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| Valentine Day Mission, 1945 |
| Internet Document | Original Source | PIMA ID | Donor ID | Category |
| Richard P. Ellinger | Charles Walter | NA | PA.495 | G-DA-OCR |
| The following is as an OCR scan which probably has some of the usual OCR 'typos' remaining. | |
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FEBRUARY 14, 1945 - VALENTINE DAY
MISSION #25 Flight going well until we encountered heavy flak at about 10:00 A.M. Right engine took heavy hit. We feathered the prop and dropped out of the formation as we couldn't maintain speed and position. We started back toward our lines, were met with oncoming flak from the ground. The engine caught fire at about 3500 feet. We did evasive action, trying to avoid getting hit. I was in the tail, telling Willie, my pilot, where the shell bursts were, and we would turn away. We weren't hit again but every time we turned to the dead engine side, we would lose altitude until we were at about 1200 feet. |
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I was picked up by the gun crew that was shooting at us. Their crew chief was a little 5'5" fellow, but he had a P38 pistol pointed at me before I could get to my feet. The radio man, Rouser, was picked up by the regular army and was treated okay. Frank Miller, our engineer, was picked up by the townspeople and was beaten quite badly The first 24 hours were the worst because we didn't know if any of the crew had survived. I was put in a jeep-type vehicle and taken by a private in the German Army to a gathering point. Our planes, fighters, were circling overhead; and every time my captor saw a plane, he would stop and run for the ditch, leaving me in the car. I was sure glad that our fighters didn't see us. We finally arrived at an outpost where I was thrown in an upstairs bedroom In an old farmhouse, scared to death
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During the next 24' hours, planes bombed close enough that as I lay on the floor, I could see the plaster crack above me. The next day we made the outpost where I was joined by my engineer arid radio man. While there, an ambulance arrived. In it were my pilot, Lt. Rufus Wilson, my co-pilot, 2nd Lt. John Weinstein, and my bombardier, 2nd Lt. James Rudig, Lt. Wilson had a broken neck, dying three days later. The co-pilot, Weinstein, had broken bones and developed osteomyelltis in his right arm. Bombardier Rudig was not injured very much. The three officers had gone down and crashlanded with the plane. The hydraulic system had been shot out, and the doors of the plane would not open. The plane was on fire when it landed and was damaged quite badly. There was a lot of screaming coming from within the plane when it landed. The rescuers thought that the enlisted men had not gotten out of the plane arid were trapped inside by the flames. There may have been some of the enemy on the ground arid the plane landed on or trapped them. The interrogators took our money, anything else they wanted, arid one dog tag. We were marched to the next place by one guard - an old soldier in the regular army. As we marched, we met forced laborers from different countries. They told us (sign language) that we would be killed. We arrived in one town and went to the railroad station - while there, a group of townspeople gathered and started yelling. A crowd surrounded us, and we were afraid they were going to hang us. Our guard gave us his gun; and we walked out of the town with him following behind. We finally arrived in Wetzler (spelling?) where they took all of our Air Force clothing and issued to us plain U.S. Army clothing. Each of us got a long winter coat. We were then sent to Frankfort on the Main to be questioned. I was placed in a very small room and asked all kinds of questions about the U.S. Air Force. If we refused to answer questions put to us, the heat was turned up with each refusal. We were told that they didn't need our answers they were just trying to verify the information they had. They knew everything. They told me where we were based, the type of plane we flew, the name of our commanding officer. Since they were getting no answers, they finally gave up and shipped us to Wurzburg to a camp where we stayed for some time. Wurzburg was a camp by a small town that held a 20MM gun barrel factory. Our camp, located on top of a hill, was divided into two parts. One section was for P.O.W.'s and the other was for the German Army troops. They thought it was a safe location for them but the British low-level bombers could pinpoint their section and bombed the German part of the camp without touching our section. Every morning, weather permitting, our 26's would come in and bomb their factories. All of the townspeople would race up the hill to our camp for protection. It was while we were in this camp that we first saw their jet fighters. We saw one of our planes attacked and shot down by their jets. Only three of the crew parachuted. Our next stop was Nuremberg. We were sent there by train. This was an experiences I will not forget. While on the train we lost three engines to our fighter planes. They would shoot out the engine and not touch the coaches. We had climbed on top of the train and painted POW on top of the coaches. It worked - only the engines were taken out. We arrived in Nuremberg and walked by the stadium and on to camp. At one time while we were there, the city was under siege for an entire day. The British Air Force took over where the Americans left off and bombed the City the entire night. The next morning there were a lot of new members in our POW camp - mostly British. At times the British were fire-bombing. During those raids the Germans would attack the British planes in their night fighters. A direct hit on the incendiary-laden British planes lighted the skies for miles around. Our Army was now moving in for the kill so the Germans began moving us out of there to keep our troops from releasing us. There were many thousands of us on the road. The Americans were first in ranks. The British were next. I don't recall how the remaining POW's were lined up. We walked 17 days, arriving at Mooseburg. During the march, we were kept alive by the Red Cross rations that were passed out to us - one package per three prisoners. The food didn't always serve the whole formation. The captors did feed us at times, but the rations were very poor. But you are hungry so the bugs in the bean soup go unnoticed. En route we would pass through small towns. If we spent the night, there was a ring of soldiers with guard dogs stationed around us. In the morning the dogs would get us out of hiding. I was the cook, my engineer was the fireman and the radio man was the thief. That radio man could steal an egg from under an old hen without her ever realizing it was gone. W slept in a barn one night and explored and found the farmer had hidden some wheat behind and under the hay. When we left, we had our socks and pockets full of grain. We traded for a coffee grinder and ground our wheat - almost like Cream of Wheat. We slept one night in a shed of pine boughs. We discovered that the boughs covered ice and the "ice house" was a storage place for the farmer's potatoes. I spent the night with a stick spearing potatoes. We had all we could carry when we left the next day. One day while on march, we were going under a train trestle and some P47's dive-bombed it and strafed it while we were under it. Some of our POW's were killed but the planes had cameras syncronized with their guns. When they returned to base and studied the films, they discovered that they were attacking some POW's. From that point on, while we were on the march, we were put to bed every night and awakened every morning by a P51. He would fly beside us on a road fill, wave and smile and give us the ol' "Thumbs Up." Each time we stopped to rest, we marked our campsite with a ground sign, "POW", made of toilet paper. We finally reached Mooseberg, staying there some time before we were liberated. On April 29, 1945, General George Patton overran our camp, releasing us. Our first act was to look for something to eat. We went down the road to a farmhouse, confiscated some tame rabbits and on the way back to camp, picked up some chickens - really traded for them. We took the chickens but left the rabbits in their place. We were flown out of Germany, then taken by train to Reims, France on May 8, 1945, the very day the Germans were signing their surrender. We were taken to Camp Lucky Strike near LeHavre, France. After four weeks we boarded the ship, Monticello, for our journey back to the States. The time at Lucky Strike was spent sleeping, eating and getting our strength back. We were the first ship back without escort. Boy, did that Statue of Liberty look good. It was nice, too, to be able to read road signs and understand them. Believe me, we read every one. We were sent to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri and from there - HOME. The story doesn't end there. I developed yellow jaundice and spent 23 days in the hospital. I was discharged October 30, 1945 and started to work as carrier at the Knoxville Post Office on December 5. Over a period of twenty years, I held jobs at all step levels in the P.O. In October, 1973, I became Postmaster, retiring in November of 1980. I am now home. The children (four of them) are all gone. I'm getting to hunt, fish and vacation as I please. My wife is enjoying the good life with me. World War II is forty years behind us. - Chuck Charles H. Walter Knoxville, Iowa |
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