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We were at this time in fair enough weather, 6-7/ 10th. overcast, and the flak had been light. When through in the Berlin area they headed southwest along the autobahn taking pictures along the way to Magdeburg, again picking up more intense flak. The mission them called for them to go further in the Bonn area where our bombers had attacked air fields and synthetic oil plants earlier in the day. However before we got there they radioed that they were going to head for home being low on fuel and film. The fuel I could understand because they had really been barrelling along in those F-5A's. Also we were now over a solid overcast with just an occassional hole here and there.

It was our habit, after escort, to hit the deck and get our kicks by strafing targets of opportunity on the way back home to England. By this time we were now secure in the knowledge that those P-51s made us feel like hunters in the skies over Germany. Our morale was high, during ground strafing, chasing or evading their fighters, during dogfights or just firing the guns. We also got an adrenaline high and in my case sometimes it could reach the point of autoeroticism also mentioned by others.

Back to the mission. We spiraled down through a hole and sure enough found plenty of trucks, tanks and other equipment heading towards the front lines.

We were now heading in a westernly direction and at the same time sliding under a rather massive weather front.

I had been busy shooting em up and did not know exactly where we were. I told the boys to form up, let's get together and head for home. We had expended a lot of ammunition, and our fuel supply was not in too good of shape. It was a little after 16:00 hours, gets dark early in that opart of northern Europe, so I set course for England figuring we might have to land in Belgium or France. Decided to stay loe below the weather front as there could possibly still be a stream of bombers heading back through the overcast, also I had never forgotten, even to this day, my wandering over Hamburg in the overcast on one engine in my P-38, when that overcast turned black and then red when those 88 shells vectored in real close.

We were in a good, tight formation with me still trying to get my bearings when we came right up on Maastrick, Holland, which was still ijn German hands and those hands began firing at us.

I did not know it at the time, but our 1st. and 9th. Armies had Launched a massive attack in this area on November 16th. east of Aachen, which had been taken over on Oct. 21st. We were headed in a north westernly direction so I veered right, north, to get away from the city and all that ack-ack. Stil, we were over the middle of heavy ground action that appearedmore German than American and we were picking up heavy fire. So I said, 'Hell, we'll turn right again, east, to get away from all that ground activity.' At that time, my wingman, Kelso, said that he had been hit and was losing power. We were around 700-800 feet in poor visibility but were getting away from the front lines. I had just seen a cleared stretch which appeared to be a small emergency type strip surrounded by trees and a few bombed out buildings and a few wrecked aircraft scattered around. I pointed it out and told him to try for it and I'd attempt to cover him. Knowing we were almost out of ammo and low on fuel, I told the other three boys they were on their own.

They all made it OK, landing in Belgium. I further said to Kelso, the strip doesn't look bad, use your own judgement whether to try for a wheels down landing or not, and if you do go in wheels down and think I could make it to give me the thumbs up signal when I circled around.

In the meantime he and I were both picking up ground fire and I stayed as low to the trees as possible. He made a rather hairy wheels down landing, stopped right near the edge of the trees and jumped out. I was aware that he had been fired upon while landing. I came around almost immeadiately, still being fired on, and there he was with a big grin on his face, thumbs up and all. Damned, I must have been out of my ever loving mind, however the thought of not going in never occured to me. He was a good pilot, excellent wingman, would have followed me anywhere and I couldn't help but feeling very close to him at this particular moment. It flashed through my mind how Art Heiden and Jesse Carpenter had attempted this same thing when I was shot down earlier, on June 13th. but couldn't because of the trees and glider barriers and of their thoughts about having to leave me there deep in enemy occupied territory. Other flashes came when on several occasions in N. Africa my companions saved my life and I in turn did likewise. (94th. Ftr. Sq. 1942-43). Friendships forged in combat are never forgotten.

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