Merseberg
Anyone who flew with the 457th bomb group in the fall of
1944 or after is familiar with the "Merseberg" mission of November 2nd,
1944 and the losses encountered on this flight. Our bomb group had several
times flown to targets where it had suffered heavy losses in terms of planes
and crews but nothing any worse than the mission to Merseberg.
The first of these had been a raid on the Krupp Machine
Shops at Magdeberg, Germany on September 28th, 1944 where our group lost
six planes and crews. The next mission which resulted in high losses was
a raid on synthetic oil facilities at Politz, Poland on October 7th, 1944.
The group not only lost five planes on this Politz raid but it also lost
Colonel Luper, the commander of our field (he remained a POW for the balance
of the war). The losses at Magdeberg were from an attack of some 50 enemy
fighters. Our losses at Politz were from extremely heavy and accurate flak.
Within a month after the Politz raid, the 457th was to face
the worst losses of it's 236 missions flown in World War II. The mission
was to the Luena synthetic oil refinery near the town of Merseberg, Germany
on November 2nd, 1944.
For this mission the 457th bomb group launched a complete
36 ship box. The group was led by the 748th squadron. Our 751st squadron,
made up of 12 planes, flew the low box. Our position in the squadron was
the number two position in the upper element of the low box. As things
turned out we would be one of only five crews of the 751's that survived
that day and the only plane that was capable of returning to our field
at Glatton.
Merseberg was very heavily defended by hundreds of antiaircraft
batteries and was one of those places that no crew member ever wanted to
see as a target. Anywhere else was better than Merseberg. On this particular
mission there was no flak -- a possible clue that we had not found nor
bombed the assigned target. Prior to November 2nd, the German air force
had not been seen in three weeks. We were later informed that on this date
the Luftwaffe had put up over four hundred fighters in defense of this
target.
With virtually no warning, the Luftwaffe attacked the
457th bomb group with an estimated 40 ME 109's and FW 190's, concentrating
their attack on the 751st squadron in the low box. Before our fighter escort
could reach us, possibly 10 minutes after the start of the attack, nine
planes in the group had been shot down.
Our group had been many miles out of the division stream
and the low box had been separated by about a mile from the lead and high
box of our group. We were set up perfectly for an attack by the Luftwaffe.
There was (is) much disagreement as to why we were so far from the target
area and so far separated from the bomber stream that day. An official
inquiry after the mission determined that the responsibility for our being
where we were rested with malfunctioning radar equipment in the group lead
plane.
I will give my impressions and details of that mission, as
I remember them.
This was my 4th mission and only the second for several members
of our crew. Don Scheuch, our navigator, was assigned to replace the
navigator
on another plane in our squadron for this mission, and, since Joel Lester
was qualified as both a bombardier and navigator, I had no reason to protest.
That morning we were assigned to an older B17, serial
number 42-31505 /D, and named "Miss Cue". (This
plane was to meet it's fate later this same month [Nov 30th] when it was
badly shot up by flak and crash landed in France)
This is an illustration drawn by Nick King of good old 'D505',
the plane we flew on this November 2nd,1944 mission to Mersberg.
We took off early that morning, assembled on our buncher
without incident, and proceeded to the target flying above heavy overcast
skies. We seemed settled comfortably in the bomber stream as we crossed
over the North Sea and entered Germany. All navigation was being done by
radar in the lead ships. When we reached a point about 5 minutes from the
Initial Point, the lead plane in our group began a turn to the Northeast
out of the bomber stream. The lead ships in the upper and the lower box,
which were also navigating on radar, broke radio silence and notified the
group lead commander to "Check your navigation".
In spite of this communication we continued on to a point
where the lead ship opened it's bomb bay doors and salvoed it's bomb load.
The rest of us followed -- not at all disappointed that there was virtually
no flak in the area. We were now about 20 miles or more from the bomber
stream and at least that far away from our fighter support. As we turned
to start our return to England the distant bombers appeared as tiny specs
against the clear blue sky. We felt very much alone and tension filled
everyone aboard.
After dropping our bombs and closing our bomb bay doors,
our lead started a slow turn to the right to rejoin the bomber stream.
Being in the low squadron, our turn was somewhat late and we began to lose
contact with the lead and upper squadron. As we drifted low and wide and
had about completed a 180 degree turn we were alerted by shouts from Percy
Mack, our tail gunner, that he had spotted a "Mess of bandits at six o'clock".
From his description afterwards, the attackers were strung
out in two rows of about 20 planes each, one above the other, and diving
from slightly high out of the sun. My first indication that we were under
attack was when I saw hundreds of cottonball-like explosions just in front
of the nose of our plane. I thought to myself that they must be some new
kind of flak that the Germans were hurling at us. It was the first time
I had ever seen anything like this and learned only after the attack that
these were exploding 40 millimeter cannon shells that had overshot our
squadron.
My first visual of the attack was the plane to my left on
whose wing we were flying, suddenly burst into flames -- both engines seemed
to explode at the same time and the plane immediately dove out of formation.
My heart was pounding and sweat broke out all over me. I never saw that
plane again. By this time almost every gun in our plane was firing. The
vibrations from the 50 caliber guns caused the plane to seem to shudder
and gave me the impression that we had taken a hit. As I looked out the
window on my left, an FW-190 passed within 50 feet of our plane -- so close
I could clearly see the insignia on the plane and expression on the face
of the pilot.
He had not quite passed the wing tip of our plane when
he took one or more hits from our 50 caliber guns and his propeller came
unscrewed and spun off, flying awkwardly out in front of the engine. The
plane immediately rolled over and went into a steep dive. Before it had
left my sight, I saw the canopy fly off and the pilot bail out.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see yet another plane
at our level burst into flames and then another. All the guns in our ship
continued firing and the top turret, manned by our flight engineer, was
spitting spent 50 caliber shell casings all over the back half of the cockpit
directly behind me. Mack in the tail and Hetrick in the waist were pouring
round after round at the attacking planes. Jim, in the ball turret, later
told me that his turret was like a spinning top.
The cacophony of sounds over the intercom was a jumble of
voices saying "Here's one at two o'clock", "Now! High at 9 o'clock", "Where
is he?", and on and on. While it seemed like hours, it was only about 10
minutes before we caught our first sight of our P51 fighter support. Never
have the "little friends" been more welcome. I don't know how many fighters
appeared but they quickly engaged the attacking planes and the swirling
sight of fighter planes in combat suddenly took enter stage.
As I turned and looked to my left I could see no planes where
moments before the twelve bombers of our squadron had been. Jim Stoner
was calling for a "crew check" and I was relieved to hear a response from
each crew member. I called on the intercom to the ball turret gunner, Jim
McCloskey and inquired if there were any other ships near us and his response
was "Yes, only one, and he's directly under us".
With the attacking planes having been engaged in dogfights
or having fled into the clouds below, I now had a chance to survey the
sky around us. Out of the window to my left I saw no one at our elevation.
As I looked downward to my left I felt my stomach tighten as I saw my squadron,
decimated by enemy 90 millimeter shells, falling in flames. There were
at least 5 of our bombers afire, one had rolled to it's back and was diving
out of control, another apparently had exploded and a giant plume of smoke
filled the sky some distance behind the rest. The sky far below was filled
with parachutes, silhouetted against the heavy cloud cover. Other chutes
were opening as I watched. Our guns were now silent and I heard one of
the crew talking aloud to himself on the intercom, encouraging other of
his comrades in the wounded planes to "Get out of there". The fighters
had driven off the attacking planes and all was quiet now. Where shortly
before there had been a 12 plane squadron, we were now a squadron of two
planes.
The realization that Don Scheuch, our navigator, was in one
of those planes suddenly struck home. No one spoke but I'm sure each felt
as helpless and heart broken as I did. I quietly said a prayer in silence
that Don had survived and that he had managed to get out and parachute
to safety.
A survey of damages to our plane revealed that we had miraculously
survived with very little damage. We observed some holes in the fuselage
near the top turret and in both wings from bursting 40 millimeter shells.
We also noted several holes in the fuselage made by 50 caliber bullets,
probably from the guns in other ships of our squadron. We were relieved
when a detailed check of instruments and engines showed everything to be
normal. No one in the plane spoke for several minutes with all eyes glued
to the disaster taking place thousands of feet below us.
I was now able to focus on our options. I could see
the lead and high box of the 457th about 3 miles ahead and perhaps a 1000
feet above us. I elected to attempt to join up with the lead group and
applied almost full throttle. The plane below us, while suffering more
damage than we, was able to stay with us. After almost thirty minutes of
slow catch-up, we finally pulled into position with the lead group and
flew the position normally reserved for "Tail End Charlie".
The group rejoined the division stream somewhere before we
left German territory and we returned to our field without further incident.
I later found out that other ships from our squadron had survived and had
been able to return to England. Because of major damage they had landed
or crash landed at emergency fields somewhere along the coast.
As we touched down, I'm sure everyone in the plane was
feeling the relief I felt and were privately saying prayers of thanksgiving
- and a prayer for our missing navigator . Strangely, I felt an overwhelming
feeling of guilt, that perhaps we had not done something right or perhaps
we should have followed the burning planes down or pressed our leader to
get the squadron back into group formation or, or something............!
That we had survived this attack and suffered so little damage, while so
many of our fellow 457th comrades had met their death or had been taken
prisoner that day, was something we would ponder for the rest of our tour.
Each of the gunners on our plane put in for a kill of one
or more enemy fighter but since it was required that there be confirmation
from another plane and since there were no other planes to confirm, I recollect
that we got credit for two possible kills.
With the normal turnover of crews and because of the
Magdeberg, Politz and Merseberg raids in the past three months, our squadron
had been decimated. When I flew my sixth mission I was the second most
experienced pilot in the 751st squadron in terms of missions flown.
In a period of sixty four days the 457th bomb group
had suffered the loss of 20 bombers and their crews and major damage to
dozens more.
It was a very difficult period for the men who who had to
face the empty bunks in their hut.
Read the actual Eyewitness Accounts
from several gunners
in the group as recorded in the mission debriefing.