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Memories of WWII Pilots
& Crews
I flew on the Revival Mission to Barth on May 13, 1945. I consider it one of the most
memorable days of my life! It remains very indelible in my memory. As I recall, it was
a beautiful, clear, sunny day. Pilots and Navigators were called into the Orderly Room
just as the sun began to rise, to brief us on this mission to "bring home" our Air Corps
colleagues who had been prisoners of war at Stalag Luft 1. The POW camp was
located near the town of Barth, north of Rostock, on the Baltic Sea. In the few days
since the end of the War in Europe, our B-17s were modified to hold up to three dozen
passengers. The bomb bay was covered with a wooden floor, all guns and turrets had
been removed.
Our crew of five, Pilot, Co Pilot, Engineer, Radioman and I, were among the first to
take off. I looked forward to the mission with great excitement, anticipation, and with
personal pride. It felt very strange, but very comfortable, flying in a B-17 without
needing to assemble formations, go to high altitude or face flak and German fighters.
Instead of a formation, we formed a stream of B-17s, separated by a few minutes,
flying more or less in a straight line, at altitudes less than 10,000 feet. I had my
outgoing and incoming courses plotted on both my GEE map and my pilotage maps.
But the day was so nice and clear I was looking forward to the "sightseeing" aspect of
pilotage navigation.
We crossed the Channel at Dover and had a remarkable view of the white cliffs bathed
in a brilliant golden yellow from the rising sun. We headed southeast across Belgium,
then northeast over "Flak Valley" but we were now in a very peaceful sky. Perhaps we
cheated a bit by dropping altitude to take a good look at Hamburg as we flew over. The
vast destruction to this city was very visible. We headed a bit more to the north and
began to parallel the Baltic coast line, past Rostock to Barth. It was an easy pilotage trip.
I did use the GEE box from time-to-time, and it was a pleasure to see the pips so nice
and clear without the grass noise or attempts by the Germans to jam them. As we
entered the landing pattern for Barth, at just a few hundred feet above the town, we
could see every building flying a white bed sheet of surrender and the landmark church
steeple. Russian soldiers were waving vigorously at us and seemed to be cheering us on.
What a sight this armada of B-17s must have been to them. As we made our final we
could see the line of B-17s on the sides of the runway center already loading their
passengers. We had a bit of a bumpy ride on the steel runway and parked on a spot to
which we were directed. There waiting for us were 30 ex pows, and nearby were several
ex German vehicles with big bright newly painted white stars on them. In the field we
could see several damaged German aircraft which we later learned were sabotaged by
the fleeing Germans.
Everything seemed to have been well organized. We got outside and welcomed the group
under the wing of our plane. We said "Guys you're on your way home". We shook each
hand as they got into the plane. Now 57 years later it is still difficult for me to describe
my feelings which were mixed with compassion, joy, pride, and a belief that lingers with
me today of the great Flying Fortress which played such an important war role was now
playing such an important humanistic role. As I look back, it is hard to describe the
reaction of our thirty passengers since they seemed to be so varied. Many looked thin,
tired, and amazed. Others, looked to be alert and in relatively good shape. Some wore
fragments of uniforms mixed with tee shirts and sweaters, some were dressed in German
supplied buttoned jackets probably left over from World War 1, while others were
dressed in Air Corps uniforms, some even still wearing their bomber jackets. One guy
amazingly still had his crushed hat. A few still had their wings, but I later learned that
these were manufactured in the liberated machine shop of Stalag Luft 1 in the two
week's time before our arrival. Some had what seemed to be full duffle bags with them,
some had little packages, and others had nothing but what they were wearing. It was
quite a group.
Whatever the differences in appearance, as soon as we took off and flew over white
sheet bestowed Barth, there was one big roar of cheers, and a sound of clapping which
almost matched the noise of our engines. We all took part in this salute. About half of
our passengers were navigators or bombardiers. They visited with me in the nose in
small groups. This B-17 was having its finest hour as far as navigation was concerned. I
didn't have to do much pilotage, as my "visitors" sat along side me at the navigator's
table, or in the bombardier's position with my maps tucked across their knees. Some had
never seen a GEE box before and were fascinated by this "automatic navigator". As
we passed over Hamburg and the Ruhr Valley they pointed out targets that they had hit,
and a few recognized the targets and locations where they had been shot down. I had
each visitor to my "nose office" sign my short snorter.
Despite the ominous briefing we had about expected "noncooperation" from the
Russians, there seemed to be unanimous appreciation to those that I spoke with for their
May 1 liberation by the Russians and how well the Russians tried to take care of them in
the 13 days before we arrived. Some showed me little souvenirs that the Russians had
given to them.
Our destination, which was the American air base at Laon Couvron, also known as
Camp Lucky Strike, which was about 80 miles NE of Paris. This was a special depot set
up to expeditiously process ex-pows and get them on their way home. I could sense the
heightened excitement as we approached the air base. Upon landing up went another
roar and cheers and hand clapping. Some kissed the ground as they debarked. We again
shook hands with our passengers, and wished them a fast trip home.
Laon Couvron was also a short rest stop for our crew of five. We used the facilities, and
had a GI lunch. During this rest period I reviewed with our pilot our return route to
Bassingbourne, using the Paris aeronautical map. He noted what I had noted, that Paris
was only 75 miles away towards the SW. He had the engineer do some fuel availability
calculations. Yes, we had more than enough to make this deviation on our way home,
and the Pilot said that he would be able to account for the extra time that would be
involved. In less than a half hour after take off we were over the beautiful city of Paris.
We circled the city once, and then lowered altitude to I am not going to tell you what,
and buzzed the center of town. What a beautiful buzz it was!
We arrived back at Bassingbourne during the early afternoon. What a day it had been. I
recognized the humanistic importance of this at age 20, but I realize it more and more
with each passing year. I can remember most events, sites and faces today at age 78 as
I did that evening of May 13, as I lay in my Bassingbourne bed exhilarated by the
amazing events of that day.
George Jacobs, Navigator
324 th B.S. 91st B.G.
February - June 1945
THANK YOU for your service Mr. Jacobs, and thank you for this uplifting story!
THANK YOU for visiting. PLEASE ask any veteran you know if they will share a memory
with you. If you wish, we then ask you to share the story with us and our visitors. Your
memories will become part of this Tribute and a part of recorded history!
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