World War II Odyssey

Chapter XIV: The First Combat Bombing Mission

Bretteville Le Rabet, France, August 8, 1944

By Bill Frankhouser, Navigator, 603rd Squadron

Scuttlebutt, always available and at no charge, from our friends in the replacement crews indicated that two missions flown by the 398th BG on July 24 and 25 to St. Lo on the Cherbourg peninsula in support of Allied ground troops following D-Day had been truly “milk runs,” with virtually no effective fire from the Germans. On the sunny morning of August 8, Captain Bill Scott from the 603rd Squadron Operations came to our tent and said we were to go that day on our first mission, which would be another milk run to Caen to support ground troops.

We were collectively relieved on this choice because other recent 398th missions had been to targets with massive flak defenses like Munich and Merseberg. Someone even said, “Well, we won’t need flak jackets or helmets today.” Our co-pilot, Paul, was assigned to another crew, and an experienced co-pilot (whose name has been forgotten) was assigned to fly with us.

As we approached the target area at about 14,000 feet altitude, multitudinous tracers were reaching toward us and many small flashes and shell bursts appeared below our formation. I thought, well, they are shooting only small-caliber weapons that can’t touch us. Suddenly, the picture changed. Now, larger bursts from shells directly within our squadron formation appeared and I could smell the acrid smoke from the burning powder explosives.

Then several things happened in quick succession. A one- to two-inch diameter hole opened in the aluminum hull close to my right-side gun, and small metallic shavings were propelled inward. This was my first realization that we really were in combat. The Germans were shooting big guns and the plane’s hull offered no protection!

The co-pilot yelled when a piece of flak struck and lodged in his flying boot. I suddenly was unable to see. I wiped my hand over the goggles and saw a red smear. My God, I thought, blood! Realizing that I was still able to move, I looked around and determined that the hydraulic lines on the bulkhead below the pilots’ compartment had been severed, and red hydraulic fluid was spewing all over the place.

Then, I heard the pilots discussing how to feather No. 3 engine which had been disabled by flak. Meanwhile, Whit had opened the bomb-bay doors, and now I was watching the lead ship for the bomb drop. That ship suddenly heeled over as the bombs came out and it disappeared from the formation. As the bombs exited our plane, it lurched upward—my first experience of that comforting leap in the flight path.

Next, I learned that we were not able to stay within the group formation for the return journey because of the feathered engine. I now would have to find the base at Nuthampstead by myself. Thank heavens for a clear day! Although the weather had benefited the German flak batteries, it also made pilotage navigation easy for me. I sighed in relief when we saw the large water tower near Nuthampstead. Landing without brakes because of the loss of hydraulic fluid was sort of anticlimactic after those other episodes.

When we cut engines at our hard stand, Gino Franceschini, my navigator friend who already had flown a few missions, came strolling over to our plane to congratulate us on our first mission. He said, “Well, that was another easy one.”

I was too dumbfounded to respond. Then he smiled and said, “No, that was rough and much worse than my other missions.”

After examining the many holes in our fuselage and a shattered windshield, I was comforted somewhat to learn that this mission indeed had been a rough one. Gino’s co-pilot, Phil Brusseau, commented that “those who talk about an easy mission after they get back are hypocrites.”

The 398th BG lost three planes on that mission. These were the lead Hopkins crew in our squadron and the Blackwell and Baker crews. The lead crew also included our squadron CO, M. Wagner (flying as Command Pilot) and our squadron’s lead navigator, V. Warnecke. Ike Cassuto, a navigator friend of mine, had parachuted from the Blackwell plane, was picked up by British troops, and was back to Nuthampstead within a few days.

Ike told me that he had landed in a hedgerow, not knowing whether he was near Allied or German front line troops. He had just discarded his parachute when a voice (sounding British) said, “Hey Yank, is that you?” He replied and was taken away by British troops. When he returned to Nuthampstead he had an invoice from the British for two days of meals and lodging.

 

From World War II Odyssey by Bill Frankhouser, pages 81-84. Published by Hamilton's, Bedford, VA, 1997, ISBN 1-883912-03-2. WWII Odyssey is available in the 398th PX.

 

Notes:

  1. The unknown experienced co-pilot was Lt. Ed Jordan. Ed Jordan took over Captain Bill Scott's Crew 66 on 3 Aug 1944 when Bill became Assistant Group Operations Officer.
  2. The pilot was Herb Newman, the bumped co-pilot was Paul Deininger, the navigator and author was Bill Frankhouser. See also regular Newman crew.
  3. The sentence, "That ship suddenly heeled over as the bombs came out and it disappeared from the formation" refers to the Hopkins' ship, with Wagner as Commander of Aircraft (CA).

 

Personal History Information
  1. Veteran: Bill Frankhouser
  2. Navigator, 603rd Squadron
  3. Date of Personal History: October 2006 Web Page submission. Excerpted from World War II Odyssey by Bill Frankhouser.
  4. Author: Bill Frankhouser
  5. Submitted to 398th Web Pages by: Bill Frankhouser