Several years before he died, Daddy wrote this account of the day he was shot down and taken prisoner during World War II.
Daddy's B-17 crew in January 1943. Daddy is standing at left. |
Four in One
by Bill Craton
July 5, 1943 found me flying my 26th combat mission on
B-17 bomber aircraft. Our target was a German airfield on the eastern end of
Sicily. We were in a formation of 24 B-17 bombers. I was the flight engineer
and top turret gunner.
We were attacked by well over 100 German fighters. We
shot down at least 11 Germans. We were one of three B-17's shot down.
Nearing the target, the first of four miracles happened.
We had lost three engines and were descending when the last fighter made a pass
at us. I shot at him but didn't hit him. I saw his 20mm gun open up. One shell
hit the radio room, one in the bomb bay, and the last one hit my turret just
under my left gun. My turret was destroyed, but the miracle was that the only
wound I received was a fragment of the 20mm shell to the back of my head. One
inch to the left would have blown my head off.
Miracle #2 came quickly thereafter. As I was getting up
from the cabin floor, the pilot was yelling, "Bail out, bail out!"
There was a jam up at the door, so the pilot asked me to open the bomb bay door
so we could bail out there. When I opened the door to the bomb bay, the whole
bay was on fire with the bombs still there. The flames were trying to enter the
cockpit, so I closed the door and told the pilot we had to go to the escape
hatch.
I couldn't wear my parachute in my turret, so I grabbed
by parachute and started putting it on. I had just gotten my right leg strap
buckled when I heard the bombs blow. Two years and three months later while
processing out of the service, the people there were saying that it was
impossible to be that close to 2,500 pounds of bombs when they exploded and
survive. I agree, but I did.
Miracle #3 followed immediately. The bombs sounded a
long way off but I felt myself rising and my head hitting something. There was
an awful pain and I lost consciousness. My right leg strap had been the only
part of my parachute fastened to my body, yet when I came to, I was still in
the parachute, holding on with my arms holding the chest straps and the right
leg strap holding on. Two years and three months later, they were telling me it
was impossible to stay in the parachute. I agreed, but with God all things are
possible.
Miracle #4 came while descending in my parachute. I heard
a machine gun firing, then suddenly felt a burning sensation in my right leg
and realized that a fighter plane was shooting at me. Within a few seconds, I
landed on the same airfield the group had bombed. I was unconscious for about
two and a half months and woke up in a German naval hospital in Naples, Italy.
There I saw the wound on my right leg. The bullet entered on the right side of
my kneecap and proceeded about four inches towards the middle of my stomach,
then made a sharp turn to the left and missed my stomach. I had nothing in my
flight suit pockets but my New Testament that I always carried. The paper and
leather in the New Testament would not have deflected the bullet. I believe God
reached down His hand and deflected it.
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