On the Flight Line

It was Good Friday, 7 April 1950, and Petty Officer Edward J. Purcell, USN, was getting 

“short.” Ninety-nine days and a wake-up, and he would be headed back to the States. But, 

for the moment, he had work to do. As a member of a reconnaissance squadron, he was part 

of a crew of 10 whose job was to fly cryptologic missions to gather critical information on the 

Soviet Union. Purcell had originally planned to spend the Easter season in the headquarters area, but the need 

for a replacement for one of the upcoming weekend flights prompted him to volunteer for the mission. The 

tough part was that most of Saturday and Sunday would be spent in the skies over the dark waters of the 

Baltic Sea. On the positive side, the entire crew had been assured that they would get the day off on Monday 

before heading back to their home base on Tuesday morning. 

The Squadron

Since its inception in 1943, Purcell’s squadron had served with distinction, both in World War II and in 

numerous post-war operations. The workhorse of the unit was the B-24 Liberator bomber. The first 

Liberators used by the Navy had differed little from the original Army aircraft; however, by the mid-1940s, the 

plane had been modified to the point where it was worthy of a new name, the Privateer.

In 1948, his squadron was given another chance to excel when it was assigned a 

critical role in determining the true capabilities of the Soviet Union. Once an ally, 

the Russian Bear had turned hostile. In 1946, a few short years before the 

squadron’s move to a new area of operation, Sir Winston Churchill had noted 

that, “From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain had 

descended across the continent.” The job of Purcell and the men of the 

squadron was to somehow find out what lay behind that curtain. 

 From Pennsylvania Farmland to the Baltic Sea

The series of events that had brought Ed Purcell to the flight line on that 

fateful day were all too typical. Born in Camden, New Jersey, Ed’s father, a 

dyed-in-the-wool farmer, had eventually moved the family to the rural 

community of Trumbauersville, near Quakertown, Pennsylvania. Ed’s 

days on the farm were spent entertaining his brothers and sisters. When he 

was not serving as the master of ceremonies for the Purcell clan, he often 

spent his time taking care of his pet bull, Mojo, who was so attached to the 

boy that he once followed him into the family kitchen. But Ed also had a 

serious side and while he loved his family, he had a strong inclination to 

find out what was beyond the green fields of his father’s farm. With this in 

mind, he did what so many other young American boys had done for 

centuries, he joined the U.S. Navy. At 17, he was too young to enlist on his own 

and asked his father to sign for him. Basic training at Great Lakes, Michigan was 
followed by Communications Technician School in Washington, D. C. After initial 

training, he served in various short assignments aboard ships and at 

shore duty stations. In July of 1949, he was with his squadron, ready to 

go to work. 

 8 April 1950

On the morning of 8 April 1950, a light fog descended over the 

Baltic. Despite the less-than-perfect conditions, Purcell and the 

entire crew of flight 59645 were ready to go. Everyone aboard knew 

their jobs. Purcell would spend the majority of his time on the flight 

monitoring the all-important Russian communications. 

At 10:31 a.m., the flight lifted off. The next 3 1/2 hours passed without 

incident. At 2:00 p.m., squadron headquarters received one last radio 

report. Fuel capacity would allow the aircraft to remain aloft until 11:30 that 

evening, but as the last minutes of 8 April ticked away with no further word from 

the crew, hope began to fade. On Sunday morning, authorities had no choice but to 

declare the plane missing. 

Later that day, Soviet officials brought an end to the mystery when they 

confirmed that their fighters had fired on a U.S. aircraft near the coastal town 

of Libau on 8 April. After the official notification, U.S. authorities began 

extensive search and rescue operations, which sadly proved to be 

unsuccessful. 

 Requiem

History records that in the summer of 1947, Ed Purcell left the small 

Pennsylvania area of Quakertown to serve as a cryptologist in the 

United States Navy. One hundred and seventy years earlier, Col. 

William Polk of the Continental Army had hidden the Liberty Bell in 

E d ’ s hometown to protect it from falling into British hands. Both men 

would likely agree that at times the cause of liberty is served by the wise but 

prodigious use of secrecy. Decades later, the nation would learn of the 

immeasurable contribution that the aerial reconnaissance program made in 

protecting freedom and in keeping the peace. As our nation continues to work to 

meet the challenges of the War on Terrorism, may the legacy of Petty Officer Ed Purcell, and the 

many other cryptologists of the past, serve as an inspiration to the silent sentinels of today.

Photos courtesy of the Purcell Family

Military Crest courtesy of Department of the Navy

Narrative - Patrick Weadon, Public Affairs

Graphics/Layout - Terri Askew, NSA Creative Imaging

Visit our Web site, http://www.nsa.gov

MEMORIAL DAY 2003

Edward Joseph Purcell

Communications Technician Third Class, United States Navy

28 June 1930 - 8 April 1950

* As the keeper of America’s cryptologic legacy, the National Security Agency has produced this historical work for purposes of honoring the efforts of CT3 

Edward J. Purcell, USN. It must be noted, however, that NSA honors not only those aboard PB4Y-2 (59645) involved in cryptologic activities, but all of 

the members of the crew who sacrificed their lives in the defense of freedom.

NSA Creative Imaging-535970