reported to be hampered with thick clouds and low visibility—Chart’s aircraft was diverted to Weston Zoyland airfield, in southern England.
The crew was glad to be on the ground anywhere but in Germany, and they soon found their stay at the Royal Air Force base a pleasant experience. The barracks were nicer, the chow was good, and their British hosts could not have shown more hospitality. Ball turret gunner Bill Goetz was the only crew
member who did not enjoy his visit to Weston Zoyland. Eighth Air Force rules required someone must guard the aircraft. Goetz drew the short straw.
The British ground crews worked through the night to have the B-17 repaired by daybreak the following morning. The Americans were in the air by 10:30, and Tony was charting a course for Chelveston. They were back at their home base at one in the afternoon.
After their mission on January 15 was scrubbed, Chart’s crew got a few days of well deserved rest. Some of the boys headed to London to enjoy its sights and delights, but the normally fun-loving little navigator begged off.
“Ah come on, Tony, you aren’t afraid of those V-1s, are ya?” one of his buddies teased, referring to the German rockets the Nazi regime was launching against Londoners.
“You guys go ahead. I’ve got other plans.” Tony’s boyish smile revealed more than he intended.
“Okay, what’s her name, Short Round?” John Cuffman wanted to know.
“See you later, boys!” Tony laughed and walked away in the direction of the base PX.
Her name was Peggy. She was a pretty young English school-teacher whom Tony had met at one of the Chelveston base dances. On this particular day, he had been invited to have dinner with her parents, and he did not intend to arrive empty-handed. Exiting the PX, Tony carried a large bag filled with many of the items local citizens found difficult to obtain—including chocolate and American cigarettes. The latter item was an instant hit with Peggy’s father, who Tony would soon learn was a chain-smoker.
It was the first of many enjoyable visits to his English girlfriend’s home. Her parents liked the polite young American and
if they worried that their daughter’s relationship with Tony was just a wartime romance, they kept it to themselves. After all, it was wartime.
Tony was not surprised on the morning of January 20, when Jerry Chart told him they would once again be flying a different B-17 to Reims, Germany. The aircraft’s number was 015, and she brought Chart’s crew safely home from the Ruhr Valley mission. For only the second time, there was no flak over the target, and once again, Tony and his crewmates had seen no enemy fighters. They did see a couple of American fighter planes attacking some German trains.
The Luftwaffe was down but not out in the early months of 1945. The constant combat against the Americans in the daytime and the British Royal Air Force at night had done more than destroy thousands of Germany’s fighter planes. It had destroyed thousands of her irreplaceable pilots. Equipped with drop tanks, the new American P-51 Mustang fighters were able to escort their “big friends” all the way to the target and back. The Mustang was also faster than any fighter in the Luftwaffe’s arsenal, at least until German jets started showing up in the final weeks of the war. On some missions, like the one to Reims, the Mustangs, Thunderbolts and B-17 gunners controlled the air to such an extent that the American fighters could leave the bomber formation to attack targets of opportunity on the ground.
Since the mission to Reims had been the easiest yet for Chart and his crew, some considered B-17 number 015 a lucky airplane. Tony did not dismiss anything that might help their chances and decided he would not mind flying the bomber again. There would be several more opportunities to fly 015, and the final one would test the airplane’s luck and endurance, and leave the lives of her nine airmen hanging in the
The crew was glad to be on the ground anywhere but in Germany, and they soon found their stay at the Royal Air Force base a pleasant experience. The barracks were nicer, the chow was good, and their British hosts could not have shown more hospitality. Ball turret gunner Bill Goetz was the only crew
member who did not enjoy his visit to Weston Zoyland. Eighth Air Force rules required someone must guard the aircraft. Goetz drew the short straw.
The British ground crews worked through the night to have the B-17 repaired by daybreak the following morning. The Americans were in the air by 10:30, and Tony was charting a course for Chelveston. They were back at their home base at one in the afternoon.
After their mission on January 15 was scrubbed, Chart’s crew got a few days of well deserved rest. Some of the boys headed to London to enjoy its sights and delights, but the normally fun-loving little navigator begged off.
“Ah come on, Tony, you aren’t afraid of those V-1s, are ya?” one of his buddies teased, referring to the German rockets the Nazi regime was launching against Londoners.
“You guys go ahead. I’ve got other plans.” Tony’s boyish smile revealed more than he intended.
“Okay, what’s her name, Short Round?” John Cuffman wanted to know.
“See you later, boys!” Tony laughed and walked away in the direction of the base PX.
Her name was Peggy. She was a pretty young English school-teacher whom Tony had met at one of the Chelveston base dances. On this particular day, he had been invited to have dinner with her parents, and he did not intend to arrive empty-handed. Exiting the PX, Tony carried a large bag filled with many of the items local citizens found difficult to obtain—including chocolate and American cigarettes. The latter item was an instant hit with Peggy’s father, who Tony would soon learn was a chain-smoker.
It was the first of many enjoyable visits to his English girlfriend’s home. Her parents liked the polite young American and
if they worried that their daughter’s relationship with Tony was just a wartime romance, they kept it to themselves. After all, it was wartime.
Tony was not surprised on the morning of January 20, when Jerry Chart told him they would once again be flying a different B-17 to Reims, Germany. The aircraft’s number was 015, and she brought Chart’s crew safely home from the Ruhr Valley mission. For only the second time, there was no flak over the target, and once again, Tony and his crewmates had seen no enemy fighters. They did see a couple of American fighter planes attacking some German trains.
The Luftwaffe was down but not out in the early months of 1945. The constant combat against the Americans in the daytime and the British Royal Air Force at night had done more than destroy thousands of Germany’s fighter planes. It had destroyed thousands of her irreplaceable pilots. Equipped with drop tanks, the new American P-51 Mustang fighters were able to escort their “big friends” all the way to the target and back. The Mustang was also faster than any fighter in the Luftwaffe’s arsenal, at least until German jets started showing up in the final weeks of the war. On some missions, like the one to Reims, the Mustangs, Thunderbolts and B-17 gunners controlled the air to such an extent that the American fighters could leave the bomber formation to attack targets of opportunity on the ground.
Since the mission to Reims had been the easiest yet for Chart and his crew, some considered B-17 number 015 a lucky airplane. Tony did not dismiss anything that might help their chances and decided he would not mind flying the bomber again. There would be several more opportunities to fly 015, and the final one would test the airplane’s luck and endurance, and leave the lives of her nine airmen hanging in the
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