Tumult over Fortress Europa

Unable to mount a cross-channel invasion of France early in the Second World War, the Anglo-American alliance believed that their bombers could open a veritable “second front” against the Third Reich which the Soviet Union had been clamoring for since 1942. The British believed that their bombers could win the war single-handedly. American enthusiasm was more tempered in that they believed that their daylight strikes would shorten the war. Both sides had bitter lessons to learn.

Once touted as a technology masterwork capable of bringing wars to an end with a minimal cost in lives, the heavy bombers of the Second World War occupied a hallowed position in wartime societies which saw them as an essential tool.

The great quest of the human race in the years of austerity from the 1920s to the 1940s was not to cure poverty, hunger or disease, but how to push aloft multi-engined behemoths with a bomb-load and how to dump that deadly cargo onto an enemy state with the utmost of accuracy and a minimal of effort. Such an achievement, it was thought, would save lives — through the obviation of another static, land slog such as World War I.

The Americans favored the use of rugged, heavily armed day bombers equipped with the top-secret Norden bombsight to carry out pinpoint accuracy of bombing against Germany’s most vital military targets, while the British, who having tried daylight bombing only to be badly bloodied, preferred to bomb German cities at night in an effort to break Axis morale. The American view was that indiscriminate night bombing (indiscriminate because accuracy in night bombing was impossible despite advances in technology), was not only wasteful but that the bombing of civilian areas would do little to cripple the German war industry. The British, in turn, warned the Americans that daylight operations were impracticable because of the vulnerability of four-engined heavy bombers to enemy fighters. Yet, the British had no leg to stand on when on a single night in 1944, they lost 96 bombers in combat.[1]

This horrific casualty figure was a direct result of the unwavering confidence of Allied bomber barons that the relentless bombardment of Nazi Germany would force Adolf Hitler out of power and bring about the economic collapse of the Third Reich. In reality, just as American drone strikes in Afghanistan and western Pakistan have served to increase suicide and terror attacks on American and western forces in the modern era, German resistance congealed into an overwhelming hatred of the Allies, driven by the need to kill as many of “them” before Germany herself collapsed. To this end, the Germans developed fantastic tactics involving heavily armored fighter aircraft to ram bombers, a bat-shaped, rocket-powered craft designed to bolt into the midst of a heavy bomber formation and engage them using a large-bore cannon, a jet fighter made partly out of wood intended to be flown by teenagers of the Hitler Youth and a range of technical breakthroughs which not only made the business of finding the enemy easier, but blowing him out of the sky as well.

Yet, a sense of vulgarity permeates discussions about bombs, bombers and aerial bombardment, with their inseparable echoes of the secret human lust for corruption. It is a thing of uncouthness, unsophisticated, like conversations about pornography. The late writer, David Foster Wallace, once described how a pornographic actress looked as she excitedly told a fellow writer (Evan Wright, the author of Generation Kill) about her rescue and adoption of a stray dog. She looked for “a moment” like a 14-year-old, Wallace wrote, only to have the impression last for only a “heartbreaking” second or two.[2] Aerial bombardment, with its metaphorical  manifestation of debasement is no less of a loss of innocence of the species. Where the unsavoriness arguably ends, however, is at the legions of ordinary airmen of all sides whose wartime experiences constitute some of the most extraordinary tales of duty, loss and heroism in the annals of military history. From a sociological point of view, it is nothing if not remarkable that an entire generation of humans, hewn out of the hardships of the depression-era and thus being largely unused to technology, were able to adapt to the role of “modern” aviators.

But why talk about events which are now over 70 years old? Because then as now, bombing continues to be touted as a solution to external problems and because then as now, we are witness to pronouncements by those promising panacea through technology. If the last one hundred years of human history and culture have told us anything it is that while technology has the means to perhaps improve our lives, it is incapable of solving our more fundamental problems because human nature, in general, is intractable.

By 1944, at the apex of the Second World War, it had begun to sink in to the Allies that the war would not be won by the bombers despite their formidable technology. As hundreds of airmen continued to die on a daily basis for futile war aims, the military boffins and the inventors continued their dogged progress into uncharted scientific territory, developing one wondrous gadget after the next, until, in the end it became not so much as winning the war in the air, but giving the fighting men the means to stay alive in the face of escalating odds until the juggernaut of the land armies could roll into Germany to crush the last vestiges of the Reich. Perhaps the air campaign against the Nazis is less an indictment against the effectiveness of bombing than a statement of fact that bombing is perhaps not the ideal solution to the world’s problems.

47,268 members of the Royal Air Forces (including 9,887 Canadians, plus thousands of other “colonials”) and 26,000 American airmen of the US 8th Air Force lost their lives over Europe during the war in order for strategists to learn that indiscriminate or wholesale bombing is ineffective. How well that lesson has been absorbed by successive generations is debatable.

While nose art was classified by American psychiatrists as a projection of the violent male ego, aircrews likely saw them as a means to soften and feminize the brutal nature of warfare. By assigning a motif to aircraft, the airmen hoped to turn their machine into a living thing capable of graciousness and mercy. Aircraft became a “she,” a female entity which shared in their life and death struggles. Air Force headquarters, however, was appalled by the pornographic nature of these artworks.  Yet, their fears for the inner souls of their airmen and potential of their wholesale transformation into ribald, roughened warriors so far gone into the realm of immorality that they would be incapable of returning to the fold in civilian life, was in many ways, as ludicrous as sending them out to drop bombs on populations in the first place. As actor Marlon Brando’s character, “Colonel Walter E. Kurtz,” succinctly points out in Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now Redux (1979): “We train young men to drop fire on people but their commanders won’t allow them to write “Fuck” on their airplanes because it’s obscene!”

Perhaps, in demanding that aircrews tone down the explicit nature of their artwork, 8th Air Force headquarters was also trying to protect the innocence of the English youth, who were bombarded daily with images of nude women soaring over their rural villages and homes on canvases of airborne aluminum.

The high stresses of air combat prompted men to adopt a variety of animals for emotional support. Every combat group had an animal mascot, and nearly every hut in every squadron had at least one pet, usually a dog, although there were exceptions as the following photographs show:

First Lt. Quince L. Brown of the 84th Fighter Squadron and Bristow, Oklahoma, reputed as the “first man in the European theater to destroy four German planes on one day while flying a Republic P-47 Thunderbolt fighter,” poses with his dog, a German shepherd pup. Quince was shot down and captured — and subsequently murdered by German civilians on 6 September 1944. His dog was sent on to his folks in Oklahoma. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE309)

Lt. Albert C. Rood of the 390th Bomb Group poses with his new terrier, “Eager,” in England, after returning from an arduous shuttle mission to Regensburg and North Africa in August 1943. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE3968)

Second Lt. Richard H. Lightfine of Garden City, Long Island, and the 323rd Bomb Group with his dog “Trea” in July 1943. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE4623)

A gunner in the 451st Bomb Group sits with his dog before a mission. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE8795)

2nd Lt. Robert W. Biesecker of the 390th Bomb Group poses with his crew and their pets, “Scrappy” the dog and “Joe” the monkey, in front their B-17 “Honey Chile” (#42-31027) in October 1943. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE1593)

Airmen of the 386th Bomb Group, (from left) Private Walter E. Kelly of Chicago, Tech-Sgt M.E. Shank of Dayton, Ohio, Private F. Carpole of Brooklyn, New York and S/Sgt James M Marcus, also of Brooklyn, pose with their squadron mascots, “Windy” the duck, “Rose Bud” the goat, and Flak” and “Salvo” the dogs in September 1943. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE2250)

Captain Davis Perron of the 363rd Squadron, 357th Fighter Group holds the squadron dog, Jack, while sitting in the cockpit of his P-51B Mustang “Little Bitch” (#43-6792). Perron was killed in action in January 1944. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE473)

“Meatball” runs to greet a B-17 crewman returning from a mission over occupied Europe in March 1944. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE1264)

“Flap,” the mascot of the 448th Bomb Group sits on a jeep. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE1800)

First Lt. Walter J. Konantz, a pilot of the 55th Fighter Group, holds his Scottie dog, Lassie II, who is nursing a leg injury (as is evinced by a plaster cast).

First Lt. Robert C. Peterson, a navigator of the 44th Bomb Group, sits inside his B-24 Liberator with the crew’s mascot: “Pilot Officer Rusty.” Rusty allegedly took part in several missions. (Associated Press)

Staff Sergeant Antoni Bednarchuk of the 303rd Bomb Group, a former bus driver from Providence, Rhode Island, poses with his dog in April 1943. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE4189)

Two airmen of the 96th Bomb Group place an oxygen mask on their dog in front of a B-17G Flying Fortress. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE3962)

“Roscoe,” the bear mascot of the 390th Bomb Group sits atop crates of ammunition in August 1943. Adopted by a group squadron as a cub while the unit was still in the United States in early 1943, “Roscoe” was later found to be a female and renamed “Ann.” Beset by health problems later in the year, the bear had to be put down, much the anguish of the group and the local English village children who had become attached to her. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE1560)

The crew of a 91st Bomb Group Flying Fortress play with their dog. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE3527)

An airman of the 306th Bomb Group with his dog, underneath the wing of a B-17 Flying Fortress. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE4397)

Captain James A. Verinis of the 91st Bomb Group poses with his Scottie, “Stuka,” in the waist gun position of his B-17 Flying Fortress “Memphis Belle” on 30 June 1943, following the conclusion of his crew’s tour of duty. Verinis was the co-pilot of the “Memphis Belle.” (Roger Freeman Collection FRE3500)

A bomber crewman of the 381st Bomb Group lifts up his dog, “Meatball” on 10 March 1944. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE4835)

Sgt. Harold Rogers of the 401st Bomb Group with his dog mascot “Mister,” in the waist gun position of a B-17 Flying Fortress nicknamed “Un Petit Peu.” “Mister” allegedly flew several missions with his master who designed a custom respirator for him. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE9719)

War artist Frank Beresford is assisted by “Lady Moe,” the donkey mascot of the 96th Bomb Group. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE3968)

Two fighter pilots of the 82nd Fighter Squadron with “Brussels,” who belonged to a friend who was later killed in action. (Courtesy Huie Lamb)

The crew of a 390th Bomb Group B-17 commanded by 2nd Lt. Robert W. Biesecker of Lexington, North Carolina pets their mascots “Scrappy” the dog and “Joe” the monkey. Scrappy was adopted by the crew during training in the United States while Joe was adopted at an airbase in England. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE1593)

“Buddy” the dog mascot of the 62nd Fighter Squadron poses for the camera on 10 June 1942. Walt Disney drew a squadron insignia for the unit based on “Buddy,” which he characterized as the “First Flying Sergeant of the ‘Fighting 62nd’ Fighter Squadron.” (Roger Freeman Collection FRE2704)

William “Bill” Pulliam, a photographic officer of the 91st Bomb Group, pets his cat, “Cross Eyes” at Bassingbourn. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE5671)

Captain H. Carey, a flight surgeon in the 356th Fighter Group, sits with his dog “Don.” (Roger Freeman Collection FRE6074)

Lieutenant Harry S. McMurray of the 305th Bomb Group and San Leandro, Califronia, feeds “Flak,” his crew’s pet monkey. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE1113)

Fighter ace, Lt. Ralph K. “The Kid” Hofer of Salem, Missouri and the 4th Fighter Group, plays with his Alsatian, “Duke.” When Hofer was killed in a dogfight over Berlin in July 1944, Duke was adopted by fellow pilot, Lt. “Deacon” Hively, and taken home after the war.

A bomber crew of the 322nd Bomb Group prepares to board their B-26 Marauder “Jezabelle,” with their pet dog “Salvo.” (Roger Freeman Collection FRE1184)

Lt. Howard “Deacon” Hively of the 4th Fighter Group greets “Duke,” a police Alsatian which belongs to another member of the squadron, Lt. Ralph K. Hofer, in October 1943. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE2250)

Colonel Robert Landry, the commander of the 56th Fighter Group, poses with his dog. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE2731)

American fighter ace, First Lt. John Godfrey of the 4th Fighter Group, tells his dog “Lucky” to stay as he prepares to climb into his P-51B Mustang. (American Air Museum in Britain)

Staff Sgt. Joe Pace, a wounded B-17 radio operator, pets “Stinky,” a Jack Russell terrier belonging to his pilot, Lt. Gerald “Jerry” White, at a hospital in England. (Roger Freeman Collection FRE5886)