As a rule, the Balkan aviators were older than their opponents, often by as much as a decade, and experienced both in flying and in combat. The top Romanian aces, Cantacuzino and Alexandru Serbanescu, were thirty-eight and thirty-two, respectively. Stoyan Stoyanov, the leading Bulgarian pilot, was thirty-one, and Major Aladar Heppes, the senior Hungarian in combat, was forty.
A minor Luftwaffe partner, the Bulgarian Air Force—the Vozdushni Voiski—flew aircraft sporting a black X on a white field. Though deploying only 250 front-line aircraft in May, the Vozdushni Voiski nonetheless made a good showing. In 1943 and 1944, the Bulgars claimed sixty American aircraft downed (forty-six bombers), with 108 AAF fliers killed and 329 captured. Sixteen Bulgarian pilots died in the effort.14
After a hard-fought engagement over the Romanian-Bulgarian border on June 11, the Fifty-second Group reported, “There was no disposition on the part of the enemy to avoid combat. In view of the evident ability of the enemy pilots, there was some surprise at the . . . poor marksmanship on their part.” The yellow-tailed Mustangs claimed thirteen kills against one loss, with known Axis losses of four JG 301 pilots and a Bulgarian 109 pilot.15
Bulgaria’s role in World War II is little known in the West, but it figured prominently in Fifteenth Air Force operations. The Allies flew eleven missions against its capital, Sofia, from November 1943 to April 1944, striking some 12,000 buildings and killing 1,374 persons. A local writer describes the destruction: “Industrial, governmental and cultural buildings were badly damaged and whole residential areas were charred. Streets and sidewalks were ploughed and tram lines ripped apart. The water, electrical, and telephone systems were also severely disrupted. There seemed to be no citizen of Sofia left untouched by the bombings.”16
On April 4, 1944, three hundred of Twining’s heavies attacked Sofia’s marshalling yards, destroying 1,400 railroad cars and numerous buildings, leaving fires that burned for two days. The Americans attempted precision but failed to achieve it; the heaviest concentration of bombs landed beyond the rail yards, striking the city.17
Thirteen days later, on what Sofians would remember as “Black Easter,” 470 bombers escorted by two hundred fighters attacked Belgrade and Sofia. Twenty-five hundred bombs fell on rail and transport targets. Perhaps 750 buildings were destroyed, with three times that number left irreparable, and 128 persons were killed.18
Black Easter ended a vain five-month effort to force Bulgaria out of the Axis camp. As early as January, neutral press reports stated that three hundred thousand people had abandoned Sofia, which had a population of roughly four hundred thousand. Nationwide, 187 cities and towns had been bombed, and 4,100 people had been killed or injured. The doubts of some Allied strategists early that year were confirmed: bombing failed to force Bulgaria to capitulate, just as it had failed in Britain and Germany.19
The Americans bombed Bucharest on April 4. Relying upon questionable data, Ira Eaker shared his dismay at the civilian casualties with Hap Arnold: “Our attack on the marshaling yards at Bucharest was a bloody affair. We killed about 12,000 people, six thousand of them were refugees on trains in the yards; six thousand of them were Rumanians living around the yards.”20 The toll was actually far less. Romanian sources report about 2,600 killed and nearly as many wounded, victims, apparently, of strong winds aloft that blew ordnance off the intended target, the city’s main marshalling yard. The lone bomb group to reach the target, the 449th, sustained heavy losses, with seven of twenty-eight Liberators destroyed and many damaged.21
BLOODY VIENNA
Vienna became the Fifteenth’s toughest target—even tougher than the fiercely defended refineries around Ploesti. Intelligence officers briefed aircrews that the Austrian capital’s defenses were exceeded in strength only by Berlin’s, though Hamburg—out of range of Foggia—probably boasted more flak than Vienna. Berlin and Vienna each had three of the Reich’s eight major flak tower complexes; Hamburg had two. Arranged in pairs (one gun tower and a fire-control platform), they were tall, brooding gray monoliths bristling with light and medium antiaircraft guns, 20mm to five-inch, many radar controlled.22 Hundreds of heavy and medium guns were arrayed in cordons circling the city. And the flak crews got plenty of practice: from late 1943 Vienna was bombed nearly fifty times.
On June 26, 677 bombers set off from Foggia against multiple targets in the Vienna area: an aircraft factory, a rail marshalling yard, and six petroleum plants. Moosbierbaum was a priority, receiving the first of a dozen strikes over the next nine months. Its chemical plant delivered large quantities of naphtha for liquid oil dehydrogenation, and a refinery was nearby.
XV Fighter Command put up 260 or more Mustangs and Lightnings, but the defenders nearly matched that total. The result was one of the greatest air battles in the Fifteenth’s history.
From his headquarters in Vienna, Colonel Gotthard Handrick—the Olympic gold medalist—astutely deployed 240 interceptors. His Eighth Division controllers pulled in twin-engine fighters from as far off as Prague (150 miles) and Slovakian 109s from Bratislava just across the Danube. The Germans deployed them well.
The 304th Wing’s 161 Liberators were led by the 455th Group’s thirty-eight planes ahead of the 454th, 456th, and 459th. During the turn at the initial point, the 455th’s second section of eighteen B-24s swung to the right, extending into a vulnerable position. Flying formation could be difficult when straight and level, but maintaining position in a banked turn with eighteen bombers required careful handling and timing. Inevitably some formations drifted wide, and the Germans took note.
A Messerschmitt 110 unit was positioned to cut off the box as the wing arrived at the turning point for the final run to Moosbierbaum. Nearly thirty Zerstörer (destroyers) tackled the Liberators head-on then kept going to deny the escorts a shot at them. Meanwhile, sixty 109s and 190s rolled in from a forward perch with remarkable aggressiveness. They pressed their attacks to collision range, unconcerned with Yankee fighters or German flak.
According to the 455th’s history, the vulnerable formation “was attacked from every angle by approximately sixty twin-engine and sixty single-engine fighters, a relentless attack on the bombers. One of the bombers collided head-on with one of the fighters. Despite its mortal wounds it persisted through the bomb run, dropped its bombs and plummeted to the ground. Two other aircraft set afire in the attack struggled over the target, released their bombs and then the crews abandoned their airplanes.”23
The cost of the combined assault was devastating. The 455th Group wrote off ten planes and crews, a unit record, with eight more downed from the 304th Wing. The follow-up assault by the single-engine fighters claimed twenty-eight kills or “culls,” cutting out individual bombers from the formation. Nine 109s or 190s and four 110s went down in the melee.
The wing lost eighteen bombers, all to enemy aircraft, while claiming fifty-three defenders downed. Only twenty-six of the Vulgar Vultures returned to San Giovanni, three with severe damage. Several of the 742nd Squadron’s fifty-nine missing men had been flying their last mission. They were old hands, the group’s original cadre when it arrived at San Giovanni in January; many had flown the first mission in mid-February.
But there were losses on both sides. One Zerstörer group (I/ZG76) met a wall of .50 caliber fire, losing eight Bf 110s to bomber guns. It was testimony to the Germans’ aggressiveness, as twin-engine fighters usually kept their distance to employ their heavier weapons.24
The defenders included thirty Hungarians and eight Slovaks, their 109s presenting a kaleidoscope of insignia: the Luftwaffe’s black cross and swastika, Hungary’s white cross on a black field, and Slovakia’s blue cross with red center.
Some of the Slovak pilots had experience against the Soviets but none had seen anything resembling the Fifteenth’s armada. Preparing to attack the Americans, the 109s dropped their belly tanks and turned in at thirty thousand feet. They downed a 459th Group Liberator, and then the roof fell in.
In minutes U.S. fighters shredded the
Slovak unit. Master Sergeant Pavel Zalenak, a twelve-victory ace, was selected for destruction by three P-38s, which drove him to ground level, forcing him into a high-speed crash landing. Though wounded, he survived. Others were not as fortunate. The Americans downed or damaged seven of the eight Slovak Messerschmitts, killing three pilots and seriously wounding one. One of the slain was reported either to have been killed in his chute or to have fallen from his harness.25
The escorts chalked up forty-four kills in all, one less than the record on January 30. As usual, Mustangs got the best of the shooting; the Thirty-first and Fifty-second Groups claimed thirty kills between them. But the Eighty-second Lightnings did well, returning to Vincenzo with fourteen victories against four losses. Four Mustangs also failed to return, but it was an overwhelming American victory. The Luftwaffe could not endure many more of them.
Bomber crews reported the sluggish Me 210s showed more than their usual willingness to fight. “They made every effort to draw off the escorting fighters so as to leave the bombers unprotected.”26
Top gun was Major Samuel J. Brown, a burly Mustang squadron commander who ran his score to thirteen in a vertical combat. Spotting two large gaggles approaching the bombers, he positioned himself and wingman Flight Officer Edward Jay to intercept the Me 410s. After directing the rest of the 307th Squadron against the 109s, Brown and Jay displayed some exceptional teamwork. The CO dropped two and Jay another almost before the Zerstörer could react. Slamming forward on his throttle, Brown grabbed for altitude, stalking some 109s from below. He hammered one that stalled then spun earthward while the others dived away. The two Mustangs executed a simultaneous hammerhead turn—nose high, running airspeed to nearly zero before booting rudder to slice downward. On the descent they picked out more 410s and each destroyed one before heading home low on ammunition. They had six kills and two damaged between them.
A fellow Thirty-firster, Second Lieutenant John Voll, downed two, having opened his victory log three days before. Another “second balloon” was James D. Holloway of the Eighty-second, who became an ace by adding three twin-engine fighters to his previous score.
Despite bomber and fighter claims of sixty or more Axis planes downed, the large Luftwaffe response achieved results. Forty-three American aircraft were lost, matching the Big Week mission against Regensburg. Hardest hit was the 455th Group, which lost ten Liberators. Nevertheless, the Luftwaffe paid heavily. Forty-one fighters were destroyed, including sixteen Zerstörer, with more than forty aircrews lost. Both sides were engaged in attrition warfare, and neither was going to back off.27
LIVING THERE
Far, far below the geostrategists in Washington, London, and Foggia, and even below the wing commanders, were the individuals supporting every military campaign: the unheralded thousands in khaki who made each mission possible.
By definition an air force is a technical organization. There is often as much enthusiasm about the hardware among the non-fliers as there is among pilots. In early May the Fourteenth Fighter Group reported, “Nine of our old [P-38Gs] have been prepared to leave tomorrow morning. They are being replaced with new J’s. Number Four has 716 hours on it and Number Seven has 707, each with over 100 missions. The nine planes average over 500 hours apiece and are still in good condition. Bouquets to our mechanics. Typhus shots were given by the needle jabbers.”
The next day: “Ten new Js were received this morning and beautiful birds of the air they are.”28
Despite a rigid rank structure, most units learned the value of certain noncommissioned officers and enlisted men. Intelligent commanders gave ample latitude to subordinates with a knack for getting things done, sometimes looking the other way when pragmatism clashed with regulations. The Thirty-first Fighter Group recorded, “Corporal Valorose, 308th Squadron, took a trip to Rome and nothing would get done properly until he returned.”29
The army tried to provide diversion for GIs, ranging from athletics to bingo to talent shows and movies. At Triolo, the cinema fare in May 1944 was usually five or six months old. Some films had been released as recently as Christmas. The airmen could be tough critics, as the diary of a P-38 unit shows:
[May 5:] Deanna Durbin and Franchot Tone played in “The Butler’s Sister” and Deanna displayed no end of S.A., which of course was gratifying to all. Deanna Durbin, the twenty-two-year-old brunette and occasional blonde crooner, rated high in sex appeal.
[May 8:] No mission today. A propaganda picture “Behind the Rising Sun” credited some Japanese as being human but succeeded in leaving its audience filled with hate for the Nipponese.
[May 10:] The movie provided the only interest of the day, “Moonlight in Vermont” with Gloria Jean, a very poor picture.
[May 13:] The Ritz Brothers and Frances Langford played in a class C musical, “Never a Dull Moment.”
[May 20:] “Jack London” proved a very inferior movie this evening.
[May 27:] It was a spring rain in earnest today. No mission. Lousy show this evening. Ted Lewis in “Is Everybody Happy?” An emphatic No was on everybody’s lips as they left after seeing it.30
At Salsola (“Foggia Number Three”), the First Group’s theater was dubbed “the Barn,” seating five hundred and often with standing room only. A show consisting of newsreels and a movie was run three times daily, three days a week, “and usually plays to a full house.”
In June the Eighty-second Fighter Group’s softball team hosted a visiting team that drew a record audience at Vincenzo. The Women’s Army Corps team from Foggia took the field, and even the men who were not sports fans considered it “a thrilling sight, everyone’s eyes on the WACs instead of the ball. Even the umpire, Staff Sergeant Bill Jones, didn’t know the score at the end of the game.”31
Meanwhile, San Severo became “progressively more civilized.” In addition to decent living quarters, an acceptable mess facility, an officers’ club, and a movie twice a week, it now offered a laundry operated by Italian women (fifty cents a bundle). But civilization came at a cost. “Regulations that heretofore had gone unenforced were now being resurrected,” recalled one pilot, especially in connection with transportation. Previously, five or six men might cram into a jeep, but under the new regime, only four were permitted, and a “trip ticket” had to be obtained from the motor pool. Pilots noticed that MPs at the front gate were not as friendly as before. They were obviously feeling the heat too.32
Creeping civilization (especially better quarters, varied food, ample toilet paper, and more frequent entertainment) had some onerous consequences: dress standards and military courtesy. The Fifty-second Group lamented:
The price of these luxuries was that a certain decorum was expected of us. No longer was a pair of underwear shorts considered adequate for the necessary early morning trip out back. Bathing from a helmet standing in front of a tent before God and everybody was discouraged. Some degree of neatness in uniforming was now expected, now that laundry and dry cleaning service was available.
The military custom of saluting was encouraged, particularly when there were high-ranking strangers in camp. After an embarrassing experience involving the group CO and a visiting general, formations were called in each squadron and everybody was warned to salute anything above a captain. So for the next 24 hours military tradition was strictly observed. Then matters once more settled back to normal.33
However onerous military protocol may have been, the Fifteenth tried to give combat crews a break midway through their tours. Officially, “R and R” stood for rest and recreation (or recuperation), but GIs sometimes referred to “rape and rampage.” The most popular R and R destination was the fabled Isle of Capri, south of Naples in the Tyrrhenian Sea.
Capri lived up to expectations. A 456th Group Liberator pilot, Robert S. Capps, described his visit as “a wonderful, restful, luxurious experience. We had very good accommodations and there were excellent, first-class restaurants in the hotels run by highly skilled Italians. . . . It was a great change from our rough t
ent life and eating off metal mess kits at our air base.” A future Ph.D., Capps wrote, “I can readily understand why the Roman emperor, Tiberius, decided to make his castle here and live the last years of his life from 26 to 37 A.D.” The delights of Capri ended too soon for Capps and his comrades. “We had to return to reality, the constant threat to our lives, and the rustic style of living we were accustomed to at our base. We had to start sweating out combat missions again.”34
Besides strategic targets such as Ploesti and Vienna, those combat missions included smaller strikes, often in northern Italy. Usually losses were few, but drama still occurred, as on the 451st Group’s Mission 44 to the Padua marshalling yard in mid-May. The briefers described a “milk run,” and the prediction held up until the Liberators began their bomb run at only eighteen thousand feet. At that point heavy flak opened up.
Lieutenant William Booker’s plane took a solid hit. The pilot was wounded in the legs and the cockpit filled with smoke. Copilot Charles Brown took over, completing the bomb run, then crewmen began treating Booker and the nose gunner, who was seriously wounded.
Headed for Gioia del Colle, Brown called for a damage check. The flight engineer began a dolorous litany: hydraulics failing, radio out, and landing gear damaged. Then, while descending toward base, Brown learned that the nose wheel was flat, as was the left main landing gear tire. Without hydraulics the crew had to crank the wheels down manually.
While wondering how he would land the crippled Liberator, Brown received unexpected help. Above all, a bomber crew was a team, and everyone could make a contribution. Brown explained, “One of the crew read somewhere in a similar situation, parachutes were opened via the waist windows just before touchdown. We decided to try it. They attached the chutes to the waist gun mounts.”
Brown made a low initial approach, firing red flares to indicate casualties onboard, then powered into a circuit for the landing attempt on the “crash strip” to free up the main runway. His flight engineer, Sergeant Arthur Brewer, sat in the left seat to call out airspeeds.
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