62
03 May
1945
What a
sight, watching the ground crews loading boxes and bags of food instead of
bombs into the plane. Danny couldn’t believe the transformation of the Fortress
they’d been assigned to. It and all the other Forts had been quickly adapted by
outfitting the bomb bay with plywood “floors” hinged on one side to the bay,
the other side attached to the bomb release mechanism. On these makeshift pallets,
the food was piled high, filling every square inch of the bomb bay.
The
flight crews marveled at the variety of food piled up on those plywood
floors—coffee, tea, sugar, flour, powdered eggs and milk, meat, vegetables, cheese,
and in some cases, even tins of chocolate. Many of these were “10-in-1 Ration”
boxes filled with canned and tinned goods which would have a much better chance
of surviving the free-fall drop to the ground.
The
whole atmosphere around the hardstands felt entirely different as the crews
gathered that morning. Where jitters and silent prayers often accompanied
nervous laughter or terse responses before a bomb run, now a palpable sense of
joy drifted through the air. And with the shocking announcement that morning of
Hitler’s suicide the day before, everyone had even more reason to celebrate.
Charlie and Danny laughed along with the others at the comments bubbling out of
everyone’s excitement.
“Couldn’t
have happened to a nicer Kraut!”
“Guten
riddance, Adolf!”
“Heil
Hitler!” someone yelled, throwing the familiar Nazi salute. “Welcome to hell,
Adolf!”
“Wish
he’d done it five years ago and saved us all this trouble!”
“My
friends! My friends! Such good news! It’s a wonderful day!”
Danny
and Charlie caught each other’s eye at the same moment with identical puzzled
expressions.
Why does that sound familiar?
They both turned around.
“Sergeant
Cosmos Francis Benedetto, reporting for duty, sirs!”
There
before them standing at attention with his hand in a sharp salute stood the
chatty sergeant who had regaled
Quincy
’s Pub
back before Christmas. Slowly, Danny and Charlie returned the sergeant’s salute
wondering why he would be reporting to them for duty.
“Lieutenant
Charles Janssen,” Charlie said by way of introduction as they all lowered their
hands. “And this is Lieutenant Daniel McClain. But if you don’t mind my asking,
Sergeant, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“I
assure you, Lieutenant, the pleasure is all mine. It is my honor, indeed my
privilege, to be assigned to your esteemed crew today for the purpose of
witnessing this most glorious occasion.”
Charlie
scratched his head. “Come again?”
“It is
my good fortune to be selected to accompany you on your mission of mercy today
at the request of Colonel Joseph Moller, our beloved commander.”
“Colonel
Moller selected you to ride with us?”
Danny
shot his hand out, hitting Charlie’s arm. “You remember, Charlie—the Old Man
wanted all the ground crew men to have a chance to ride along and see from the
sky what they’ve helped us do all these months.”
“Oh
yeah,” Charlie said, pasting a plastic smile on his face. “Swell. Just swell.”
Danny
reached out to shake the sergeant’s hand. “It’s an honor to have you—Cosmos,
was it?”
“Yes,
sir. And thank you, sir.”
Charlie
followed Danny’s lead and shook the crewman’s hand. “A pleasure.” Then, turning
to Danny, “I’ll see you in the cockpit after my final check.”
Danny
had to admit the kid was a pain. He was fairly short, stocky, with a head of
curly black hair, and one hundred percent Italian. His
Jersey
accent
bled so thick you could cut it. He seemed the perfect caricature of many of the
ground crew men—hard working, tough as nails, and proud of it. He studied the
sergeant’s face trying to decide what made it so unique. Those eyes had almost
a childlike wonder in them.
Bewildered.
That’s it. An interminable look of bewilderment on that face and in those eyes,
as if every moment held unlimited potential.
Danny
smiled. For all his annoying chatter, there was something refreshing about Benedetto’s
unmasked enthusiasm.
“Tell
me, Cosmos, have you ever flown before?”
“No,
sir,” he answered, his face lighting up a notch more. “This will be my maiden
voyage, as it were. I came over on the
Queen Elizabeth
—and a fine
sailing vessel she was. But alas, my friend, this will be an unforgettable day
for the son of Tony and Beatrice Benedetto.”
“Your
parents?”
“Oh yes,
sir. Mama and Papa . . .” His chin trembled as he paused and
briefly looked away. “I am the sole product of their loins and the pride of
their union.”
Danny
bit his lip hard as he let the sergeant compose himself. “Yes, well, Cosmos.
Climb aboard and we’ll get you settled.”
Unable
to speak, Cosmos nodded and followed closely behind as Danny boarded the Fort
through the hatch.
“This
is Billy Henderson, top turret gunner and flight engineer today. Billy, this is
Sergeant Cosmos Benedetto. He’s our ground crew passenger on today’s mission.
How about you show him around then get him belted in the nose for take-off.”
“Sure
thing, Lieutenant.”
Danny
patted Cosmos on the shoulder and headed up to the cockpit.
“Danny,
since you and Uncle Joe are such bosom buddies these days,” Charlie started, “how
about you call him up and see if we can’t get the wonder child back there
switched to another plane.”
Danny
slid into his seat on the right. “Ah, he’s not so bad.”
“Ten to
one he pukes before we cross the Channel.”
Danny
laughed hard as he buckled himself in and got to work. Twenty minutes later,
the Fort’s engines roared in anxious harmony with the other B-17s as they
barreled down the runway. From the cockpit, Danny couldn’t see their guest below
who was seated where the toggelier usually sits, but they could all hear him.
“MOTHERMARYOHMYGODHAVEMERCYONME!”
Over
and over the sergeant yelled—except for the brief moment he lost his breakfast.
Charlie
shot his co-pilot a smirk. “Told ya.”
“Oh
God! Oh God! Help me, Jesus!”
“Sergeant
Benedetto! Turn off your intercom!” Danny shouted.
“MOTHERMARYOHMYGODHAVEMERCYONME!”
“Billy!
Get him off that intercom and I mean now!” Charlie ordered.
“Okay
okay! I’m on it!” the flight engineer responded.
“MOTHERMARYOHMY—”
“Thank
the Lord!” Danny quipped. He coughed, trying to suppress his laughter but failed
miserably.
“McClain,
don’t make me order you down there to babysit your new best friend,” Charlie
balked.
Danny
wiped his eyes and held up his hands in surrender. “I’m fine—really. I’m okay.”
He snorted a couple of times before taking a long cleansing breath. “Something
tells me this is going to be an unforgettable flight in more ways than one.”
Charlie
just shook his head. “Y’know, I’ve looked forward to flying with you for quite
a while now, but I’m wondering if I’ll even survive it.”
“No,
buddy. I’m good to go. Honest.” Danny pulled his hand over his face then shook
it all off.
Charlie
looked over at him.
“What?”
Danny asked.
“All
things considered I’ve got to say it’s good to see you laughing again.”
Danny
looked out his side window, nodding his head. “Feels good too.”
The
flight engineer popped up behind them. “That guy . . . he was practically
sitting on his intercom switch. White as a ghost. You’d think we were
surrounded by bandits.”
An hour
later, with The Netherlands in the distance, Billy joined them again. “Speaking
of bandits, did you all notice there’s not a single Kraut in the sky? And no anti-aircraft
fire or flak either. Ain’t that somethin’?”
“Must
be that milk run everyone always talks about. In this case, it really is.”
In
briefing that morning, they’d been told the remaining food drop missions would
no longer be flown in formation. On the second day of
Operation Chowhound
,
two bombers from the 388th Bomb Group had collided in midair as they attempted
to keep in tight formation. There were no survivors. As a result, the bombers
would fly in a single line, one after another, to avoid any more fatalities.
As they
approached the coastline of
Holland
, they were flying no
more than 500 feet above the ground as they headed for Vogelenzang, a village
in Bloemendaal, in the northwest corner of
Holland
. Danny
could feel his stomach tensing at sights he’d never seen before. The first
thing he noticed were the concrete pill boxes the Germans had built along the
beaches, fortifying their so-called “Atlantic Wall.” The Allies had done their
job, bombing them repeatedly as evidenced by the craters on and around them. Beyond,
he could see German soldiers standing at anti-aircraft gunneries, no doubt
ready to fire if any of the planes flew outside the predetermined narrow
corridor.
“Don’t
you know they’re seething under those stupid bucket helmets?” Billy wondered
aloud.
Thankfully,
those in the 390th who had flown the previous relief missions had reported no
instances of German aggression. At least for now, the truce seemed to be
working.
Danny
felt sure his knuckles hidden inside his gloves were white—and probably those
of the entire crew as well. It felt so wrong to fly this heavy bird at such a
low altitude and slow speed, as if any moment the Fort might drop down in a
belly flop and kill everyone on board and those on the ground. He tried to
steel the nerves chewing at his insides.
They
were shocked by the vastness of the flooded terrain, evidence of Jerry’s
precise bombing of those dikes and canals. Everywhere they looked, fields were
flooded. On many of the structures, only rooftops were visible. No wonder the
Dutch had starved. With no agriculture and no means of transporting food in, it
was a wonder they had a single beet or tulip left anywhere. Danny remembered
how much Anya hated those beets. He also remembered the old lady who had eaten
his leftover beet soup when he couldn’t stomach it.
And once
again he wondered—
is Anya still alive?
But his
troubled thoughts didn’t last long. As they drew closer to Vogelenzang, everywhere
they looked they could see people running and waving—some waving dish towels,
some with white sheets, some jumping and dancing and throwing kisses.
He and
Charlie couldn’t help smiling as the rest of the crew chimed in, sharing the
spectacular moment.
“Can
you believe this?”
“Looks
like they’re mighty happy to see us!”
“Have
you ever seen such an anxious crowd?”
“Hey,
look at that guy on the roof over there! He’s got a big sign that says,
‘TOBACCO!’ Too bad I can’t throw him a pack!”
“Lieutenant
Janssen, is it okay if I let Sergeant Benedetto speak on the intercom now?” the
radio crewman asked.
Charlie
glanced over at Danny. “Well?”
“Go
ahead, Sergeant.”
“Hello?
Hello?”
“Yes,
Cosmos, we hear you,” Danny answered.
“HOLY
COW! My friends, my friends! Have you ever seen such an amazing sight in all
your life?!” he shouted. “Look at ‘em—never in all my life have I seen anything
so beautiful.” His unrestrained weeping floated through the aircraft on the
intercom, eclipsing his commentary.
“Check
it out—over there at
three o’clock
!” Danny pointed at a
field out his window. “Huge letters spelling out
God Bless America
on
the ground.” Suddenly, the sight of it lodged a lump in his throat and his eyes
stung. He blinked several times realizing Cosmos wasn’t the only one fighting
his emotions. He cleared his throat a couple of times as he spotted the drop
zone marker. “White cross straight ahead.”
“Prepare
to release the cargo!” Charlie ordered.
“Three,
two one—now!” Danny shouted.
They
felt the
whoosh
of air sweep through the craft as the bomb doors flew
open releasing their 600-pound food gift to the Dutch people. Danny craned his
neck to look back, catching a quick glimpse of the falling goods.
“
Mission
accomplished, Lieutenant!” the tail gunner yelled. “That is one payload that’s
a real pleasure to watch. I wish you could all see what I’m seeing right now.”
“Well
done, men,” Charlie said. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“If I
may, Lieutenant,” Cosmos began, his voice warbling. “In honor of this most
glorious occasion and my own personal maiden voyage . . .”