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Our crew flew as Group Lead on the Dusseldorf raid on 9 September 1944. Lt.
Col. Joe Walters, 569th Squadron C.O. was with us as Group Command Pilot.
The Lead Squadron took quite a beating that day. Anti-aircraft fire was extremely heavy on
the bomb run and as we were turning off the target, with the bomb bay doors closing, our
aircraft took quite a jolt. One shell went up through the right wing and the number three
fuel tank, dumping the gasoline to the atmosphere, we though. The same shell burst just
above us jarring our ship violently. My two wing men peeled off in either direction,
apparently hit also. The tail gunner reported that the low element had left the formation,
too!
Our flight engineer was back from his battle damage tour in about ten seconds. As I turned
he was buckling on his parachute. 'Where are you going, George?" I asked. He
responded by opening the door to the bomb bay and pointing to about a 6 inch depth of
gasoline sloshing around! Obviously, a portion of the fuel had drained down through the
wing and into the fuselage. By now the tail gunner was sitting in a puddle and getting
sick from the fumes.
Number three engine had been feathered and we were losing fuel rapidly from number four.
Joe Walters and I made the decision to stay with the ship, even though we were flying in a
potential time bomb. Opening the bomb bay doors was considered to dump the fuel, but that
idea was dropped for fear of a spark from the electric control. I requested our radio
operator to tie his key down, but found that was unnecessary, as his hands had been
injured from the flying plexiglas from the shattered hatch above him.
Number four engine was now out of fuel, so we were heading home on two engines on the left
side. And we were alone, as the remainder of the squadron had vanished.
We made a straight in emergency landing at the Base, and as I turned off the runway,
number two engine quit. One engine took us just far enough on the taxi strip to come to a
stop. In a very few seconds the entire crew was standing a good distance away looking at
the aircraft with great relief! We had made it! Slowly we returned for a closer look at
the battle damage. We discovered the hole in the right wing was about 12-15 inches in
diameter. High octane gasoline was still dripping from the bomb bay. There were cracks all
the way back to the tail section.
At interrogation, I saw the pilot who was flying the slot beneath me and I asked him why
he and his element left the formation. His answer, "When we saw you dumping all your
fuel, we didn't want to be anywhere near you when you blew!"