Issue 11.12
When a flyer has finished his training and is ready to fly his first wartime combat mission, he seems to suddenly have in his possession, two suitcases; one is full and one is empty. One is labeled “luck” and the other labeled “number of missions to fly”. The number on my crew member’s suitcases was 25 missions. Each person knows that the trick is to fill the suitcase labeled “missions” before the one labeled “luck” is emptied. Each flyer is confident that he can accomplish this for after all we all volunteered for this job. As the number of missions grows and the amount of luck diminishes, It is very difficult to tell how much luck remains because luck has no weight so a flyer can’t tell by hefting the suitcase.
Most if not all combat flyers have tricks to slow down using up their store of luck. If their first mission was successful, then a flyer may try to copy wearing the same cap, scarf or clothes or try to perform the same ritual. Some may lend a coin to a person who is not flying that day and then collect it on his return from that mission. No self respecting combat flyer would ever fly a thirteenth mission; it would be his twelfth-B mission.
When my crew and I were flying and had completed our eighteenth mission, the order came out that the number of required missions before completing a tour was upped to thirty-five.
However if a person had completed twenty missions then he could stay on the number twenty-five. Darn, we were two short so we had to do the whole thirty-five missions. By that time, every guy had a story to tell about how close he had come to running out of luck. Everyone had a piece of shrapnel to show that cane in inches from his head or was stopped by a flack jacket. I had a piece of shrapnel pass through my inflatable life jacket that I wore but it missed me. Our radio op-gunner, Wally Sanchez, had a piece of shrapnel come in through the floor by him and entered under his steel helmet and curved inside between the helmet and his skull. He was fixed up at the hospital but there was not enough blood to warrant a Purple Heart medal. He has a scar across the top of his head that is visible sixty years later. Once a high explosive shell entered from the bottom of our plane and out the top in the three foot space between the pilot and the top turret gunner without exploding but did repairable damage. The German ground gunners set the explosive projectiles to explode at a pre set altitude or on contact. Thank you to a brave slave laborer. If your sabotage had been discovered, you would have been shot on the spot. One gunner in our squadron carried around a piece of shrapnel with his last name initial and the last four digits of his serial number stamped on the piece. Once flak burst close in front of our co-pilot shattered his windshield and filled his eyes with bits of glass. Of our 35 missions, we came home with holes in our ship 19 times.
Except for minor injuries, our crew number 5383 finished our required our 35 missions. At that time, Lt. Parnell our pilot came to me and asked if I would fly an additional 15 missions with him. I thought long and hard and in 30 seconds, I declined and said I thought I had used up all the good luck I was entitled to. He and Wally Sanchez finished the additional fifteen missions to make it an even 50 but not without more close calls. On one mission, a flak burst put a gaping hole in a wing tank and flaming gasoline spewed for 200 feet which burned part of a horizontal stabilizer off. Their B-17 did not blow up but got them back to home base in England. To this day sixty-six years later, I have feelings of guilt for letting him down.
Sam Wyrouck can be contacted at 801-707-2666.