This was one of our easiest missions but one during which I had the most frightening experience I have ever had.  Schwerte was the site of yet another bombing raid on railroad yards for which we were loaded with twelve 500 pound general purpose bombs.  Flying our lucky airplane, 157 Willie we climbed to the rendezvous altitude, took our place in the squadron formation, joined the bomber stream and headed towards the target.  Germany was clouded over and as we flew into enemy territory there was nothing to be seen but the clouds underneath us.

We were flying along at 26,500 feet in good formation when I had an irresistible need to pee.  This presented a problem, I could use the relief tube located in the bomb bay but this had certain difficulties associated with its use under the circumstances.  To use the relief tube I would have to disconnect my electrically heated flying suit, my headset, my microphone and my oxygen supply.  I would then have to connect to a small, portable oxygen bottle (these were notorious for being empty), untangle myself from my seat belt, work my way into the bomb bay with all my bulky flying clothes on, find my penis, pull it out and use the relief tube.  The temperature of the tube was forty five degrees below zero and I was convinced that I would first freeze the end of my penis and then cause a urine ice plug in the tube and I would end up peeing all over myself.  None of this appealed to me.

Looking around I spotted the solution to my problem, my flak helmet; this looked much like an infantryman's helmet, a steel hat with webbing inside to make the wearing more comfortable.  We normally wore this helmet along with an armored vest when we were being attacked by anti-aircraft weapons or when we were in a target area.  I got my helmet, put it in my lap and proceeded to fill it, much to my immediate relief.  I then stored the helmet under my seat, its usual resting place, and resumed my flying duties.  As we approached the target and the sky began to fill with flak, Bud , my co-pilot, donned his vest and helmet.  When he was ready, I turned the controls over to him and I put my vest on.  By this time the flak was getting heavy so I pulled my helmet out to put it on only to find it filled with green ice.  I turned the helmet over and knocked the block of ice out, put the helmet on my head and a terrible thing happened, everything went black!

"Bud", I screamed into the intercom, "I've been hit, take over".

An eternity passed as I waited for the pain to start to tell me where and how badly I had been injured when I heard Bud on the intercom saying,

"Fer Christ's sake Buzz, take that helmet off".

I pulled the helmet off and the world suddenly turned right again, I could see and I didn't hurt anyplace.  Looking at the helmet I realized that when I had knocked the ice out it had taken the webbing with it and when I put the helmet on my head it covered the upper part of my face, all the way down past my nose, thus the blackness.

Sounds funny doesn't it?  Even today I can recall the terror I felt when all there was was blackness. I'm sure that given enough time it will sound funny to me too.


From "The Youngest Crew" by Paul Wagner
Lagumo Press, Cheyenne, WY, 1997, ISBN 1-878117-18-1