|
Ghosts in the Machine —George Santayana |
by John Davis Lee II Sometimes there's more to a racetrack than meets the eye. One racing facility has a history encompassing far more than motorsport alone. Some racing tracks have a museum to display their history. A few even have a book or two published to record that history. But how often do you see a stained glass window, in a 1,000-year-old-church, dedicated to Americans who lived--and died--at a race track? No, I'm not talking about Daytona International Speedway. Not Talledaga. Not even the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. In fact, the circuit described above is located 4,000 miles away in East Angliashire, England; a little place named Snetterton. Perhaps I should clarify things a bit. Actually, I'm referring to Snetterton Heath, one of the hundreds of British airfields built by or for the United States Army Air Forces during World War II. |
First a little historical trivia. Snetterton has been a racing track for over 40 years, and is the local test track for the Lotus Formula One team. Fifty years ago it was home for the B-17 Flying Fortresses of the 96th Bomb Group, itself part of the 45th Combat Wing, in turn a member of the 3rd Air Division of the U.S. Eighth Air Force. The heavy bombers of the Eighth served in a "strategic" capacity, meaning they made long-range daylight missions upon targets requiring precision bombing (including the Nazi-held airfield at Le Mans, France--today home of the famous 24-hour race). Combined with the British RAF "heavies" hitting targets by night, Nazi Germany was on the receiving end of what British Prime Minister Sir Winston Churchill euphamistically termed "round-the-clock bombing." As a racing track, it's not that difficult to imagine the sporting events that take place there today--bike, kart and car races, racing schools, and even a 24-hour endurance event for "saloon" cars (called "stock" cars in the USA). But what was it like for the American aircrews stationed there half a century ago? |
|
A typical story can be told through the experiences of an uncle of mine. Charlie Lee was a 20-year-old staff sergeant with the 337th Squadron, one of Snetterton's four, and a B-17 waist gunner and assistant flight engineer. Charlie's first mission was true baptism by fire: Berlin ("The Big B") with its 1,200 radar-assisted anti-aircraft cannon. Though they made it back to base, "flak" damage to the hydraulics meant Charlie had to hand-crank the landing gear down, and landing without brakes led to the Fortress skidding off the runway.
With losses averaging over 15% per mission, a bomber crew at Snetterton could realistically expect their luck to run out after only six sorties. Unfortunately, their tour of duty required completion of 25 combat flights before returning home. Despite such intimidating odds, crews remained highly motivated, secure in the belief that their job was absolutely essential. (Symptoms of combat fatigue were dealt with by a one-week vacation at a "flak home" on the relatively safe northwest coast, in hopes of shedding the "battle rattles.") Charlie's sixth mission was to participate in a 900 bomber raid into Sudeten Germany (occupied Czechoslovakia), helping to pave the way for the Overlord (D-Day) invasion of occupied France. For the first time, their target was the Nazi synthetic oil and nitrogen (explosives) production facilities.
At the dawn of May 12th, 1944, the tarmac of Snetterton shook to the roar of 5,000 horsepower as Charlie's plane, Smokey Stover Jr., rolled down the runway. He and his crew took off for the unfriendly skies of Eastern Europe, destined never to return. Over Germany, flying in the low group ("Purple Heart Corner") with the 45th Combat Wing, they were "bounced" by 50 enemy fighters. The fighters made head-on strafing runs at a closing speed of 600 miles-per-hour, attempting to break up the well-gunned, tightly knit formation. Four American P-38 Lightnings provided cover, but were simply outnumbered. Most of the 700 Allied fighters dispatched that day were busy hitting ground targets of their own. Smokey Stover Jr., slotted as "tail-end-Charlie" in the flight, was crippled during the multiple assault and became unable to maintain altitude at 25,000 feet. By dropping out of formation, it became easy prey for the relentless Luftwaffe. Smokey Stover was last seen with its left wing partially destroyed and going down out-of-control. It crashed and burned somewhere northeast of Frankfurt. May 12th, 1944 (Mother's Day) was the worst day of the war for Snetterton. 26 aircraft departed that morning. Only 14 returned.... 12 "Forts" were lost, each with a ten-man crew. Only four days previously, Snetterton lost ten crews, meaning half the base became Missing In Action that week. |
Just prior to the mission, the regular navigator, Frank Serio, had been transferred to a different crew. He happened to be on a three-day pass the day of May 12th. As news of the battle spread around the base, Frank sought information about his friends from one of the copilots who has just returned. The airman could barely speak, such was the shock of his experience. Smokey Stover Jr. was seen going down, but no 'chutes were spotted. Serio eventually completed 29 sorties, even serving as lead navigator for 900 bombers on one mission. Albert Speer, the German Minister of Armaments and War Production, and perhaps the most effective member of Adolf Hitler's fascist government in the final year of the war, also recalled that fateful day. His post-war memoirs, Inside the Third Reich, were smuggled out of Berlin's Spandau prison. He eventually served 20 years for the war crime of utilizing slave labor in German manufacturing efforts. From the isolation of his cell Speer writes: "I shall never forget the day May 12.... On that day the technological war was decided.... (The) attack by nine-hundred and thirty-five daylight bombers of the American Eighth Air Force... meant the end of German armaments production." In fact, May 12th also marked the peak of German aviation fuel production, which dropped by 95-percent during the next six months. Back to Smokey Stover's story: As the gunfight raged at 225 miles per hour, pilot Wilford Kinman realized he and his crew were hopelessly outnumbered. With each Nazi cannon shell knocking five-foot-wide holes in his aircraft, he rang the bell signalling abandon ship. |
|
"Fair Use" guidelines in Associated Press Stylebook and Title 17 US Code §107 Copyright 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002 John Lee and Pirate News All rights reserved ![]() |