Crossing paths

Flight Journal, Dec 2002

On August 13, 1944, our 320th Bomb Group posted an all-out mission in an attempt to knock out the long-range guns that overlooked Toulon harbor. We had not been told, but the invasion of Southern France was just two days away, and these guns could wreak havoc on the landing forces.

Decimomannu, our airfield on Sardinia, was 8,000 feet long and six oiled-dirt strips wide. We made a nightformation takeoff in flights of three. Each flight flew alone to a rendezvous point on the northern tip of the island, and at dawn's first light, we formed into a nineship squadron and climbed northwest across the Mediterranean. I was flying my sixth mission as copilot for Lt. Klug, and we were in the number-three position in the second flight on the left wing of a plane piloted by Lt. James Hipple.

On the bomb run, we encountered heavy flak, as expected. A barrage from 105mm guns rocked our three-ship flight, and flames instantly erupted from Hipple's right engine. His Marauder went into a steep bank, and the plane on his right wing dropped down and under to follow the main formation that had released its bombs and was breaking to the left. Klug did not see the fire and was flying tight formation on a plane that might explode at any moment.

"He's on fire," I hollered, and then I pointed to the main formation. Klug saw the flames at last and broke away. We salvoed our bombs and started an intercept curve for the rest of the squadron, Our tail gunner saw five chutes from Hippie's plane. We learned later from the surviving crew that Hippie had stayed with the plane until he was sure everyone was out, and when he eventually bailed out, he was too low for his chute to open.

Later, when the dramatic photo of the aircraft with the engine blown off was shown around, some of our crew claimed it must be a picture of Lt. James Hippie's aircraft-- same target, same engine. Short-timers in a squadron don't have much credibility, but this time, I was the prime witness. I told them, for sure, that the plane with the engine blown off was not our flight leader. After weeks of sorting out conflicting accounts, Wing Intelligence at last and decisively established that the plane in the picture was Flossie's Fury, number Five-Zero from the 95th Squadron, 17th Bomb Group. It was an odd coincidence, and it happened a very long time ago, but it was my first connection with George Moscovis.