"I joined the 558th Bomb Squadron at Chipping Onger, England, in January of 1944, as a pilot with a replacement crew and remained a member of that squadron until November, 1944. 1 had completed 65 missions at that time and anticipated flying more. However, Colonel Grover C. Brown, the 387th Bomb Group Commander, transferred me to Group Headquarters as the Group Training Officer in November. I was also given the additional duty of Group Flying Safety Officer. Lt. Col. Gayle Smith, whom we all know and love, was my immediate boss. On the morning of December 9, 1944, the 387th Bomb Group was located at an air base, A-71, near St. Quentin, France. 1, as an experienced B-26 pilot, was assigned to duty in the Control Tower that morning. My function there was to assist flight crews who encountered any mechanical difficulties that might be corrected from the cockpit prior to landing. The morning mission had taken off as scheduled. Each aircraft was loaded with 250-pound demolition bombs. Shortly after take off, the aircraft were recalled to conduct a higher priority mission. This was not unusual in those days, because we were supporting ground forces. It was a clear and cold winter day, with the thermometer below the freezing level. One of our newly assigned pilots, I think from the 559th Bomb Squadron, was on his final approach. Apparently his air speed had dropped too low for the landing. He encountered prop wash that caused the aircraft to stall. The aircraft was only a couple hundred feet from the ground and crashed short of the runway, at 90 degrees to the landing direction. The impact with the ground ruptured the fuel tanks, causing the aircraft to burst into flames.
The firefighters, medics, and military policemen were in a standby position along the runway to provide immediate assistance in the event of an aircraft emergency landing. Thus, they were the first to reach the burning aircraft to aid the crew members.
I had returned to the operations office, but was alerted immediately following the crash. I rushed outside, jumped into a jeep, and sped to the scene.
When I arrived, the emergency crews had removed the aircrew from the tail section and we placed them in a waiting ambulance. We then attempted to rescue the remaining aircrew members from the forward cockpit area. As I approached the forward area, it appeared that the bombs had broken through the fuselage walls upon impact. The bombs were now on the ground and white hot from the raging fuel fire. They were oozing a substance that I thought then and still believe today, was the explosive material, leaking from the bomb because of the intense heat. In the initial rescue operations, the firemen had sprayed water on the rear of the aircraft to protect the rescue and surviving crew members from the intense heat and fire. They now shifted the water from the aft section of the aircraft to the forward section.
Let me digress, at this point, for a moment. Our group moved from England across the English Channel to France in the early fall of 1944. We were the first bomber group to deploy from England to France. We stood down from combat for a few days in order to supply our new French base. The method used to supply bombs to our new base, until additional bombs could be provided, was probably, at that time, unique. We loaded each aircraft with unfused bombs And flew them to the French base. When we arrived, we taxied to the designated bomb storage area, pulled the salvo lever, dropped the bombs on the ground, and returned to England for another load.
Because of this operation I assumed later on, that as long as the fuse was not activated, that bombs were safe. A foolish assumption: I now know better. Consequently, on the fateful day of the explosion, I approached the burning aircraft with no fear. My plan was to climb up the engine nacelle, aided by an M.P. Officer, and move across the wing to the cockpit to remove the remaining crew. That was my last memory of the incident. I was apparently within 20 to 30 feet of a burning aircraft loaded with demolition bombs when they detonated. I felt no pain, heard no sound, and saw no explosion. My only sensation was that I was floating along, enveloped in a warm gentle breeze. I dropped off the engine to avoid being crushed when it came down, and the body of the M.P. fell nearby. I had all my clothes blown off my body except for my belt with my pocket and my wallet attached.
I believe that because the aircraft engine was between the bombs and me, I was shielded from the direct blast.
I was placed into an ambulance below the stretcher holding the badly broken Dr. Schwartz, whose blood was dripping down on me, and we were taken to the hospital.
Doc and I were in the same hospital in France for at least a month. He had so many leg fractures that I'm sure he was probably never able to walk very well after that. While a patient in the hospital, I could "wheel chair" to his room and for a person to receive as much physical damage as he and continue to have a great sense of humor is beyond me.
Later on, I learned that I had sustained first, second, and third degree bums on my head, face, and upper body. Concussion had caused internal bleeding, plus ruptured eardrums, and I had numerous abrasions and holes in my arms, legs, and body. I will never understand how I survived and so many others did not. It makes one think.
After the accident, Colonel Brown advised me that the water sprayed on the hot bombs probably created such a shock that they detonated. He also advised me that Dr. Schwartz and I were the only two survivors from a group of 40 men. The aircrew members who were removed from the tall section and placed in the ambulance were also killed. The chassis was the only part of the ambulance remaining after the explosion.
How I lived, nobody knows. However, it sure made a believer of me. I was .released from the hospital to return to the U.S.A. either in late March or early April of 1945. After my experience at A- 71 1, 1 was returned to flight status and had the good fortune to fly with the U.S. Air Force for another 28 years."