Squadie posted this on our forum, thought you may enjoy here
Personal Account Excerpt from Robert L. Smith 367th FG
I was one of our infamous B-26 co-pilots who transferred to the P-47.
Originally, I was in the notorious Wilson R. Woods 323 BG. Then to the
great 397th. BG and on to the 367th. F.G. all in the span of I3
months. What really caught my eye was the Jack Ha1le experience with
the former B-26 copilot who must have just preceded me. As the story
relates to the station St. Dizier, I was to have joined the 367th. at
St. Dizier if I could have found it. This will be another part of my
story as I wade through it.
Air bases were expendable at this time; they were also secret. Since I
was being transferred under special 9th. AF Hq orders, 1 was being
chauffeured in a command car driven by a Sgy. We left the 397th.,
departing late in the day. Black out, lights and poor road conditions
hampered progress. After two days pursuing the 367th., we finally
found them outside the village of Jarny. I was unloaded at the 367th.
F.G.. flack suit and all, a going away gift I did not have the heart
to leave behind.
The Jarny airstrip was nothing more that metal planking tied together
with spikes which hopefully would bear the aircraft's weight. I was
introduced to Jim Franklin who was to check me out in a P-47. I was
toured around all of their shiny new bubble canopy birds that had all
the invasion colors removed. We came across what was to be my
aircraft. It had the invasion stripes still showing through the O.D.
color and had a lattice canopy. Jim said, "there she is and she's all
yours." Only two of the eight 50s has been loaded, one on each side.
He showed me two bags, one under each wing (simulated bombs). He
chuckled when he said they are loaded with latrine lime.
I got into the cockpit which was quite roomy. I thought Jim would
somehow join me to provide in flight instruction. Not so! He again
chuckled that this old bird was all manual but airworthy. This is the
throttle, your hand is on the stick. Remember, you have to pull the
canopy shut. 0 yes, switch on the radio, we'll tell you what to do.
Fortunately, I had been given a manual but it was for the new
hydraulic jobs. This thing was like the big Vultee we flew in basic. I
wanted to fly fighters, here was my chance. I positioned it on the
plank runway and shoved the throttle forward. Away I went, kicking the
rudders right and left to keep moving forward, until speed took over.
Time to pull up, and none too soon. They pulled tree branches from the
wheels when I returned.
I'1l never forget the experience of closing the canopy. The latch was
so far back, I had to loosen my parachute straps, just to reach it.
The plane went into a dive as I turned to reach the latch. I was low
to the ground, and it was the dive that shifted weight and eureka, the
canopy closed. Whew! That done, I was finally alone over France in a
P-47. Wow! I switched on the radio to hear, "Bob, where are you, we've
lost sight, come back over the field in a southerly direction, we have
a target for you to attack." The target turned out to be just a few
miles from the field. It had been outlined in white, latrine lime I
assumed. The controller told me to look close at the target, find the
bullseye. After that, climb to 5000 feet and call in again for
instructions.
Instructions were similar to an actual mission part of my training.
From this altitude I was to dive on the lime pit, dropping the bombs
at 1000 feet, pull up , circle the target, drop down and strafe it
with the two fifties. The latrine lime sacks landed in an adjacent
farmyard as I pulled up too quick for a good release. Circling as
instructed was a piece of cake. They had put in tracers to see where
the shells were going. Missing the target again, I called in results.
Do it again, came the words. Make a longer pass and hit the bulls eye.
I ran out of ammo. I figured they did not want to waste good ammo so
the controller said, keep the base in sight, climb to a good height
and see what kind of pilot you are. I don't recall how long I was up,
but I felt confident I could fly a P-47 and returned to the field.
A short time later, I'm sitting in the briefing room. Instead of the
long drawn out B-26 instructions I was used to hearing, the fighter
group squadrons were all told to proceed to such and such quadrants,
then contact ground control for targets. I was in the 394th. squadron
whose call sign was casket. Our target turned out to be a convoy of
vehicles in the steep hills of Bavaria I was tail end Charlie #4 in
the fingertip formation. I won't go in to the chewing out Sid Plat: SQ
CO gave me for crossing over to join up. No one had told me the proper
procedure. I got into position the hardest way. As my friend Hallett
would say, "these guys fly with their feet." I had not t.tuned in to
how easily trim tabs worked on these fighters.
Soon we were over enemy territory heading for an enemy convoy stopped
on the road. The hand signal given to echelon, not much for me to do
but wait until the other were positioned 1-2-3. Suddenly they went
down, then me. I was so excited that I held the trigger finger down
too long. Firing off eight 50's was a lot different than firing off
two. I felt as though the old bird was going in reverse. Later, I
learned that overheated guns would continue firing until they cooled
off. Anyway, with the tracers pointing out my problem, it was time to
pull up, but since I did not want to shoot down my buddies, I needed
to stay low so as not to spray 50s all over the sky, but still clear
the hills that were coming up fast. I figured I was doing the best I
could do when the entire hillside blew up in orange & black.
Unbeknownst to me until the debriefing that night, when the guns fire,
cameras in the wings document the action.
When my film segment came up for review, Lt. Robert L. Smith 394 FS
9th. AF appeared first. Next the convoy is visible, returning fire (my
first awareness that they were shooting back. Suddenly my overheated
ammo trail went through a barn on the hillside (at least it looked
like a barn.) As it turned out, that was why the convoy has stopped.
It was a fuel depot. Everyone turned to me and asked how did you know
the barn was a fueling station? Recovering from the shock of what has
actually happened, I smiled and informed the group that B-26 co-pilots
had a lot of time to observe the action and it's surroundings. Got
another star for the air medal, five more points toward going home.
Best of all, we parked "Old Maudie" as I had named the old P-47. Got a
new bubble job, all hydraulic, with new gun sights, like sitting atop
the Empire State Building.
PA492.Robert L. Smith.
