Young Writers Society

August 1943

Daylight bombing raid over Germany

I really hope that if my children and grandchildren ever have to fight a war, that they will never be in a position as godforsaken and utterly horrendous as the one that I was in. Thirty thousand feet above Germany in freezing conditions, being choked by an oxygen mask and ever fearful of the little black puffs of anti aircraft guns. Up there, your blood would freeze as bullets tore through the hull and utterly desecrated anything in their path. Real fear and anxiety to me was high altitude bombing deep in Germany before we had fighter cover as we hoped that our gunners didn't run out of ammunition when the German fighters made another pass at us. They tore us open and made our B-17's into fucking Swiss cheese and there was little that we could do to stop them or even slow them down.

As a pilot, my job was to fly the aircraft, maintain formation and make sure we dropped our payload in the correct place. My personal prerogative was to see to it that my crew remained safe, and that in the event that we did get shot down, that they lived to see the end of the war. These days of "combat fatigue" instead of PTSD were days that I don't like to remember. But I knew what I signed up for, and I knew that I would have to finish my job if my children were ever going to have the hope of being in a better position.

"Five miles out from target area." My navigator called out over the radio. 

I looked out of the left window and at the remaining bombers to my 9 o'clock, there weren't many left. Smoke was trailing from many of them as they limped along. German fighters made sporadic passes and let out short bursts, then disappeared as quickly as they appeared. At that point, I wasn't so concerned with them, as they had been molesting out formation for the couple of hours and I bet even they would say they were growing tired of it. I looked over at my copilot; carter was sitting there looking out of the right window up at the bombers that were most likely in the same shape as those on my side. "Can't wait for fighter cover." I said.

"Yea, fucking right. Give the krauts something else to shoot at for once." He replied.

I looked down at the nose where the bombardier was sitting. He was probably hunched over his bomb sight, performing the last minute calculation. "Galante, we're approaching the target zone, can you see the drop area? I asked over the radio.

"As much as I can... I should be able to drop em where they need to be, I'll have to make the spread tighter."

I tapped Carter on the shoulder and leaned over close to his ear. "Take the controls." He nodded and focused back on our path. I looked back at the flight engineer, who was sitting in his turret. "Is everyone alright back there?" I called out.

"Yep."

"Yeah."

"I'm fucking cold."

"I'm alright."

The four back gunners responded. I sighed and glanced back out over the horizon. There were few B-17's left in the formation, it was a somber sight. I was about to take the controls back when the navigator came back over the radio. "We will be over the drop zone in about thirty seconds here." I shook my head and bent over to change the radio channel to the formation's. A few hours ago, it was utter chaos as the other pilots and flight commanders were calling back and forth as German fighters were shooting them down or strafing them into submission. The mission commander was shot down hours ago, so the XO had taken over. He was the only voice currently on the otherwise quiet net. "This is white actual to all remaining bombers, we are over the drop zone, keeps the spreads tight and release payload..... keep an eye out for remaining fighters and then refer to your navigators for the turn around point." The net went dead again. I waited a few seconds, listening to the dead silence, then switched the radio channel back. "Galante, you can release the payload."

I felt the weight of the bomber shift as the bomb bay door opened and as the payload was released. I didn't even bother looking down at the target area as I watched the other B-17's around me do the same. A few seconds apart, each remaining bomber in front dropped their loads. And 30,000 feet below, the bombs hit their targets.

I hope, that years from now, if my children have the unfortunate duty of going to war, that they don't have to do what I did. I am proud that I served my country, and I am proud that I got to play a part in the liberation of Europe from the Nazi's. I am lucky that I came away from my service without the emotional scarring that many of my friends and fellow pilots and crew members did. But I would not wish the task of traveling thousands of miles with no fighter cover in the freezing cold a mile up just to drop bombs. I knew going into it that someone had to do it, and that of those that did, many did not return. But from my service, I met many great people. I had the pleasure of working with some of the finest navigators, gunners and engineers. I flew with some of the best pilots in the world. I hope that if any of my descendants do choose to serve, that they can meet people in the same way. But not under the same circumstances.

I flew bombers, a mile up over Germany. This is my story, in the skies over evil.