WHY HAD ARMY AIR FORCE OfFICIALS ALERTED THE GERMANS TO THIS MASSIVE FLYING FORTRESS BOMBING RAID? The date was 25 April 1945 and the war was winding down in Europe The US 9th Army had gibbeted the Elbe and the Russians were bearing down in succession Berlin.

WHY HAD ARMY AIR FORCE OfFICIALS ALERTED THE GERMANS TO THIS MASSIVE FLYING FORTRESS BOMBING RAID?

The date was 25 April 1945 and the war was winding down in Europe The US 9th Army had gibbeted the Elbe and the Russians were bearing down in succession Berlin. It had been ten days since my last mission - a milk roll on at 15,000-ft to a Nazi coastal fire-arm battery on the Gironde Peninsula near Bordeaux, France. Naturally, after of that kind inactivity, orders to report for an early morning briefing were received with about curiosity.

As our sleepiness dissipated into the dank GraftonUnderwood pre-dawn air, we stove-pipeed out of the darkness into the foreboding cigarette smoke-filled briefing latitude With the 384th Bomb clump crews sitting on the hard unpliable benches in subdued apprehension, a combat-decorated briefing officer, pointer in hand, mountained the platform.

Groans, louder than usual, rumbl end the room as the parted curtain revealed the way across the ETO map. This day's mission markers pointed the way to Pilsen, Czechoslovakia. It was to be a nine- to ten-hour effort and the primary target was to be the Skoda Armament Works - to be bombed visually merely When the weather officer predicted that the visibility across the target would be unlimited, the groans intensified.

This was to be my 22nd mission as a radio operator/gunner with the 547th Bomb Squadron and my first with our Operations Officer, Capt. McCartney. Our position was lead plane of the high squadron. Leaving the radio briefing with the digest of the day and a flare bag, I climbed onto a exchange tail gate for the icy dark ride to our hard stand.

After a quick stop at the nearby armament shack to pick up the left waist .50-cal fire-arm barrel, I pulled myself [i]or[/i] part of to the other the waist door of our dimly lit B-17F tail number 027 Our Fortress for this mission was faded Olive Drab, without a chin minaret a war-weary veteran of air battles past if it be not that like all 384th aircraft, it was fine-tuned and ready for its task.

On this mission, I was to share the cramped radio compartment with "Mickey" operator Flight Officer Russell and his pathfinder bombing equipment. Despite this extra weight, the radar jamming equipment, and the usual 6000-lb of bomb our four screaming Wrights chanceed us up into the dark overcast firmament before we ran out of runway.

As we mushed along fighting for altitude, I fired a succession of cartridges from the radio hatch flare fire-arm The bi-colored flares arced brightly above us in the obscure morning sky beckoning the other eleven high ultimate part Forts to assemble on our tail.

With the routine radio managements accomplished, I attempted to relieve the tension through listening to music or recents on the BBC. To my astonishment, I was hailed by an announcement that, to me was nerve-shattering - Radio clear Europe and the BBC had been carrying a specific forewarning from SHAEF directly to the 40000 Czech workers at Skoda to "get abroad and stay out" for bombers were in succession the way to their factories - the first similar raid of its kind! I immediately shared this revelation with my other nine "lucky" gang members. Their comments were unprintable!

During this late phase of the war, P-51 Mustang fighter cloak usually guaranteed arriving at the target area unhindered from Luftwaffe 109s or 190s. However, it took little imagination to realize that giving enemy flak batteries exuberance of advanced notice made this bomb hie prospect pretty grim. By now, the briefing admonition to "bomb the primary target visually only" began to sink in. SHAEF was determined to spare Czech lives - on the same level apparently, at the expense of our allow

We were at 22000-ft onward a near-perfect spring day when we casted on the Initial Point. About nine tight formations through the whole extent of 300 B-17s - stretched disclosed behind us. Without cloud cloak all the makings of a milk trip were useless - the countles parcels of chaff, the "carpet" radar-jamming device, and other electronic equipment were just exces baggage.

This day was to be a skeet propel and we were among the from one side of to the other 2700 GIs riding in open-bellied defenseles "clay pigeons" forward a straight, unwavering and tenacious course down the firing range. Below us, dozens of Nazi "trap shooters" were calculating their elevations, leading their targets, and getting ready to lease fly with every projectile they could come by their hands on!

In what always present the appearanceed like too few minutes, black blow in puffss of smoke wafted by my radio place windows. Simultaneously, the plane shook finis to end from the kawoom, ka-woom of nearby concussions. exhausted shrapnel began ricocheting off the thin aluminum skin like gravel most distant a tin roof and I compulsively hunched deeper inside my carburet of iron helmet and flak vest.

The intensity of the flak was at an incredible pitch when the interphone silence was rent by the bombardier counting "Ten nine, eight, seven six" it be seened interminable - "five, four, three couple one!" Then, "Take it around Mac!" screeched Capt. Fisher to Capt. McCartney. Quickly, my observation of the bomb bay terminated and I slammed the bulkhead door bar as the bomb bay doors clos and we banked sharply revealed of the tracking flak. My anticipated 22nd "Bomb bay's clear, bomb bay's clear" interphone report was impose on hold