I thought I'd better write this story before it slips into lost and forgotten stories of WWII heroics......

Twenty five years ago (1989) my wife and I owned and operated the Saxtons River Inn in Vermont, which was built at the turn of the century. We had an old Victorian style bar. Every afternoon about 4 pm the locals would wander in and tell colorful stories, mostly mundane, many idiosyncratic (we had some very unique old Yankees in town), and sometimes a truly memorable story would be told. This is the one I remember most vividly:

Dick Abbott lived several miles away, toward Grafton. At the time he was in his mid-sixties (and has subsequently passed away). He was a very mechanical guy; we often traded stories about cars. his son and he had raced stock cars. Dick was also very mechanical, and could fix just about anything. Not a man to tell tall-tales, Dick was generally a reserved but likeable old Yankee who always had a twinkle in his eye and a friendly smile.

One afternoon we were trading war stories (I had served in Vietnam), and he told me of his experience in WWII.

Dick was only sixteen when he signed up for the USAAF. (I don't recall if he got his parent's permission or lied about his age.) He was trained as a tail gunner for B-17s, becoming adroit in the firing of its Browning M-2 50 caliber machine gun.

The stories of B-17 missions from Englandicon (8th Bomber Command) into the heartland of Germanyicon are legendary. The airplanes got shot up quite badly, and many were lost, suffering heavy casualties. For example, one of the Bombardment Groups lost 35 of its original 36 aircraft after only the sixth mission.

Dick was flying one of those dangerous missions in the "stinger" position in the tail when his plane got attacked by a squadron of Messerschmitt Me-109s. The B-17 was riddled with bullets. Dick, in his isolated location fired relentlessly at the attackers, trying to protect the plane and its crew.

After warding off the attack, Dick called via the comm system to the rest of the crew. No response from the waist gunner, nor the radioman, nor the navigator, nor the bombardier, nor the pilot, nor the co-pilot.

Dick crawled out of his wedge-fit battle position and was shocked.

Everywhere the Flying Fortress -- a airborne battleship -- was riddled, the wind whistling through the bullet holes. But worse: blood and bodies were littered inside the plane, draped over their guns and equipment still at battle stations.

Shocked to see all his buddies dead, having suffered agonizing deaths, Dick scrambled forward to the cockpit. Same thing -- pilot and co-pilot slumped over, dead, blood and bullet holes everywhere. But the plane was flying on automatic pilot, engines still running, headed straight into Nazi Germany!

Still just a boy, and scared stiff, Dick knew doom was destined, unless he took action right way.

Dick pulled the limp pilot out of his seat, took his position as self-appointed commander, and sat stunned while he gathered his senses. Dick had no time to feel sorry for himself or his dead buddies. He needed to save himself, and maybe the plane. But Dick had never flown a plane before; he was just a "car guy."

He donned the head phones and was able to call in the clear for help. Quickly two P-51 Mustangs bracketed him, one on each wing. The pilots told him how to use the rudders, ailerons, and how to throttle the engines as Dick managed to get the lumbering Flying Fortress turned around, heading back to friendly territory. The Mustang wing-men protected him from any more Messerschmitts. They told him to dump any remaining bombs scattershot over enemy territory -- if Dick brought the plane in for a crash landing the extra bombs were dangerous cargo.

But the journey was far from over. He still had to cross the channel, and then the next real excitement was to happen -- landing the big bomber. (Anyone who has ever piloted a plane knows that landing safely is the most difficult part of flying.)

As Dick approached the English Channel a new voice came over the headphones -- he described it as the "Voice of an Angel." Flight control knew that Dick was just a teenager and rather than having a gruff battle pilot "talk him down," the gentle voice of an English woman would be far more soothing. Immediately comforted by her tender words, like a mother nurturing her son, she guided him down, instructing him on the complex maneuver of landing one of the biggest planes ever built: air speed, lining up with the runway, altitude and attitude, flaps down, airspeed, and making a 3-point landing.

As he approached the airfield (I don't recall if he told me the specific airbase), the Mustang pilots reassured him. And the Angelic Voice told him everything would be fine. He believed them, which eased his mind. He wondered if the Angel that was guiding him was a premonition of a future wife.

Dick's heart raced as he saw the approaching airfield, deeply concerned that he would have to master the most difficult part of any airplane experience, without a seasoned co-pilot.
Despite never having flown a plane, Dick brought the airship in for a perfect, if not bouncy, 3-point landing. He and the plane were both safe.

Only then did he look out the bullet-ridden windshield to see the fire-trucks and ambulances lining the runway. Everyone was prepared for the worst that didn't happen. Dick only thought of his crew mates -- they would never see another day. Dick was blessed, but why was he selected to live, while his buddies and officers died?

At once he was shuttled back to Flight Control, where he yearned to hug the Angel who guided him to safety. Of course he had imagined a Marlene Dietrich or Diana Dors as the "Angel." Instead she was just a matronly captain in the woman's auxiliary airforce, but she was still his savior and guiding light. He took her out to dinner that night in gratitude.

After a little R&R, Dick returned to the air for more combat missions. At the end of the war, now a man, Dick returned to America to live the simple country life in Vermont. -30-

If anyone knows any more of this story, please chime in. Please pass this along to those who would appreciate the true story of a boy who became a hero.

Robert
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