Then, after the first two missions in December had been run, we passed into our second and intermediate phase; a two-Group operation. We started with Bassingbourn, Polebrook and Ridgewell. Now we lost Polebrook. In the future, we were assured, we would have a third Group, to be stationed at Nuthampstead, which is not far from our headquarters at Bassingbourn. Meanwhile, however, the newly arrived P-38’s had been stationed at Nuthampstead pending the completion of their permanent facilities at nearby Fowlmere. When Nuthampstead would be ready for B-17’s we didn’t know.
Our change reflected a basic revision in the scale of our daylight offensive. We taught our British hosts something about the intensive use of airdrome facilities. When B-17’s first came to the Theater, we copied the British system of putting two squadrons of a Group on one airdrome and the other two on a neighboring satellite. Polebrook, for example, in the summer of 1942 was the parent for two squadrons of the 97th and Grafton Underwood the satellite for the other two. Then, during the winter, we had to do without satellites: the rule was one Group per station, with a Group at its initial strength of 36 airplanes. Each Group was expected to supply one Combat Box of from 18 to 21 airplanes per mission. When the Combat Wing phase of operations appeared, it was assumed that a Combat Wing consisted of three Groups, each supplying one combat box per mission.
Now, however, we advanced to another concept. Group initial strength was upped to 72 airplanes and each station could be called on for two combat boxes per mission. This meant that a Combat Wing with three stations would be required to put up two full combat wing formations per mission. In our own case, during this two-station phase we would be required to put up at least one combat wing formation on every mission. On maximum efforts, we would be called on for one or two extra combat boxes to form a composite Combat Wing with airplanes from one of the other Wings.
What a change from the first winter! During the much-publicized attacks on the U-Boat bases from January to March of 1943, we never approached a strength of 100 airplanes. Now it was to be possible for our force to put up fifteen separate Combat Wing formations, of sixty heavy bombers each, with full fighter escort to the target and return. This was a force that could really throw some weight around. We began to demonstrate that our daylight bombers program had some points that the heavy Sunday Sluggers of the RAF could not approach. Not only was the weight of bombs we could drop rapidly approaching that of the RAF, but we didn’t have to worry about the phase of the moon. The RAF never could use the whole month. At the beginning of the war when every ship sighted individually on the target, the boys in the Wellingtons and the Whitleys waited for the moon so they could see their targets. Later on, when they perfected their Pathfinder operations, they waited for the dark of the moon to save trouble from the Jerry night fighters. This was the sort of problem that bothered us not at all. One day of the month was like another to us. Also, we were more versatile in another respect: when the weather was closed in over Germany, we could strike Pathfinder out in front and go after industrial area targets, the way the RAF did all the time. If it was clear, then we would attack five or more precision targets simultaneously, putting a combat wing or two on each with a pretty fair chance that all of them would be destroyed or damaged if the weather held up. Still better, we would send a Pathfinder ship along just in case the weather didn’t pan out. If that happened, then instead of attacking our briefed targets of looking for random potshots or bringing the bombs home, the Pathfinder ship would skip out in front and lead us over an assigned area targets. This was pretty good business, we thought.
With all these factors to help, December was a pretty good month. There were ten missions: as many as we had ever had in a single month. Six of the ten were Pathfinder jobs: Leverkusen on the 1st, three attacks on Bremen on the 13th, 16th, and 20th, Canebrake on the 22nd and Ludwigshaven on the 30th. As usual on PFF missions, the boys came back from most of these feeling empty-handed, not knowing whether they had hit their targets or not. When the British went out on blind bombing parties at night, at least they could see the glow of fires they started shining up through the clouds, but in daylight you didn’t have even that satisfaction. From ground sources, and also from expert squealing in the German press, it seemed clear that at least some of these attacks were successful. One at least, we know, had flubbed the dub: Bremen on the 20th. On that one, the lead PFF equipment went out and the deputy leader took over. This citizen evidently had his head up and locked, as the boys would say, because he bombed Delmenhorst, a suburb of Bremen, when there was enough visibility for others to know it wasn’t the target. Then he executed a sudden turn as though he didn’t have a formation to worry about and threw the entire Wing into confusion. The low Group was left out in the cold by this maneuver and went on to bomb the primary visually with good observed results. The Wing never reassembled.
The month’s visual jobs left a somewhat checkered trail. On the 5th, we were assigned to attack two important pinpoint targets in Paris, but weather miscarried, the boys never saw the ground and all hands brought their bombs back. The attack on Emden was beaten by a smoke screen. 91st Group used the obscured target jigger, but just before bombs were away the high Group crowded them off their run and spoiled what promised to be a good show. The smoke and the sudden evasive maneuver forced on this Group, prevented observation of where the bombs went.
On the 24th, we had our first of a series of attacks on what the papers called “military objectives in northern France”. These were a series of “constructional works” concentrated in the Pas de Calais area, with a few on the Cherbourg peninsula. These targets were enough to make strong men weep. Each consisted of a handful of tiny buildings, well camouflaged and artfully concealed in woods and shrubbery. The buildings could not be seen at all from bombing altitude: the boys had to practically feel their way from one clump of trees to another and select their targets by recognizing the pattern of the fields. And the target areas were much smaller than anything we had ever tried to hit before. It could be done, but only under conditions of ideal visibility and without distracting cloud shadows or other disturbance. Compensating factors were that in most of the areas there was no flak and we could go in at medium altitude. Also, every time one of these operations was scheduled, a complete fighter umbrella was thrown around the area, so that there were no air combats. Jerry simply couldn’t get in.
But the first of these deals was no cinch; in fact, it was impossible. Our Wing was given the northernmost of these targets located just behind the heavy flak emplacements at Cape Cris-Nez. And we were ordered to attack right through the flak, instead of coming up through a narrow corridor to the south that would have been flak free. Then, to cap the climax, there were cloud-shadows on the ground looking just like wood patches, and a haze that reduced visibility materially. Our boys tried hard; they made two and three runs, but it was too much. They couldn’t see their targets and the flak was rough. One Group had nearly 100% flak damage. We did a lot better on latter jobs of this kind, but this one was no good. At least all the ships came back, even if full of holes. There was sufficient gratitude for that to take care of Christmas Eve.
The last of the year’s operations was the attack on Cognac/Chateau Bernard airdrome, near Bordeaux. Bordeaux was the primary, but was socked in by cloud. A beautiful job of visual bombing was done on the secondary, which was an important base for German maritime air operations. But it was a sad day for us: Uncle Willie Hatcher and several of his top boys went down. True, his Group was no longer in our Combat Wing, but he had been our friend and a good right arm to the Boss while he was with us. As we write this, his fate and that of the others still known.
So ended December and 1943. In ten missions, we received credit for 527 sorties and of this number 468, or 82.5%, were credited with attacking targets. This was the best percentage for the Division. The abortion bugbear had apparently been slain. We lost 17 aircraft, against 10 enemy aircraft destroyed, 2 probables and 8 damaged.
As far as the year went, we had been in business as a Combat Wing for just over seven months. In that time, we had covered a range of targets from the Atlantic Coast of France to the marches of eastern Germany and from the foothills of the Pyrenees to the ice-locked mountains of Norway. Our boys had covered themselves with distinction and not a little glory. We had made Hitler say “Ouch”. But the best part of it all was our firm belief that given a fair break and the support we had a right to expect, in 1944 we would make him say “Uncle”.