Against All Odds: Shot Down Over Occupied Territory in WWII by Frederick Dustin Worthen

By Frederick Dustin Worthen

The writer and his 8 crewmembers bailed out in their crippled B-24 on their twenty fourth venture over enemy territory. Shot at after which captured by way of the Germans, they have been taken to a stalag in Nuremberg, after which on a compelled march to a different in Moosburg. They have been strafed via Allied planes, approximately lynched by way of an indignant mob, starved, and shot at back through taking flight SS ahead of their liberation by way of normal Patton. tremendously, all 9 crewmembers survived, and 8 of them contributed to this notable account that took two decades to jot down.

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We had, in reality, ferried the plane to the war zone. FLIGHT TO THE B RITISH ISLES More “hurry up and wait” were the orders. We were sent to Newcastle, County Down, Northern Ireland, for more training and lots of indoctrination. We were told in very stern terms that we were not to act like overpaid, over-sexed American servicemen. Behave! While we were in Northern Ireland there was very little work. We had passes to town everyday. The pubs had plenty of stout ale; fish and chips were the staple foods and the colleens were as pretty as one would expect.

The actual target was Oranienburg, a short distance north of Berlin, but still in very dangerous country. The old-timers groaned their oohs and aahs, but we really did not know enough about all of this to join in. This was a target that no one wanted to go to. I. truck that took us to the hardstand where our plane was parked. The pilots carefully inspected the plane, did a preflight, consulted with the ground crew chief, and checked the COMBAT M ISSIONS 49 flight records while the other crew members were doing their duties.

Must have flown his first mission the first or second week of September (his records are not available). C. says: On my first mission with our crew we crossed the North Sea and entered the continent at the Zuider Zee. ” The crew, stretching their necks, asked, “Where, where?. . ” There it was, our first encounter with the horror of the air. I was finally at war. My sixth mission was holy horror: the sub pens in Hamburg, with maximum flak in the air. Many B-24s went down in the raid, including some with my buddies.

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