w. Then I’d go back to read the letter."
___________________________
On December 16, radio operator Sgt. Mel TenHaken flew his first mission,against a refinery at Brux, Czechoslovakia. Because the crew were new, thepilot, Lieutenant Cord, was a veteran ofthirty-one missions. TenHaken ’s regular pilot flew as co-pilot that day. There was another newcomer, aphotographer on his seventeenth mission. Theirs would be one of the lasttwo planes on the bomb run and his photos would be among the official recordsof the raid ’s effect.
When the Group formed up and headed toward the target, TenHaken saw"a seemingly endless line of planes. I had never seen this many in one placeat one time." He thought that "obviously Rosie the riveter back home hadbeen very busy." The bombers were at 25,000 feet, just below the 26,000-footceiling for the craft.
On his B-24, TenHaken was in charge of the haff, what he had called"Christmas tree tinsel" back home. Its purpose was to confuse German radar,which otherwise would lock onto the group and know what altitude to setthe fuses for the shells to explode. The chaff was in packets, each onewrapped and tied with a plain brown band, each one crimped to open in thewind and allow the foil to drift down in individual pieces. Most veteransthought the chaff didn’t do much if any good, but they tossed them outof the plane with great gusto anyway.
When his plane got to the initial point and turned, then straightenedfor the bomb run, TenHaken saw "numerous little puffs ahead forming a blackcloud shaped like an elongated shoe box." The leader of his squadron wasflying through it. Those behind were about to enter the German box. It wastime to pull the flak jackets on. These were for the crew, whose membersdid not have the cast iron protection the pilot and co-pilot did. The jacketsconsisted of irregularly shaped metal plates stitched between two sheetsof canvas to form a vest. To TenHaken, "their purpose seemed primitive,identical to that of suits of armor." They weighed about twenty pounds each.Most veterans decided early on not to wear them, but to put them betweentheir seats and their butts, thus protecting the most important part.
Over the target, with flak bursting from the shells all around his plane,TenHaken started dropping the chaff packets through one of the waist windows.After dropping one, he tried to count to ten as he had been told beforeletting the next one go, but in the midst of the flak he seldom got pasttwo or three. Then the plane to his right got hit. "A flak explosion atits number three engine had blown the right wing from the body. The scenewas incomprehensible ― the wing tumbled over and down, and the fuselagewas nosing into a dive." There were no parachutes. "The bam-bam-bams andpoof-poof-poofs were exploding everywhere; it was inconceivable to fly throughthis unscathed."
The bomber lurched. Have we been hit? TenHaken wondered. Through theintercom, he heard the bombardier say, "Bombs away." ("The most beautifulwords in the English language," according to one pilot). Then the bombardiercontinued, "Now let ’s get the hell out of here." After a pause, he cameon the intercom again to say, "I wasn ’t supposed to add that last part."
Lieutenant Cord banked the plane into a steep dive to the right. TenHakenthought, thank you, God. Cord came on the intercom to ask each crew memberto report any damage. None. When they were out of the flak, TenHaken liftedhis oxygen mask and shouted above the engine noise to the photographer,"You’ve been through seventeen of these now. Was this flak typical, lighter,worse, or what?" The photographer grinned and shouted back, "It wasn’tlight. Each mission seems to get worse, but I can ’t believe they couldget more up here than they did."
Over the intercom, Cord asked, "Flight engineer back there?" He wantedto know what the trouble was with the gas gauges. Number three engine sputteredand quit. "Get something to three," Cord ordered.
"I’m trying," the engineer answered. "I’m trying."
Cord realized what had happened. On the intercom he said, "The bastardshit our gas lines over the target. They ’ve just vibrated loose."
The number two engine quit. The engineer repeated that he was tryingto transfer the gasoline flow. He could not.
"We ’re losing altitude and control," Cord yelled. "We ’re at sixteenthousand; a couple seconds back, we were at eighteen." He added, "Standby to bail if necessary."
Then number four engine quit. Then number one. There was a long momentof quiet, only the sound of the wind that buffeted the plane about in theglide. Then "the terrible clanging of the bail-out bell crashed the quiet."
Everyone got out okay, landed safely, and became POWs. For TenHaken,the co-pilot, and the rest of the crew, it was their first mission. It wasnumber thirty-two for Lieutenant Cord. For the photographer, number seventeen.For all of them, it was the last.
"Anon" made up words to sing to the tune of "As Time Goes By":
You must remember
___________________________
On December 16, radio operator Sgt. Mel TenHaken flew his first mission,against a refinery at Brux, Czechoslovakia. Because the crew were new, thepilot, Lieutenant Cord, was a veteran ofthirty-one missions. TenHaken ’s regular pilot flew as co-pilot that day. There was another newcomer, aphotographer on his seventeenth mission. Theirs would be one of the lasttwo planes on the bomb run and his photos would be among the official recordsof the raid ’s effect.
When the Group formed up and headed toward the target, TenHaken saw"a seemingly endless line of planes. I had never seen this many in one placeat one time." He thought that "obviously Rosie the riveter back home hadbeen very busy." The bombers were at 25,000 feet, just below the 26,000-footceiling for the craft.
On his B-24, TenHaken was in charge of the haff, what he had called"Christmas tree tinsel" back home. Its purpose was to confuse German radar,which otherwise would lock onto the group and know what altitude to setthe fuses for the shells to explode. The chaff was in packets, each onewrapped and tied with a plain brown band, each one crimped to open in thewind and allow the foil to drift down in individual pieces. Most veteransthought the chaff didn’t do much if any good, but they tossed them outof the plane with great gusto anyway.
When his plane got to the initial point and turned, then straightenedfor the bomb run, TenHaken saw "numerous little puffs ahead forming a blackcloud shaped like an elongated shoe box." The leader of his squadron wasflying through it. Those behind were about to enter the German box. It wastime to pull the flak jackets on. These were for the crew, whose membersdid not have the cast iron protection the pilot and co-pilot did. The jacketsconsisted of irregularly shaped metal plates stitched between two sheetsof canvas to form a vest. To TenHaken, "their purpose seemed primitive,identical to that of suits of armor." They weighed about twenty pounds each.Most veterans decided early on not to wear them, but to put them betweentheir seats and their butts, thus protecting the most important part.
Over the target, with flak bursting from the shells all around his plane,TenHaken started dropping the chaff packets through one of the waist windows.After dropping one, he tried to count to ten as he had been told beforeletting the next one go, but in the midst of the flak he seldom got pasttwo or three. Then the plane to his right got hit. "A flak explosion atits number three engine had blown the right wing from the body. The scenewas incomprehensible ― the wing tumbled over and down, and the fuselagewas nosing into a dive." There were no parachutes. "The bam-bam-bams andpoof-poof-poofs were exploding everywhere; it was inconceivable to fly throughthis unscathed."
The bomber lurched. Have we been hit? TenHaken wondered. Through theintercom, he heard the bombardier say, "Bombs away." ("The most beautifulwords in the English language," according to one pilot). Then the bombardiercontinued, "Now let ’s get the hell out of here." After a pause, he cameon the intercom again to say, "I wasn ’t supposed to add that last part."
Lieutenant Cord banked the plane into a steep dive to the right. TenHakenthought, thank you, God. Cord came on the intercom to ask each crew memberto report any damage. None. When they were out of the flak, TenHaken liftedhis oxygen mask and shouted above the engine noise to the photographer,"You’ve been through seventeen of these now. Was this flak typical, lighter,worse, or what?" The photographer grinned and shouted back, "It wasn’tlight. Each mission seems to get worse, but I can ’t believe they couldget more up here than they did."
Over the intercom, Cord asked, "Flight engineer back there?" He wantedto know what the trouble was with the gas gauges. Number three engine sputteredand quit. "Get something to three," Cord ordered.
"I’m trying," the engineer answered. "I’m trying."
Cord realized what had happened. On the intercom he said, "The bastardshit our gas lines over the target. They ’ve just vibrated loose."
The number two engine quit. The engineer repeated that he was tryingto transfer the gasoline flow. He could not.
"We ’re losing altitude and control," Cord yelled. "We ’re at sixteenthousand; a couple seconds back, we were at eighteen." He added, "Standby to bail if necessary."
Then number four engine quit. Then number one. There was a long momentof quiet, only the sound of the wind that buffeted the plane about in theglide. Then "the terrible clanging of the bail-out bell crashed the quiet."
Everyone got out okay, landed safely, and became POWs. For TenHaken,the co-pilot, and the rest of the crew, it was their first mission. It wasnumber thirty-two for Lieutenant Cord. For the photographer, number seventeen.For all of them, it was the last.
"Anon" made up words to sing to the tune of "As Time Goes By":
You must remember