True American Hero: The Story of Dutch McElree - Top Turret Gunner- Brainard Crew, 512th Squadron

My name is Matt Hodson and I have met a true American Hero. He is not a professional athlete. He is not a politician, though he would have made a damn good one. He is not a doctor, lawyer, software tycoon, Nobel Prize winner, or Hollywood actor. Nevertheless, he is a true hero. He is like all the hard working men and women, who fought in WWII, then came home, and helped build this great country after the war. This man grew up during the Great Depression, fought in WWII, and survived a POW camp. He had the guts to marry a woman with three teenagers from a previous marriage. He battled and beat cancer. He taught my brother, my sister, and me the meaning of hard work and responsibility. This is just a small part of his story. This is a hero's story. This is a story about my dad.

This is the story of Dutch McElree, a WWII hero in my opinion. Dutch was assigned to the 15th Air Force, the 376th Heavy Bombardment Group, 512th Squadron, the 47th wing. His crew consisted of 10 men:

Dutch flew 10 missions stationed out of San Pancrazio Italy in 1944. The missions are listed below.

MISSION # DATE

1. 11/12/1944
2. 11/16/1944
3. 11/19/1944
4. 12/06/1944
5. 12/07/1944
6. 12/09/1944
7. 12/13/1944
8. 12/16/1944
9. 12/21/1944
10. (last) 12/26/1944

The following account is of actual events told by Dutch McElree. Some information has been given to me by Lt. Col. Ernest L. Verbeck , (Ret.), and members of the 376th Heavy Bombardment Group Veterans Association. The following are Dutch McElree's memories.

"Prior to our last mission on 12/26/1944, our crew went to an Italian Farm house for our Christmas celebration. We ate goat cheese, almonds and drank Dago Red wine. Quite a day to say the least. I had a premonition that something was about to happen to us , but I shrugged it off. At 4 A.M., it was time to hit the deck for our tenth mission. We didn't know it at this time, but it would be our last mission. At 5 A.M. we had our briefing regarding our target for that mission. It was mission # 390, and our aircraft for that final mission was # 29, serial # 44-40884. Our target was the railway viaduct at Avisio Italy, flying through the Brenner Pass. Weather was good for a change. In the 15th Air Force, all planes bombed off the lead plane in the echelon. In this mission we were Deputy Lead, but unfortunately for us, the lead plane sustained engine trouble and had to turn back before we got to the target. We then took over as the lead plane in a new B-24H. I was the top turret gunner and I had the best view of anyone of my crew on the plane. As we approached the target, all hell broke loose. Flak, (anti air-craft bursting shells), exploded all around us and was so thick you could get out and walk on it. The Germans, who occupied Italy at this time, had mobile anti aircraft units mounted on the peaks in the Alps surrounding Brenner Pass and on railroad cars. We were literally dead ducks as they shot the hell out of our plane. We were hit with heavy flak over the target. The aircraft was peppered all over and we lost #4 engine as we came off the target. We lost 2 more engines, #2 and #3, and the right wing had sustained heavy damage. A solid unexploded 88mm shell came through the right wing between engines #3 and #4 taking out part of the main wing spar. The B-24 doesn't fly well on 1 engine and all of our electrical and communications were knocked out. At this point, a few minutes after the initial barrage, our plane went into a flat circular spin. I was in the top turret and couldn't wear a chest pack parachute due to the tight confines of the position. My chute was on the flight deck and as I looked down, I saw the other crew members bailing out. I decided quickly that it was time to get out of the turret and get my chute on. In the Army Air Force at this time, men were never trained to bail out. We were just shown the fundamentals of a parachute and where the ripcord was. That was it. I was the 3rd crewman to leave the plane through the bomb bay doors and the last one to hit the ground. I hit an updraft off of the Adriatic and this held me up longer that usual. By being in this updraft, I saw our plane crash but not before one more chute opened at about 1000 feet above the ground. Apparently, the plane lunged just enough to release the centrifugal force to allow the other crew members to get out. We had a crew of 10 on that final and fatal mission. Lt. Bland, our navigator, never made it out of the plane and died on impact. My co-pilot, after being captured, was taken to the wreckage to identify the body.

I saw the crew land at different locations and was sure that I could locate all of them once I hit the ground. Finally, by slipping the shrouds on my chute I was able to descend more rapidly. As all of this was going on, I was rapidly approaching the ground and two obstacles; high-tension wires and railroad tracks. I was lucky enough to miss both of them and landed in an open plowed farmer's field. I had just hit ground, and was trying to gather my wits about me, when an Italian farmer and his daughter arrived to help me. By this time, I was scared as Hell, not knowing what was going to happen to me. They took me to their farmhouse and gave me some bread and wine. It was at this moment when I realized why I was so scared. "I was alone". Within 30 minutes, the Italian Fascists were after me as they saw my chute when I was coming down. Of course, the farmer and his daughter reacted quickly as they were trying to hide me. Five young Fascist soldiers captured me that day, Dec. 26, 1944. They were about 14 to 19 years old and brazen as Hell. They called me Yankee Pig and wanted my "pistola". As part of our flying gear, we were supposed to carry our 45 caliber pistols. Thank God I didn't have it on me that day or I probably wouldn't be writing this today. They handcuffed me, threw me into their Army vehicle and took me to Genoa where I was turned over to the German Authorities. In Genoa, the town-square type building is where I was imprisoned.

At that time, the Germans took my warm flight suit, my leather jacket, cigarettes, my watch, and my ring. In return, they gave me a burlap type topcoat, supposedly to keep me warm. I was then put in a small cell with a little opening in the door. It was a big thing to capture an American Airman and I felt like a monkey in a zoo as the town people came to look at me through the little opening. I remember one lady who was especially nice. She wanted to know through sign language if I wanted a cigarette. I said yes, and she left only to come back later with a pack of Italian cigarettes. Although the Italians were at war with the US, there was many understanding and compassionate people. In my dreams and visions, I still remember the nice lady and the cigarettes. It was mid winter and very cold in my cell that only had one mattress. I prayed every night I was there and that took away some of the fear and unknown. The next morning, Dec. 27, 1944 the first thing I heard were shots being fired out in the courtyard. Being scared, my imagination ran away with me and I felt that I was probably next. I was taken to the German headquarters and interrogated. At that time, I was told I was being sent to Verona Italy for further interrogation and eventually would be sent to the main interrogation center in Frankfurt Germany. When we arrived in Verona, the air raid sirens were blaring and everyone was heading for a bomb shelter which was an abandoned old railroad tunnel. My guards lost me in the confusion. Believe me it is no fun being in an air raid. If I had any idea where I was, I could have escaped. The raid lasted about 15 minutes and as the people began to leave the tunnel, my guards grabbed me and hustled me into the back of a bus. For some unknown reason, American Airmen were easy to spot. We finally made it to our destination which was a house that the Germans had taken over. I was ordered to go into a dark and very cold basement.

The next morning I met a night fighter pilot and we were interned together. Being young and skeptical, we were both a little untrusting of one another at first, but after a few hours, we began to trust each other. Basically, this old house and the cold basement was just a stopover.

Within 24 hours, we were told that 2 Werhmach Guards (German Infantry) would be taking us to Frankfurt. It was late in Dec. of 1944 and very very cold. We started to hitch hike with the 2 guards through the Brenner Pass. We were headed for Bolzano Italy where we would travel the rest of our journey. It was freezing cold and before reaching Bolzano, we rode on charcoal burning trucks loaded with grain. We were very fortunate not to get frostbite that night. We had no food and no sleep until we arrived in Bolzano Italy. Here we had some soup and bread and slept in the station for a few hours. We boarded a passenger train and headed for Nuremberg. As the train started down the other side of the Alps to Innsbruck Austria, there were many tunnels and Allied fighters would make strafing passes each time we came through a tunnel.

We were glad to get into Innsbruck after the ordeal with the fighter planes. From there we went to Munich. We were scared and didn't know what to expect. We kept asking for water, but the guard said all the water was kaput. The train finally stopped in Reinsburg and our guards took us into the station which was like a canteen. They bought us 2 steins of German beer. While we were in the station, the room became very quiet. All ears were listening to Hitler give a speech broadcast on the radio. Germany was losing the war at this time but we were still prisoners of war. We boarded the train again, and the next stop was Munich. As we approached the station, I could see that the city was totally devastated from the allied bombings. We had to change trains and as we got off one train, the people working in the railroad yards recognized us as American Airmen. The men working to repair the bombing damage in the yards became very hostile toward us. Thank God for our guards and the protection they gave us that day. We boarded yet another train and arrived in Nuremberg on Dec. 31, 1944, New Year's Eve. I had been shot down only 5 days before, but so far it seemed like an eternity to me.

One of the guards left us at Nuremberg. He was on leave and this was his home. The other guard and an SS officer took us to an old building that looked like a Bastille. We went down some spiral stairs into a dungeon of sorts. There were some iron beds that hooked to the wall. It was cold and freezing. They shackled us to these so-called beds and left us there alone. That was how I spent New Years of 1944.

The next morning, we left for Frankfurt and the main interrogation center. Again I was put in a small room, maybe 5'x10', that only had a wooden bunk and no blanket. Our daily ration usually consisted of soup and bread. I weighed 175 pounds when I was shot down and I knew that on that kind of diet, I would be losing weight fast. Within a few days, I was taken to be interrogated. Name, rank, and serial # is all we were to say. However, the officer knew more about me than I did. He did offer me a cigarette and then he sent me back to my cell. Nothing more was said. Time went by so slowly. I marked off each day and after 15 days, I was sent to a transit camp. Here we did get some decent food. There were many British Airmen at this camp, and they had food parcels from England, which they shared them with us.

This was also the first time I had a razor and a shower in over a week. I felt like a new man then. Our clothes were getting filthier by the day, but we had no choice but to wear what we had. Up to this point in time, around Jan. 22, 1945, I had no idea what happened to the rest of the crew when we were shot down. I had a very lonely sick feeling about them and I hoped and prayed for them.

Around Feb 1st, we were sent to Stalag VII near Nuremberg. The Germans gave us some food to a make the trip by train and they packed us in just like a cattle car. Before we arrived, the guards told us to eat all of our food we had. Otherwise, the guards would take it from us. When you're hungry, you hate to part with anything to eat, so we ate what we had even though we wanted to save some for later. When were arrived at the camp, we were herded, pushed, and poked with rifle butts into a building for delousing. We had to strip down and be sprayed which was very embarrassing and inhumane. We were finally assigned to a barracks where we would supposedly stay until the end of the war. The Luftwaffe operated this camp and the treatment was much better than any we had experienced earlier. These men were German airmen and they had mutual respect of other Airmen, even if they were the enemy.

The food was terrible. I had 1 bowl of dehydrated vegetable soup with dead worms in it and a piece of bread about 1/8" thick each day. I had lost 60 pounds before we were sent on the forced march. While I was at Stalag VII, the rest of my crew showed up. I found out then what had happened to all of them. It was a very special feeling to see them again. Apparently, a group of 4 and a group of 4 had been captured together. I was the only one that was captured alone. The Resistance hid them for a week until they were finally captured. The pilot, bombardier, engineer, tail gunner, and nose gunner were interned in our camp. The co-pilot and radioman went to another camp.

The days were long and very cold with next to nothing to do. We played some cards, went on wood details, and paced the compound. Although we knew the war was getting close to being over, the bottom line was we were still POW's. Stalag VII was about 5 miles out of Nuremberg and several times it was bombed by the Air Force . Imagine 2,500 Allied planes on a mission. It's pretty scary being on the ground and being close to their target. Fortunately for us just shrapnel from anti-aircraft guns is all that fell on the camp. The day after New Years, Nuremberg was pattern bombed by the British. The area where my buddy and I stayed was completely flattened and destroyed. There was 28,000 people killed. My time wasn't up then for the Good Lord was watching over me.

Around April 1, 1945, we heard that General Patton's 14th armored division was headed for Nuremberg and would liberate us. Unfortunately, he bypassed us and went down into Yugoslavia. We were a very sad bunch of POWs that day. The Germans decided to march us to Munich which was 175 km away. In the Geneva Convention, it states that any country holding a POW that doesn't have the food to feed them must allow the Red Cross trucks to come in from Geneva Switzerland with Red Cross food parcels. The Germans allowed this and it was like a parcel from home. In each parcel were powdered milk, chocolate, raisins, peanut butter, biscuits, marmalade, spam or corned beef, and 5 packs of cigarettes.

After receiving our parcels, we were being prepared to go on a forced march, all 10,000 of us. While on our way, we slept in barns in the Black Forest or anywhere we could find. During the march, we were often strafed by German fighter, ME 109s. Fortunately for most of us, the Black Forest gave us some protection and I wasn't hit by the gunfire. We knew some of our fellow POW's had died, but we had no idea how many. On these marches, the German Luftwaffe was to be notified, but apparently not in this incident. After the Black Forest incident, some POWs managed to get some bed sheets and anytime we heard planes, the sheets were laid out in the field roads spelling POWs. From that time on to Moosburg, we had U.S. P-51 Mustangs that flew over periodically giving us some protection.

During the march, a liaison pilot and I took off from the column of POWs and went into the little town or village to trade our cigarettes for bread, eggs, potatoes, anything we could get. It was quite an experience. Most of the people in Bavaria were anti-Nazi and were willing to trade. Food was a big item and we had done without it for so long. Even with the hardships, everyone felt as if we were going to be liberated soon. It was on the march that we heard through the BBC that President Roosevelt had died. Everyone was in total shock and no one had anything to say. It was a terribly sad day. We proceeded toward Moosburg, which is 25km from Munich, to a tent stalag. On this march I had a pair of British shoes that didn't fit and I was tempted to walk barefoot but I didn't because it was too cold. On the last night of the march, we stayed in a barn and some of us tried to catch a chicken to eat. In the hunt, I recognized a kid I used to play basketball against in Grand Junction, Colorado. Apparently, he was shot down over the English Channel. What a reunion we had. Odds are pretty slim for anything like that happening. He had an extra pair of GI shoes just my size and it was like putting on bedroom slippers.

We arrived at our tent stalag April 24, 1945. It's hard to imagine 10,000 POWs in a tent city, but there we were. It was at this time when I began to have a brighter outlook on things. Finally, on May 5, 1945 we were liberated by General George Patton and his 14th armored division. Old Blood and Guts Patton himself riding in his jeep with his pearl handled 45s showing. What a glorious day. The Germans threw away their guns and headed for the forest. It was VE day May 6, 1945.

Within 2 or 3 days, we were taken to Landshultt Germany. We were loaded onto C-47s from the Air Transport Command and they flew us to La Harve, France. When we arrived in France, it was like a ticker tape parade in New York City. The first thing we did was shower. It was my 2nd shower in 4 months. We were given new clothes, a medical check-up and put on a diet program. The personal items the Germans took form us were given back to the Allies. The ring and watch which the Germans took form me in Genoa Italy upon my capture were returned now.

There was 80,000 POWs at La Harve and they began to ship us back to the states. I arrived in the good old USA June, 1945. I didn't know it at the time how this experience would affect me for the rest of my life. I was told to go to the VA Hospital to be checked for post traumatic stress disorder. A wonderful female psychiatrist brought all the feelings out that I had been suppressing for so many years. Feelings of fear, being scared as hell, loneliness. These feelings still recur every now and then. I am totally thankful to God that I'm an American and proud to have served my country, the Good Old USA."