When Only One B-17 Came Home

It is a cold morning on October 10, 1943. Pilot Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal arrives for today's briefing, joining 60 other pilots and navigators of the 100th Bomb Group. Among them is his co-pilot, Winifred “Pappy.” ” Lewis, and his navigator, Ronald Bailey. "Alright, let's get this over with. Light. Your target today is Münster. Until now our targets have been the factories, but not this time. Today, the target is the city's old cathedral." Murmurs and shocked faces spread throughout the meeting room. Lewis and Bailey share a stunned look. "Yeah!" Towards the front, the leader of the 100th Bombardment Group, Major John Egan, applauds the news.

Many of the men, including Egan, have lost close friends on previous missions. The pain of their loss means that some of the men consider such a mission legitimate revenge. "Fuel pressure, oil pressure, looks good." "Münster lives a large proportion of railway workers, who are crucial to the German war effort." "We're going to be there just in time for Sunday Mass. I don't know how I feel about that." "Come on, Pappy. You know it's our duty." One by one, the B-17s of the 100th Bomb Group rise into the air. The Royal Flush takes its position at the rear of the formation, a position that everyone on board knows is particularly exposed and dangerous.

But insisting on it doesn't help anyone. "But it won't be easy. Intelligence reports that there are more than 500 fighters ready to intercept our path. You can also expect an extremely intense bombing raid on the target. You will be part of a formation of 274 bombers. Major Egan will be the pilot in charge. command of the group." "Land ahead. Engines are low on power and return to base." "Egan, there's another one!" "Damn! Radio, put that on a record." "There's another one who

came

back. Lucky sons of bitches." "To ease the burden of your attack, you will have 216 P-47 Thunderbolt escorts, which will reach you over Holland and protect you throughout the mission." The armada flies over Holland and enters Germany.

They are now absolutely and without a doubt in enemy territory. “Where are our fighters?” "Gunners, do you see any allied fighters in the distance?" "Negative." "Nothing in our 6. Nothing." "Left waist free." "They're not coming, are they?" "They would already be here if they were." "Well, maybe they are late and But the crews don't know it, but not

only

are they late. There are no fighters. The weather at their bases did not allow them to take off and their absence leaves the bombers even more vulnerable, but with or without escort , they have no choice but to press on.

As they move deeper into enemy territory, more reports of attacks come in, isolated groups of fighters launch attacks higher up the formation and claim a handful of B-17s. See this?" A cloud of fighters appears in the distance. The interceptors have arrived. "Good luck. I'll see you all in a couple of hours." "Open fire! Show them what we've got!" In a blur, a swarm of Me 109s and Fw 190s tear through the formation. The Fortress guns come to life, filling the air with tracers as the German fighters fire their deadly 20mm cannons. "They're coming towards you, Stanley." Moments later, the Me 110s appear from behind, "Bandits at 6 o'clock!", sweeping and firing rockets everywhere.

The sky is filled with a confusing mess of fighters and lead, the big ones Fortresses are absorbing shell after shell as enemy fighters go down in flames. A rocket hits the B-17 leader of the 100th bomb group, "Mademoiselle Zig-Zag", piloted by Major Egan and two of its engines are lost. a cut occurs. opened in the fuselage "Damn! Damn! We're losing power!" There's nothing Egan can do as his bomber struggles and ultimately fails to keep up with the formation. Slowly the gap opens wider and wider, isolating them. "We can't keep up. Tell our men to leave us behind." "The radio is gone.

We have no contact." Unaware of the Mademoiselle Zig-Zag's situation, the bombers directly behind it also slow down and drop altitude to maintain formation, leading those behind it to also do the same. It's a catastrophic chain reaction: "Two more arrive at two o'clock." At first, no one notices, they are too focused on the battle to notice, but soon the growing gap between their formation becomes obvious." We're falling behind, why?" "We're falling dangerously isolated, speed up!" Leader, do you copy me? Egan?!" Confusion spreads and the pilots are faced with an impossible decision. Do they remain in a small formation with their brothers in arms?

Or do they leave them behind and charge at the biggest one? Two of the 100th Flying Fortress bomber group take the plunge, go full throttle, and race toward the larger group. Aboard the Royal Flush, at the very end, the two pilots are caught in the confusion. "The formation is breaking, we." We're falling behind!" "We can't do anything. If we overcome the gap, all the Germans will fall on us." They decide to stay. The Germans quickly notice the isolated group of eleven B-17s and pounce on their prey. The damage is piling up quickly, several B-17s are attacked.

Leaving a trail of smoke, the machine gunners are completely overwhelmed. The men on the Royal Flush can

only

watch as an Fw 190 arrives and hits one of their compatriots in the wing, unleashing a huge fireball. Their friends flee to save. their lives before the bomber finally loses control and explodes into a million pieces. Shortly after, a second B-17 catches fire after being hit by multiple 20mm bullets. "We're dropping like flies!" 3 minutes!" Another B-17 is illuminated by fighters, destroying its wings and fuselage. Fearing incoming anti-aircraft fire, the pilot breaks away from the formation and heads

home

alone. "Where are you going?!" The "Jesus!" fighters crowd around him, tearing him to shreds, but leaving him still flying to concentrate on the formation still heading towards the city.

The combatants turn their attention to Major Egan on the Mademoiselle Zig-. Zag's relentless attacks destroy critical systems one after another, making the fortress increasingly difficult to control. Fighting off his sticks, Egan realizes that they are finished. Bail! Bail!" The crew begins to jump, but the co-pilot stays, helping Egan keep the plane steady for his men. "Whoa, now, quick!" As soon as they leave, pilot John Brady and Major Egan move to jump out of the “Come in, Brady, I'm an old man.” “No, come in.” But then a fighter comes in from above and opens fire. New bullet holes appear in the bomb bay door.

I'll see you. Brady." Egan jumps first, followed by Brady. They both manage to get out. Back with the Royal Flush, the gunners fight for their lives as Rosenthal and Lewis resist the temptation to run, holding position as they are forced to watch the other B-17s go down one by one. "I see 1, 2, 3..." But outside, a fighter fires a volley of rockets at the Royal Flush, one of them hitting the wing directly. , making a huge hole and instantly destroying two engines. "Feather." "Bailey, how far from the target?" "Just a little more, we're almost there!" -17 are heading towards.

The tornado of fighters gives way to a burst of anti-aircraft fire. With the rest of the formation already gone, all the city's guns are now focused on the 3 surviving bombers. "Hold on guys, we'll get through this." Anti-aircraft fire destroys the remaining plane. "Another one's down, Rosie." One of them is set on fire and is forced to drop his bombs before climbing out of the burning, flying wreckage. "We are here." "Autopilot on, bomber, it's your plane!" "Understood, pilot, my plane." Control of the plane is handed over to the bomber: "The bomb bay doors open." The crosshairs approach painfully slowly. "We almost arrive!" "Damn!" The second-to-last B-17 is hit directly and explodes in a fireball, slowly tilting and falling. completely disintegrating.

The Royal Staircase is the last one standing. "Bombs away, pilot, the plane is all yours!" "Understood, my plane." Rosenthal immediately regains control and maneuvers to avoid anti-aircraft fire. "Let's get out of here." They limp out of the city's airspace with only two engines and serious damage. "Where is everybody?" "Bandits, at six!" Several German planes appear from the clouds. The Royal Flush gunners open fire, but they are alone as easy targets. "Tail pilot: make sure you have enough ammo!" Desperate, Rosenthal throws all his wisdom as a bomber pilot out the window and undertakes evasive maneuvers. The waist gunners hold on for dear life as the B-17 turns left and right.

They open fire for a split second before the bomber dives hard beneath them. Four Fw 190s stop on the six of the Royal Flush, chasing the B-17 through the sky. "Willy, they're coming at you!" Rear Gunnery Sgt. Bill DeBlasio takes aim at the second from his left and fires bursts of bullets in his direction. On the third, he scores a critical hit, severing its left wing and causing it to crash into his companion, knocking both planes out of the sky. He immediately switches to the next fighter, hitting it in the engine and breaking its canopy. The last fighter walks away, fleeing DeBlasio's deadly target.

But the Germans are far from done. 6 more planes line up behind the bomber. DeBlasio opens fire as the twin-engine fighters launch their rockets. Trails of smoke shoot from the fighters, flying around DeBlasio. Miraculously, none of them hit. He responds, pointing at one of them. The .50 caliber cannons pierce the German fighter and set it on fire. The rest of the enemies open fire in return, unleashing a storm of lead that explodes and passes through the bomber's fuselage. Two waist gunners are hit by shrapnel and fall to the floor of the plane in pain. "Shaffer looks bad." His cries for help come over the radio as DeBlasio fires with everything he has, fire in his eyes.

He takes aim at the entire formation, switching from one target to another. His bullets hit two of the 190, causing them to lose control and crash into each other. Shortly after, by sheer luck, the remaining German fighters pull away, limited by fuel. "They're turning around!" "Are we clear?" Suddenly, the skies calm down. And the Royal Flush is still up in the air. "The sky is clear, they are gone." "Someone control the waist gunners!" Radio operator Michael Boccuzzi leaves his position and runs to the waist of the plane, where the two gunners are on the ground and in pain. "Hold on!

Man, I've got you! Talk to me, Shaffer! You'll be okay, I promise." "Can we go back?" "We are losing altitude, we need to lose some weight." "Gentlemen, we have to get rid of everything that is not screwed in! And quickly! The crew gets to work: they throw overboard absolutely everything that is not necessary. Weapons, ammunition, oxygen tanks, everything. "We got rid of everything." "Is it enough?" "Is it enough, Rosie?" Maybe..." Back at Thorpe Abbotts, the mechanics and officers watch the sky, waiting anxiously. The estimated arrival time has already passed, the other bomber groups have already returned, but nothing is known about the 100th.

Then , in the distance, only one. The B-17 appears low on the horizon, smoking and barely flying, the Royal Flush lowers its landing gear and lands on the runway. The assembled men watch in surprise as the seriously injured plane comes to a stop. They go out to the track and turn off the engines. The silence is deafening. They are the only ones from the 100 who return. The doctors rush to their aid while the crew gathers on the grass. There is no celebration, almost no relief, really. What just happened sinks in. The attack was one of the worst disasters in the history of the 8th Air Force.

The 100th Bomb Group suffered the most, earning it the nickname "The Bloody Hundredth." Of the 130 men. planes shot down, 37 died and 93 would become prisoners of war.