"Sick call was not permitted after the mission had been announced. The crew proceeded to a hut where all of us picked up our parachutes and harnesses, flak jackets, and Mae Wests (to be inflated if we entered the water). We waited for transportation to a plane called Texas Ranger."

". . . there was no such thing as a milk run. Every mission was fraught with danger. The first flight into enemy territory frequently was the last. The name of our plane was Boojum. Boojum carried us on many missions. The Texas Ranger that we were to fly this day was a plane that was a month late arriving in Italy and never made a mission in nine starts. Our pilot was chosen to prove that the plane was okay."

We had just crossed the coastline of Yugoslavia, climbing to 12,000 feet. At this altitude the crew put on oxygen masks and noticed small bursts of flak ahead. In seconds there was a loud explosion behind the nose turret. The ship seemed to lift a little, and at the same moment, all instruments toppled back to zero. Our pilot tore off his mask and reached up to feather number two engine."

"Lucky for us, the 88 millimeter shell did not explode, but the fuse from the 88 caused all the damage. The fuse hit the navigator, . . . bounced off the flak vest, and went to lodge in the oil line of the number 2 engine. The only working instrument we had was a compass mounted high on the windsheild . . . We were losing altitude rapidly and the number two engine could not be feathered. The plane was turned toward the Adriatic Sea. Still falling, our pilot turned back over land. He ordered the crew to throw out any equipment they could."

Our engineer waist gunner was summoned by the bombardier to help give first aid to the navigator. I remained in the top turret scanning the sky for enemy fighters, which normally come up to finish a crippled plane falling out of formation. No fighters were seen. With the electrical system gone, the emergency release was used to drop our bomb load. The bomb bay doors did not open and the bombs went through without exploding."

"The order over the intercom came for us to leave the plane. The gunners in the back left the plane first. The engineer gunner's parachute fell through the bomb bay so he had no choice but to stay with the injured navigator. The co-pilot pulled on my leg for me to leave the turret. I looked down through the bomb bay doors which were flapping in the breeze. My GI shoes were laying on the flight deck and I remembered to hang them around my neck. I hesitated, fear engulfing my mind, my legs were shaking, harsh wind burned my eyes and battered at my face. The co-pilot gave me a nudge and I left the plane feet first through the bomb bay."

". . .Looking down I saw the ground coming up fast. The last 50 feet was my own undoing. As I came toward the pine trees on the side of the mountain, my chute caught the top of a tree. I fell through the branches, breaking each one. Finally, I landed on the rocks with my knees and face . . . After laying there for a short time, I began to hurt all over. My nose was bleeding and seemed to be all over my face. I then knew it was broken. I tried to stand up and fell back, both knees were feeling either dislocated or broken . . . Feeling under my flight suit, my hand came out bloody. I knew I had ruptured my navel. Both legs and arms were bloody from the broken branches. I landed on the side of a mountain near the city called Mostar, Yugoslavia. I also knew that I was back on earth because I could hear the barking of a dog in the valley."

"We bailed out at approximately 9:30 in the morning. It was close to 3:30 in the afternoon before I heard voices. The voices were Germans . . . Two of the young boys picked me up and carried me down the mountainside. At no time was I given first aid. The pain was getting worse. Down in the valley, I was put in a Ford truck . . . They drove for some time until we came to a village where I was left unattended while the soldiers and boys went inside the building. I could hear a lot of loud talking and yelling. Suddently, I was grabbed and pulled from the truck by civilians. They started kicking my back and stomach, punching my face and head. For some reason, my legs were not kicked. I am sure if that had happened I would rather have had a bullet. My pain was so severe I threw up."

"With all of the commotion, the guards finally came out, firing their rifles in the air, and everyone disbursed. These soldiers saved my life. I was put back on the truck. We made several stops; each stop was picking up another member of my crew. I heard their voices. Soon six of us were on the truck I was the only one that was hurt. Four other members of the crew were unaccounted for."

". . . We stopped after dark. We were taken off the truck and ordered to a large civilian prison. Each of us met a German major who spoke broken english and who gave orders for us to be taken to the third floor . . . Because of my injury, I was carried to a cell. Two men were assigned to one cell and we were given, for the first time, food and water, which was German black bread, meat, and ersase coffee."

". . . We were awakened at 4:30 am by crying, screaming, and shouting. My cell mate, looking through a small opening of the cell door said that they were carrying, dragging, and pulling young boys and girls down the hall. We thought they were going to be interrogated. That was not the case. A short time later, we heard machine gun fire below our window. The wall below our third floor was the execution wall. These young people were captured partisans that were rounded up the day before."

"You can imagine what we were thinking. With no proof that we were airmen it could be just a matter of time and we too could be placed against the wall. I asked my cell mate if he would take off my shoes as my feet and legs were in great pain. The moment he removed my shoes a guard brought in food and water and saw my dog tags in my socks. He removed my tags and took them to the German major. Two guards came, carried me to the German major's office and questioned me. 'Did I know Al Capone the Chicago gangster?' I was asked because my dog tags indicated I was from Chicago. He asked me a few questions about my crew and gave my dog tags back to me. When I was being carried back to the cell, he said that there was no doubt we were airmen. These tags saved the entire crew."