Looking Back: A Tail Gunner''s View of WWII is the sometimes humorous, sometimes tragic story of the author''s service in the US Army Air Forces from 1942 to 1945. S/Sgt. VanBlair was tail gunner with a B-24 crew and flew missions over Europe from December 1942 until April 1944. Written to honor the memory of his crew, the book is especially dedicated to Albert Spadafora, his friend who was more like a brother. You’ll share his grief when Albert is killed, his anxious moments as he flies through the flak-filled skies over Berlin and watches German fighters gang up on lagging B-24s, the sadness of seeing the empty beds of men whose planes are lost. The climax of the book is his account of the crew''s last mission, when they lead a formation to Berlin. His hard by flak and fighters, they ditch in the North Sea with the loss of five men. You''ll be caught up in his description of the ditching, his struggle to escape the wreckage, and his thoughts as he floats for an hour in the icy-cold water while realizing that his chances of survival are slim.
Born in Quincy, Illinois, in 1921, DaleVanBlair enlisted in the Army Air Forces in November 1942 and served as a tail gunner with a B-24 crew. On his eighteenth mission his crew led a formation of B-24s to Berlin and sustained fighter and flak damage that forced them to ditch in the frigid North Sea with the loss of fine men. VanBlair’s injuries resulted in his being grounded. Following his discharge in October 1945, he graduated from Quincy University and then taught high school English. For seventeen years prior to his retirement in 1982, he served as English Department chairman in a large high school in Belleville, Illinois, the city in which he still lives.
As we approached Berlin, Lt. Delclisur reported that not enough power was being
generated to operate the bombsight properly and that we would have to bomb by
radar, even though there was not enough undercast to
interfere with the more accurate visual bombing. Immediately upon entering the bomb run we ran
into intense flak. One shell scored a
direct hit but, fortunately, was a dud.
Instead of exploding on contact, it put our #3 engine out of commission
and exited through the top of the wing, leaving a gaping hole. If the shell had exploded, the wing would
have buckled and our plane would have gone down. I’ve often wondered if some
slave laborer had sabotaged that shell.
In the few minutes we were over Berlin,
our plane was hit several other times, but none of our crew was wounded. Luck was still with us.
Our luck ran out, however. The disabled engine was leaking gasoline,
which could result in our running out before getting back to England.
Then, just after Lt. Delclisur released the flare
that signaled the other planes to drop their bombs, our generators went
completely out, leaving us with no power for gun turrets, radio, intercom, and
other electrical equipment.
Not long after turning away from
the target, we were again attacked by a group of FW-190s and a few
ME-109s. Since we were caught without
fighter support, the Germans were free to give us their undivided
attention. One flew by so close to me
going from front to rear that I thought I might recognize the pilot if we ever
met again. The loss of intercom and my
limited view from my tail turret kept me ignorant of the engine problems and
leaking gas; however, I knew we must have problems besides the loss of
electrical power when I saw that we had dropped back to the rear of the
formation.
The loss of power for turrets was
a major concern to me. After going
through the simple procedure for converting to hand cranks and foot firing
pedals, I practiced maneuvering the guns and turret. As I already knew, the emergency system was a
far cry from the hand control that activated the hydraulic system. Using the hand cranks, I could not turn the
turret and elevate or lower the pair of fifties nearly fast enough to track any
German plane that came into my view. The
German that had attacked from the front and flown by so close to me had zoomed
out of range long before I could do anything.
Had my turret been operating normally, I’d have had a good chance of
downing him. Fortunately, none of the enemy made a direct attack on our plane
from the tail except for one FW-190 that started my direction but swerved when
I fired. I triggered a burst
occasionally, primarily in the hope that the Germans would think my turret was
functioning properly and stay clear. The
front and top turret gunners were also operating their turrets manually and
doing their best, along with the waist gunners, to fend off the Germans, most
of whom were attacking from the front.