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451st Bomb Group

A B-24 of the 451st BG passing over a target in Hungary.

Boots

My earliest impression of the B-24 was walking around a "C" model parked alongside Goodyear's giant dirigible hangar in Akron, Ohio. I was very much impressed at the size and general appearance. Never did I dream that I would eventually fly one. After graduation from the Army Air Force twin engine school at Lubbock,Texas, I was introduced to B24s at the Fort Worth Army Field for first pilot training.

At Fort Worth my instructor took me through the walkaround inspection before getting on board. On being seated in the left seat, I remarked at the width and size of the rudder pedals. My instructor just grinned and said, "You'll see." The first flight was mostly a familiarization event. It included the usual turns, altitude changes, stall series and the follow through exercises with him on the controls. He demonstrated "engine out" procedures and the necessary trimming. Then, with me flying, he cut two engines on one side. Then I knew why the rudder pedals were so wide. With both of my feet on one of the pedals I strained to overcome the yaw I yelled for him to get on it, as well. The next demonstration was how to properly trim the rudder tabs to keep a straight course. The instructor was still grinning.

This first flight was often referred to as the `dollar' ride as it put me on flying status with the benefit of flight pay. Good thing that it happened then as, in a game of volley ball that same afternoon, I was spiked by one of my friends, Lt. John Hill. This left me with a fractured left thumb. Now you can fly the bird with a broken thumb, but the left thumb was used to push the radio button on the left fork of the yoke. Result - the flight surgeon said that he could not let me fly again until the thumb healed. Wow! I had an unexpected month's leave.

Upon returning to base, I crammed in ground school and flew every possible minute to catch up with my class. Busy. I did put in some time running over to Dallas to visit with my future wife. We wed soon after. (After 59 years, we're still together.) Upon completion of B-24 transition we set off for Lincoln Army Air Field. There I met up with my crew of officers and men who had each completed his own special training. With very little time there we were assigned to Biggs Field at El Paso for combat crew training. Gunnery training, night flights, bombing runs over Alamagordo bomb range and cross country to distant locations. And, more and more of the same, plus more ground school. And, most importantly: formation flying.

At one point I asked the training school commander if it would be possible to take my wife on one of our "missions". He reminded me that this was war time, these were combat planes and that it would take an Act of Congress to get permission. In other words,"no." Weelll, now. I bent the rules a little. I grounded my navigator for a day and wrapped my wife up in his flight suit, etc., and we went flying. I was the only married man on the crew and the lads were glad to escort my wife to the plane. She was placed in the tail gunner's turret and told to look busy. As we closed the bomb bay doors she was invited up to the `front office' to watch the proceedings. The men gave her a good tour of the ship during the mission over the Alamagordo bomb range. In preparation for the trip she had made sandwiches and served snacks and drinks for the crew.

Upon returning to Biggs Field, the men again huddled around her and escorted her back to our car while I went into Operations for debriefing. During this time, the Captain happened to look out to the parking lot and saw my wife taking off the helmet and shaking out her hair. The Captain turned to me and asked, "Is that your wife out there and did you do what I think you did? - I'll be Gol durned." The debriefing was very short, to say the least. Following that my wife said she could hardly meet the Captain's gaze while at the `O' Club.

Back to flying. One event sticks in my mind. On a night flight south-bound out of Biggs the instrument panel lights went out just as we left the haze of El Paso's lights. It was pitch black with no reference to the horizon. I yelled for the flight engineer to hand up a flashlight. He did so but turned the ninety degree GI flashlight directly into my eyes. At this point, I saw the radio range station lights flash by just to our left and even with the ship. Enough airspeed and sheer luck allowed us to gain altitude and throttle back the engines to normal climb power. On a scale of ten, the clutch factor was about 9.95! The mission continued on a normal level as the instrument lights were brought back on line.

Another hair raising experience happened over the Alamagordo Bomb range. The traffic pattern was a long rectangle arranged so the pilot was to enter on a downwind side, make a left turn and gain 1,000 feet of altitude, then turn left again and turn the ship over to the bombardier to use the Norden bombsight to finish the approach to the aiming point and `bombs away'. The pilot was then to make a rally to the left and lose 1,000 feet of altitude, turn left again to get in trail with other ships on the downwind leg. Fine, but on one revolution we made our left to get into the pattern and found another plane already gaining altitude on the downwind leg and almost at our level. We made a How Able maneuver pull-up to avoid impact.

One sad note. The parents of gunner James Watts came out to visit with us in El Paso and stayed with my wife and me. As we put them on a night departure from the commercial air field, a B-24 from Biggs crashed and burned on the side of Mount Franklin. A grim sight as we watched the detached engines burning as they tumbled down. The Watts' last words as they boarded the commercial DC aircraft were,"Bring our Jimmy home safely.” Jimmy was the only one of our original crew to lose his life!

After completion of combat crew training, we went to Topeka Army Air Field to pick up a new Ford-built B-24 to fly to the European Theater. We completed the compass heading calibrations, made some familiarization flights and were given a departure date. Prior to departure the crew wanted to name the ship. We arrived at a name that, in today's "politically correct" society, might raise some eyebrows. "Boot in the Ass" was painted on the ship's nose. The name was derived from a slang phrase meaning that we got a charge or boost . Picture, if you will, a long eared donkey bearing Hitler's face and with rear heels high in the air being kicked by a Texas boot. For brevity, we'll shorten the name to "Boot".

At any rate, we took off from Topeka and landed in Manchester, NH. After overnighting, we proceeded on to Gander Lake, Nova Scotia. We spent a couple of days there waiting our turn to cross the pond. At that point we didn't know our destination, so we got in line for a departure date As we neared that time, a couple of the crew came to tell me that our nose gunner, H. Frank Foster, was sick and had been vomiting in a hangar. They also said that the medics thought he was malingering. (Frank had just turned eighteen as we flew from Manchester.) I felt otherwise and went down to his quarters and found him all doubled up with pain. So, we commandeered an ambulance and got in to see an MD. The MD immediately diagnosed that Frank had a bleeding ulcer? Frank wound up in critical care at Gander and we took turns "sitting" with him for a month until he recovered sufficiently to be flown stateside. The time there was enough to earn us the right to wear a "Defense" ribbon. After Frank flew back our crew were placed on orders to fly to the Azores and then on to Marrakech and Gioia Del Col, Italy.

(Years later I reached Frank in New Orleans and found that after recovery and discharge from service that he had become a lawyer and was now nearing retirement.)

Our landing at the Lajes Field in the Azores was our first on pierced steel planking. What a racket! After one night at Lajes, we headed East and made landfall in Africa, landing at Marrakech. This was another new experience for us. Swirling dust. Dust everywhere. We were glad to see a Follow Me Jeep to guide us to a parking spot. The crew hurried to get the covers on the greenhouse and, after cooling, covered the engines. After another stop in Africa, we headed up to Italy, passing Mount Etna in Sicily The only things of note in landing at Gioia was the mud and the huge collection of US aircraft parked there.

From Gioia we hopped up to "Hiccup" field at Castellucia to join the 49th Wing, 451st Bomb Group, 724th Bomb Squadron. Our call sign was "Small Thumb J Jig".There we acquired a replacement for our nose gunner, a foot soldier who had requested flying duty. On his very first flight with our crew he was in his turret as we took off. Apparently he had not been briefed that he was to be aft of the No.6 bulkhead on takeoffs and landings. Our mission included a max load. This, coupled with some turbulence, our copilot Tom (Pat) Flowers and I enjoyed the experience of approaching a high speed stall. Of course, our combined reaction was to gain airspeed by ducking the nose and then gradually very gradually getting the nose up and then flying into formation.

In retrospect, I can only imagine how our new nosegunner must have felt being first lifted off his seat and then being forced back into it as we regained control. When we returned from the mission the gunner came to me and asked if that takeoff was the normal way to get into the air. It was then that we realized what had happened. He said that he had a very good view of the earth coming up to meet us. I'll bet! He told me that if we had crashed, he would have been the first man to reach the ground. He turned out to be a good gunner.

Our thirteenth mission occurred on Friday, October 13, 1944. We had been briefed that flak, if any, would be light to moderate. Well, for Boot, it was anything but. Coming off the target, we rallied left and down and found the air was full of nasty little bits of metal from the German 88's below. Some of them found their way into our number three engine and other parts of the plane. We had to feather the prop and shut down the engine.

Of course, that engine had the hydraulic pump that powered about everything in the ship. The same flak burst ripped up the right side of the ship hitting an oxygen bottle and cutting our elevator cable. After adding power and adjusting trim to compensate for the No.3 engine, we found that the elevator trim enabled us to fly pretty well. Later, inspection revealed that the elevator control cable had been severed just forward of the left side gunner's position but missed the trim cable. Our flight back to Hiccup Field was uneventful and I felt that, given a long enough approach to the runway, the crew could help us make up for lack of elevator control. The crew was given the option of bailing out but the men elected to stay on.

Hiccup tower was advised of the lack of elevator control and of our intention to land. We were advised to orbit until all the Wing had landed. As our intercom was out, the crew was personally briefed to walk to the rear of the plane when the main gear hit the runway so we could get the nose up and drag the tail skid for a bit. Then, as we hit the alarm bell, to walk forward one by one until the nose wheel touched down. The flaps were lowered by hand cranking.

Following what seemed an interminably long final approach we hit about 100 feet down the runway and the men did their part. Once the nose wheel was on the pierced steel planking and we slowed just a bit, I applied the brakes and kept them on as we had just enough pressure in the accumulator to actuate the brakes. The plane stopped just short of the runway midpoint. As can be expected the crew was very happy about getting on the ground. We had saved another B-24 for repair and future duty.

A Jeep came out from the tower the driver got out and looked up at me and said "nice landing, Lieutenant" and turned away. I replied, "Thank you, Major" and then did a double-take when I discovered that the late afternoon sun had made the silver leafs look gold. What a way to be introduced to our newly arrived base commander, Lt. Colonel Leroy J. Stephanowicz!

Now for the irony - a tug hooked on to Boot and towed her, not to our revetment, but to the salvage yard. It seems that the ship had sustained such major damage that it could not be economically repaired. Of course, parts of Boot flew again as usable pieces were needed for other aircraft. We missed Boot. She flew well and used less fuel with lower power settings than many other ships. I suspect that was partly from a smoother skin due to Ford's riveting technique. These were some of our experiences during our "tour".

John A. (Jack) Dunsmoor, 724th Bomb Squadron, 451st Bomb Group, 15th Air Force. Boots. Bomber Legends. Volume 2 No. 3 2005.

The 451st Bomb Group in WWII A Pictorial History Mike Hill. This is an illustrated history of the 451st Bomb Group in WWII. As part of the USAAF's 15th Air Force, they flew the B-24 Liberators from Italy to heavily defended targets throughout the Mediterranean theater of war. During their tour, the Group was awarded three Presidential Unit Citations for their ability to get to the target no matter what.

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