sponsor: Second Bombardment Association.
Members of the 2nd Bombardment Association present at the Dedication Standing (Left to Right) Virgil Gergen, Earl W. Martin, Richard R. Radtke, Edwin S. Hodges, Jack Kellogg and Lewis Moore kneeling (Left to Right) Loy Dickinson, Jim Lang and Richard Wood.
Nadine Amos, to her right her daughter Susan and her son Barry, to her left
her son Bradley and his wife Ida, kneeling is their son Todd, all present at the Dedication.
Vic and Marg Metz were present at the dedication.
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