TAIL-END CHARLIE

Flight Journal, Oct 2004 by Cleaver, Thomas McKelvey

A P-47 PILOT BARELY ESCAPES WITH HIS LIFE

December 15, 1944, dawned cloudy and cold over the Allied airfield at Venlo, Holland. Among the many USAAF and RAF units based there was the 373rd Fighter Group, which had been flying P-47D Thunderbolts on ground-sapport missions since its first assignment over France on May 8, 1944. Since July 3, the Group had been based on the Continent near the frontlines, participating in the battles in northwestern Europe that summer and fall. At mail call that morning, 1st Lt. John D. Rutherford of the 411th Fighter Squadron received a letter from his cousin Bobby Grant, who was a member of the 78th Infantry Division now based near Venlo (in what would become, within 24 hours, the center of the Battle of the Bulge). Rutherford hadn't seen his cousin since 1942, so he decided to try to visit him at the front. The group commander had forbidden the Wing's pilots to drive, as there had been several fatalities when they were based near Rheims, in the Champagne area, so Rutherford stopped by the Group Ops office to see whether there was a chance of catching a ride. There was, but in the afternoon, and Rutherford had already been assigned to an afternoon dive-bombing mission of a German artillery unit in the vicinity of Jackerath, just across the Roer River and a few miles west of Düsseldorf. He asked Ops officer Capt. Sam Marshall to reassign him to the morning mission that was to take off within the hour; he would then be able to see his cousin in the afternoon. To get the change, he had to accept assignment as "tail-end Charlie."

"By that time, I had flown 45 combat missions without so much as a dent in my airplane, so like most 20-year-olds who don't know any better, I figured I was immortal; there was nothing the Germans could do to me that I had to worry about. This was in spite of the fact that the unit was losing five or six pilots a month, and with a standard assignment of 28 pilots, we had already gone through 100 percent casualties."

One good thing was that Rutherford would be flying wing to fellow 1st Lt. John J. "Jack" Reynolds, who had been his best friend since flight school and with whom he had joined the 373rd as a replacement pilot in early August.

"At about 1100, we arrived over Jackerath and could see the positions of the artillery unit in the center of the town. We were three flights of four each. As you dived, you fired your eight .50-calibers to keep their heads down, and then you dropped your two 500-pounders from about 3,500 feet. If you were farther forward in the formation, as you pulled out and presented them with a nice target, the guy right behind you opened fire, and that kept them down long enough to get out of the area. When you flew tail-end Charlie, you were all alone; when you pulled out, they came out of their holes and started shooting. The best way to confuse them was to change speed, direction and altitude during pullout."

Rutherford rolled into his dive right behind Reynolds.

"There was considerable smoke and fire in the town, and I aimed for the edge of the area where I saw parked wagons and trucks. As I pulled off the target, I made a steep climbing turn to the left, so I'd be able to see where my bombs hit. I held a predictable course just long enough for the Germans to fire four 88mm flak guns simultaneously, and they had, in fact, cut the gun fuses just right: four terrific explosions bracketed me. I looked at my wings and saw what looked like several hundred holes. Suddenly, the cockpit filled with black smoke, and I could barely see the instrument panel. I immediately went to full oxygen, but the system must have taken a hit because I was choking. The only instrument I saw was the altimeter, which read a steady 5,000 feet. I could feel that the plane had slowed and was on the edge of a stall-spin and that I needed to get some speed. I pushed the stick forward to no effect. I turned to look back and couldn't see the tail surfaces, which had probably been knocked off."

Squadron leader Capt. Richard Gibian heard Rutherford's radio call.

"Butcher leader, this is Yellow Four; I've been hit!" Gibian spotted Rutherford's "mortally wounded" Thunderbolt below and headed toward the Roer River, which was the frontline in that area.

"Roger, Yellow Four; I see you," he replied. "You are trailing a lot of black smoke. Stay on course; you're headed toward friendly territory. Stay with it until you cross the river and then bail out."

"Roger, Butcher leader," Rutherford replied.

Jack Reynolds flew low through the smoke and suddenly saw Rutherford above and to the right just as flames shot out of his friend's turbo exhaust.

"I remembered that in a training film, they said that in such a situation, the Thunderbolt had 30 seconds before it would blow up," he recalled. "Johnny! Bail out! Johnny! Bail out!" Reynolds screamed over the radio.

When Rutherford heard his friend, he didn't have to be told twice. "I immediately pulled the handle that jettisoned the canopy, unhooked my seatbelt and shoulder harness and crawled over the side of the cockpit. I dived off the wing to avoid hitting the tail. As soon as I was clear of the plane, I pulled the ripcord, and the parachute opened. Almost immediately after that, my airplane exploded. It fluttered down in four or five big pieces: two wings, the tail and engine with the cockpit still attached. The main gas tank had exploded; pilots sat on that in the cockpit. My face was singed when it exploded because I was in the middle of the conflagration."