� � � During the period that the 20th. Fighter Group was operational in World War Two there were many examples of the Group's pilots overcoming such hazards. Perhaps the most remarkable of these being the events which befell Capt. Cliff Kies of the 79th. Squadron on February20th., 1945. A day on which Cliff had good reason to recall the first aid lectures given by the Squadron's Flight Surgeon, Dr. Paul Roberts and his staff.

� � � The 20th.'s mission that day was to provide target support by strafing rail traffic on the main lines leading eastward from marshaling yards being bombed by 1st. Division B-17's at Nuremberg, Germany. Kies takes up his story":

� � � "I had joined the 79th. Fighter Squadron on the 11th of August, 1944 (my 22nd birthday) and flew my first mission four days later. Since that time I had accumulated 277 hours of combat flying. This was to be my 59th., and as things turned out, last mission.

� � � "Shortly after takeoff I began to have trouble with the radio in my plane. Transmissions from the tower and other planes in the group were garbled. I called one of the other pilots in my flight and asked him to dip his wings if he could hear me, but he did not respond. Radio contact was very important on any mission and was especially critical on the type of mission we were flying that day. I had just about made up my mind to return to base when Maj. Bob Meyer, who was leading the squadron, dropped out of formation and headed back home. I was flying Deputy Squadron Commander, so with Maj. Meyer gone I moved my flight forward and took over the lead, hoping my radio would improve.

� � � "We were just crossing out over the English Coast when a lone P-51 rapidly overtook our squadron. This turned out to be Maj. Meyer, who had returned to King's Cliffe, jumped in a spare aircraft and caught up with us. I gladly relinquished the lead to Bob and dropped my flight back to its original position. By this time my radio seemed to have improved somewhat, so I decided to continue.

� � � "Arriving over Nuremberg at 1150 hours, the three 20th. squadrons split up and began to sweep their assigned areas. Our area was the railway lines that led northeast toward Bayruth. It wasn't long before we saw a number of freight trains and began our attack. One plane would fly over the train and release it's drop tanks, which still contained some fuel. Then the planes behind would ignite this fuel by strafing with their fifty caliber machine guns. In the next thirty minutes we destroyed some seven locomotives and damaged sixteen freight cars using this method of attack.

� � � "Continuing the sweep, in the vicinity of Weiden, we came across an airfield containing a large number of He-111s. Major Meyer began strafing the field witha couple of our flights while I stayed up with the other flights to provide top cover. Meyer's flights made a number of passes across the field and shot up about half the parked aircraft. They pulled up and my flights hit the deck to continue the attack.

� � � "Up to this time there had been no return fire from the ground and I had seen no activity around the field. Except for the planes parked in frontof the hangers, the airdrome seemed completely deserted.

� � � "On my first pass I destroyed two He-111s and damaged another. I was just beginning my second pass when tracers started oming up from every direction. In an instant my right leg flew up and hit me in the chest. I thought a shell had exploded in the cockpit but later I learned that an armor piercing bullet had come through the cockpit wall and entered the outside of my right knee, passed upwards and inwards and made it's exit through the inside of my thigh about five inches from the point of entry. The lower end of my femur had been shattered and the bleeding was profuse. I had mistakenly thought there had been an explosion as the bullet had struck with such force.

� � � "In a few seconds I was clear of the field and out of range of the ground fire. I gained altitude and started a gentle 180 degree left turn. My right thigh felt as though it was on fire and when I glanced down I could see the upper and lower sections of my leg were pointed in different directions. I felt sick to my stomach and broke out in a cold sweat.

� � � "My first impulse was to go back to the field we had been strafing and try to land. However, I was afraid that the enemy gunners would continue shooting and I would probably be hit again while landing. I also wondered how I would be treated: would there be any medical help? I scanned my oil temperature gauges, they were both reading normal, so my engine hadn't been hit. It was then I decided to get back to allied territory and land on the first base I could find. This would be a trip of hundreds of miles but the thought of being in friendly hands made it seem worthwhile. I lookd for the other planes in my squadron, but they were nowhere in sight. My radio calls went unanswered, I had to make the trip alone.

� � � "To over come the problem of not being able to use my right leg, I turned the rudder trim tab to a position that put my ship out of trim to the right. Applying pressure to the left rudder with my good leg, brought the plane back into trim. When I released this pressure, it had the same effect as applying right rudder. It took a few minutesto get this set up, but it worked fine.

� � � "My thoughts went back to my wounded leg. I wondered if I could move the toes of my right foot. If they moved I might not be in as bad a shape as I first thought. They moved alright, but when they did, I could feel my shoe was full of blood. I opened the first aid kit attached to my parachute harness, took outthe tourniquet, slipped it around my thigh and pulled it tight, I could hear the voice of our first aid instructor telling us to be sure to release the tourniquet for a short time, every fifteen minutes to allow some circulation to take place. I glanced at my watch and made a mental note when I should do this.

      "Minutes later, I saw what appeared to be two Me-109s coming towards me at 2 o'clock level. They were still a few miles away, but I knew if they intercepted me I would not be able to defend myself. My only salvation was to reach a cloud formation about ten miles ahead. I shoved on maximum power and the Merlin engine roared into full life. My airspeed increased rapidly and I kept glancing back and forth from the Me-109s to the cloud. It was going to be a close race, but I was gaining ground. When I entered the clouds the 109s were still thankfully out of range.

      "Reaching the clouds, I throttled back and began to climb. All at once I was dead tired and it was a tremendous effort for me to keep watching my instruments. I would lapse into semi-consciousness and then come back with a start to find I had wandered off course by ten or fifteen degrees and my rate of climb indicator climbed back to zero. The thought of losing control and getting into a left-hand spin filled me with fear. The only way to recover would be to apply full right rudder, without the use of my right leg this would be impossible. If I had to bail out what would happen? I could see the lower half of my leg being ripped off and falling to the ground! These thoughts made me concentrate on my instruments even more, with all the strength I could muster.

      "At 21,000 feet I finally came out on top of the clouds. What had seemed like days of barging around in the cloud had actually been only thirty minutes. I released the pressure on the tourniquet for the second time and then I climbed another few thousand feet to look for an opening in the clouds. My erratic course on instruments had left me with no idea as to my where abouts. If I could see the ground I might pick up a familiar landmark and be able to pinpoint my location, but as far as I could see the clouds were solid.

      "I switched channels on my radio set and called the U.S.AA.F. controller that had recently been set up on the continent. If I was able to get in touch with him he could give me a steer to the nearest airfield -- no answer. I called again but my earphones remained silent.

      "For the first time since I had been hit I felt as though I just couldn't keep flying any longer. I wanted to sit back, close my eyes and end all of this suffering. I thought of my family and friends back home and how much I wanted to see them again and these thoughts kept me going.

      "I have only a hazy recollection of the next hour or so of the flight. I had to get below the clouds and find somewhere to land, but dreaded the thoughts of making an instrument letdown. A number of times I started to go down through the clouds but kept putting it off in the hopes I could spot an opening.

      "Suddenly! just a few miles ahead, there it was, a large break in the solid undercast. I dived down through this clear area and saw a miracle. Just behind me on my right was the Wash and I was flying over the canal that led to Petersborough. I was right on course and in ten minutes at the most, should be on the ground at King's Cliffe.

      "Once again I decided to try my radio. Even if I did not get an answer they might hear my transmission and have the crash crew and medics alerted when I landed. Using my radio call sign "Primrose 55" I called the tower at King's Cliffe and told them my leg was broken and that I would be landing in a few minutes. A faint voice came back through my earphones telling me to repeat my message. Trying to talk was a tremendous effort. I had to wait a minute to get enough strength to call again. When they replied I could hear them much better.

      "Primrose 55 -- land at Wittering -- we will have an ambulance waiting."

      "I acknowledged their message and altered course a few degrees.

      "The landing area at R.A.F. Wittering was a huge grass strip, about twice as long as out longest runway and extremely wide. For me the width was the most important factor. With enough speed I could maintain a straight course with the left rudder and trim tab set up that I had used for the flight home. After landing and slowing down, the rudder would lose it's effect and then I would need to use my brakes to remain straight. There was no way I could use my right brake. I would start going to my left and could do nothing to stop this from happening. If I landed on the extreme right hand edge, the width of the runway would allow me enough to be able to jam on my left brake and ground loop before running out of room. With too much speed a ground loop might cause the landing gear to collapse with the possibility of an ensuing fire. I had one factor in my favor. When the stick on a Mustang was held way back, the tail wheel would not swivel and this helped keep the plane in a straight line. I must not relax after landing and let the stick go forward.

      "Wittering was just a few miles ahead. I turned my oxygen valve from demand to full flow in order to have a steady stream of pure oxygen. This helped clear my mind. After lining up with the right edge of the runway I lowered my landing gear and flaps and adjusted the elevator trim. It was then I noticed an R.A.F. plane, flying a regular landing pattern, making his turn on final approach to the field. I did not have the proper frequency on my radio to contact the plane or the tower, so I prayed that my base had contacted Wittering and advised them of my emergency.

      "Actually there was plenty of room for both of us to land at the same time. However, my approach speed was greater than his and I would land just ahead and to his right, with the distinct possibility that I could swerve directly into his path. One of us was going to have to abort the landing. I couldn't believe what was happening. To have flown all this way and then be forced out of the landing. We were getting closer and closer by the second. At the last moment, I picked up my wheels and flaps and started round the pattern. The exertion of this landing attempt had drained all my strength; my arms felt as though they weighed a ton and my vision was becoming blurred. I called King's Cliffe and told them to tell Wittering to clear the field.

      "I didn't lower my wheels and flaps until I was back on my second approach and was sure no one was in the way. When my P-51 Mustang settled gently to the ground, I cut the engine and wrapped my right arm around the stick to be sure to hold in the "tailwheel locked" position. I remained on a straight course for a short while, but then the aircraft started across the field at an angle of forty-five degrees. When I finally stopped rolling I was still about two hundred yards from the left edge of the field. I looked up the runway and saw an ambulance racing towards me.

      "Finally, two hours and ten minutes after I had been hit, I was safe on the ground. I took a deep breath of oxygen, removed my mask and sank back completely exhausted."

      Kies had made such a fine job of bringing his aircraft (P-51D-5-NT Serial # 44-1195, "Little Roue") back to England, that she was back in action with the 20th. within a few days. For Cliff, however, the next two years were spent in hospitals in England and the United States. Finally, in 197, with the rank of Major, he was retired from the Air Force.

      "Doc" Roberts makes the following comments on Cliff's amazing feat of airmanship: "Any bone injury is usually painful, but severe injury to a joint leads the list regarding pain and shock. The joint areas of the limbs are well supplied with blood vessels, large and small; so such a wound usually involves considerable bleeding. Even if Cliff had been on the ground, it's difficult to see how he could use that leg for pressure on the rudder pedal.

      "I was amazed to learn that after being wounded had had the presence of mind (and guts) to open his first aid kit and apply a tourniquet to his leg above the knee: that certainly saved his life. Had he not applied the tourniquet, he would have crashed. Or if he had bailed out, would probably died of a hemorrhage on the ground, without the tourniquet."

      I want to add that Cliff was (and is, of course) a very intelligent person with much presence of mind. If he had been in a bomber that would have been one thing, but to be the entire "crew" and to have to fly over two hours, in shock, is most unusual.