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"Mo," The Donkey and Other
Stories
by John A. Miller
John, who has been out of touch with the Group since
the War, writes that he’s stuck at home because of "my damned arthritis"
and trouble with his heart. He says," I’m just overflowing with things to
say and to ask my old Bomb Group. It was the greatest thing in my life and
getting in touch this way after all these years has given me the
opportunity to say and ask these things before it’s too late." He
concludes, "I’m full of affection and sentiment for the old "Horrible
Hundredth." Following are excerpts from John’s letters.
About "Mo," the burro brought from Africa by Cowboy Roane – on ration day,
Mo would come around to the hut and kick on the door. "That’s Mo," someone
would say, and we’d open the door and, sure enough, Mo would be standing
there licking his upper lip! He’d do that when he wanted candy or a goody.
That winter of 1943-44 it was raining and chilling damp cold, as you know,
and Mo came to our door. He was in bad shape. We were all very concerned
about him and tried to keep him in our hut. Well, you know that didn’t
work. Mo was soaking wet and smelled like an out-house and to, he wasn’t
exactly what you’d call house-broken. He thrashed around and stuck his wet
nose in our faces when we were trying to sleep, so Mo had to go! We took
him over to the wash house and put him in there. I guess that didn’t work
out either for whoever took care of that place. Next thing Mo was dead. He
couldn’t take that English weather being from the desert. We really felt
bad about him, but we did try.
Well. I don’t recall which "No Ball" it was, but those flak gunners,
all 6 or 8 of them were PhD’s. They were real sharp shooters. We had a new
CO in the 100th (Colonel Robert Kelly) and bang, down he went
and then we lost McQuire’s 17. I was flying right waist and noticed a fine
line across the top of my plexiglass. At first I thought it was some kind
of reflection, but then I put my face up close to the glass an looked to
the rear and to the front. The line wasn’t on the glass; it was a fine
stream of smoke coming from the No. 3 engine on a B-17 that had pulled out
of formation and was heading back in the opposite direction. When it was
directly in front of me at 3 o’clock, there was a puff of smoke. I
reported, "it’s detonating!" as fast as I said that, it went puff, puff,
and blew all to hell. The right wing snapped off and it cracked in two,
like an egg, at the waist. It was a huge ball of fire and a ‘chute popped
open in that fire. It burned immediately. The was that 17 went down, the
gyrations, how could a bombardier, of all people, get out and live to tell
about it. John Jones, wherever you are, you’re a walking miracle. I did
not see any other chutes.
Our new CO, Colonel Jeffrey, was tough, but he was there! He went to
Berlin (I hit Berlin 6 times – never got over it). Have you came across
anybody to survive more than 6 missions to Berlin? He went to Russia with
us and I’m continually amazed they have never made a picture of this. I’m
going to write the story, if someone else doesn’t soon. (sic) We lost half
our force that first night on the ground.
Now just recently I’ve read somewhere about another 17 being hit over
the target that day and making it to Italy alone. My question: since we
had to make it alone from the target, where was this other B-17? We should
have made it together. It got kind of nerve-racking when another B-17 with
markings never seen in the 8th Air Force did show up. He came
up on my side and got a couple of feet higher than us. I reported to the
pilot immediately. Now the plexiglass on the nose, flight deck and top
turret of our 17 was smoked from the smoke bomb and we were having enough
problems, what with the pilot and co-pilot taking turns sticking their
heads out their side windows and flying as best they could, and acid
didn’t do the engines any good, either, I guess. Townsend said, "keep your
eyes on that guy and if he starts anything funny, blast the hell out of
him." As soon as that 17 would hint the he was trying to slide over us,
I’d sing our and Townsend would slip away. I was hunched down and had my
50 sighted up to the strange plane. It was very emotional thing. Just the
thought of firing at a B-17 would make you sick, we loved that airplane so
much! They were alive to us. Each had her own feelings and personality and
she would never let you down if she could help it. But, it looked like we
were going to have it out like a couple of battleships in the sky. We
couldn’t raise that 17 on the radio, but still we couldn’t be sure since
we were in strange territory and that 17 might be from the 15th
Air Force.
It would try and move over and we would slide away. We had been playing
the game of "chicken" for a long time and I had told myself that this 17
was full of "Krauts" and should be shot down and I was tired of this game.
The next time it made a move I was going to open up and the top turret
would too, the best he could. The strange B-17 peeled off to the right and
headed back from whence it came. Then we were mad we hadn’t blasted it. It
was full of Krauts.
A Russian officer had flown with us in the nose to study the way we
navigated. Top turret and bombardier could talk with him, so that is why
he flew with us. They didn’t have high altitude flying clothes and when we
saw him in his Eskimo outfit, we didn’t the think we could get him in the
airplane, let alone in the nose. We asked the Russian what he thought
about the mission and he said he was glad to be back on the ground!
…In Ed Jablonski’s book "Flying Fortress" he stated that some gave
credit to Bennett for straightening out the 100th. The men who
put it together were the C.O.’s, …either the one we lost on the No Ball or
Jeffrey…We bitched but it was for our own good. We had great respect for
Jeffrey…
During my time in the Air Force, I missed going down with five
different crews and sure death with three of them! I was the only one to
complete his missions and return to the States. When we took off on the
Russian Shuttle mission the limit was 30 missions. When we returned I had
32 missions. Thank God, I had made it! Then they gave me this stuff that
it was raised while we were gone and that I had to do 35. I said, "no
way," as they will prorate it like when it was raised from 25 to 30. I was
called into Group Operations and the officer I talked to said I would have
to fly three more missions. I objected. He said, "its Bennett’s order and
you know how he is." It looked like either the Krauts or Bennett was going
to get me for sure. I flew three more and Townsend had a couple more to
go. They went down on their last mission…
One of the worst things to happen to me in the 100th was
this: I was in the spare gunner’s hut in the 349th. Lt. Cowan
had a gunner in the hospital and I knew his crew for we had been in the
same hut, so I flew with him, replacing his gunner. We made the first
daylight raid on Berlin. You never saw such a tight formation as there was
that day. Then someone ran us into clouds…After three missions with Cowan,
his gunner returned to the crew. The next day was…March 6, Berlin and we
were wiped out. Lovin, a gunner from Reeder’s crew, I believe, and I were
the only two left in our hut. Lovin rotated back to the states a day or
two later. I was alone in that hut for 15 days and was going nuts. Finally
one day Capt. Reeder was walking past squadron operations and I stopped
him. I told him I couldn’t take it anymore. "Take what?" he asked. I told
him my problem…he told me to take a three day pass to London…
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