near_tragedy

FEBRUARY 1944, NEAR TRAGEDY ON THE NORTHERN ROUTE

by Virgil R. Marco Sr., 366BS Tail Gunner, 305BG

The high altitude precision bombing by the heavy bombers began to slow Hitler's war machine, but not without a high price in bomber losses. The Capt. Lincoln Crew had just completed their combat training at Dalhart, Texas qualifying them to fill one of the many needed crew replacements as well as fly a new B-17G to the "Mighty Eighth".

We took turns guarding our Flying Fortress that night at Grenier Field, New Hampshire because of the highly secret bombsight and our personal belongings on board. Early the next morning, February 26, 1944, we found the flight line busy with ground crews providing routine maintenance to the many B-17s lined up next to our plane. A gasoline truck stopped in front of our plane and began transferring its contents through a long hose to our plane's wing tanks. After the mechanic filled each tank and safety wired each tank cap, our Flying Fortress was ready for its long flight to the 8th Air Force in England.

Our crewmembers were Capt. Joseph W. (Bill) Lincoln, pilot from Bradford, Penn.; Lt. Albert N. Pagnotta, copilot from Washington, D. C.; Lt. Philip S. Campbell, Navigator from Worecester, Massachusetts; Lt. Milton M. (Mickey) Goldfeder, bombardier from Brooklyn, New York; Sgt. Isaac W. Denemy, radio operator from Charlevoix, Michigan; Sgt. Ronald Yeager, top turret gunner from Perryville, Mo.; Sgt. James W. Ransbottom, ball turret gunner from Detroit, Michigan; Sgt. Edwin F. Schwartz, waist gunner from Vienna, Mo.; Sgt. Eugene C. Snodgrass, waist gunner from Stilwell, Oklahoma; Sgt. Virgil R. Marco, tail gunner from Dallas, Texas.

We could see many miles in all directions when we lifted up over Grenier Field. Capt. Lincoln commented on the good flying weather on the intercom by stating he hoped the good weather would continue all the way to England. He then reminded everyone to lookout for other planes and to let him know their position and flight direction to prevent any possible mid air collision.

We had been airborne about forty minutes when Lt. Goldfeder invited me to ride in the nose section. This was a treat for me to see the view in front of us rather than in back.

When I arrived from the tail compartment, I found Lt. Campbell reviewing the flight plans to Goose Bay, Labrador our first refueling stop. From there we were scheduled to fly to Iceland and then to Prestwick, Scotland, our final destination. This flight plan was known as the northern route to England.

As we flew over the state of Maine and approached the mouth of the St. Lawrence River, the view appeared spectacular to me. I had never flown over a large area of water before. Below I could see the ships that appeared small at this height making their routine trips to and from the St. Lawrence River. The mainland of eastern Canada with its rugged coastline began to grow larger and larger as we continued our flight in that direction. As our flight over the mainland progressed, the scenery became repetitious with the snow, frozen lakes and pine trees.

Jim Ransbottom called me on the intercom that another player was needed in their card game. I left the nose section making my way through the pilot's compartment. Capt. Lincoln and Lt. Pagnotta were at the controls. Ron Yeager was standing behind Lincoln and Pagnotta watching the instrument panel for any abnormal engine instrument readings. When I reached the bomb bay, I had to squeeze through the walkway because of the heavy flying gear and parachute harness until I reached the radio room. Opening the radio room door, I found Denemy, the radio operator, sitting at his table on my right, busy with his job, while on my left, Gene Snodgrass, Ed Schwartz and Jim Ransbottom sat on the floor playing cards. I joined the game.

We had been playing cards for several hours when we noticed the usual bright sun light entering the radio room window and the skylight around the gun mounting in the ceiling had suddenly turned to darkness. We had entered a large mass of clouds and we could feel the plane attempting to rise above them. The smooth ride became very shaky. We bounced from one air pocket to another. Denemy informed us that Capt. Lincoln requested everyone to prepare to hook up his oxygen masks since we had reached an altitude of 10,000 feet. Our card game stopped. Gene, Ed and I moved to the waist section to secure oxygen outlets for our masks as well as plugs for our intercoms that were needed to hear further instructions.

The plane headed higher and higher until we finally rose above the clouds. A voice on the intercom said we were now flying at an altitude of 30,000 feet and the temperature was fifty degrees below zero. We were wearing our heavy sheepskin flying suits but they were not warm enough at this temperature. The designers of the Flying Fortress provided a means of heating the nose section, pilot's compartment and the radio room only. The waist section was without heat and was very drafty with cold air blowing in around the ball turret. We had been issued new electrically heated flying suits but they were still packed in their original boxes. It was not practicable to unpack them now since we expected landing instructions soon.

It seemed like we flew around above the clouds and Goose Bay for over an hour shivering and hoping landing instructions would be received right away. We did receive word that a snowstorm was raging below with no apparent let up. The Goose Bay tower finally gave instructions for us to turn back to Presque Isle, Maine, as it was impossible to land in the storm. Capt. Lincoln informed the tower that we didn't have enough gasoline to reach the Presque Isle Air Base. We were told again that we had no alternative but to turn back as the snowstorm was certain to out last our gasoline supply at this altitude.

We could feel our plane, losing altitude as if we were going down rapidly in an elevator. We were now flying back toward Presque Isle, Maine. Soon Lt. Pagnotta's voice was heard on the intercom informing us that we were now below 10,000 feet and could remove our oxygen masks which were nearly frozen to our faces. I looked out the waist window and saw once again the familiar sight of snow, pine trees and frozen lakes.

Denemy was working with his radio, sending dot and dashes with his key. He stopped, lit a cigarette and inhaled a large drag. As he exhaled the cigarette smoke, he told Gene, Ed, Jim and I that we were lost. He could tell from hearing the conversation between the pilot and navigator. Something was wrong with the radio compass that is needed in the navigational process.

Denemy finally reached Presque Isle Air Base with his radio key and informed them of our situation of being off course and low on gasoline. We learned later that the Air Base in Presque Isle sounded the emergency alarm sending emergency vehicles to the runway awaiting our emergency landing.

We were still confident that we would reach Presque Isle soon. However, all we could see was snow, "pine" trees and frozen lakes. It was only when Capt. Lincoln sent Yeager, Campbell and Goldfeder to join us in the radio room, we knew the end of our flight was near. We were told to prepare for a crash-landing as the fuel gauges were near empty. We hastily unpacked our comforters and blankets and padded the radio room with them. We sat on the floor speechless. The expression on everyone's face was asking the question, "Would the pilot and copilot find a good place to land our plane in the wilderness below?"

It finally happened. An engine began to sputter and cough. The harmonic sound of the four engines running together ceased. The other engines began to repeat the same noise until each with its turn stopped no longer providing air speed with which to fly. Lt. Pagnotta fired red emergency flares hoping someone would see them. As the last engine died the plane descended quickly. We could feel and hear the scrapping and popping of pine tree limbs hitting the wings and fuselage of our plane. With a loud crunch we hit the snow, the plane turned sharply sideways with a whiplash force. Snow from around the ball turret began to fly through the radio room door spaying us with snow until the plane came to a stop. We rushed out the side door only to find ourselves waist deep in snow.

It was late afternoon when we safely crash-landed after flying for 12 ½ hours. How were we going to survive in this climate if not found soon? It was too late to be found by a rescue plane from Presque Isle as the cold winter night was descending rapidly upon us. We had plenty of blankets and comforters plus our sheepskin flying suits to keep us warm. Also we had a supply of "K" rations for food.

While discussing our plight, we were surprised to see three men with snowshoes headed our way. They had seen the red emergency flares. When they reached us, we found that they spoke only French. Fortunately, Lt. Pagnotta and Lt. Campbell knew enough French to communicate with the Canadians who gathered some pine tree limbs for a fire. We spread a blanket over the snow where we sat eating "K" rations. Our fear of being lost in this icy wilderness was over.

Later in the evening a Canadian air force snowmobile arrived. Ron Yeager and I were volunteered by Capt. Lincoln to stay behind to guard the plane overnight. Capt. Lincoln and the rest of the crew left on the snowmobile for the nearby Canadian air base.

When we were first issued jungle kits as part of our parachute harness, we speculated that we were surely going to the South Pacific. Now we found the jungle kits useful. With the large jungle knives (machetes), we were able to chop firewood from the pine trees about twenty yards from our campfire. Even though the pine trees were close, it was a problem reaching them in the deep snow. Sometimes I would sink knee or waist deep. The process of gathering firewood became very exhausting and we gave up trying to add limbs to the fire. We climbed into the plane and buried ourselves in blankets and comforters. It was a very cold night.

The next morning we started our fire again and broke open some boxes of "K" rations for breakfast. While eating our "K" rations, we began to see a long parade of people in horse drawn sleighs headed our way. We were closer to civilization than we thought. It looked like everyone in the town close by was on their way to see the grounded Flying Fortress. Some of the people helped us keep our fire going while they viewed the plane.

Ron Yeager inspected the plane's engines and found only about a quart of gasoline left in one engine. The rest were empty. He also had to lock the side door to keep the people out of the plane.

A Canadian Master Sergeant arrived at our camp site at about 10:30 p.m. with his snowmobile. He introduced himself and told us that the rest of our crew flew to Presque Isle, Maine that morning and he was going to take us to his air base where a plane would fly us to Presque Isle the next day. On the way to the Canadian air base at Bagotville, we stopped at the home of a friend of the Sergeant in the nearby town of L’Ascension. His friend spoke English inviting us inside for refreshments. While discussing the accident, the Sergeant's friend said we flew over his house so low that the smoke in his chimney blew back down into his living room. We also learned from the Canadian Sergeant that his air base turned off their lights as they thought our Flying Fortress was an enemy plane.

After visiting with the Sergeant's friend, we drove to a local restaurant for lunch. The Sergeant ordered lunch for us as he could speak French fluently.

We eventually arrived at the Canadian air base where we found Sergeants in the Canadian Air Force were treated like Officers in the U.S. Air Force. As Ron Yeager and I were sergeants, we were given private rooms. When we ate in the mess hall, we ate out of plates instead of trays. There was no waiting in line to be served. We had a Private take our order and serve us. The base theaters were segregated. The Privates and Corporals attended one theater and the Sergeants and Officers attended another.

We expected to fly to Presque Isle, Maine that morning but a violent snow storm moved in during the night and we found ourselves snowed in for a couple of days. The Canadian Master Sergeant treated us royally. He gave us the grand tour of the Canadian Air Base as if we were important U.S. high, ranking Officers.

The royal treatment rapidly came to an end. An American C-47 transport plane flew in and took us to Presque Isle, Maine. The private room was again a crowded barracks and we were back in the long mess hall lines with our trays.