“One of our most difficult missions occurred on 21 February 1945, when our target that day was Nurnburg, Germany. We were the Group deputy lead that day, and a newly assigned Captain from Patterson Field, Dayton, Ohio, was flying in the Copilot seat. Well into Germany our Group found itself several miles to the left of the main stream of aircraft of the Eighth Air Force. Suddenly, directly in front of the Lead ship appeared four bursts of anti-aircraft (flak) shells. The Germans had our altitude perfectly, and I was certain the next round was going to be up someone’s tailpipe. The Lead ship started a left hand turn about this time, which I had to follow reluctantly, because this placed us directly in line for the next burst, which came close enough to tear out part of the windshield and most of the instrument panel, while knocking out one of our starboard engines and the oxygen system that supplied all the personnel in the nose section.

Gasoline was pouring into the bomb bay, which had been badly damaged, and to top it off a flash fire occurred through the aircraft, singeing everyone’s eyebrows. Also, the nose gear for some unknown reason decided to extend itself and lock in the landing position. This left the wheel well door open for more unwanted ventilation. Hydraulic fluid was over everyone in the waist area. We could no longer stay with the Group and were fighting to keep the remaining starboard engine operating while trying to assess the condition of the crew and moving those without oxygen to the flight deck.

The Engineer was able to eliminate the fuel leakage into the bomb bay area, and we were able to stabilize the remaining starboard engine. Upon a thorough check of the crew, no one appeared to be seriously injured. With the windshield partly gone, the flight deck felt like being in the eye of a tornado that made it extremely difficult for the Navigator to function, as well as the Copilot and myself. Frostbite was becoming a big worry, along with enemy fighters that were out looking for stray bombers. We had to head home while still maintaining altitude the best we could, because we were still in enemy territory and worried about more flak. The aircraft was losing altitude, and we would have liked to have jettisoned our bombs over enemy territory, but found out this was not possible due to some damage to the bomb racks caused by the flak.

After several difficult hours we managed to bring the Channel in view and accelerated our descent into a relatively warmer environment. When several hundred feet above the Channel I asked the Gunners (Bob Moran and Ray Winden) and the Engineer if there was any possibility they could unshackle the 500-Ib bombs from the racks and drop them out the bomb bay into the Channel. I don’t know how they did it, but without hesitation and with super human effort they managed to get rid of our load to everyone’s relief. Our next little problem arose when the Engineer told me we had no braking power.

The only thing left was to head towards an emergency base called Woodbridge. There the runway was of such length that it was possible to land without brakes, but the question now was ‘could we make it?’ with very little fuel left. I had gained some altitude, and everyone was set to bail out if necessary. Woodbridge came into sight, and with a wing and a prayer we landed, hoping our tires were OK. We took every foot of the runway, and upon reaching the end we were slow enough that I could do a 180° turn. We counted over 200 flak holes in that B-24 that day. The aircraft under went major repairs, and after its return to Rackheath it next flew on a combat mission on 21 March 1945, and on a further four missions before cessation of combat missions in the ETO.