HELL FROM HEAVEN
Chapter 30
Mission 26 - A Terrifying bombing mission to Derben
April 8, 1945
By Leonard Streitfeld, Bombardier, 600th Squadron
The morning of April 8, 1945, all crews who were to fly a combat mission were awakened to have breakfast and go to the briefing. When we arrived, everyone was apprehensive as to where the target for the day would be. One of the men by the name of Wallace Kasch, who had been assigned to fly as tail gunner on the lead ship in our squadron flown by Col. Bruce Daily, sat there listening along with Lt. Bill Wells and his crew. They didn't know it at the time but it was to be their last briefing.
I had always been a little psychic and from time to time I would get feelings about where we would fly, how rough it would be and if we were going to lose any planes. I had a nervous feeling about this mission and felt we were going to have a terrible day and lose some planes in our squadron.
This was Mission twenty-six and the target for the day was an oil depot in Derben, not far from Stendel. We had been to Stendel before and had little flak but we did lose the plane next to ours to an ME 262 Jet.
I think that all of us were relieved that we weren't going to a rougher target like Berlin, Schweinfurt or Merseburg, which was supposed to be the most heavily defended city in Germany. However, this turned out to be one of the most terrifying missions we were on.
The weather over the target was to be clear and sunny. I didn't mind flying when there was no cloud coverage but I was always concerned when we reached the target for this reason. Although we could see the target better, so could the anti-aircraft gunners see the planes better. The flak was usually very accurate when the weather was clear and it was clear this day. I had my camera with me and it was fortunate because I was able to get some unbelievable and tragic pictures.
The planes took off one by one and roared into the clear sky and headed for the designated place where we assembled for our mission to Derben.
The silver B-17's with the red triangle (W) on the rudder looked beautiful this day and the formations from my vantage point were spectacular. I took many pictures of these shining planes and as I sat in the bombardier's seat scanning the skies and looking at the planes in the Squadron I was speculating as to which ones we may lose to flak before the mission was over. The mission was uneventful up to a point. We were to be the last squadron scheduled to bomb the oil depot with no planes following us. From a distance we could see the target covered with thick black smoke from all the other Groups that dropped bombs on it.
When we reached the "I.P." and turned on the bomb run there was no way that the lead bombardier could see the target due to the amount of black smoke covering it. A decision was made to make another pass over the depot by the Group leader to drop in altitude from 20,000 feet to 12,000 feet to get a better view of the target.
The second time we approached the depot it was still covered by the black smoke but the lead bombardier had enough visibility to drop the bombs. Col.Lewis Ensign and John Shafer in the 602 Squadron flew the lead ship of the Group. Due to the tight turn while making the 360 degree turn, we still did not have a decent view of the target so another 360 was ordered for the 600 Squadron, which I was in, and the 603 Squadron. This would make the third time over the target and since our squadron was flying in the low element of planes and at 12,000 feet, I felt we would be prime targets if there were any flak.
I was beginning to get a little uneasy since none of us liked hovering over a target with a load of armed bombs more the necessary. However, this third time around I had my camera in my hand and took pictures of the smoke covered depot as we approached it.
I was relieved when the lead ship dropped its bombs and all the others followed. After I released the bombs, I started to take pictures of the bombs with the smoke marker leaving the lead ship and streaking towards the target. I leaned over as far as I could so that I could see the bombs hit. When bombs fall, the forward motion is the same as the planes and consequently, the bomb strike is directly straight down. I followed it until they hit the depot through the black smoke with red and white flashes from the explosions. There was no flak up to now but this was to end momentarily.
While the bomb bay doors were slowly closing, our planes were peeling off to the left following the railroad tracks leading out of the city. I stopped taking pictures and at that moment, the flak started. As I glanced out of my right window I was able to see a plane that was just hit by a burst of flak between the one and two engines. It was the plane of Lt. Bill Wells who was flying in the low squadron with us and was the plane directly in front.
The flak was the most tremendous we ever encountered as the plane banked to the right and start to go down, I was able to see the left wing fold over and watch this plane tumble down, break in two pieces and continue falling. One person by the name of Robert Templeton, did manage to bail out, but I did not see any others who did.
I followed it down for about fifteen seconds watching it tumble down still looking for other parachutes but moments later it became obscured by our propellers. I always regretted not taking pictures of this but the few seconds I was looking for parachutes I lost my chance. One of the co-pilots, Lt. Guy Perkins, in the low squadron with us and flying to our left saw the plane get hit and was able to follow the plane down, further than I could. He claimed that the plane split apart in two pieces and tumbling, burst into flames on the way down and crashed into the ground, exploding on impact. Everyone was lost.
Between the moment we dropped our bombs and watched Bill Well's plane tumble down, something else happened that was terrifying. A burst of flak made a direct hit on the tail of the lead plane flown by Colonel Bruce Daily.
As soon as I heard about it on the intercom, I swung the camera around and started to take pictures of the tail coming off in pieces.
Some of our crew saw the tail gunner, Wallace Kasch, being blown out of the plane and watched him go down. His last moments must have been horrible and I shuddered to think what happened to him. A close look at the films I took of this showed that the flak burst hit just above where the tail gunner sat and, apparently, he was sucked out from above. Pieces of the tail can be seen flying off as the plane dropped out of formation. I continued to take pictures of it as it continued to lose altitude until it was out of sight. I felt sure that Colonel Daily's plane would go down in Germany.
Forty-eight years later while I was viewing the films of the tail under high magnification, the flak burst hit leaving a large round hole just above where the tail gunner sat and he appears to be seen being sucked out of the plane. I had never noticed this before and it was shocking.
The thought may have occurred to those reading this account, how I could be taking pictures with all that was taking place? Weren’t there more important things to do? I would like to comment on that at this time. There was always something for all of us to do every minute we were in combat. One of my responsibilities was to have an oxygen check every few minutes. This was difficult many times when we were scanning the skies for enemy fighter planes, watching the flak bursting around us, seeing planes go down and looking for chutes.
At the first chance I had to have an oxygen check, I always took advantage of it. No matter how occupied we were, we needed oxygen and if anyone had their line severed and wasn't receiving oxygen they would die within minutes. This is one area where we could help each other if we were aware of the problem.
We always were looking for any damage to the plane by flak and if we saw any we would notify the pilot to keep him posted. We also had to inform everyone on the intercom of anyone who was wounded.
Of course, another duty I had was to set the bomb release for either salvo, when all the bombs are released at once, or set the release for interval so that the bombs are released one at a time. The latter makes the bombs hit 100, 200 or more feet apart. I only had five minutes of film in the camera for the entire mission and any time I had a chance to take some interesting pictures that would document something exciting like the flak bursting around us, a plane that was hit, dropping of the bombs, bomb strikes, etc., I took it. When the flak is coming up at you, when you think of it, all one could really do was watch it and hope you weren't hit. During this time I decided to take pictures and if the flak hit me, it would have happened anyway, even if I weren’t taking pictures. I must say that everyone was grateful that I did. To continue my story, although all the squadrons received a lot of flak, the Germans had a bead on our low squadron, like I thought they would, and appeared to have given us the worse of it. It was murder.
The flak continued so close that we could hear the shells exploding and pieces of shrapnel hitting the bottom of the plane. To this day when I'm driving my car and a stone hits the bottom, I shiver since the sound of it still reminds me of that mission.
Al and Hank were doing evasive action since we were being tracked by flak. Our plane was violently going up and down as well as sideways to get away from it and almost threw me from my seat. I thought for sure that we would get a direct hit and get shot down.
I can still remember my tail gunner, Randy, telling the pilot on the intercom to go right or left as the flak got closer to us. Keep in mind that the tail gunner's right was the pilot's left and the gunner's left was the pilot's right. In the heat of battle it wasn't hard for the wrong direction be given to the pilot. Sometimes the tail gunner meant left and said right and the flak would burst closer to us. When this would happen, I can still hear Al, screaming as the flak got more intense and telling Randy to give him the correct direction to steer.
All the other planes were doing their own evasive action and to fly in formation was impossible since a mid-air collision was likely to happen. Our squadron was flying like a flock of birds.
The flak lasted several minutes but seemed like forever. Any one of those bursts could have been a direct hit and then it would have been all over just like what happened to Bill Well's plane. The flak we received came from a flak train that, obviously, got into position as we were making the three trips over the target and waited for us.
We eventually flew out of the flak area and headed back to England and our base. During the three or four hour flight back our thoughts, however, were constantly on Colonel Daily's plane and what happened to it along with Bill Well's plane that broke up and crashed in flames.
I am certain that during that time most of us thought about what we had just gone through and how lucky we were. There was little talking while still over Germany. When we crossed over into France, I put the radio on and everyone listened to music. This settled our nerves and made the trip back to England more tolerable.
When we returned to the base and got out of our plane we inspected it for flak damage. We had many, many holes in it all over and a lot on the bottom where we kept hearing the flak hit. We could see one of the other planes near-by with an ambulance taking away someone who was wounded. He had lost his arm. I am certain that there were many others wounded or killed on this mission.
There is a tragic and sad story that should be told here. There was one crewman who we'll call Harry, had just completed his 35th combat mission and was due to return home. On one of the scheduled missions one of the crews was one man short. Harry was asked if he would be willing to fly this mission even though he did not have to since he had already finished his tour of duty.
However, Harry decided to fly this one last mission and it was a decision that would affect his entire life. The target was heavily defended and the anti-aircraft guns were shooting at the planes furiously. A piece of flak hit Harry severing his arm. He did survive this injury but his whole life was changed due to the fact that Harry was a piano player.
When we inquired about Colonel Daily, we were informed that he made it back with just a sliver of a tail on the plane. It was incredible. When the plane landed, apparently, the nose of the ship was damaged when it tipped over on it. I took pictures of the plane on the ground and I believe these were the only pictures in color that were taken. In speaking to Col. Daily years later about what happened inside the plane when it was hit, he said, "I felt a jolt when the flak hit and when I looked back, all I could see was blue sky."
For those of you who wondered what happened to Bob Templeton on Bill Well's plane, here is his account of it. According to Bob, when the bombs were dropped, shortly afterwards a burst of flak exploded near the plane. A piece of flak came in and hit the tail gunner taking his right thumb cleanly off. Bob Templeton, who was the right waist gunner, went back to the tail of the ship to help him by trying to remove the glove with the thumb in it and bandage the wound to stop the bleeding.
When he did all he could do and was rushing back to his position in the waist, another burst of flak hit the tail killing the tail gunner, Jack Roush.
Seconds later one more burst of flak hit the plane directly between the one and two engines, which is on the left side of the ship, and sent the wing straight up in the air. As it started to fold over the fuselage, Templeton was able to see the radioman rushing out of the radio room and go forward towards the bomb bays.
There was also a photographer in the radio room taking pictures of the bomb strike. He was never able to get out to see the pictures he took and suffered the fate of the others.
There is an interesting story here that is a quirk of fate for one of the original crew, who was the engineer. His name was Tom Dowling. The day before the mission to Derben, he was injured, somehow, and, consequently, was grounded. He was replaced by another engineer who, unfortunately for him, died on this mission along with everyone else.
The constant sound of flak exploding along with the whining sound of the crippled engines, coupled with the excitement within the plane by everyone in it, must have been horrifying to all those aboard.
Let me state that bailing out when the plane is going into a spin and out of control is no easy chore since centrifugal force pins a person to the seat or the side of the plane so hard that it is almost impossible to move. Many crewmen died that way, not being able to get out.
With no time to lose and only twenty seconds after the plane was hit in the wing, Bob jerked open the hatch in the back of the plane on the right side. When he did this, the door came off and he was sucked out of the plane. Something hit him, possibly either part of the wing or tail, he isn't sure, because it knocked him out momentarily. The chute, miraculously, was ripped open by something on the way out. Bob explained that he was unconscious and in "dreamland" for a few seconds but remembers coming to and seeing the chute opened and while floating down he was able to watch his plane tumbling down in two pieces and catch on fire. He lapsed into unconsciousness before the plane hit the ground and exploded.
When he landed several minutes later, he hit the ground and was dragged into a ditch by the chute that broke his back in three places. The next thing Bob remembers is opening his eyes and staring at a .25 caliber automatic pistol which was being pointed at his head. A German civilian, who was a school teacher, was standing over him with the gun, asked him if he could walk and he told the German that he couldn't move his legs. A remarkable thing then occurred. The civilian picked Bob up and carried him in his arms over three miles to a hospital in Stendel where he was taken care of until the war ended. This was just one of the thousands of stories that have been told by every airman who ever had to bail out over enemy territory. This, fortunately, had a happy ending for Bob, who survived but it was not to be for others under similar circumstances that you will read about in later accounts of missions.
This nerve-shattering mission took a lot out of all of us and we kept thinking about when the war would end and if we would ever get out of it alive. We were all looking forward to going to London again but we knew that we would be flying more missions before we would get the chance. I had more films to bring to Kodak to be developed and was hoping that all my films would come out. More important, I was hoping to be alive to see them. I was starting to get a big collection of combat films.
HELL FROM HEAVEN by Leonard Streitfeld, Hammonton, New Jersey. Library of Congress Catalogue card number: 94-092215. HELL FROM HEAVEN is available in the 398th PX.
Personal History Information
- Veteran: Leonard Streitfeld
- Bombardier, 600th Squadron
- Date of Personal History: January 2004 Web Page submission. Excerpted from HELL FROM HEAVEN by Leonard Streitfeld.
- Author: Leonard Streitfeld
- Submitted to 398th Web Pages by: Leonard Streitfeld