Life As a Liberandos

By Richard H. Miller- Engineer, 514th Squadron

I was in the 514th Squadron of the 376th from early January 45 until April 19th. arriving in San Pan around January 14th, 1945. In all, I was credited with 28 missions although I flew the last one and did not receive any credit for it even though we caught some flak. I flew home with Lt. Beyer and landed on USA soil at 4:19PM, July 19th. I'll never forget that...

I consider myself a fairly good engineer compared to the average G.I. engineer. I graduated from a civilian aeronautical school in August 1941 and worked for the Air Force in civil service capacity until November 1943 which included work time at McClellan Field, CA, Middletown Air Depot, Harrisburg, PA and Waller Field, Trinidad, BWI. Most G.I.'s who attended mechanics school in the service had three to 6 months training.

While awaiting transfer to Preflight school (Univ. of Tenn.) a group of about 50 of us cadets were sent to Turner Field, Albany, GA to work on the flight line until space opened up for us at UT. The reason was that some of the guys never saw the inside of a cockpit before. At that point in time, I was a licensed A&E mechanic with a full years schooling at Aero Industries Technical Institute in Los Angeles and worked a few years in civil service as a mechanic for the Air Force. Turner Field was a twin engine advance training base from which pilots graduated to Bomber training. An amusing incident occurred. The first day, when about 8 of us reported to the crew chief (they used AT-10's which were twin engine, Low wing, side-by-side seating) . The crew chief told one of us to sit in the copilots seat while he sat in the pilots seat, with the rest of the guys standing on the wing on each side of the cockpit. I made certain that I got to sit in the right hand seat. The sergeant started to explain all the controls, switches, instruments, etc., and then asked me how I would start the engines. I was not familiar with this particular airplane, but I knew the procedure and proceeded to go through the entire program. The sergeant was quite impressed and asked where I learned this stuff. I said I used to fool around a bit with airplanes. Then he demanded the full story. After I finished telling him of my experiences, he said, "You explain the rest of the story to these guys, You know more about it than I do."

My crew, C-31, as I recall, arrived around Jan. 10, 1945. I flew my first mission Feb 7th as an Observer/Engineer with an experienced crew who had about 15 missions under their belts. I was kneeling between the pilot and copilot and wearing a flak jacket and a flak helmet. The only place I could get hit was in the rear end. I had the helmet pulled down so I could not see out through the windshield, but every once in a while, I would take a look see. Since at 29,000 feet, you can see about 90 miles in every direction, I saw a number of bomb groups over or nearing the target. All catching flak. It was extremely nerve wracking for me to see flak ahead of us and thinking, "Ten or minutes and we'll be in it." Then, nine, then eight, etc. I stopped looking at it and when we went to debriefing after the mission, we were asked about the flak over the target. Since I did mot look out I reported Light, and inaccurate flak. Everybody else on the airplane reported Heavy, intense and accurate. The target was Vienna which was reported to have 455 flak guns within the city limits! Fortunately, as far as I know, we suffered no damage...

When my crew arrived at the 376th, around Jan 14, 45, we were told the war was practically over. Shortly thereafter, we has an all-out effort and the 514th sent out a box of ten aircraft. Only one returned to our base, I believe we only lost one and the rest landed at other bases, short on fuel. Then my pilot went on his first mission as a copilot with an experienced crew, and was shot down. He returned three weeks later. We had some "hairy" missions with 9 or so different pilots and our second last mission on April 8th to Brenner Pass (also known as "Flak Alley") almost turned out to be our last mission. We were flying on the No. 3 position on the left side of the formation and dove to the right, directly through the formation and missed hitting anyone. We were at 18,000 ft and lost 8,000 before the both pilots got control of the plane. We lost an engine or two and had to climb 4000 ft to clear the mountains which were 14,000 ft high. We opened up the remaining engines and arrived back at our base all alone. Some time later the rest of the squadron landed.

Since my pilot was shot down on his first mission, we were a crew without a pilot. We flew with many different pilots, Mostly with Lt. "Hard Luck" Pitts, with whom I was transferred to the 456th on or about April 19th. Lt. Pitts, crashed, ditched in the Adriatic, ran out of gas, bailed out, and I guess one of each way you can lose an airplane. However, he flew my crew on 9 missions and we never got a hole in the airplane. During this time, he flew another crew and got shot up pretty badly. He told the Operations Officer that from that day on, he would not fly any other crew than our crew (C-31) and we never got another hole. When my pilot returned from Yugoslavia after 3 weeks behind the lines and three weeks rehabilitation, we flew three missions with our own pilot. In addition to losing a number of planes and having my pilot shot down on his first mission, a short time later, the radio operator on the crew in the tent next to mine, volunteered to be part of a pickup crew. He was the only one killed on that mission...

As regards to aircraft types, when I arrived at the squadron in Jan 45, I don't think there were many or any B-24-D's at that time. Most were G's J's H's and maybe some M's. The B24-D had no nose turret, only the Plexiglas nose. That was the most distinguishable feature. The rest of the airplane was very much the same, except for the fuel transfer systems. They varied quite a bit. On many models, the fuel was transferred from the auxiliary tanks in the wingtips to the main tanks through valves and pumps in the area of the flight deck. On other models, the engineer had to crawl back through the bomb bays and climb up on top of the wing section which passed through the fuselage to reach the transfer valves. This was rather difficult to do. I was as skinny an engineer as you could find, but with all the flight gear, it was difficult to pass between the bomb racks (with a parachute it would have been impossible), we only wore the parachute harness with hooks into which the rings of the parachute would be snapped on if you had to bail out. All the transferring of fuel was supposed to be done below 10,000 feet. In training at March Field, Calif., we had ground school on days when we were not scheduled to fly. They instructed us that we were not supposed to transfer fuel above 10,000 feet. Maybe it had something to do with atmospheric pressure. All I know is that it took longer to transfer the higher you went.

On a few occasions, returning from the target, we sometimes sweated out transferring fuel, knowing we were getting mighty low in the main tanks but we would still be at 28,000 or so. I remember transferring some badly needed fuel at 19,000, rather than take the chance of running out of fuel in the main tanks. We were on cross-feed quite a bit of the time, which meant that we would have all four engines running or none. We didn't want one engine to run out. At least that's how my pilot and I felt about the situation.

I remember many details of some things and as far as fuel transfers are concerned, the ideal way was as follows: Everyone knows that more fuel is burned up on takeoff and climbing to altitude. The, you had to figure that the lead pilot kept his throttles and mixture controls at a set position. All the planes following in formation were continually "jockeying the throttles" to keep in tight formation. This wastes a lot of fuel. And the farther back you are in the formation, the more jockeying was necessary. I used to start transferring fuel at about 8,000 feet. We had 750 gallons (375 gals. in each outboard wing tank) I transferred 7 minutes into each of the four main tanks (28 minutes) . On the way back, depending upon the amount of fuel in each glass tube gauge on the flight deck, I decided when to transfer. If we were too high and not much chance of fighters attacking, I would tell the pilot to drop directly below our formation so I could transfer. This happened only when I was desperate for fuel. I transferred 7 more minutes into each tank then switched consecutively from 1 to 2 to 3 to 4, until every drop was transferred. The transfer was supposed to consume 56 minutes, as I recall.

I presume the general public doesn't know that in most briefings before each mission, in addition to the primary target, first alternate and/or second alternate targets are scheduled. If for some reason the bombs could not be dropped on the primary target, we were supposed top go to the first alternate, etc. This wasted a lot of fuel and I worried quite often if we were going to make it back to our base. I had the mixture controls as lean as possible on the way "downhill" from the target area.

I was told that since the 376th was the first group to be stationed in Continental Europe (San Pan) and the war was almost over, they would be the first group to return to the States. I believe the last crew to arrive, arrived in the 514th on April 13th or 14th. Their engineer flew the next day, April 15th, the last combat mission for the 514th, with me as an Engineer/Observer. We were a few minutes from the I.P. when we received a radio message to return to base, pack your bags, you're going home. We wasted no time in turning around and returned to base as directed. Even though we caught some flak going and coming back, we did not receive credit for the mission. That would have given me 29, so I wound up with 28. Anyone with 12 missions or less came home with the group. My crew, with the exception of our pilot, had 25 or more. Our pilot had 15 or so, but only three with his own crew, because he was shot down on his first mission and returned to us three weeks later. Then, he had three more weeks to readjust and then they finally let him fly his own crew. He flew with other crews, however.

Since my pilot was shot down on his first mission but returned 3 weeks later, I guess the authorities thought that since he had a rough time, they would let him return with the group. All personnel with less than 12 missions to their credit would return with the group because they would not have any chance to complete their tour of 50 missions. I had 28 to my credit, although I flew one for which I didn't receive any credit. My pilot was allowed to take half of his crew. Five of us single guys volunteered to stay over. I was transferred to the 456th HBG (near Cerignola, due east of Naples) into the 744th Squadron. The only thing I know about the 456th is that my best high school classmate was one of the original pilots when the 456th was formed- Maj. Howard Inwin.

We were flown from San Pan in B-17's, no less, on or about April 19th. We arrived at noon time and after we had received our food in our mess kits and were looking for a seat in the mess hall, I heard someone yell my name at the far end of the hall. It was the engineer of Lt. Fred Beyer's crew from the 376th. I ate my lunch with them and they told me that I could move into their tent and possibly get on their crew. They lost a nose gunner and a radio operator. I was assigned to their crew as a nose gunner even though I was a flight engineer. The 456th did not permit us to fly any combat missions but after the war ended, they asked for volunteers to fly food to Northern Italy (Udine area) to the starving Italians. I believe there were about 5 to 10 of these mercy flights. Lt. Beyer told me he would like me to fly engineer on these mercy flights which I was happy to do because I loved flying when nobody shot at you. When it was time to fly home, he also asked me to fly engineer all the way home for which I was very happy to accept.

All the flyable battle-weary bombers were flown into Gioia, Italy and the crews were transported later. Funny, but I have no recollection of how we got to Gioia. But once there, we processed and each crew was put on a list. As the crew came up, we were assigned to a particular airplane to fly around as long as we wanted to, in order to determine whether or not we wanted to fly this particular airplane across the Atlantic. The first plane we were assigned to was a real lemon. We could not get any engine started and there were no tools available to try to locate the trouble. The second one was were assigned to was a relatively new airplane which had only six missions on it. We flew it for a few hours and upon landing, my pilot asked me my opinion. I said I didn't feel comfortable in this airplane and did not want to fly it home. I gave him the option of switching to his regular engineer and leave me behind. He said that he only knew HOW to fly it and nothing else about it and if I didn't want to fly it home, he certainly wasn't going to fly it home. The next day we were assigned to a beat-up airplane with 66 missions to its credit. We flew it around for a few hours and it flew like a dream. I told the pilot would feel safe to fly this one home and we left the next day. We were not allowed to fly at night. We left the next day and stopped the first night at Marrakech, Morocco. The next night on the Azores Islands Then to Gander, Newfoundland and then to Bradley Field, Conn., hitting U.S.A soil at 4:19 P.M. on July 15th. What a happy day that was!!!!!

I met the girl I later married, while taking flying lessons on my 30 day furlough after returning from overseas. I was sent to Sioux Falls for reassignment to sweat out a discharge, which was determined by the "point system" While at Sioux Falls, I flew out of a local airport and then a few days later I was sent to Deming, N.Mex. I soon located a small field near Deming. I had my car there, so I had transportation whenever I had time to do a little flying.

After my discharge (Dec. 3rd, 45 which was my dad's birthday!! ) I continued my flight instruction under the G.I.Bill. I flew piper Cubs, Lucscombe 8A, Aeronca, Taylorcraft, Stinson 105, Stinson 150, Piper Super Cruiser and, fortunately my instructor obtained a Stearman from the Navy, which was a sweet airplane to fly. I got partly into Flight Instructor and Instrument Rating after I passed my Commercial. What seems strange and mind boggling now is the fact that my pilot had only about 250-300 hours flying time when he was made First Pilot of our crew, and was only 20 years old when we arrived in Italy. I have about 800-850 hours with a commercial license. I can't imagine myself flying a B-24!

Richard H. Miller