My Dad was a pilot, 8th AF, 398th BG, 600th Sq. B-17s out of Nuthampstead, England. Here's a photo of him and his crew:
http://www.398th.org/Images/Images_Crews/Text/Flight/Lowe_600_early1944.htmlMy dad, Lt. Donald B. Lowe Jr., is second from left in the back row.
They had a Normandy mission on this day in 1944 - bombing Arromanches or Courseulles - about 2 miles apart.
Dad never talked much about his experiences, it was something they had to do, and the lucky ones came home to pick up their lives. Some years later, the movie The War Lover came out with Steve McQueen. As a promotional stunt, they took the 1 surviving B-17 from the movie (they intentionally crashed 2 others!!!!!), painted "War Lover" across that barn door slab of a wing, and flew it across the country. It landed in Chicago, Midway Airport I recall in the Spring - it was cool, so we went in to see it as a family. I was 13 or so.
It was on this trip I found out a few things:
1. There is no bathroom on the B-17. On the 10-12-hour bomb runs, the call would come up to open the bomb bay doors so guys could relieve themselves.
2. The pilot is the boss of the airplane, no matter what. My Dad had been given the clearance to move out and join the line of planes taking off. As he advanced the throttles and started to move, there was a slight crash and a jolt as the right horizontal stabilizer impacted the supply truck still parked at the back door. He was fined $25 for that little mishap. When I protested that wasn't fair since he was told to move out, Dad said the aircraft was his responsibility as the pilot, so it was on him even though the ground crew screwed up.
3. The flight deck crew entered the plane through a nose hatch by jumping up, grabbing the inside of the hatch bulkhead, chinning themselves on the outside of the plane, swinging their legs and then their bodies into the hatch. As an adult, I can touch the bottom of the hatch easily, but as a runt little 13-year old it seemed to be 20 feet off the ground. We toured the plane from the back door to the flight deck through the bomb bay. Dad made friends with the pilot who also was a B-17 WWII pilot. As we left the flight deck, we all went through the hatch, and down an unsecured aluminum stepladder (no OSHA in those days).
Dad was the last one down the ladder, and I heard him say "I wonder if I still can...". I turned to watch him move the ladder, as a voice from inside the plane yelled out angrily - "Hey, who moved the ladder?" The pilot stuck his head out of the hatch, and said, "Oh, it's you Don, go ahead" - he knew what was happening even if I did not. And by God he did it to, just as if it was still 1944.
Not having served myself (draft #261) I cannot imagine being 25 years old, having the lives of 9 other men in your hands - as well as an expensive, complicated airplane as your responsibility as well - as you fly through AA and enemy fighters to drop 10 tons of stored high explosive on the ground.
To everyone who served on this day 65 years ago, bless you all. You were a hell of an act to follow and sadly I think we have failed you.
Update: PS: I still have the cool leather jacket Dad's wearing in that photo.
And no, it doesn't even begin to fit me anymore!
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