The Western news. [volume] (Libby, Mont.) 1933-current, 1943-05-06

we were carrying some Inlgnly
heavy stuff for Jerry in our big
Flying Fortress.
Leaving our home field in Eng
land at six o clock in the morning,
our objective was the submarine
pens at Lorient, France.
AS we approached. somebody
yelled "Fiakt.' and the anti-aircraft
shells broke around us. At the
same time the ball turret gunner
shouted evolves coming up!" He had
sighted a dozen German fighters,
Focke-Wulf 1905, climbing fast from
downstairs.
l held the ship steady on her
course. A few seconds later
Bombardier Bentinck pressed
his bomb triggers. The giant
bombs hit exactly where he had
aimed them, in the middle of
platform between two subma-
rine pens.
"Bull's-eye" he whooped over
the intercom. / never heard any
one sound so jubilant. Those we're
the last words Bentinck ever spoke.
The next second, everything hit us
at once. Things started happening
much faster than | can tell them.
FW's Take Us On.
We were raked from end to end
with flax AT the same time a
swarm of FW's Owed out Of the
sun. They came in like hornets,
with 20-millimeter cannon and ma
chine guns wide open.
One burst of flax ripped into the
nose. 1t killed Bentinck instantly.
The same burst wounded Navigator
Smith and knocked him uncon-
scious
A second burst ripped away the
doors of the bomb bay. Another
burst sprayed around Co-pilot Bill
Reed and myself.
That wasn't half of 1t. Krucher,
in the tail, had been hit A cannon
shell had torn big mole in the ball
turret. Radio Operator Frishholz
had a flax hole in the back of his
head. and the radio room was on
fire.
No. Engine Is Out.
The first broadside of flax smashed
the drive shaft of No. engine. The
No. 2 had been hit on top and was
throwing oil II might catch fire
any second. FLAX had knocked a
big dent in the propeller of No. 3,
and No. 4 had big hole in its base.
carried on with and A. The
ship staggered and started falling
behind the rest of the squadron.
| put the nose down and dived steep
ly for the cover of some clouds
far below us.
~s.FW's Close I'm For Kill.
Seeing we we're badly hurt, the
FW's closed in for the kill. Then
the boat really lived up to her name
of Flying Fortress. We took plenty
during the next so seconds, but not
half as much as we dished out.
My waist gunner, Bill Stroud, took
care of the first one. 1t was SO
close that he could see the back OF
the pilots head. Stroud poured
stream of bullets into him. The FW
went into a spin, and Stroud fol-
lowed him with burst after burst.
A moment later another Jer-
ry came under his sights. He
poured steel into him, saw him
break up.
Right waist gunner Berring
was pumping 50-caliber sIugs at
range. He, too, got "proba-
ble," red-nosed FW which spun
down and out OF sight.
Meanwhile the wounded tail gum
ner got chance. While he was ly-
ing back there losing blood, an FW
reared in to finish him off. Krucher
took steady aim and raped out one
long burst 1t literally sawed the
Germans wing off He went down
in flames.
With the wind shrieking through
the flax holes, we raced down, down,
for that beautiful layer OF clouds.
We made it. The remaining FWs
didn attempt 10 follow us into The
clouds.
Somehow or other, we limped
home on our two engines and landed
at an English airport near the coast.
Our wounded went to the hospital,
and have now recovered.
Bentinck-as great bombardier
as ever served in any mans army
was gone, but the other nine Of us
will soon be flying again.
Our trip back was as big an adj
venture as our fight with the FW's.
Coming out Of the cloud cover, we
were down to 600 feet when we saw
the ocean again, then large town,
which | recognized as Brest, one of
the most strongly fortified places in
France.
| pointed the ship straight over
Brest. We were SO low that we
could see people staring up at us,
but there we're no fireworks.
Crossing the harbor, we passed
right between two German destroy
ers at anchor. They could have
hIaetad ia In hlayaq