Brown's Crew and the Redtails
by George Gilliard Barnett (777)
Page 2
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We sure envied those crews in B-17's "Flying Fortress" who
flew 5,000 feet higher than we could.
At bombing altitude it is 40 to 50 degrees below zero. Everybody
was shaking with cold. We were encumbered with layer upon layer of cold weather gear - we looked
like teddy bears.
Before we arrived at the point of bomb release, we had to run a
gauntlet of intense, accurate, anti-aircraft shells exploding so close, the 68,000 pound B-24 was
lifted, tilted, pushed sideways, and buffeted around like it was a toy. Shrapnel rattling through the
aluminum skin sounded like hand fulls of rocks being thrown against a sheet metal shed and
everybody was scared out of their wits! (We were glad the Army issued brown shorts!)
Now, under these conditions, the Norden Bomb Sight was not
the great device it was intended to be. We were lucky to hit something as big as a railroad yard.
The Army Air Corps destroyed installations by saturation bombing (it was called carpet bombing
in Vietnam) from thousands of airplanes,not by pin-point accuracy.
Linz, Austria is an important rail center, with heavy industrial
installations, so, it was surrounded with heavy guns manned by little kids and little old men. We
dropped our bombs (40-100 pounders) and immediately Murl took us into a steep diving turn to
gain speed and get out of the range of those guns as quickly as possible. He pushed the throttles
forward to max power to regain our group, reforming several miles ahead. We were the last plane
over the target, so our crew was in a good position to see planes shot down and count the parachutes
coming out of them, as they went down. Our group lost eight airplanes (80 men) over Linz.
The top Turret Gunner, George Fleissner, called to the Co-Pilot,
George Barnett, on the intercom, "George, what's the oil pressure on #4 engine?"
"My God, it's at 40 pounds and falling rapidly." (Normal oil pressure is 60 pounds.)
The Co-pilot reached overhead, pushed the button to feather #4 propeller - hoping we still had
enough oil pressure to feather.
At first, nothing happened, then the engine slowly decreased
RPM, and finally the propeller blades stopped in line with the air stream. The Co-pilot asked,
"George, how did you know something was wrong with our oil pressure?" "Oil
is running out of #4 like a river."
The Pilot, Murl Brown, immediately became aware that #4 was
feathered. Wanted to know what's going on - he was informed. The pilot pushed the remaining
three throttles full forward to get max power. We couldn't maintain our normal flying speed of 160
MPH and hold altitude. Our airspeed had dropped to 150 and our formation, still far ahead, was
slowly pulling away from us.
George, in the Top Turret, was on the intercom again, "What's
the oil pressure on #3 engine?" The Co-pilot responds, "It's down to 50 and falling."
"How did you know, George?" "Oil is running over the wing at #3!" The
Pilot gives the order to feather #3 before the pressure drops to 40 pounds.
The propeller pitch, including feathering, is operated by engine
lubricating oil pressure. It will not change the propeller pitch at less than 40 pounds. Each engine
has an oil reservoir of 50 gallons. In about two minutes #3 is feathered just before oil pressure
reaches 40 pounds.
Now, we have two engines out - both on the same side. The pilot
and Co-Pilot both have to bear pressure on the left rudder pedal to keep the airplane from turning
right. We cannot maintain altitude and we cannot maintain minimum flying speed of 140 MPH
without sacrificing altitude. Murl is forced to lose precious altitude at 200 feet per minute. We are
flying "downhill" to keep the speed up to 140.
It has been only minutes since we had taken a hit over Linz and
already we're alone in the sky, our formation was out of sight! But, we were lucky, we were still
flying! The gunners reminded each other to keep a sharp lookout. We were deep in enemy territory
and wounded. A fighter plane can shoot down a bomber, not in formation, almost at will.
Now, Murl has time to check his instrument panel he sees something
wrong. A light on the panel indicates the bomb bay doors are still open! He's on the intercom,
"Larry, did you close the bomb bay doors?" "Yes," Larry replied. "But,
they're still open." "Larry, take a look in the bomb bay and see if the doors are closed."
The crew cannot move around in a B-24 at altitude above 13,000
feet because oxygen is required. Each crew member is attached to his station by a short piece
of flexible hose, supplying oxygen to his face mask. So, Larry Fleischer took a portable oxygen
bottle (about the size of a two-liter soda bottle) and attached it to his mask - now he could move.
Larry crawled through the tunnel from the nose to the center of the airplane. He discovered a situation
far worse than the bomb bay doors being open.
Three 100 pound bombs did not release over the target!
Their front shackles had released, but not the rear shackles! All three bombs were armed and
swinging around, hanging by their rear shackles, in the 140 MPH tornado swirling into the big
open space in the belly of the airplane. Any contact with the nose of either bomb could cause a
300 pound explosion of high explosive called RDX.
Larry crawled back through the tunnel to his station in the nose
to get to the intercom to report the situation to the pilot. The dancing bombs were a bigger problem
than the open doors. We were in danger of being blown to pieces by our own bombs!
Murl ordered Larry to get back there and free the bombs, so they
would drop out of the airplane. Larry refilled his oxygen bottle at his nose station and crawled
back to the big open bomb bay. To get to the bombs, it was necessary to walk a narrow "catwalk"
(about 10 or 12 inches wide) down the center of the bomb bay. Bombs hung on a framework on
both sides of the center catwalk. Walking the catwalk with doors closed would not have been
difficult. But, with doors open, there was a 50 degree below zero, 140 mile an hour tornado
in the bomb bay.
The bomb structural supports on either side of the narrow catwalk
were so close, Larry could not squeeze through with his bulky cold weather gear and his chest
parachute attached to his chute harness. So, he removed the parachute and placed it in the tunnel.
Larry started his precarious trip, without a parachute, through the tornado over a 12 inch wide
catwalk. The distance to the gyrating bombs was only 20 feet, but under these conditions, it
became a journey.
The bombs were on the same side, one above the other. Larry
tried to release the rear shackle on the lower bomb, without any tools, he could not make it
release. If he could have relieved the weight of the bomb on the shackle, he probably could have
gotten it to release. But, he didn't even have his arms to work with. One arm was wrapped around
the portable oxygen bottle, the other arm was wrapped around the bomb support structure to keep
from being blown off the catwalk. He had only his hands, with extremely limited range, to work
with. He was working under almost impossible conditions.
Larry looked down, only once, at the snow covered Austrian Alps,
25,000 feet below. He never looked down again.
His first trip to the bombs took so much oxygen from the portable
bottle, that he had to return to the nose to refill the bottle. On his return, Larry's foot became lodged
between two of the structural members supporting the catwalk. As he pulled to release his foot,
his fleece lined flying boot was pulled off and fell out of the airplane. Now he had only a bare army
shoe as protection from the intense cold. Larry reported the serious situation to the pilot and crew
over the intercom.
There was a brief discussion between the pilot and crew abut
the possibility of "bailing out" and becoming P.O.W.'s. The pilot ordered Larry to go
back and try again. He went back into the 50 below zero tornado. That trip was also a failure and
he had to return for oxygen. When he got back to his station, he discovered that his eye lids were
frozen in an open position. He could not blink or close his eyes. The pilot ordered him to try again.
Larry went back out into the tornado for the fourth time. He
did it on this trip! He got the top bomb shackle released and, as it fell, it struck the bombs
below and caused their release. So three bombs fell at the same time. Larry hoped they fell into
an isolated area and caused no damage to some poor Austrian farmer.
Now, Larry took time to look at the bomb bay door problem. It
didn't take long - the track that the doors roll on to open and close, was severely damaged, twisted
and broken by a near miss. He returned to his nose station and reported the good news about
the bombs and the bad news about the bomb bay doors.
So, with engines out and a wide open belly, we were struggling
along at 140 MPH losing 200 feet of altitude very minute! Our formation had long ago pulled out
of sight. We were alone and wounded over German territory and hours away from Italy. The major
concern now was, how far we could get before we ran out of altitude.
Secondary concern was, we would be easy prey for a German
fighter! The pilot and Stan Kay, the Navigator, discussed a flight to Switzerland. Stan studied his
charts for a few minutes - couldn't make Switzerland - too many high mountains - we wouldn't
clear them. Stan gave the pilot a course that would take us to the Yugoslavian coast, so that
when we bailed out, we would more than likely fall into friendly hands.
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Published with the permission of George Gilliard Barnett (464th, 777).
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![[Graphic] Snapshots from the 464th Bombardment Group.](../images/flagd.jpg)