Gaspar's History Podcast, Episode 4, "I Thought You Were Dead," continues the Meat Hound series. It explores the story of a B-17F aircraft and its crew during World War II. The episode delves into the historical significance of the events, including acts of heroism, the unpredictability of nature, and the difficulties faced by families when there is no grave to mourn at. The episode also discusses a mission to destroy German submarine pens in France and the challenges faced by the 306th Bomb Group during takeoff.
Hello, and welcome to Gaspar's History Podcast. This is Gaspar, and I am continuing the Meat Hound series with Episode 4, I Thought You Were Dead. In our last episode, Deja Vu, the star of the series, 42-29524, was 11 days from heading east to become part of the 306th Bomb Group, and 2nd Lt. Steele got the week off. Well, we think there's a chance that he was in one of the aircraft that had to abort the mission last week, but there's no definitive documentation around it.
For those of you catching up, 42-29524 is a B-17F aircraft built by Boeing Manufacturing Company in Seattle, Washington, and Steele is my great-uncle from Greenville, Texas. Today's episode has a lot of meaning from a historical perspective, not because of its significance or fame, but because it draws from original source documents that then differ in remembrances between participants and those that were there. And that's okay, for it provides us a forum for which to debate and continue additional research as we try to ultimately uncover facts and truth, or at least one side of the truth.
The story leads us to absolutes that are then discovered 45 years later not to be so absolute. The story will have us ponder fate and will take us through acts of heroism. It is a reminder that Mother Nature is unforgiving and the enemy can be ruthless. The story will continue for over 45 years after the war, with revelations then coming to light, even for the best of the military historians. Lastly, it is a solemn reminder of just how difficult it is for a mother and a father to grieve when there is no grave at which to pay homage.
So with that, let's get into Episode 4, I Thought You Were Dead. As Erwin Wiesenbeck's parachute opened, he was just under a thousand feet from the ground, and he witnessed the fiery crash of the Snoozy 2. But he did not have time to ponder as one of those Focke-Wulf buzzards circled him, then made a strafing run at him. Yes, that's right, trying to kill him while he was gliding down in a parachute? Nice. Erwin could see the muzzle flashes, and he pulled tight on his shroud lines, hoping to make some movement and not be such an easy target.
The Focke-Wulf missed, but he made a tight turn and was coming for a second strafe. Just as Erwin hit the ground, the bullets were shredding the ground underneath him. The Focke-Wulf had missed again. Erwin got out of his chute, rolled into some thick brush, and stayed there until the buzzard left. This was Erwin's first mission, and he was shot down. Now he was on his own, well behind enemy lines. I was mistaken in last week's episode when I thought Erwin's parents had received an MIA letter, missing an action letter, as they actually got a killed-in-action letter.
But as we will see, that letter was a mistake. I thought you were dead. That brings us to December 30, 1942. The world is at war, and there is epic fighting going on in Stalingrad, North Africa, and the Pacific Theater. The American people have just been through their second Christmas of the war. Rationing of household items like sugar continues, England is having a hard time feeding her people, and the German wolf packs of the sea are wreaking havoc on the Atlantic convoys.
In 1942, shipping and convoys had intermittent pausing due to the losses caused by German submarines and wolf pack warfare. These pauses caused significant hardships on the people of England to live on a daily basis. The battle for the Atlantic would culminate in May of 1943, so we are slowly building to that crescendo, and the 8th Air Force will once again cast her lot into this battle. And on December 30, 1942, she does it again, with her fourth raid against the German submarine pens at Laurent, France.
Laurent, France is in the Brittany region and is a natural seaport. So after the fall of France in 1940, the German Navy moved in and built submarine pens from which to conduct warfare operations in the Atlantic. This would be the largest of the German submarine bases on the Atlantic coast. The Germans quote-unquote employed thousands of workers who worked for several years to construct out and make a nearly bomb-proof submarine base. The submarine pens, as they were called, would be constructed of generally three layers.
Two layers of three-meter-thick reinforced concrete, and then a solid steel layer that they called a striping layer along the rooftop, and that helped to dissipate the bombs and spread out shock from those bombs, further protecting the roof. The submarine pens were constructed in such a way that they could withstand up to a 5,000-pound bomb, which frankly, in any era, is pretty strong. So the German submarines are tearing up the Allied merchant shipping and convoys. Their largest base is in Laurent, France, so the strategy is pretty straightforward.
Let's destroy the submarine base and knock out those German operations there. The headquarters of the 8th Air Force, 1st Bombardment Wing, ordered the arming of the aircraft on the afternoon of December 29, 1942. The 305th Bomb Group, their planes would be armed with two 2,000-pound bombs, high-explosive bombs, while the 306th Bomb Group planes would be armed with two 1,600-pound armor-piercing bombs. These are pretty significant bomb loads, but as we have heard, they're up against some pretty formidable targets.
The attack order then came a little after 7 p.m. on the evening of the 29th. The mission briefing was scheduled for 6.30 a.m. and takeoff for 9.30 a.m. on the 30th of December. The mission was to include the 8th Air Force, 1st Bomb Wing, with 77 aircraft from the 91st, 303rd, 305th, and 306th Bomb Groups. The Bomb Groups would meet up near Port Smith, hello Port Smith, I can't wait to get back there again, and then head south over the Brittany Peninsula, and then they were going to be given a choice to fly back either over the peninsula or come back over the Bay of Biscay.
It is interesting to note that the 306th diary mentions that they were not to fly with less than 12 aircraft, but the 303rd Bomb Group, which launched 16 aircraft, they had six aborts, and they still flew the mission with 10 aircraft. So right off the bat, we get conflicting information as to the direction of the mission and the impacts that aborted aircraft are going to have on it. The Bomb Groups started to prepare for the mission, and over at the 306th Bomb Group, the planes and crews were readied.
The 306th was expected to get 18 aircraft into the mission today, but the sketch of the formation shows 19 aircraft, with many of our usual suspects, but there's actually a lot of new faces on this list today. Steele was not noted as flying, but we will see several of his crew members are flying. Major Wilson would be leading the mission from the cockpit of our old friend, the DFC, who, as you might recall, Steele co-piloted on his first mission to Romilly-Sussein.
The others that were flying today out of Steele's squadron, the 423rd Bomb Squadron, were Captain Brady, Lieutenant Chek, Captain McKay, Lieutenant Urey, who was going to be flying Old Faithful 2, and our old friend, Lieutenant Uncle Bill Warner, who was going to be flying with Steele's co-pilot, Second Lieutenant Arnold Carlson. Second Lieutenant Carlson was of Swedish descent, and he was a first-generation American. His parents had immigrated from Sweden and settled in Washington State around 1903. He was 23 years old, 5 feet 6 inches tall, and 119 pounds, which is another reminder that pilots and crews are not the biggest of men, obviously due to the height and weight restrictions on aircraft.
He had enlisted in Los Angeles, California, and after finishing his flight school, he was assigned to Second Lieutenant Steele's crew. He was one of the members that came in on the truck and had arrived on December 11, along with Steele, Hamilton, Hull, Piotrowski, and Reynolds. Lieutenant Uncle Bill Warner and Second Lieutenant Carlson were flying aircraft 25717, which would be an aircraft that they would get to know real well, and again, is one of those no-named F beauties.
When I say F, it refers to the model number of the aircraft. Let's get these aircraft in the air and headed towards the starting point. We will see again today just how much stress and strain combat puts on these aircraft, as the 306 was hit with many abortions, which would be an integral part of the story today. Takeoff was around 9.30 a.m. this morning, and the 306 started to get her aircraft into the air one by one.
There were two immediate issues. Lieutenant Smith of the 368th Bomb Squadron was flying the Yankee Raider and had the number one engine booster coil go out during the pre-takeoff engine rev. Remember, they would rev the engines twice. Every attempt was made to get her back in line, but she was too late and was unable to take off. The second issue was at the staging area, Captain Brady and his crew arrived at the unbearable, only to find her inoperable and in need of repair.
Additionally, Captain Brady was without a bombardier, as the scheduled bombardier was sick with the flu. A lot of the flu was hitting a lot of the crew right now. A message arrived that a replacement bombardier was being sent. Back at the barracks, a call had gone through the 423rd Bombardiers that one was needed as a replacement. So Gardner M. Reynolds stepped forward and volunteered. Reynolds was also part of Steele's crew, and he too had come in on the 11th on the truck with a rest.
Shortly after arriving, too thoroughly, he had actually gotten sick with the flu, but he was now cleared to fly, so he volunteered. He hopped on an old Willis and was sent out to the unbearable. Lieutenant Gardner Meade Reynolds was from Ithaca, New York, and he was named after his mother's maiden name, Gardner, and his father's middle name, Meade. He was 24 years old, and he had been studying civil engineering, which I think counts as a little bit of irony when your current occupation is bombardier.
This would be his first mission, and he was excited for it. He had just gotten out of the hospital the day before with the flu, so he knew exactly what that poor chap who had the flu, what he was going through. Now, what was Captain Brady going to do about a plane? Well, there was a plane available, 42-2975, a no-name deaf beauty that had come over at the end of November. This aircraft was a little unique and will ultimately hold a first in military history.
This aircraft was constructed by the Douglas Manufacturing Company in California and was one of the first ones sent to Europe to engage in combat. The aircraft had been loaded with the two 1,600-pound armor-piercing bombs, and all of her guns and systems checked out. So Captain Brady and co-pilot, 2nd Lieutenant Bernard Healy, who had Babe Ruth-type skills when it came to baseball, yes, that's right, got her in the air and headed for the starting point in southern England.
Let's head over to the 305th Bomb Group since they are integral to our story today. This bomb group was known as the Can-Do's, and they were stationed at Shelveston, England, another one of those non-football towns that no one's probably ever heard of. And it was about 12 miles northwest of Thurley in the 306th. The bomb group was made up of the 364th, 365th, 366th, and the 422nd bomb squadrons. Do you see a pattern here? The 306th is made up of the 367th, 368th, 369th, and the 423rd bomb squadrons.
The 305th started launching their 24 aircraft around 9.30 a.m., and they built their formation and headed for the starting point. The 305th and the 366th bomb squadron did not seem to have a historical society that I could find, so I will piece the puzzle together the best I know it, and will apologize if some certain details are misaligned. Captain Sidney Smith was leading a four-squadron element, or I should say a four-aircraft element of the 366th squadron.
His co-pilot was Lieutenant Breeding, and his special guest in the cockpit, who was actually filming the mission as the S-2, was Colonel Henry Hall. Flying in the number two was Lieutenant Donald McDaniel, and his co-pilot was Lieutenant H.C. Benson. In the number three slot is Lieutenant Floyd Elliott Snooks Love, and Second Lieutenant Kent Wolfson. Kent Wolfson is 22 years old. He's from Kings County, California. Lieutenant Love is 25 years old at the time of this mission, and he'd been a police officer before the war.
When Lieutenant Love got to his aircraft, he was in need of an engineer, but Sarge Kirkendall, like Gardner Reynolds with Captain Brady, had also volunteered to fly as a replacement. Sarge's first name was Raymond, but everybody called him Sarge, and he even signed his letter as home to his beloved mother as Sarge. Sarge was normally part of Captain Vance Beckham's crew, but they were not flying today, so Sarge volunteered, and that was just like Sarge to jump in and help where he could.
A little bit of an anecdote here. I'll throw it in. I don't follow the 305th. They're not part of our series, only when the two units are interacting together, but it does appear that Sarge's normal crew, Vance Beckham's crew, is actually shot down in less than a month in the mission to Wilhelmshaven, Germany, which we will have in a future episode about. The rest of Lieutenant Love's crew included the 27-year-old bombardier, 2nd Lieutenant Lawrence Goreski, 2nd Lieutenant Frank Watchel is the navigator.
He's from Los Angeles, California, where it seems a lot of, or a good number of the crews are from, and he's 25 years old. Tech Sergeant Roland Digman is from West Virginia, and he's manning the radio, and the gunners on this aircraft are Sergeant Larry DeBruyn from Mahuska County, Iowa. He appears to be 23 years old at the time of this flight, and he enlisted in our old stomping grounds, Fort Des Moines, Iowa. 21-year-old Staff Sergeant Peter Galarza of San Mateo, California, the 22-year-old from Wabash County, Illinois, Raymond Bandy, and Staff Sergeant Robert Joyce, the 24-year-old from Spokane, Washington.
And then in the number four slot, bringing up the last of this element, is Captain Everett Tribbett, and his co-pilot is Lieutenant Harry Reardon. Okay, so this puzzle is starting to come together. The 305th Bomb Group crossed the starting point and headed for the French Coast. Between takeoff and the coast, they had 11 aborts, and so that is where Captain Brady of the 423rd Squadron is able to catch up with them, and he attaches himself to the open element of the 366th Bomb Squadron.
So you're probably asking yourself, what happened to the 306th Bomb Group? Where are they? Well, Major Wilson was leading the 306th, and they had 18 aircraft scheduled for the mission when, after takeoff, the planes started to abort one after the other. And by the time the 306th reached the French Coast, they had less than 12 required to complete the mission. So, Major Wilson turned the Bomb Group around and headed back to Thurley. Therefore, by the time Captain Brady had caught up, he was only able to catch the 366th Bomb Squadron because the 306th had already turned back for Thurley and home.
At Resport in France, the 40 aircraft of the four Bomb Groups banked left and headed for the subpins at Lorient. The 305th was in the lead and was the first over the target at around 1138 AM. This was followed by the 91st, then the 303rd. Obviously, Captain Brady, the black sheep, was in the 305th Group and was over the target first. Captain Brady had turned the controls over to 2nd Lieutenant Gardner Reynolds, and Reynolds guided the plane in and dropped the two, and only two, armor-piercing bombs on the submarine pins.
The other aircraft were all carrying the 2,000-pound high-explosive blockbusters. The bombs were well-placed, and the pins suffered many hits, but as I mentioned earlier, this place was built like a brick outhouse. So, the results were minimal, even if, in aggregate, they were cumulative, since this was the fourth time it had been hit. After the bomb run, a sharp bank left was made. Captain Brady stayed in formation on the right side of Captain Tribbett. The squadron looped around the city in a half-circle, then headed into the Bay of Biscay and out to sea.
The Bomb Group was allowed to decide to either head back overland or head out to sea and then home. The decision was made, it would be the sea route home. Okay, here is the visual part of the podcast, so no closing your eyes while you're driving, please. From Lorient, the Bomb Group would head south-southwest, then turn north and pass the Brest Peninsula, keeping it on their right. Then they would head north-northeast to their starting point and home.
You got it? Here's another example of how Mother Nature can be ruthless and unforgiving. As the Bomb Group headed out to sea on their south-southwest course, they were facing a 70 to 80 mile an hour headwind that slowed their progress and shortened their distance or time that they were at sea. That meant, keeping this picture in mind, that when they turned north and having or expecting to have the Brest Peninsula on their right, they actually would cross over the Brest Peninsula.
And this mistake would add to the confusion and have a devastating effect on the mission. It is also important to note that the pilots recorded the time at sea was much longer than they had expected, which is further evidence that the headwinds and then the crosswinds were slowing them down and pushing them back over land. And by the time they reached the Brest Peninsula, they would cross it instead of it being on their right. Captain Sidney Smith of the 366th Bomb Squadron, 305th Bomb Group, continued to lead the five plane element, which includes Captain Brady from the 423rd Bomb Squadron.
The other aircraft are Lieutenant McDaniel in the number two slot, Lieutenant Love in the number three, and Captain Tribbett in the number four. This element continued north and then Brest was spotted. Thinking this was Land's End, yes, the verbiage Land's End was used in the mission reports, Brest was mistaken for Port Smith or some other English city, and Captain Brady broke formation and headed inland to the right and northeast. The mission reports also note that the crews in all of the aircraft were a little too relaxed, thinking that they were home since they had been over water for way too long.
Not long after Captain Brady broke formation, the flak started. The mistake was realized, and then the ship was jumped and tagged by a Focke-Wulf 190. It only took one pass, and the Focke-Wulf pilot had scored heavily against Captain Brady in the no-name 42-2975. An engine was quickly feathered, then another caught fire, and the ship was quickly losing altitude as Captain Brady and Second Lieutenant Bernard Healy tried to keep her under control. Garner Reynolds was manning a side-nosed machine gun, and each of the crew members were at their battle stations, but the damage had been done.
The plane remained under control as she slid under the separated formation. No one had been wounded as the strike had hit the engines, and now the controls were shot out, literally. The plane hit 4,000 feet, and Captain Brady ordered the bailout. They had flown back over water when the bailout was called, and they were not able to secure the life raft. They knew they could not last long in the frigid water, and the sea was rough that day, obviously being driven by the high winds.
This is a crew that we are familiar with, and it was a highly skilled crew, except for Garner Reynolds, who again was replacing the bombardier, and was on his first mission. General Lieutenant Warner Lewis, the navigator, exited the plane through the nose hatch, and Garner Reynolds quickly followed, and he lost his shoes on the way out, which, frankly, is problematic. James Carberry, the flight engineer, followed Reynolds out of the nose hatch, through the nose hatch, but he kept his shoes.
Co-pilot Bernard Healy, who I mentioned before was an excellent baseball player, jumped out along with the rest of the crew. Captain William Nesbitt, radioman, Sergeant Eugene Stein, who you may recall had been slightly wounded in a previous mission, Private, now Sergeant, Edward Sansky, who was credited with downing one of those Messerschmitt Fokkers at 900 yards, Sergeant John Valerani, and Sergeant James Gaffney. Then Captain John Brady exited, our preacher's kid from Colorado. When Sidney Smith and the rest of the elements of the 366th Bomb Squadron, they could see the parachutes, and they knew they were over water, and without a life raft, they were in trouble.
But then fate again cast an ugly lot. The Fokker Wolf started to take passes, firing at the parachutists, which made this Fokker Wolf a real Fokker. Even though their fate was almost certain, due to jumping out over water in late December, the parachute attacks by the Fokker Wolf was too much for the 366th Bomb Squadron to take, and they banked hard right and dove on the Fokker Wolf. I wonder what the conversation was like in Lieutenant Love's aircraft.
Look at that bastard. Let's go get him. A bomber versus a fighter in a one-on-one match is not normally much of a fight. As a pilot, you are accountable for the other nine members of your crew and the aircraft. But seeing the suspended men of Captain Brady's plane was too much for them to take, and Lieutenant Snook's love was going to take the fight to the Fokker Wolf. As soon as Captain Smith's element broke off and dove to support Captain Brady and his crew, the Fokker Wolf broke off its strafing runs and accepted the duel, while also inviting some of his friends to join in.
Captain Sidney Smith banked hard right and took the four aircraft in his element into a 360-degree turn, and the Fokker Wolves laid into them. This was an excellent squadron of fine shooting pilots, even if they were bastards without yellow noses. Six years later, a couple of the surviving pilots would recall that they did not really see much due to the intense combat and the necessity of duty in flying the aircraft. This was in response to an inquiry into the downing of 42-5078 and the assistance provided to 42-2975.
What people remember six years later is blurred by time, sitting on memories fogged by war. However, it helps to illustrate how intense those 10 or 15 minutes must have been. As Captain Smith's element held their bank and 360-degree turn, the Fokker Wolves pressed their attacks and tagged both Captain Tribbett and Lt. Love's aircrafts. It was a quick kill, and just like Brady, Lt. Love's aircraft, 42-5078, burst into flames and headed for the sea. Claude Galloway, the radio operator in Captain Tribbett's aircraft, seems to be the only witness, as neither Smith nor McDaniel's aircrafts recorded any witness statements other than they never saw it hit and it never came home, and Lt.
McDaniel commented he never saw Lt. Love's or Captain Tribbett's planes after the 360-degree turn. As radio man Galloway watched Lt. Love's aircraft head down in flames, he was severely wounded by 20mm cannon fire as it came ripping through the fuselage of the aircraft. The aircraft took another peppering of gunfire, and now Sgt. Kicklighter, the tail gunner, and Sgt. Morris, the engineer, were also severely wounded, while the co-pilot, Harry Reardon, was slightly wounded in the attack. It is about this time that Lt.
McDaniel's crew shoots down two of the enemy aircraft, so maybe that is why Captain Tribbett's plane was allowed to escape and head for England. He was separated from Smith and McDaniel. He did bring it home, and he and Lt. Reardon would get credit for bringing in a crippled aircraft. Lt. Love's aircraft crashed into the sea. There were no parachutes spotted, and it makes us think about the sacrifice that these young men made while trying to rescue friends that they never met, and what kind of courage it took to make such a sacrifice knowing that they certainly would be attacked.
And what of the family of Sarge Kirkendall, who was never supposed to be on Lt. Love's aircraft, but volunteered when a fellow crew member was sick? Speaking of replacements on ill-fated flights, what about Gardner Reynolds? Gardner Reynolds' chute opened, and the wind was driving him away from his crewmates. He saw the rest of the chutes come out of the plane, and he continued to be pushed further away from them. As his chute spun around, he saw land and a lighthouse, so he started to pull frantically on the shroud lines, trying to reach the lighthouse, even if it were not operating.
Gardner came down in the water about a hundred feet from the lighthouse, and he was tangled in his shroud lines. To his amazement, he could touch the bottom. It was rocky and cold. It was so cold, and his feet were getting cut up. Remember, he'd lost his shoes exiting the aircraft. There's no way you could live long wet in these temperatures. He made it to the lighthouse, and he climbed a ladder that led to a door, and he crawled inside out of the wind and out of the cold.
He never saw any of his crewmates again, and he never saw the aircraft hit the water. He was freezing. He had just gotten out of the hospital, but he was alive and out of the wind. It was not long before a French fishing boat approached the lighthouse, and Gardner was thinking he was saved. He rushed down the ladder, in bare feet, and back into the elements, and straight into the arms of his rescuers, the German army.
The German soldiers had secured the boat to look for the parachutists, and had found one survivor. Gardner was suffering terribly from hypothermia, and could not imagine that anyone else could have survived those waters. His captors took him to a German hospital in Brest, before sending him to Stalag Luft III POW camp in Poland. Second Lieutenant Gardner Reynolds was now a POW and missing in action. This would be his first and only mission of the war. The history of the 306th Bomb Group and the 423rd Bomb Squadron would list him as killed in action, just like the rest of Captain Brady's crew, and it was some 47 years later that it was a surprise that he was still alive.
Steele knew Gardner Reynolds was alive, and they had stayed in touch after the war. Then one day, Steele saw Reynolds was listed in the history of the unit as killed in action. Hey Gardner, I thought you were dead. What does that mean? The unit history has you listed as KIA. Well, that's not right. Gardner made a phone call to the group historian and got an updated status. After the war, Gardner finished his civil engineering degree from Cornell University.
He joined a firm in New York. He then retired to California, where he passed away in 1994. Captain John Brady, the preacher's kid from Colorado, and the rest of his crew were killed, presumed drowned, or maybe even gunned down, but their bodies were never recovered. We are only a few episodes into this series, and I feel like I know Captain Brady and his crew. This old photograph certainly doesn't hurt either. I feel like we've just got to know them, and now they're gone.
Captain Brady and Second Lieutenant Healy were good pilots and well-liked. The 423rd Combat Diary describes the incident as a sad day. The military history first that I mentioned earlier relates to B-17F number 422975, the plane that Captain Brady and his crew were flying. This was the first B-17F produced by the Douglas Manufacturing Company, under the license from Boeing, to be shot down and lost in combat. Now there's a piece of trivia that's sure to win you a cup of coffee.
Lieutenant Floyd Snook's Love's crew suffered a worse fate in that they all perished, and none of their bodies were ever recovered. They were killed trying to help other crews, and maybe it was their actions that saved Gardner Reynolds. This episode was a chance to tell their story and recognize their courage and sacrifice. The families were notified just after the New Year that Love's and Brady's crews were MIA. Later, it would be upgraded to presumed KIA. The years after the mission were spent trying to find the crews and piece together the puzzle.
In a letter from Major James Smith of the Memorial Division to Mrs. Kirkendall, Sarge's mother, he writes, Realizing the extent of your grief and anxiety, it is not easy to express condolence to you who gave your loved one under circumstances so difficult that there is no grave at which to pay homage. May the knowledge of your son's honorable service to his country be a source of sustaining comfort to you. Major Smith had written a powerful letter, but it still was without resolution for family members wanting to know what had happened and where they were.
Destroying the subpins would eventually be given up, and so the Allies turned to destroying the city of Laurent instead. Leaflets were dropped, then the city was nearly leveled in repeated raids, making the submarine operations nearly non-existent. Let's now get an update on our parallel story. Our Evades, how are they doing? Remember Frank-Bob Lessman from Nygard's aircraft? He was picked up by a local French underground soldier named Colette Florin. I don't know how many airmen Colette saved or tried to save, but Frank-Bob was most likely one of the early rescuers, or rescuees I should say.
Colette's story is captured in the book called In the Shadows of War, An American Pilot's Odyssey Through Occupied France and the Camps of Nazi Germany by Thomas Childress, so I would encourage you to read more about it. Frank-Bob was hidden in the woods 20 miles west of Paris and was being taken care of by the local French people. But as the searching for the downed airmen heated up, Frank-Bob decided to move on so not to endanger his French rescuers, but by moving, he was soon captured.
John Trost, Nygard's bombardier, had just arrived in December, and now he was an evadee in France after being shot down. He landed near Negri, France, and was examined over by four French farmers, who then sent him to some woods to hide. A week later, he found himself in Paris, being hidden by the French underground. Captain McGee, he landed in a field and was met by 15 French women, but he moved on anyway and started walking west.
One week later, he's still walking west and getting help from French civilians along the way. How about Erwin Wiesenbach? Well, he is alive and well, even if one of those Yelenas bastards had tried to gun him down as he parachuted to the ground. He's moving south and west and making a lot of French friends along the way, not to mention that very nice German officer who sat next to him on the train. This concludes Episode 4, I Thought You Were Dead.
Stay tuned as the next mission will bring 42-29524 over to England to join her mates, and Steel will fly with Jones to bomb the other sub-pin in Saint-Nazaire, France, an old friend. And maybe we get another update on those Evades that the Krauts are having a hard time finding. Until next time, just think of the things you can find when you're looking for something else. Gaspar out.
