aircraft serialled 43-37823, coded XR-V, and was, importantly, not

designated to be in the lower section of the combat box, which

was later decimated. But even so, this mission for Ferdinand Herres and his crew would prove quite fateful, as even they would

need to bail out of their burning aircraft. Luckily for them, this

was not until they were back over England, and all would be able

to return to their base relatively unscathed and able to celebrate

the end of their tour of duty. It turned out differently for the

crew that ended up flying Herres’s B-17 on September 11th, 1944.

That crew was commanded by Lt. Charles E. Baker. The crew was

going on its sixth operational mission, and despite being relatively

young, they led a three ship element from the 349th BS. Navigator

Lt. Donald Lienemann recalled the beginning of the encounter

with the Germans:

‘…our ship was very badly riddled in the waist and tail section,

and also had a fire in the bomb bay area due to enemy action. The

attacks, as nearly as I could determine, all came from between

6 and 9 o’clock and were deadly accurate, however the enemy

fared none too well either, for they told Lt Chiles, Co Pilot of the

crew, upon capture, that they lost 82 ships as a result of that little battle, and that they were highly peeved having to pay such

a high penalty for the days work. As a result of this enemy action,

the interphone was shot out, as was the alarm bell, the C-1 and

two 20´s had gone through the pilots instrument panel. Both the

Co-Pilot and I had tried to use the interphone, but neither had

any success, so I know definitely it was out. When the copilot,

Lt. Chiles, first noticed the fire in the bomb bay, he immediately notified the pilot, Lt. Baker, of the existing condition of the

ship and then proceeded to call the crew, which was, as I mentioned, an impossibility. The Pilot, Lt Baker, then motioned to

Lt. Chiles and Sgt. Damrel, Engineer, to proceed and bail, which

they did immediately, however the pilot refused to abandon ship,

because he had no way of notifying the remainder of the crew,

so remained steadfast in the cockpit, knowing full well that, in

a matter of a few minutes, he would pay the supreme price for

his gallantry, which I believe was the case. He must have felt that

perhaps the few extra seconds that he might give for the crew,

they in turn might discover the condition of the ship and proceed to bail out on their own, which, of course, did not happen.

Of the seven men still in that ship at the time of the final explosion, it seems that I am the only remaining one, and so it falls my

lot to tell this gruelsome story, for I was the only eyewitness to

the entire proceedings that is alive today. Had I know the condition of the ship, it is needless to say that I too would have bailed,

however I did not know all the afore story until I later met my

Co-pilot and Engineer. Shortly before the explosion, I do know

the left wing was shot off right outside of engine No.1, at which

time the plane made a mad surge to the left and up, and then the

right wing left us too, and almost immediately the plane went

into a wild dive and blew up. I am convinced that it must have

been those bombs that went off, for the explosion came from

the bomb bay area, and it was so terrifying that even thinking

about it today makes me shudder. We were at 26,000 when all

this occurred and of course were knocked out as result of the

explosion, losing consciousness and all. I regained my senses after

I had fallen some 22,000 feet, or at least that would be my honest estimate, leaving 4,000 feet between me and the ground to

right myself, get my wits about me and pull the rip cord, all of

which I did pronto and used my chute for a total of 15 seconds

before finally hitting the forest…’

The burning aircraft came down between Oberhals and Schmiedeberg (today’s Horni Halze and Kovarska). The crash of the

aircraft was also witnessed by several of the locals.

Horst Schmiedl of Medenec: ‘I was a young boy at the time,

and was mushroom picking with my grandfather, when a large

battle unfolded above us. My granddad forced me to the ground

and wouldn’t allow me to look up. I only heard massive hits and

explosions. I don’t how long it lasted, but when it quieted down,

my grandfather told me that a plane came down nearby. We went

to look for it. The area nearby was burning when we reached

the crash site. I think we were the first on the scene. There was

a lot of twisted metal around, and nearby, in a tree, there was

the body of a flyer. He was tangled in the ropes of his parachute.

I remember my grandfather telling me not to look there, that it

was nothing for a young boy to see…’

Donald H. Lienemann during his first visit to Kovarska

on July 15th, 1995.

8

eduard

INFO Eduard - July 2021