During World War II, the stories of B-17 bombers and their crews from the 306th Bomb Group in Thurley, England are shared. One of the B-17s is named Meat Hound, flown by the narrator's uncle. These men were part of the Allied strategic bombing campaign that helped stop the Nazi war machine. The story begins with a group of flyers driving through the cold English countryside. They are replacements and know the dangers of flying, but they are ready for the challenges that lie ahead. The 306th Bomb Group is stationed in Thurley, England and their mission is to bomb Nazi-occupied Europe. The group arrived in September 1942 and flew their first mission in October. The campaign is taking a toll and replacements are needed. The flyers understand the risks, but they are determined to do their job and hopefully survive their 25 mission tour of duty.
Hello, and welcome to the adventures of Meat Hound and his friends. These are the stories of World War II B-17 bombers and their crews from 1942 to 1944 that were assigned to the squadrons of the 306th Bomb Group in Thurley, England. One of the B-17s in this group was named Meat Hound, and one of Meat Hound's pilots was my uncle. These are the stories of the men in planes who were the pioneers of the Allied strategic bombing campaign that eventually brought the Nazi war machine to a grinding halt.
Thank you for joining me on this adventure, and enjoy. This is the unscripted version. The Beginning Our adventure begins on December 11, 1942, just outside of London, England. It was freezing cold that day, literally freezing. A U.S. Army truck, what they called a deuce and a half, rumbled through the English countryside on roads that had been scarred from lack of maintenance and occasional bombs. As the deuce and a half rumbled through the English countryside, the cold air slipped through the canvas sides of the truck, biting the truck's passengers at every turn.
The passengers in the truck, well, they were 17 fliers of the 423rd Bomb Squadron. They were passing time with jokes, stories, lucky strikes, and the occasional complaint about the cold. Most of the fliers in the truck, they had known each other because they had trained with each other over the past year. You really get to know someone in training, and that meant something, especially on the missions they were about to partake in. There were a couple of new faces in the truck, but most were known, and that was comforting.
Halfway across the world, Seattle, Washington was a bustling city. There were not as many coffee shops as there are now, because we all know there's a Starbucks on every corner, but I suppose the next best thing in 1942 was a Woolworth's lunch counter and a five-cent cup of coffee. Seattle can get cold in December, but on this day, it was in the low 50s with no rain, and that was nice. The Boeing Assembly Plant was drafty, even on warm days, but the workers did not mind, as they knew they were part of something big, bigger than anything they had ever been a part of, and bigger than anything any of them will ever experience again.
Sitting on the tarmac in Seattle, Washington, at the Boeing Assembly Plant, was plane number 42-295-24. She was sitting there in her original beauty, waiting for her final touches to be applied, and one would wonder what her fate would be. No matter her fate, there was never any doubt she would do her job. She was a marvelous machine, the latest generation of evolution, an F model, built in the finest factory in the world, Boeing, and now, after a few more touches, gauge adjustments, instrument alignments, and a good revving, twice, you will always rev the engines twice, she would be off into the wild blue yonder.
Now, back to England. With every bounce and bump in the road, the flyers wished they were dealing with turbulence, and not the English roads. Private First Class Williams was driving the pilots. He was a good driver, and he had hoped to be sent to mechanic school in Georgia, because of the perfect scores on his exams. His lieutenant fell in favor with him, but maybe it was a ruse, because he never got to go, and he never got those extra stripes he was so hoping to get.
You see, the money meant something to him, and those extra stripes meant a few more dollars each month. Williams had been driving five nights in a row, and taking pilots out to the airfields, which made for long nights. Hopefully, there would be no surprise inspections tomorrow, because the days were already long, and getting the deuce and a half clean by morning would be a chore. However, he wasn't exactly sure, and he had been surprised on inspections in the past.
Williams made the mistake on his first trip to call the group pilots, but he was quickly corrected. They were not pilots, they were flyers. Commissioned officers, non-commissioned officers, and private first class flyers. Some were pilots, but there were also navigators, bombardiers, gunners, and mechanics. A commissioned officer meant you had some schooling or training, so when you started your career in the military, you started out at an officer level with some authority and a higher pay. Non-commissioned officers, or NCOs, well, they were the enlisted men and women who joined the military as a private, and had worked their way up to an officer level, like a sergeant or a corporal.
Let's face it, the NCOs have been described as the backbone of the US military for a reason, and in World War II, they earned that mantra. The women and men in this series are part of the greatest generation. That future generation owes a certain debt of gratitude towards, especially as we sip our grande pumpkin spice latte. Speaking of Starbucks in Seattle, I wonder how our friend is doing. As Williams drove those country roads, he wondered what the flyers fate would be.
He had spent a lot of time around airfields, and he knew the dangers of flying. In fact, he'd seen a pilot like these suffer engine failure and crash into the barracks next to his. So he wondered, what would their fate be? The flyers though, they didn't think of it, at least out loud. They were replacements, they knew the dangers, they saw what had happened in training, and that was when no one was shooting at them. They had good instructors, so they thought they knew what they were in for.
But let's face it, they really did not know what challenges were coming for them. The pilots in Williams's truck had never flown planes as big as bombers, four engine bombers. So when you start to add in air crews, bombs, machine guns, ammunition, and pamphlets, yes, they did drop pamphlets. Well, you increase the weight of the plane. And when that weight shifts, and you mix in inexperienced pilots, it makes for a very dangerous cocktail. So what does that mean? That means experience matters, and unfortunately mistakes kill people, which makes the venture of flying a hazardous one, even when someone is not shooting at you.
But let's face it, crashes were not the only deaths in training. Most men and women were killed by prop bite, you can imagine what that is, moving aircraft, machine guns, trucks, even ventures into town. The list goes on. The flyers on Williams's truck had seen it all. They had seen accidents in training, but mostly they knew they were replacements, which meant they were replacing someone, and they were replacing someone for a reason. What they did not know was what it was really going to be like in combat.
The good news was they had survived training. So they at least had a basic level of experience from which they could build. If of course, they could live that long. So who were these flyers replacing? And what had happened to them? That brings us to Thurley, England. Thurley, England and its airfield was only 66 miles north of London. Have you ever heard of Thurley? Me neither. They don't even have a football team. And frankly, that's how I identify English cities.
So Thurley was new to me. Thurley would be the home of the 306th Bomb Squadron, and it would be the home of the 17 flyers for their tour of duty. So what was a tour of duty? How long would they be there? For this group of flyers in the beginning of the war, it was 25 missions. Your tour of duty would last 25 missions. It's important to note here that the 25 mission objective was not in practice when these pilots arrived.
It was in concept, and it was under review, but it had not been established. But it eventually was accepted and adopted. And this was due to the fact that air crews were quickly being lost and morale was deteriorating. So for now, we will say, if you can fly 25 missions, then you don't get to go home. But you do get another job in the Army, and one that might be a little bit safer until the war is over.
Thurley is a small community and in 1942, this small community had her hands full with high spirited yanks. You can only imagine. It was the home of the 306th Bombardment Group Heavy, which was assigned to the Eighth Air Force. The Eighth Air Force was known as the Mighty Eight, and they were the primary overseer of B-17 bombers and their crews fighting against Nazi-occupied Europe. The Eighth Air Force, however, they flew everything. They flew B-24 Liberators, they flew P-38s, eventually P-51s, but the B-17 bomber, that was their primary bomber during the war.
One important note, in World War II, the Air Force was not an independent branch of the military, like it is today. It was part of the Army, and it was known as the Army Air Corps. The 306th Bomb Group got to England, Thurley specifically, which was going to be their home for the next three years, on September 6th, a very important birthday indeed, and they then flew their first mission on October 9th, 1942. Their mission that day was to bomb the locomotive works at Lille, France.
You will hear more about Lille, France in an upcoming episode, where they lost their first ship and her crew. The mission report of the 306th states that it was Captain Oleson's ship that went down. A few parachutes were spotted. The ship, which was a B-17F, numbered 41-245-10, was lagging the formation on a way into the bomb run. It was never good to fall out of formation or to lag behind. Maybe she had been hit by flak and slowed.
No matter the cause, she was out of formation, unprotected, and she was hunted like a pack of orcas on a whale. That first mission in October was then followed by ten missions in November. The weather was particularly good that month, but now replacements were needed. This is sad, really. Missions meant lost crews, and to already need replacements, well that says something about the campaign and the battles which had ensued. The flyers in Williams's truck, they did not think much about dying.
They knew it was possible, but it was always going to be the other guy, never them. If one out of three was going to die, then you always look to your left and then your right, and you wondered who it would be, but rarely did you ever look at yourself. Another thing was, they were much too young to die. Most of them were in their early 20s or younger. Young indeed. Today though, they were relatively safe.
The German air raids on England had greatly subsided, and if there was attack, well, the U.S. Army, U.S. Army Air Corps, and Uncle Sam would be there to help. The real danger today was with Williams, but he was a good driver, even if he were tired. There is another important replacement in this story, and that is the replacement known to the Army Air Corps as 42-295-24. Like the 17 flyers on Williams's truck, she would get her orders, assignment, and schedule and head for England.
It had been decided she would head to England, but how she gets there is much more exotic, and it is also very similar to how the great Jimmy Stewart gets to England. The deuce and a half pulled up to the gate. Williams announced his delivery and proceeded into the compound. The truck stopped, and the flyers beat Williams out of the truck. They started to disembark. Second Lieutenant Steele looked around the gray airfield. It was still cold and still biting.
Second Lieutenant Hamilton said a few words to Steele, but he was interrupted by announcements. Officers are to report to the briefing room. There was a meeting, introductions, and the announcement that the squadron would be flying tomorrow. The weather was supposed to improve. Steele, Steele, just like Sheboygan. I love saying the name Steele. It has bravado, and like a character out of a dime novel, Steele was from the great state of Texas, Hunt County, Texas specifically, which is a little north and east of Dallas.
He grew up right down the dirt road from Audie Murphy, but they didn't know each other, at least before the war. Do you know who Audie Murphy is? If you do, do you know him as the cowboy or the soldier? Maybe you've seen his grave at Arlington National Cemetery or his statue in Greenville, Texas. By December of 1942, Steele's family had been in Texas for a couple of generations where they had settled before the U.S. Civil War.
His grandfather, William, married a McKinney from north Texas, but there is no relation to Colin McKinney that I can find. Second Lieutenant David Steele was five feet nine inches tall with steel blue eyes, brown hair, on a 160-pound frame. He had just turned 23 years of age, just a little under two months before he arrived in Thurley. Second Lieutenant Hamilton, who I mentioned before, was Steele's friend and a B-17 navigator. He was a Tar Heel from North Carolina and they were good friends.
Steele and Hamilton were assigned to the 423rd Heavy Bomb Squadron, which was part of the 306th Bombardment Group. The rest of the 306th Bomb Group was made up of the 367th, 368th, and 369th Heavy Bomb Squadrons. It sounds like the 423rd was the stepbrother or sister of the group, the outcast, but they would hold their own. Steele and Hamilton walked towards the briefing room and they could feel the eyes on them. Replacements, replacements, they were replacements.
Do you know what veterans think of replacements? Not much. It wasn't that the veterans didn't like them, it was more the fact that it was tough getting to know someone and then the next day they were gone. But here's the irony, especially in this air war, and that was the replacements, well they could say the same thing about the veterans. Foreshadow? Maybe. Speaking of the next day, the 17 replacements were a welcome sight, especially for the 423rd Bomb Squadron.
The squadron had been grounded and declared non-operational since November 21st, and to a bunch of flyers, being grounded is like a bird with clipped wings. But with replacements, tomorrow the 423rd Squadron would fly. So yes indeed, these replacements were welcomed. The mission. A call went out to the briefing room. Lieutenant Boggs and Second Lieutenant Steele. Sir, you both are flying with Lieutenant Warner tomorrow. Uncle Bill Warner, not Meade Warner who you came in with. Lieutenant Boggs and Meade Warner were both replacements and were on Steele's truck when they arrived at Thurley.
Uncle Bill Warner though, he had been with the squadron since March of 1942. A regular pioneer you might say. The squadron meeting was quiet and technically very early the next morning. There was an edge in the air with a little nervous energy to spare. The primary objective is Romilly-Soussane, just south and east of Paris. If there are any issues, then the secondary target is Villa Koublais, just south of Paris, and then the last resort target will be the Rolling Stock and the Marshaling Yards at Rouen, which is just north and west of Paris.
The 423rd will be led by Captains Mack MacKay and John Brady. The other pilots will be Lieutenant William Warner, Raymond Check, Robert Riordan, and Purvis Urie. What is so important about Romilly-Soussane? I've never heard of it. It was some sort of Luftwaffe depot repair facility or conglomerate or something. Have we ever bombed it before? No. This would be the first time. This is a good place to stop episode one, The Adventure Begins. It is mid-December 1942, and we are in Thurley, England with the 423rd Bomb Squadron, which is part of the 306th Bombardment Group.
The war is in full swing. The Germans are heavily engaged at Stalingrad and had just suffered a significant defeat at El Alamein in North Africa, so the once-invincible German army has been punched in the face. Desert rats tend to have that effect on people. France, well, it remained under German occupation, and the American and British planes have started a bombardment campaign on German infrastructure in France. Our friends with the 423rd Heavy Bomb Squadron have been grounded since November due to the loss of air crews from missions in October and November, along with some other operational issues.
Second Lieutenant Steele, with his Texas draw, and Second Lieutenant Orman Hamilton, with his southern Tar Heel accent, have arrived on the scene as replacements, welcomed replacements, because it now means the 423rd can fly again. Our friend 42-295-24 is in Seattle, where she is having her finishing touches so eloquently detailed. The next episode will encompass the full flight of Second Lieutenant Steele's first mission to Ramalli-Sussein and back. Until next time, just think of the things you can find when you are looking for something else.
Gaspar out.
