Thank you for joining us on our compilation of best B-17 videos. Some say our earlier artwork of aircraft is, well, a bit plain, but we think these are incredible stories. And we hope you watch and enjoy the most epic B-17 stories. It’s December the 31st 1944, New Year's Eve. But many brave young men are not celebrating today as they crew a group of 37 planes
conducting a mission targeting oil refineries over Hamburg. Having completed their mission, the surviving planes have been flying through flak for over an hour, it's so dark that you can’t see the sky. Lieutenant Glenn Rojohn is in command of a B17-G “The Little Skipper”. He and his crew are desperately trying to find a way through the flak. Manoeuvring as best they can to avoid the plumes of smoke and fire bursting all around them and their comrades. Finally the planes reach the North Sea and to everyone’s relief the flak subsides. Now flying straight and level the planes take position in formation with all crews watching carefully for enemy fighters. There is a very strong headwind which means the B17s are traveling much slower than usual. Suddenly they’re spotted. At 22,000 feet the B-17s are jumped and a battle takes place. There are countless enemies and wave after wave of German Me-109 fighters buzz and strafe the American planes. Staying in tight formation is the best defense but the fighters are relentless and many B-17’s are lost. The Me-109s are coming in so close on their attack runs that the faces of their pilots can be seen by Rojohn and his crew. B-17’s are known for their resilience but they can only take so much damage. With so many planes going down, the Lucky Lassie becomes the alternate leader and the planes take action to form a tight defensive formation around it. There’s a flash and Rojohn sees the terrible sight
of the plane in front of him being badly hit, slide out of formation and drop down towards the sea below. The fighters are swarming all over
and Lt Rojohn needs to fill the gap in the new formation. Determinedly, gunning his plane forward, he increases the speed to fill the gap and restores the defensive integrity of the formation trying to make it home. The Me-109’s though are merciless and just underneath Rojohn’s plane another B-17, The Nine Lives has been hit. The plane is still flying but the pilot and co-pilot have been taken out. Unbeknownst to Lt Rojohn, with no one at the stick, the Nine Lives starts to drift up. Inside the Little Skipper there’s a sickening crunch as an impact runs through the plane. Rojohn, confused and shocked, looks at his co-pilot, Lt William G Leek. The plane starts to feel heavy and lurches down. They both pull back on the stick and manage to keep her flying but something is seriously wrong. It’s at this point they realize that they have collided and they are locked together in flight with another B-17. The Nine Lives, had crashed the top of its fuselage into the bottom of The Little Skipper. The top gun turret of bottom plane was locked in the bottom of the top plane. The two bombers are flying almost perfectly aligned — the tail of the lower plane being slightly to the left of Rojohn’s tailpiece. They were stuck together, as Bill Leek later recalled, “like dragonflies.” In the lower plane, three of the engines are still running as are all four of the top plane’s. However a fire has broken out in the stopped engine which in the crash has damaged the hydraulics and the electrics of the Little Skipper and the planes were quickly losing altitude. Rojohn tries in vain to separate the aircraft through various manoeuvres but it’s impossible. Knowing it would be extremely dangerous to try and make it back to England he reluctantly decides to head back to Germany. Bailing out over the water was extremely risky so the best bet is to try and limp to shore to give the crew the best chance possible. With fire spreading Rojohn takes the decision to cut the Little Skipper’s engines.
In an amazing show of airmanship the pilot and copilot manage to coax the locked planes around and head back to Germany. Approaching the coast they’re spotted by German aircraft batteries, the German captain of one recorded in his logbook, “Two fortresses collided in a formation in the North East.
The planes flew hooked together and flew 20 miles south. The two planes were unable to fight anymore. The crash could be awaited so I stopped firing at these two planes.” In order to give his crew the best chance of bailing out safely, Rojohn battled to keep the plane under control. In all six men parachuted out of the The Little Skipper. Rojohn ordered Leek to bail out. But Leek knew it took two men with colossal effort to keep the plane level. If he had bailed out, Rojohn was certain to perish as the plane spiraled out of control. Lt Leek refused the order. The two men were going to see this flight through to its final conclusion. Having earlier bailed out, drifting down from his parachute, Navigator, Lt Robert Washington watched the strange site of the two bombers stuck together disappear towards the ground in the distance. The two planes, in Piggy back, one on top of the other were approaching the ground at a terrifying speed. Seeing the ground rushing up before them both men said their prayers and pulled back on the stick in a herculean effort at the last moment to give the plane as much lift as possible. They had to pull so hard on the steering yoke that they had to put their feet on the console to brace themselves. Approaching Tettens field in Northern Germany, the planes slammed into the earth.
The Nine Lives disintegrated on impact, with the Little Skipper shooting forward sliding along the ground. A wing crashed into a wooden building and the plane broke apart. Wreckage flew in all directions and almost the entire plane was destroyed. As the nose of the plane came to rest and silence descended, the two men, still in their seats, amazingly had survived. Rojohn and Leek exited the wreck just as a German soldier rushed up to take them prisoner. Unfortunately, not all the airmen escaped on that day. In total six crew survived from the Little Skipper and four bailed and survived from the Nine Lives. But the fact that any made it through was an incredible achievement. All who survived were captured by the Germans. Lt Glenn Rojohn was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for his actions on that day but he always credited Leek for saving his life. The two men lost touch with each other after the war, but in 1986 Glenn Rojohn managed to track Bill Leek down and get in touch. In 1987 the two men and the surviving crew were finally brought back together at a reunion of the 100th Bomb Group in Long Beach, California. We’d like to express our sincere thanks to Captain Rojohn’s daughter, Cyndi Rojohn, for helping with the facts on this script. Any errors are entirely our own. There are many more details to this incredible story that you can find in her excellent book, “The Piggyback Flight Pilot’s Journey” published by Fulton Books, which you can find on Amazon. It’s February the 1st, 1943 and taking off from Biskra in Algeria are a formation of B-17 bombers belonging to the 414th squadron, 97th bombardment group. Their target is 300 miles away at the seaport of Tunis which is controlled by the Germans. At the controls of his B-17F, The All American sits Lt Ken Bragg Jr and his co-pilot Godfrey Engle Jr. En route the B-17s were repeatedly harassed by Bf 109s. Putting up a brave defense they manage to make it through to the target. And the German fighters peel off just before the flak starts up. The bombardier, Ralph Burbridge, takes control. The flak is very thick and the crew are shook repeatedly. Burbridge though does his job and over Tunis releases the load of bombs. The All American and the rest of the B-17s turn for home. On their return, once out of the flak the formation is targeted again by German fighters. Tenaciously they hang on to the formation doing repeated passes and taking chunks out of the B-17s. That is until their maximum range is reached and the Germans are forced to turn back home. Thankfully, the All American is still in good shape and all the crews breathe a sigh of relief as they are almost out of German range. But any celebrations are too early when suddenly the cry goes up, “Bandits!” as 2 Bf 109s are spotted. At the controls of the fighters are 2 very experienced German pilots. One of the Bf 109s targets the lead plane in the squadron. Please like and comment on the video, and also subscribe and help us get to a million subscribers. Thank you. The gunners on the All American try and defend the lead bomber. The right side gun pumps lead into the Bf 109 and it’s a critical hit. The 109 slipped under the formation streaming smoke and oil and went down in the desert below. Meanwhile the second 109 “Yellow 1” piloted by Eric Paczia gets the all American in its sights. Paczia is an experienced pilot with 16 victories to his name. His plan is to take the All American head on and roll underneath it. The nose gunner has other plans and gets to work. The All American is hit repeatedly but the plucky crew continue their defense, peppering Yellow 1 with lead... all the time it's flying closer to the point it's filling the gun sights. In the Bf 109 his attack run done, Paczia starts to roll and line up for another attack, but the hail of fire from the B-17 has done its job, incapacitating the pilot. Whether through injury or mechanical problems he is unable to complete his maneuver, and the plane heads straight for the All American. The crew hear a “WHOOMPH” and a shudder as the out of control 109 plowed into the All American. The alarming noise of the 2 birds colliding coincides with a storm of twisted tangled razor sharp metal flying about, stunning the crew. The plane lurched and writhed at the controls with Bragg struggling to keep her straight and level. Picking themselves off the ground the crew were amazed to see a huge gaping hole in the fuselage. The 109 had completely disintegrated but it had left its mark on the now seemingly critically injured warbird. The crew were also astounded to find bits of the 109 lying around inside the fuselage… or what was left of the fuselage. The B-17 had been almost entirely torn in two. The tail end of the plane was connected to the main fuselage by just 2 small parts of the air frame. Despite their reputation as tough and hard to bring down this B-17 should have been critically damaged. The melee had left its mark. None of the right hand engines were now running. Only one engine on the left was fully operational. The rudder had been damaged and the vertical fin looked like it would give way at any moment. Unbelievably, the entire crew was still alive. They tightened their parachutes ready to jump as soon as the tail gave up its tenuous connection to the aircraft, but again unbelievably, the All American kept on flying. Other B-17s in the formation were amazed to see the plane almost torn in 2 pitch up, recover and continue flying, it seemed to everyone like a miracle. Lieutenant Charles Cutforth in an accompanying bomber, the Flying Flit Gun, snapped an image of the stricken bomber that would become famous: “The All American cruising over the desert landscape, with a ragged slice through its fuselage” Bragg later recalled: "As I opened the door of the radio compartment and looked back into the fuselage I was stunned. A torn mass of metal greeted my eyes. Wires were dangling and sheets of metal were flapping as the air rushed through the torn wreckage. Three-fourths of the plane had been cut completely through by the enemy fighter and a large piece of the wing of the Me 109 was still lodged in the tail of our plane. It left our tail section hanging on by a few slender spars and a narrow strip of metallic skin.” Sgt Sam Sarpolus, the tail gunner, decided it was time to escape his position in the most fragile part of the plane and crawled along the spars to make it back into the main fuselage bringing with him four gun brushes, his parachute, and Bragg's jacket. The formation slowed and stayed with the plane until they were safely over American controlled airspace then went ahead to land. The brave pilots of the All American managed to ease the plane down on a straight landing trajectory at Biskra. Without a rear wheel now, the incredibly resilient B-17 held together as it came skidding to a halt. The crew exited the plane and apart from minor injuries were unhurt. Even the All American was not critically injured. The bird that wouldn’t be put down, was patched up and continued to the end of the war eventually having to be scrapped. It's June 23rd, 1944. High above Romania. The 97th Bombardment group of the Fifteenth Air force are making their way towards their targets of oil refineries and storage facilities. The group are jumped and Bf-109s swarm all over the 97th. The gunners put up a valiant defense but the fighters are merciless. A plane off the left wing of a B-17 called Opissonya is critically hit and falls to the ground. It’s desperate and a second B-17 on the left is also hit and taken out by the German fighters. The fighters peel off to the right. But this is a false peace. They know that the flak is about to start. Suddenly plumes of smoke and fire erupt all around the brave men of the 97th. The German fighters about a mile distant on the right relay the exact positions to the flak batteries. Back inside the irreverently named Opissonya, the Bombardier, 25 year old 2nd Lt David R Kingsley crouches over the bomb sight. The flak is so thick one of the crew later said, “You could walk on it”, and smoke from already bombed targets makes it very difficult to see anything on the ground. Kingsley tries to ignore the flak shaking the plane and get’s down to the job of hitting the target. The pilot, 1st Lt Edwin Anderson does his best to get the Opissonya in position. Suddenly the plane is rocked and the crew realize with dread that the flak has hit them! The damage is severe but not critical with one engine destroyed and a fuel tank ripped off. Kingsley lets loose his bombs and they fall towards the target. With the 3 remaining engines screaming, Anderson manages to get his B-17 away. The controls are damaged and with only 3 engines the Opissonya is a straggler away from the main formation. Stragglers are always the first to fall to hunters and in the skies over Romania two Bf-109s smell blood. A battle begins as they attack the lone fortress. They do all they can but the fast buzzing 109s concentrate on taking out the gun positions. Their first objective is the tail gunner. An incredibly dangerous job. Sergeant Michael Sullivan defends his plane as best he can. But today fortune is with the 109s and Sullivan is hit by shell fragments that also destroy his intercom. Without a working tail gun, the Bf-109s press their advantage. Injured, Sullivan struggles from the tail towards the mid section of the plane where the waist gunners tried to do what they could for him, but with the Bf-109s coming in again they call for the Bombardier, Kingsley to administer first aid. Removing Sullivan’s parachute and harness, Kingsley tended to his injuries and managed to stop the bleeding in his shoulder. At this point the Opissonya was 500 miles from base, had 3 engines, was low on fuel and had no tail gun. Things were looking incredibly bleak. As the 109’s were coming in to deliver the final blow, two P-51 mustangs appeared. Quickly the 109’s peeled off in search of an easier target. For as long as possible the mustangs warded off any would be attackers. But they too had to peel off eventually as they were low on fuel. Now completely alone and defenseless they were attacked once more. This time eight Bf-109s flew out of the sun and swarmed all over the stricken B-17. For a quarter of an hour they strafed the Americans, injuring the ball gunner and peppering the wings and fuselage with holes. Amazingly the flying fortress kept flying. But finally it was hopeless and fearing the plane would disintegrate, the pilot had no choice but to ring the bailout bell. Kingsley did what he could to help the injured men bail out. When he went to help Sullivan, the gunner’s parachute harness could not be found. In an incredible show of bravery, Kingsley immediately removed his own parachute harness and put it on Sullivan. He carried the injured gunner to the bomb bay and told him to keep his hand on the ripcord and pull when he was clear. Sullivan later said, “He told me to bail out. Before I jumped, I looked up at him and the look he had on his face was firm, and solemn. He must have known what was coming because there was no fear in his eyes at all.” Kingsley was last seen by the crew members standing on the bomb bay catwalk. Drifting down they watched the plane hit the ground in the distance. For extreme courage and selfless sacrifice, he was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor on April 9th, 1945. His remains were found and interred in Arlington National Cemetery. At the site of the crash a memorial stands today made in part from the wreckage. The Klamath Falls Airport in Oregon was named Kingsley Field in his honor. In December 2019 the 173rd Fighter Wing at Kingsley Field flew an F-15C to Edwards Air Force Base. To commemorate the 75th anniversary of his heroic action it was given a special heritage paint job, painted in traditional B-17 colors with D-Day invasion stripes and a portrait of the great man who put the lives of his crew before himself. It’s May 1, 1943 and 78 B-17’s from the 306th Bomb group
are heading over the channel towards France. Their target is the German U-boat pens at St Nazaire. There is heavy cloud cover and the B-17’s
let loose their bombs. The mission was shaping up as a huge success. The flak was moderate and the German fighters didn’t seem to attack with any great determination. The 306th head for home for England,
another mission completed… or so they thought. In a B17-F number 649 on his first mission was ball turret gunner
Sergeant Maynard H. Smith. At 5ft 4 in Smith was not a tall man which was an essential requirement for a ball turret gunner. B-17 crews had a mortality rate of 30% but for ball turret gunners it was 60%... although that didn’t buy any favours
with the rest of the crew. Known to the other crewmen as “Snuffy”
after a grumpy comic strip character named Snuffy Smith, he was not well liked amongst the men. For Smith the feeling was mutual
who said of the other airmen that they were “people that I had no interest in
but was forced to associate with simply because I was in the army.” In the early afternoon the lead navigator of the B-17s took the formation down to around 2000ft or just over 600 meters over what he thought was the coast of England. But to the surprise of the American planes
lights flash below them and all of a sudden they realise they’re under attack. The German’s let loose with everything they have. Anti-aircraft guns as well as artilliery
and even small arms fire. It’s a disaster. As the B-17’s are repeatedly hit. Due to what’s thought is a faulty compass this isn’t England. It’s occupied France and now the bombers
are directly over the city of Brest one of the most heavily defended cities
in control of the Germans. These are flying fortresses… But even a fortress can only take so much punishment and it’s not long before one of the planes goes down, then another and then another. The B-17’s turn trying to avoid the worst of the fire from the ground and head out over the English Channel. But then as the anti aircraft fire trails off into the distance… there was a respite. But a short one as 20 FW 190s scream in and let loose
with machine gun and cannon fire. The crews called out the position on the intercom
as the B-17’s machine guns buzz as they take the fight back to the German’s. Smith’s plane, number 649
was towards the edge of the formation and was much more vulnerable than the other fortresses. In the ball turret, Smith watched in fear
as tracer fire snaked towards him. He heard it hit his B-17 and then
an explosion rocked the flying fortress. The intercom system went dead
as well as all power to the ball turret. Smith called out, what the hell happened? But no answer came. Without power in the turret he was useless and a sitting duck. Manually he cranked the ball turret around
so as to get into the main plane and managed to get out. But the relief was short lived.
It looked like an inferno. The wing tank had been shot and gasoline
pours into the plane. Towards the front of the plane,
the way was completely blocked by fire. Also towards the tail section there is a raging fire. The oxygen supply had been hit and escaping oxygen fanns the fireous flames. With no intercom to the Captain and the way blocked by fire, 3 of the men decided to bail out. The radio operator jumps and the 2 waist gunners decide they’ve done enough and they too had to get out. One of the gunners got his parachute strap snagged. Smith stepped forward and shouted out
“Is it warm enough for you?” as Smith helped the gunner free his parachute strap
the gunner didn’t see the joke and bailed out. Those 3 men were never seen again. Head on over to yarnhubstore.com to shop our latest designs and be the envy of all your friends! Smith was small, but he was tough and determined. With the incredible heat of the fire, he wrapped some cloth
around his head, grabbed a fire extinguisher and set to work tackling the flames
towards the rear of the plane. Battling against the heat and through the flames
he could make out the tail gunner, Roy Gibson crawling towards him. Gibson had been badly hit. Giving the man first aid, Smith realised that Gibson’s lung had been punctured. Insevere pain. Gibson weakly asked Smith
if he could see England yet. Smith looked out of the hole in the plane.
There was just sea. “We’re almost home”, he said. Grabbing the extinguisher Smith went to tackle the fire
at the front of the plane. Eventually overcome by fumes he had to rest… Looking out the side of the plane, his blood ran cold. The FW190’s were back to finish the job. Jumping up Smith manned the waist gun as an FW190
screamed by on it’s attack run. Then he jumped over to the other waist gun to pepper the 190 as it sped away. The fire was so intense now Smith was throwing everything flammable out of the gaping holes in the side of the plane. The inferno was starting to cook the ammunition
in the radio compartment and Smith even had to throw some
ammunition cannisters out of the plane. After the fire extinguishers were done,
he threw any water he could lay hand onto over the fire and even tried to pee on it to help put out the flames. Anything to keep his bird in the air. Smith repeatedly went from administering aid to the injured, fighting the fire and all the while
fighting off the enemies with the waist guns. Any one of which was a massive trial,
but Smith managed all 3. Just after 3pm the B-17 crossed the English coast. Smith sat exhausted, his clothes smouldering,
the compartment completely gutted, the gun mount, and camera were melted…
but all the fires were out. For the Pilot Lieutenant Lewis P. Johnson Jr
this was his 25th mission. He said “This is a hell of a way to finish”. 7 planes were lost on that day
along with the lives of many young men. All 7 crew that stayed on board 649
including Gibson, survived. Incredibly Smith’s actions saved the plane
and the lives of the young men on board. As the medics pulled Gibson off the plane
he jokingly requested he be given his purple heart. Smith said
“The plane was riddled with about 3,500 bullet holes. It was all burned out in the center. There was nothing but the four main beams
holding it together. Ten minutes after it landed, the plane collapsed”. For his actions, Smith was awarded the Medal of Honor. But Smith’s troubles
and irreverence to authority continued… That week after he was awarded the Medal of Honor
he was assigned to Kitchen duty as punishment for arriving late to a briefing. He continued in combat but was grounded due to “combat stress reaction” or PTSD as it’s known today. In an unprecedented move
against a medal of honor recipient, Major Thomas F.Witt, the 306th’s operations officer pushed for Smith to be demoted to a private
for poor job performance. Witt said that “repeated warnings and reprimands
have been a necessity” to get Smith to work at all. On December 17, 1944, Smith was demoted. Characteristically Smith said of the events, it was “the rotten deal that lousy outfit gave me via the great judgement of Witt, and some of his cohorts”. He was sent home shortly after. He’d always said to his friend he wouldn’t return home unless they threw a parade for him... and to his surprise and delight, that’s exactly what happened
to this hero when he returned to his hometown. It's December the 20th, 1943, high in the skies above Germany. Technical Sergeant Forrest Lee Vosler sits in the radio compartment of his B-17F, Jersey Bounce Jr. Feeling the explosions rock the flying fortress. Unbelievably, in a few short moments, he will be begging the crew to throw him out of the plane. For now, the plane braves the heaviest flak he's ever experienced. All around there are bombers smoking or going down under the relentless punishment. “Bombs away.’’ Columns of ordnance fall from the sky and the formation turns for home when disaster strikes. The B-17 almost rolls over with the impact, but pilot John Henderson narrowly brings it under control. The ball turret gunner, Edward Ruppel, watches as the fire engulfs their engine. “Number one is on fire!” “I know it, Sergeant.” Henderson rolls over on the left wing and puts the plane into a dive. The fire goes out, but at the same time, number three engine spews a stream of oil and loses all power. They fall away from the formation alongside other aircraft too wounded to keep up. “We're in trouble now.” “Yeah, tell us something we don't know.” Back with Vosler, he abandons his radio and gets hold of the 50 caliber machine gun on the roof. He peers through the plexiglass and sees the awe-inspiring formation of B-17s above him. They stretch as far as the eye can see, moving as black puffs of smoke materialize from thin air. But then, suddenly, the flak stops. Bandits! Bf-109s and Fw-190s swarm on the easy prey. The crew of the Jersey Bounce Jr. are forced to sit and watch as their fellow bombers are torn to shreds, and one by one, they fall from the sky. The crew are all very aware that they are next. It starts. Two Bf-109s charge from behind. Tail gunner George Busch opens fire with his twin machine guns and scores hits on the lead German. But it's not enough. They open fire with their 20mm cannons and a shell hits square on Busc's guns. He cries, "I'm hit!" and falls silent. Another 20mm punches through the fuselage, just past the waist gunners and detonates inside, sending a cloud of shrapnel up the aircraft that strikes Vosler in the legs, throwing him off his gun before he gets a chance to fire a single shot. Outside, more and more aircraft join in the fray. Nine single-engine fighters, a mixture of 109s and 190s, swarm all over, relentlessly firing volley after volley of bullets, while the American gunners desperately fend them off. By sheer luck, many seem to have run out of cannon shells, but they still dump hundreds of low-caliber bullets all over the B-17. Inside the aircraft, Vosler gathers himself up. The adrenaline silences his pain, but he can still feel his lifeblood draining from him. Full of determination, Vosler stands back up to the machine gun. He joins the fight, opening fire on an FW-190 coming in for a run, together with a top turret they pepper it with lead and force it to turn away, spewing oil. They resist the attackers with all their might, and one by one, the enemy fighters turn away, damaged or out of ammunition. “Have they gone? Did we get out of this?” “Nothing on our six.” “Haha, they're gone! We're clear!” With the enemy presence dwindling, waist gunner Ralph F. Burkhardt abandons his machine gun and rushes to the back to check on the tail gunner. He finds him unconscious. “Simpkins, come to the back! Bussker's hit! Bad!” Bill Simpkins is on the top turret. He doesn't need to be told twice. He abandons his post and rushes to the rescue. The two men drag the injured tail gunner to the waist gun area. He's badly injured. Simpkins does the best he can. “Get me the morphine!” A new opponent comes into view. It's a Bf 110, that pulls up alongside. The crew of the Jersey Bounce Jr. manage to empty a barrage of 50 caliber rounds straight into its flank. Its engine bursts into flames and the enemy falls earthbound. Soon after, a Bf109 attempts a pass from above, firing with its small guns. Again, it's met straight on with a volley and it tears to shreds and goes down. Simultaneously, back in the waist gunner area, Burkhardt is back on his gun and opens fire at an Me 210 coming in from behind. He holds down the trigger, sending a stream of bullets towards the enemy. Multiple hits strike the German's right wing before it flies behind the bomber's tail. “There's an enemy on our six!” “God damn it, I can't see him!” The German machine comes into view, missing its right wing, on fire and tumbling out of control as it disintegrates. “You got him, it's going down!” Simpkins has stabilized the injured tail gunner as best he can and realises nobody's guarding the bomber's rear. Out of his own initiative, he makes his way to the destroyed rear guns in Stan's watch. Minutes later, he spots a Bf110 coming in from above. “On our six! 110 on our six!” Vosler turns the guns around, just as the 110 pulls right up to the B-17's tail. The enemy pilot is so close, he opens fire with his machine gun, striking the German all over his wings. Vosler can see the pilot's terrified expression as the 50 calibre aims straight for his head. The German pushes his aircraft straight down and narrowly escapes Vosler's volley. “Lucky mother Hubbard!” Just at that moment, a 109 comes down from above and fires a 20mm shell straight into Vosler's gun. The shell explodes right in his face, showering him with shrapnel and throwing him onto the floor. Vosler lies on the bomber floor, badly hurt, believing he's about to die. Slowly, his fear makes way for calm acceptance and he thinks to himself, "It's been a great 20 years." Meanwhile, the rest of the crew comes to the realisation that all the attacks have ceased. They've survived. Ruppel struggles his way out of his ball turret and is immediately greeted by the sight of Vosler thrown in shock from blood loss. He rushes to help, lifting him up on onto his radio operator's chair. He's in a terrible state, but he's alive. In the cockpit, the pilot, Henderson, assesses the situation. They've been losing altitude this whole time. The wings are so shot up, they can hardly fly. Half his gauges don't work. Two of his engines are down and they're still over Germany. They're not going to make it. They'll be lucky if they even get past the beach. In a last-ditch effort to keep the bird aloft, Henderson gets an idea. “All right, boys, we need to shed some weight. Throw absolutely everything overboard.” The men get to work. Extra ammunition, spent casings, emergency oxygen tanks, even the guns. Everything is stripped and discarded for weight. Vosler gets the attention of the men. Weekly he says, "Why don't you throw me overboard?" The men look at each other but don't answer. But the bloodied Vosler asks again, "I'm just so much extra pounds." "Throw me out too. Save yourselves." "Shut up, we're all getting out of this." "Can you still send an SOS?" It's then when Vosler finally realizes that maybe he isn't going to die. At least not yet. Yes. Almost completely blind, he guides the crew into setting up the radio for him and then proceeds to operate it by feel and memory. Despite his shocking state, he calmly contacts base for a rescue. He exchanges the needed information and performs the necessary follow-ups for base to gauge their position and heading. 45 minutes of constant contact later and with the B-17 almost skimming the waves of the North Sea, four flying boats arrive to rendezvous with the crippled aircraft. Henderson performs a perfect water landing where, thanks to Vosler's efforts, multiple planes and boats are waiting for their arrival. The wounded would be admitted to hospital. Miraculously, everyone survived. Even Busk. Vosler lost one of his eyes but regained some sight on the other. He didn't serve again and was recalled back to the States for continued treatment. He would later recall that one of his first thoughts after being hit in the legs was "I'm definitely getting a Purple Heart now." But he got a lot more than that. Forest Lee Vosler was awarded the Medal of Honor for his incredible action in the face of equally incredible wounds. If you liked this video, you may be interested in another incredible story that took place in this same battle of a German pilot that spared a crippled B-17. It's July 30th 1943 in the skies over Germany and a B-17 named Tondelayo is under attack. In the back is tailgunner Michael L Arooth. Mike as he is known to the crew is ready as the German BF109s and FW190s come in. Sometimes 4 at a time. Mike fires away at the mass of German fighters as do the rest of the formation as today there are 186 Flying fortresses and 123 P-47 Thunderbolts taking part in a raid upon German factories. “The Germans must think all tail gunners are stupid! They’re coming in again and again, firing, turning bottoms up and slipping away.” There is silence but then they’re back. “ Everybody, I need guns! ” It’s relentless. Mike sees most of the action. “They are approaching, get ready to strike! Fighter, fighter, 7 o’clock! The formation approaches Remagen when they’re attacked again. The Navigator Elmer Bendiner said in his book Fall of Fortresses. “Near Remagen I noted the fall of two enemy fighters. I fired at those arrows in the sky, but I knew that I was merely making noise to let them know we were alive on the port side.” Then the fighters disappeared. The crew knew what was happening next. The flak started. Tondelayo is rocked again and again by flak. The motors are grinding on. Tondelayo flying unswervingly through a sky of angry black shell bursts. “ Bombay doors are open! ” “ They are away! ” “ Jeez, look at that, the bombs are away! ” Look at that flak! Look at that flak it’s so thick you could walk on it! The bombs are away and the pilot Second Lieutenant Bohn E Fawkes turns the Tondelayo sharply to the right. As the flak starts to subside there’s moments of relief before the fighters return. The transmission “Bandits, coming in 3 o’clock!” is heard. Immediately the Thunderbolts accelerate to meet the threat, rising and disappearing from Fawkes’ view. Behind him his top turret gunner opens fire and mere moments later a massive swarm of BF 109s falls upon the Americans. All the B-17’s guns burst to life as the enemy fighters sped by all around, tracers filling the air. Outside the Thunderbolts put up a fierce defense but are simply overwhelmed. There’s so many Germans the pilots can’t chase them all and many start ripping through the bomber formations completely unopposed. Amidst the chaos Fawkes can do nothing but steel his nerves and hold station. “ 5 o’clock, 5 o’clock! ” Their formation is their strength, he must keep the girl steady even as he witnesses their compatriots getting torn to pieces around him. “ Look at them, those are pure devils. Stay focused! ” In the back Arooth is an expert gunner and he’s putting his skills into full display. A second 109 sweeps in for an attack run, but barely opens fire before Arooth’s flawlessly placed barrage rips its wing right off. “Come on! Who’s next?!” “ We are going down! ” Across the flying fortress all the gunners have their hands full. Enemies zip past underneath, and at either side. It’s a total swarm. Casings and links cling on the floor amidst a symphony of machine guns as they all fight for their lives. Enemy shells strike the Tondelayo's wings several times, but the tough girl somehow carries on. Fighter, fighter, 7 o’clock! Back in the tail a third German comes into the attack at breakneck speed, but it’s not enough to throw off Arooth. The twin machineguns unleash their power with deafening bangs, casings and links clinging on the floor, again the enemy is torn apart by the volley. But his luck was bound to run out. When A fourth BF 109 approaches from his left guns blazing, Arooth doesn’t get a chance to fire before a 20mm shell detonates right next to him, tearing open a gash in the fuselage and sending metal fragments flying straight into him. His left leg is hit with the brunt of the explosion and injured severely by shrapnel. His oxygen tube is ripped, his left machine gun is destroyed. Mike get’s on the intercom. “I'm hit in my right hand and my left leg.” Then the crew hears a jumble of static. “Mike! Mike! Do you hear me? Mike! Mike,are you ok? ” Fawkes feels the impact and realizing that Mike is hit, and he now has a bandit on his tail and no tail gunner to face him. Against all bomber pilot wisdom he pushes on the stick, plunging the Flying Fortress into a small dive in a desperate evasive action. Behind the cockpit the spent cases roll across the floor and the crew are overtaken by panic and dread as they feel their plane falling underneath them. ‘WHAT THE HELL?’ According to the Bendiner the navigator Bohn was climbing, diving and making corkscrew patterns in a crazy choreography designed to unsettle the fighters, who were pressing in from all sides. "He said, 'When I tried to stand, my feet slipped from underneath me.' I clung to my desk and the gun, waiting for the attack to subside." Holes start to appear in the formation as more and more planes go down. “ Oh my Gosh look at that, they’re going down ” When at last Mike came on again his words were jumbled and he sounded as if he were calling from a painfully long distance ‘THEY BAILED’. “ Do you hear me? Mike! ” But at least the crew knew he was alive. The attack continues, but strangely there’s no waist guns. A call goes out across the intercom: "Bombardier to waist gunners, bombardier to waist gunners. Come in, come in." "Stockman, Herrin, come in, Goddammit. Come in. Do you read me? Duke, come in. Bombardier to radio. Duke, come in." The Tondelayo's motors whined on. "Mike's voice came across the intercom, vague, blurred, with an odd calm: 'They're gone.' ' What does he mean they are gone?' ‘What the hell is he talking about?’ Bohn is furious. He gives control to the copilot and makes his way through the plane. The radio operator is gone. Getting as far as the waist gunners he’s shocked to find them abandoned. There, they find the radio operator. Bendiner said: “He was sitting on the floor, one leg dangling beyond the open hatch. Bob and I pulled him across the floor past the waist ports, where the wind howled as in an arctic blizzard, where one could see the silvery wings of our enemies curvetting and spitting sparks. The floor of the fuselage was torn in spots, the metal peeled back. Multicolored cables were in shreds. We sat Duke up in the radio room and looked to see whether he was bleeding. He was untouched, but his eyes were dreamy and he wore a smile of absurd serenity. There was no oxygen in the rear of the plane.” Back in the tail Arooth’s left leg is shattered, bleeding profusely and unmovable. He defies the pain and with the freezing cold wind rushing through the hole in the fuselage he tries desperately to reach his emergency oxygen supply. But he is way too injured and cannot get to it, he gives up on the oxygen and returns to his machine gun despite hypoxia and blood loss quickly setting in. He fires indiscriminately to a multitude of targets hounding them, determined to protect the B-17 to the bitter end. The fighting is constant and Arooth’s last functional 50cal jams. A BF109 starts to set up it’s attack run. Arooth’s mind is struggling for oxygen. But, despite everything impairing his mind, he identifies the problem in an instant. The BF-109 brings the Tondelayo into it’s sights. Arooth opens the receiver and clears the jammed canvas belt, refitting it. The BF109-starts to open fire. Arooth gets back on the gun and raises it in an instant just in time to meet the BF109 with a storm of lead reducing it to a ball of flame. The fight drags on but no other 109s attempt an attack run on the Tondelayo. Eventually the battered enemy turns away and the skies finally fall to calm. The remaining crew are deeply shaken, and not understanding how they are still alive.. One of the members checks on Arooth and is shocked to see the state he’s in. He provides first aid; making a tourniquet on his leg, providing morphine, and fitting Arooth’s emergency oxygen while the Tondelayo continues on its mission home. Hours later the aircraft made a safe landing back at base. Arooth was in shock, but he hung on to life. Medics provided immediate assistance and he would recover. Tondelayo had come back by the skin of its teeth, seemingly saved by the accuracy and sheer raw determination of Arooth, and Fawkes’ quick thinking. But they would later discover that a third person also saved the B-17. Upon landing the men observed a strike right into the B-17s fuel tank and were amazed at their luck. The detonating shells of the 109s should explode the fuel tank from within, ripping the wing in half and triggering an inferno, but this one had apparently been a dud. Later that day ground crew opened up the Tondelayo to retrieve the unexploded ordinance but when they tore apart the tank they were shocked to find 11 whole shells stuck within. A single dud was incredible luck, 11 would’ve been nothing short of divine intervention. But as the armorers opened them up, a different reality came to light. Not a single one had explosive filler. They were empty, just a hollow piece of lead. All except for one. Rolled inside one of the shells was a piece of paper, which had a message written in Czech. An intelligence officer scours the base for someone to translate. Its message is read to the crew: It says: “This is all we can do for you now.” It had been sabotaged by an unknown and brave soul, imprisoned and forced into weapons manufacturing by the German army. He or she would never know it, but their actions directly allowed 10 men to return home. The entirety of Tondelayo’s crew would survive the war, even those who bailed over Germany. They were captured and remained in camps until their eventual liberation. Arooth was hailed as a hero by the other men, he ended the war with 17 confirmed victories and a dozen “probables”. He lived a long life and passed away in 1990. Today a plaque in his memory lies on the Springfield, Massachusetts city hall. It was June 16th, 1943. Unescorted and vulnerable, a lone Boeing B-17E drones over the remote Solomon Sea. This 4-engine Flying Fortress is now commonly known as “Old 666”, thanks to its original tail number that ended in 666. Onboard, 25-year-old Captain Jay Zeamer Jr. and eight crewmen enjoy a few minutes of calm in their armored warbird. Previously it had been an old piece of junk that’d been dragged to the end of the airstrip to be cannibalized for spare parts before being commandeered by Zeamer. “She may not look like much, but she’s got it where it counts.” He made a lot of special modifications himself. Old 666 was a demon in the air. The crew up gunned the old bird so much that it seemed almost comical and it became the most heavily armed bomber in the Pacific. Zeamer was loved by his men, as top turret gunner Johnnie Able later explained, “We thought so much of Captain Zeamer and had such trust in him and his ability that we didn’t give a damn where we went, just so long as he wanted to go there. Anything ok by him was ok by us." The men are on a tough mission. A solo mapping run over the Island of Bougainville in the Solomons. No escort, no formation. Just them. And in a classic “while you’re at it boys...” moment, command told them that they’d need to also make a pass over the strategically important and incredibly well-defended Buka Island too. Now over Buka, the captain and crew see a dozen A6M Zeros taking off from the airstrip on the island. Then what looks like another 12 take flight! It’s just a matter of time before their 1.000 horsepower Nakajima radial engines bring them in close to the lumbering B-17. Reaching altitude, the Japanese fighters circle menacingly just outside of gun range. But this B-17 is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and with a little luck the Japanese pilots won’t figure it out until it’s too late. The crew have upgraded the number and caliber of guns. Old 666 is a 19 gun flying beast of a machine and even the captain has a 50 calibre at his disposal. The Zeros make their move. From dead ahead one starts in and towards the winged battleship, the closing speed between the two is approaching 700 miles an hour. Zeamer is first and unleashes a hail of .50 calibre rounds that knocks the Zero out of the sky, but fractions of a second later a wall of cannon fire from another tears into the nose and cockpit. The blast and concussion send shrapnel into the arms and legs of 2nd Lieutenant Joseph Sarnoski. Through with incredible bravery, determination and resolve, Sarnoski crawls back to his gun and takes aim and shoots. His last act is to destroy another Zero, before succumbing to his injuries. Captain Zeamer is now severely wounded in both legs, and worse yet the rudder pedals have been destroyed, but all the while the Zeros keep coming as the gunners blast away at anything with wings, sending torrents of high-velocity tracer rounds through the white-hot barrels and towards the enemy. Then another Zero scores a direct cannon hit on the B-17, this time destroying the instrument panel, more vital controls and the all-important oxygen system. Dazed, bloodied, battered and fighting to stay conscious, Zeamer drops the nose and takes the 666 to just below 15.000 feet where the crew can breathe, but the faster and more agile Zeros follow the shattered bomber down, all the while diving and strafing. The seemingly overwhelmed crew continue to battle on for nearly an hour! Time’s ground to a halt, but the old Boeing and crew lumber on through the chaos. While in a last ditch effort to bring her down once and for all, five Japanese pilots fan out more than a thousand yards off the nose and make a final pass letting loose with everything they’ve got. Within range, guns ablaze on both sides, they swarm at, then past the B-17, filling it with holes before finally calling off the attack. Low on fuel the 666 manages to turn slowly west and heads for home. Just over eight hours after the mission began, ripped open like an old sardine can, cables and wires dangling through the gaping holes in the fuselage and wings, Old 666 landed back in New Guinea. Ground crews leaped into action to assist. Inside the cockpit it's a terrible scene. Zeamer is initially pronounced dead, but to everyone’s amazement the brash young pilot still has some life left in him, but the others aren’t so lucky. Six of the nine crewmen including Lt Sarnoski succumbed to their injuries. Zeamer and Sarnoski are each awarded the Medal of Honor and the remaining crew each receive a Distinguished Service Cross. Zeamer recovered from his wounds and lived a long and healthy life. Rumor has it that what was left of the Old 666 wound up back in the US in 1944, where some say it spent the remainder of its days in a New Mexico scrapyard. It was December the 20th, 1943 and in the freezing air high above Germany, 2nd Lieutenant Charles “Charlie” Brown struggled to keep his mortally damaged American bomber on course. Brown had been wounded in the shoulder, his tail gunner Sergeant Hugh “Ecky” Eckenrode was dead, and several other members of the crew were wounded, some severely. Their aircraft, B-17 Ye Olde Pub, had been hit twice by flak as it approached its target, the Focke-Wulf plant in the German city of Bremen, forcing the crew to shut down one of the engines and throttle back on another. This had left it lagging behind the main formation of aircraft from the 379th Bombardment Group and groups of German fighters had closed in like sharks sensing blood in the water. Up to fifteen fighters had attacked the bomber and the whole tail section was shot to pieces, the nosecone was missing, the electrical, hydraulic and oxygen systems were damaged, the radio was out and the entrails of the crippled bomber flapped in the slipstream through gaping rents in the fuselage. But B-17s are tough old birds and this one somehow kept on flying despite the damage. Brown blacked out for a short time due to pain, loss of blood and a lack of oxygen and the bomber spiraled towards the ground. Brown came to and realized that the B-17 was only a few hundred feet above the ground. He somehow managed to get it back under control and turned west, towards England and safety, two hundred and fifty miles away. Brown wasn’t able to coax the B-17 much above one thousand feet and he was vaguely aware that he had passed close to the perimeter of a German airfield. Soon after he realized that a German Messerschmitt Bf 109 was flying in close formation beside him. It was so close that Brown could see the German pilot as he gestured towards the ground, telling Brown to set the bomber down. Most of the B-17’s gunners were wounded, only a few guns were still working and none were able to shoot at the enemy fighter alongside. Brown could only look at the German pilot and shake his head. For a short time the Messerschmitt flew beside the bomber. Then it slid away, above and behind. Brown waited for the gunfire that must mean the end of Ye Olde Pub. But nothing happened. He realized to his astonishment that the German fighter was flying escort on the B-17. As they crossed the coastline and flew out over the North Sea the fighter remained on station. Only when they were well out from the German coast did the fighter slide in again, close to the bomber. Brown looked across – the German pilot looked back at him, raised a gloved hand in salute and then swung his aircraft away, back towards the east. Brown managed to put Ye Olde Pub on the ground, not at their home base in Cambridgeshire but at an airbase of the 448th Bomb Group near Norfolk in East Anglia. He and all his crew other than the tail gunner survived. At debriefing, Brown told his story about the German fighter which escorted him. It was decided that this should be kept secret – the notion of an honorable German pilot choosing not to shoot down a damaged American bomber just didn’t fit with the message that the USAAF wanted to give out. Charlie Brown survived the war, went home to go to college, and then re-joined the Air Force in 1949. He served until 1965 when he retired as a colonel. It wasn’t until much later, in 1986, at a meeting of retired combat pilots called “Gathering of the Eagles” that he first spoke about what had happened. The response was strong, though some questioned whether the whole incident really happened. Even Brown began to wonder – his memories of that day in 1943 were hazy due to his injuries, exhaustion and the stress of combat. Could he be remembering it all wrong? Brown decided that he was going to find the German pilot involved, if only to prove that he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. It took four years, but in 1990 Brown finally received a letter from a man named Stigler who was living in Canada. Stigler explained that he had been the pilot of the German fighter who had escorted Ye Olde Pub. On December 20, 1943, Franz Stigler had been a twenty-seven kill veteran pilot. He had flown against American bombers in his Messerschmitt Bf 109 G-6 that morning and he was refueling on the ground when Ye Olde Pub passed close by. He took off intending to shoot down the American bomber. However, as he closed with the limping aircraft, he could see just how badly it had been hit – he would later say that he had never seen a more severely damaged aircraft still flying. Stigler’s commander had told his pilots never to fire at an enemy who was descending on a parachute. While the crew of Ye Olde Pub hadn’t bailed out, they were clearly no longer capable of fighting and Stigler decided that he could not bring himself to attack. Instead, he flew alongside and gestured to Brown to land. He just simply couldn’t imagine that the crippled aircraft could possibly make it back to England. When Brown refused, Stigler made an extraordinary decision. Instead of shooting it down he flew close formation with the B-17, hoping that this would deter flak batteries on the coast from firing at it. He flew with the bomber well out over the North Sea until it was clear of German airspace, and then left it to continue towards England. Stigler never told anyone about what had happened – sparing an American bomber would likely have led to punishment and perhaps even execution, but he often wondered if it had made it back to base. Stigler continued flying fighters throughout the war. In 1953 he emigrated from Germany to Canada where he started a successful business. When he heard from Charlie Brown in 1990, Stigler confirmed every aspect of his story. Franz Stigler and Charlie Brown were astonished to discover that they had been living less than two hundred miles apart for much of the time since the war – Stigler had settled in Vancouver, British Columbia while Brown was in Seattle, Washington. In the later years the two men remained close friends, often visiting and talking to other fliers about their shared experiences. Thank you for joining us here and staying with us. Please comment below and let us know you made it to the end! If you could give us a like it would also be great to help us grow. Thank you.
