THE GOOD SAMARITANS
Earl Underwood, Tail Gunner,
B-17F 230135, "Trouble Shooter,''
334th Squadron
(Originally published in Courage, Honor, Victory)
S/Sgt. Earl Underwood,
Tail Gunner
334th Bomb Squadron
On 24 July 1943, the briefed target was the heavy water plant at Rjukan, Norway. This installation was believed to be connected with Nazi Germany's experimental work (relevant to the atomic bomb, as we learned later).
During our climb to altitude, we had our customary 10,000 feet check for all personnel and equipment. All went well until I discovered I wasn't wearing my "Mae West" life jacket. Frantically, I checked all around the tail-turret area and inquired, via interphone, if the other crewmen had a spare. No luck, but I knew from that moment on who would be the first in line in the queue of ten to get into the first of two life rafts if we had to ditch in the sea.
After a long six-hour flight, we bombed our primary target with good results and turned for home. We then came under attack by German fighters and were forced out of formation. Lieutenant McPherson, our pilot, then told us to hang on as he pointed the plane's nose down and dived toward the sea at a tremendous speed. A fighter tried to follow us, but our firepower and the speed of our dive obviously changed his mind, and he finally gave up the chase.
Shortly after we'd leveled out and got on course for the long haul back to England, we spotted a 390th Bomb Group B-17 down in the sea. The familiar "Square J" on the plane's vertical stabilizer was clearly visible as we flew over, seeing the crew clambering into their life rafts. We then saw a small fishing boat not too far away, but out of sight from the ditched Fortress. As we flew at low level toward the boat, the fishermen must have thought we were about to attack them because one of the crewmen hastily climbed the boat's mast and waved a Norwegian flag above his head.
We circled the boat, then flew toward the downed plane, then back to the boat. We did this two or three times until they got the message and followed us. As we left the scene, the last we saw was the boat picking the B-17's crew up from their life rafts.
It was a very satisfying feeling to know we had helped in the rescue, but we now faced the worry of getting home ourselves because we had used up a considerable amount of our dwindling and precious fuel, even during that short time.
However, after twelve hours' total flying time, during which we covered 1,800 miles, dear old "Trouble Shooter" brought us safely home to Horham. I never thought a B-17 could fly so far on gasoline fumes.