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View from the Tail
by Bruce E. Alshouse |
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Related Pages: Attacked Over The North Sea
| North Sea Catch |
John G. Gossage
100th BG Photo Archives
After the 24 September 1943 combat mission was canceled, we were told we
were going on an afternoon practice mission to drop practice bombs over
the North Sea. We did not even have guns to put in our ships. We took off
thinking we were going for a nice joy ride. We were flying in a formation
with about eighty other fortresses.
Most of us were in the radio room relaxing when two enemy fighters jumped
us. There we were over the North Sea with no guns. Their first pass at us
put two cannon shells in one of our engines and it flamed up. We were
afraid the gasoline was going to blow up.
The bombardier, Ted Don, opened the bomb door and the pilot, John Gossage,
told us to bail out. We were in dive at 250 mph when we started jumping. I
was the last one to jump and was about 1,000 feet above the water when I
went out. Just as soon as I pulled the rip cord and my chute opened, I hit
the water. I inflated my life preserver but it didn't work. The waves were
about fifteen feet high and my chute was dragging me across the sea. I had
a hard time getting our of my harness, but finally got out. I had to
struggle to keep afloat, I went under several times.
Then I saw two small boats go by me in the direction of the way
the plane had been going. I gave up all hope of being saved. Then I saw
another boat in the distance, coming in my direction. It stopped so I
didn't think they has seen me. After a while it came on and picked me up.
I was pulled on board and then I passed out. The next thing I knew I was
having my feet rubbed vigorously by two English seaman, but I couldn't
feel my toes. After and hour of rubbing, my feet came to life again. Then
they gave me some brandy to warm me up. It just went down and came right
up again with all the salt water I had swallowed. I asked how many of our
crew were found and they told me they picked up five of us alive, two dead and that they couldn't
find the other three.
After the torpedo boat completed its night mission, looking for trouble
along the Dutch coast (as if we hadn't seen enough already), we put into
port around noon on Saturday, 25 September 1943.
The five of us, who are still alive, feel pretty good but we are being
sent to a rest home for abut ten days. We leave tomorrow. Our own
navigator didn't come with us because he was sick. The substitute
navigator, J. Ward Dalton, was killed. We are all going to fly again if we
stay together, otherwise we don't want to fly.
Don't ever razz me about my big mouth because that is what saved me. The
British crew couldn't see me, but one just happened to hear me shout. The
English sailors are swell people. Don't ever let anyone tell you
different, I owe my life to them.
I now have two raids to my credit. I am kind of anxious to get a crack at
some of the Jerries for killing four of my best buddies. I am going to try
and get a Jerry for each one of them.
This is no military secret so you might let some of the people back home
know that this is no basketball game over here. Don't forget to say a
prayer for the British sailors, I do it every night.
(Written to a friend a few days after the incident)-end-
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