They had passed over the mountains and were flying over the checkerboard farms of BRYANT SMICK
It was his twenty-third mission, again to Wiener Neustadt deep in
They had passed over the mountains and were flying over the checkerboard farms of
Smick watched a buddy,
He could feel the vibrations as they were taking hits from the German 20 millimeter cannons and their machine guns.
"Lord, get us out of this and I'll be a better guy!" he said under his breath.
He wasn't scared yet because he was so busy. All of a sudden they found themselves alone except for one other plane. The rest of the squadron had been shot down. That made them stragglers. He knew the other plane was on its first mission so he didn't expect much help from him.
Then he saw one of the German fighters flame and go down. One of the guys shouted, "I got the bastard!"
Another fighter to the right exploded.
Someone shouted, "Brown's down." Brown was their Engineer.
Jo-Jo in the tail said, "I'm hit bad and one of my guns is blown off, but I'm staying here."
All the gunners were busy so he sent Propwash to help Brown.
He just about bent the throttle and RPM controls forward on that new plane trying to catch up with the rest of the group.
The new guy, the other straggler, salvoed his bombs and pulled away from them. But Smick was mad. "We brought the damn bombs this far," he said to himself, "I'm going to drop them on the target."
The Germans were still at their rear taking turns at making passes at their plane, but they wouldn't go down. "Maybe the Lord IS watching out for us," he thought as he watched another fighter go down.
Propwash came back and said, "Brown is dead and Jo-Jo is really smashed up, but he is still in his turret." He reported two more gunners were wounded but still at their guns.
Smick told Prop, "Take over Brown's gun."
About then the fighters stopped making passes at their rear as it was getting too costly for them. They then grouped out to the side, just out of effective range of their 50 calibers and were making deflection shots at them with their 20 mm cannon. Smick felt like taking off after them, but instead he lowered his left wing so the top gunner could get a shot at the Germans. He had Ted take over and opened the window on his side and emptied his forty-five pistol at them. He knew it wouldn't do any good, but it sure made him feel better.
They were slowly catching up to the group. The fighters were just about gone because German flack was coming up from the target area. Smick had just caught up to the group when it was time to drop their bombs.
Ted said the bomb bay doors wouldn't open. That meant all the hydraulics were out. Bryant grabbed the emergency handle and dropped them through the doors.
The flack was heavy but he couldn't tell if they were hit with any of it because they already had fifteen holes in the aircraft, including every blade of the four propellers, twelve blades total.
"Boy!" he said to no one in particular, "Am I flying a mess! Bomb bay doors hanging down. Streamers of aluminum and fabric flying. Smoky engines. But… no fire!" The self-sealing gas tanks must have worked because they were not losing gas.
They turned south for home and started to seriously assess the damage. The hydraulics were out, which meant heavy controls, no brakes, and no flaps. He started to worry about how to get the beast stopped when they landed. Since she was a tricycle plane, he thought the best bet was to put everyone in the rear end. He would drag the tail on the runway, using it as a brake. He figured if the Sweet Chariot would just hang together for another hour, they would make it. There was no chance of bailing out. There were too many wounded guys who couldn't pull a rip-cord.
It sure made him feel better to know a few minutes ago they had had it, with no chance of making it out alive, then all of a sudden they had half a chance of living another day.
They were almost there. He dropped out of formation to take the short cut to the air field. The radio was out, so he had Roven, his top turret guy, stand by with a bunch of red flares. He knew he'd have to keep speed up to at least 160 mph because of all the weight in the back.
He made a long, slow approach. He was a mile from the runway, speed 160 mph, and everybody was way in the back of the plane. He was over the runway and felt the plane start to stall. He pulled back on the wheel with all his strength, but even then needed Ted to help him pull. The wheels touched. They were just a hair too fast, but O.K. They bounced about a foot, then settled down for good. Ted turned off all the engines and power switches in case of a crash burn. Bryant heard a very satisfying grind as the emergency tail skid tore itself up on the steel-matted runway.
"Sweet Jesus!" he shouted, "We're going to make it!"
The plane slowed down and coasted right off the end of the runway. He could even guide it to the side so they were out of the way of landing planes.
He and Ted shook hands and just sat there for a little while. Then the medics, ambulances, and a crowd of curious people came running. The bomb bay was awash with blood. He couldn't make himself go back there.
Dying for a smoke, he climbed out and walked away from the plane, lit up a cigarette, sat down, and shed a few tears as they unloaded the wounded guys. Damn! He was proud of them. He didn't want to see Brown, but after they took him away Smick went over to the ambulances and told the guys how proud he was of them. At de-briefing they heard the story and turned it over to a P.R. man who put them in for the Silver Star, the third highest award for bravery.
The entire crew was awarded the Silver Star for gallantry in action against the enemy, the first crew in the 47th Wing to be so decorated and the fifth in the history of the 15th Air Force. The citation stated that in bringing the plane back home the pilot and co-pilot "displayed superb airmanship and courage in regaining control of the aircraft after the controls had jammed, and safely landed the plane without the use of flaps or brakes."
In an article about the Silver Star award written by Sergeant Mortimer Metchik, he stated, "The citation, awarding this entire crew the Silver Star, stresses the extraordinary individual heroism of the men and their exceptional co-ordination and air discipline as a fighting team."
In their case, a lot of skill on everybody's part was needed to survive that mission. They were credited with five kills that day. Even so, they lost almost all twenty-five of their Squadron.
The next day, the guys who could got in a Jeep to go look at Brown in his coffin. Smick couldn't make himself go, so he stayed home and tried to get drunk. He'd take a strong drink and then run outside and throw up. He kept trying to get drunk until the guys got back. He found out he was more affected mentally than he thought he was.
And Bryant Smick's final World War II mission…
On
The Liberty Belle was still down and they had drawn one of the oldest planes on the field. The name painted on the side was Tung Hoy, which roughly translates to Tough Shit in English.
A Jeep drove up just after they got to the Tung Hoy. A photographer got out, one of those guys who took pictures of bomb strikes. He said he was on his last mission and because Smick had a reputation for always getting back, he had chosen him.
Then Smick found out another bad thing. They were the last group in the whole wing, which meant the German Anti-Aircraft would be well sighted-in when their group passed over. The only good thing was that it was a beautiful, perfect day, bright and clear, without a breath of wind.
They stood around talking until it was time to fire up. They started engine number one on the left, number two, then number three. But something was wrong with engine number four. It turned over, but just wouldn't fire. They tried and tried. He called the tower and told them his engine wouldn't start. They sent two or three mechanics who decided they needed a new carburetor.
Meanwhile, all of the group had taken off. They tried again and nothing happened. Then they decided to change the plugs.
By that time the group had formed in the air and was long gone. He fully expected the Colonel to have them stand down or abort the flight. They tried the engine one more time and it caught. He waited for orders. Somebody from the tower said to take off and catch their group.
He told them he didn't think that was a very good idea, as they had been gone too long. The tower said to give it a try. That meant they were going to be alone an awful long time.
He taxied out, poured on the coal, and made an uneventful take off. He knew the only way to catch the group was to go all out, full bore. It was going to take a lot of gas fueling the old Tung Hoy to do that.
"Will we have enough to get to the target and back?" he wondered. Then he thought, "I'll worry about that later."
As they got more altitude the nose gunner and bombardier called on the intercom and said the nose wheel doors were blowing open and they were freezing to death.
Smick told them, "Find some wire and wire the damn things shut."
Of course that meant they couldn't use it as their bail-out hatch. They would have to come up and use the front escape hatch, which was the bomb bay.
They were half way up the
He was full throttle. They were really gulping down the gas and the engines were being overworked, but they were gaining.
They got to the top of the
When he finally caught up with the group, he got ready to slow down and slip into formation.
Then, over the intercom came the message, "Waist to Pilot. You better check number four engine. It's got an oil leak you wouldn't believe."
Bryant got up and went to the window and watched the oil streaming back. If he lost too much oil he wouldn't be able to feather the prop. He couldn't slide back to a new group because they were the last one. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place!
He decided to break radio silence to call Major "Stinky" Davis, the group leader and tell him he couldn't keep up, that he was losing an engine.
He said, "You will either have to turn back or go to
He reasoned, "They wouldn't let me come back to
So, they aborted for home and again he was full throttle. Down the line the photographer called on the intercom and begged him to hit some target so he could get credit for the mission.
"What do you think?" he asked the crew.
They agreed it was a good idea.
He thought maybe they could slip over to
He was wrong on both counts.
He had just turned toward
He had read somewhere that if you slowed down, crossed controls, then sped up and veered to the other side, it would be hard for a fighter to sight in on you. He tried that, and everything else he had ever heard.
By that time they were right over the center of the
"Bail out! Bail out!" he shouted over the intercom.
It was strangely silent. The intercom must have been shot out.
Frick rushed by and out the bomb bay.
The left wing was slowly dipping down.
He rang the bail-out button, but realized it must have been shot out too.
"Lord, get me out of this one," he prayed.
He reached out and flicked on Auto-Pilot, thinking maybe that would give them more time to bail out.
From the corner of his eye he could see the wing start to tear off.
He jumped off the deck.
He saw the top turret gunner was still there. He grabbed his feet and pulled. He stared down at Smick who saw he was either dead or frozen into immobility. He was still pulling on him when the plane went upside down and entered into a spin. The centrifugal force tore the gunner's feet from Bryant's hands. He ended up on the deck looking out the bomb bay.
It looked good to him even if they were up about twenty thousand feet. He crawled out. He could hear the roar of the wind. He stayed in pre-natal position with his eyes tightly closed, hoping to get clear of the plane.
"God, I wish they had taught us something more about bailing out except count to ten and pull the rip cord," he thought.
His body was really spinning. He pulled the rip cord. Wham! He was pulled up short. Lord, it hurt. His chest pack chute didn't fit and he was bent backwards with a long fall ahead. Besides, he was still spinning. He would wind up until the chute was real little then spin the other way. He was glad he had altitude because when the chute was small, he was really falling fast.
After about ten thousand feet, he got the spinning stopped by grabbing the shroud lines when they reached neutral. He could hear shots along the shoreline. He would hear a hiss or a whiz and then the booms on the ground. Then he got it straight in his mind.
"Those rotten bastards are shooting at me," he gasped. It was against the rules of war to shoot at a man in a parachute, but they were doing it anyway. "Thank God they are missing me," he thought. But they were sure hitting the chute. He guessed they weren't leading him enough. He was falling through the air at about 15 MPH.
He saw that he was going to land pretty far from shore on the Yugoslavian side of the
The sea was calm and glassy with no wind at all. It was completely impossible to tell how high he was. Besides, he was still bent backwards and his hands weren't working very well. He did manage to unbuckle one leg strap. He was guessing he was about two hundred feet high when suddenly he hit the water with a big splash.
The parachute very gracefully settled over the top of him and he found himself completely surrounded by shroud lines and the chute. He tried to unbuckle his chute, but he just wasn't strong enough. He panicked because he couldn't breathe very well and then remembered he had forgotten to check his Mae West flotation vest after some guy had sneaked up on him and inflated one side. He pulled the one side of the vest that was still powered by a CO2 cartridge. It inflated and of course that made his chute buckle tighter still. It was a good thing he didn't have a cartridge for the other side, because he would have pulled it too and really tightened that buckle. Still fighting the chute and swallowing water, he kicked off his forty dollar
He finally got out from under the chute but the shroud lines were tangled around his body. He reached for the knife strapped to his leg and discovered it was gone. It was the only thing he lost when he bailed out and it was the thing he needed most. He finally got the lines off his body and started working on his buckle.
"Why won't my hands work?" he wondered as he looked down. The water was crystal clear and he could see the chute slowly opening under water.
"My God! It's pulling me under!"
He fought feebly to the top and got a breath of air only to be pulled under again.
For the second time that day he said, "Help, Lord! Get me out of this one!"
He was under water a long time but made it to the top again for what he knew was going to be his last time.
He went under again thinking, "What a rotten way to die after getting out of the plane alive and escaping bullets on the way down."
He had swallowed most of the
Everything was getting black and darkness closed in.
He stopped struggling and kind of relaxed. He felt at peace with the world. He felt bad for the folks and Marge, but he let go.
His last thought was, "And you thought you were so strong. Couldn't even get a little buckle undone."
Then he was completely unconscious.
He hated to wake up, but there was a bright light in his face.
It was the sun!
He was free of the chute and floating on top of the water.
"What happened?" he wondered.
He knew he didn't do it.
Then he realized who did.
He said, "Thank you, Lord!"