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Daring rescue saves pilot’s life during WWII
by Bob Alvis
special to Aerotech News
It was just one of those mo- ments at a Doubletree Hotel when I wandered into the late-night restaurant during a convention of World War II P-38 pilots.
Sitting off to the side, two shall we say senior citizens, sat having a conversation at the end of a day filled with memories and activi- ties. Being then president of the P-38 National Association, I felt the need to join them and get their reflection on the weekend’s activities.
After pleasantries, the conver- sation went to the special bond that these two pilots had that followed them for the rest of their lives and conveyed their friend- ship in how they spoke about life and their experiences.
See, these two old pilots were part of a mission that was noth- ing special when it was conceived but after it played out, they were part of a story shared by avia- tors and veterans of World War II and written about for many years after.
I was blessed to call Dick Willsie and Dick Andrews my friends, and the exploits of these two P-38 Pilots were the reason that many of us felt called to ensure that the stories of these men are preserved for future generations.
They were both members of the 82nd Fighter Group in North Africa and Italy, and were paired on many flying missions over Romania, but no pairing was as important as the one on Aug. 4, 1944, while based at Foggia, Italy. It was code-named Operation Frantic and flown by the 8th Air Force in England, and the 15th Air Force in Italy, that summer of 1944.
After completing missions over Axis Europe the American planes would land in Russia from which they would fly others, re- turning to their home bases at the end of the last one. This mission, FRANTIC 4, was to strafe enemy airfields and other ground targets in Romania enroute to Poltava, in the Ukraine, its temporary Rus- sian base.
The two old pilots sitting at the table with me had told the story many times. I was sure that at this point, the thought of sharing it again was more like a manda- tory briefing than the telling of an adventure for the hundredth time.
Dick Willsie
Photograph by Bob Alvis
Courtesy photograph
It did come up, and we started rolling. There were trees ahead ofus,soIputdowntheflapsto combat position, which helped usliftoff.NowIhadtoplaythe climb just enough to clear the trees — not too much or we would mush right into them. We did clear those trees, but I sure was glad they weren’t ten feet taller!” said Andrews.
Sitting with these two men and reliving the event —the years had not taken anything away from the moment. Seeing them sitting side-by-side here in this restau- rant showed the lesson of life and friendship that no matter what age they became, it was the shared moments in their lives while be- ing tested which kept them young at heart.
“We landed at the Russian base ahead of the other planes and those crew chiefs really flipped when they saw both of us climb- ing out of that P38!”
When you look at the picture, you realize just how very young these two men were during their adventure!
When they returned to Fog- gia, Italy, two days later, the two Lightning pilots were treated like celebrities. After they landed, they were immediately met by several VIPs, including Generals Nathan Twining, the C.O. of the 15th Air Force, and Dean Strother, the 306th Fighter Wing commander. As Andrews stepped out of his plane he was greeted by Twining, who gave him a spot promotion to second lieutenant and awarded him the Silver Star! A few days later he received a special com- mendation from Gen. Ira Eaker, C.O., U.S. Strategic Air Forces in Europe. The two men subse- quently completed their combat tours with the 82nd FG.
An amazing flight which was only outdone by the two amazing men who flew it, and I’m sad to think that these two men are no longer with us today. I am glad I had the chance one evening to hear the story from the men who lived it and after I did, it was time to call it an evening. I looked at them both and said: “Thanks for your time. I can’t land a P-38 in a field under fire, but I can at least pick up your check!” We laughed, parted ways, and I realized what a gift that evening really was. The Greatest Generation, what a bless- ing to the world.
Until next time, Bob out ...
But their friendship and that mo- ment that bonded them for all time was like the very blood that ran through their bodies and kept them alive; the event gave them the lives they cherished until the end of them.
The mission was playing out like so many they had f lown before, but fate stepped in and gave Lt. Willsie’s P-38 a fatal blow when ground fire took out one of his engines. He still fought on with his one good engine until another barrage of ground fire took out his second engine.
As Willsie had related so many times, here in his own words is his recollection of that moment when things went south very fast: “I noticed coolant streaming from my right engine cooler located aft of the boom. This meant I only had a few minutes left, at best. I then made a call and reported my plight, and that I was going down. A response came from one of my squadron mates, 20-year-old Flight Officer Dick Andrews, of Portland, Ore., whose 10th mis- sion this was: ‘Pick a good field and I will come in after you,’ he radioed.”
“I had to get down quickly if I wanted to have any control of the landing. I forgot about everything else and concentrated on putting the plane down.”
“Suddenly, my windshield cracked from another hit. I felt a sting on my head and then a warm trickle down my forehead as a piece of flak took a piece of my forehead off. I saw a place to land, and two quick turns and a sideslip put me in position over some trees and down.
“As I slid over the last obstacle
Courtesy photograph
No such thing as first-class seating in a P-38 at war, Willsie and Andrews and what they endured for two hours flying to Russia.
and touched down, I placed my head against the rubber padding on the gun sight and before the plane skidded to a stop, my nose felt like Joe Louis had broken it with several of his left jabs and right hooks! I put my hand up to my face and it came back with thick blood all over it. I felt sick. But I could still move and move I did! I jumped out on the left wing,” said Willsie.
At this point in the conversa- tion, it was Andrews that said he still doesn’t know when logic left his cockpit and the idea of doing the impossible under fire from land troops and enemy aircraft entered his head, but it was a friend and while thinking in mo- ments measured in seconds the impossible became a reality.
Willsie stated: “At this time I saw Andrews’ plane with its landing gear down. Spellbound, I dropped down and watched it. I thought, ‘My God, he is coming in to pick me up!’ The field was soft and had obviously been planted recently, as there was stubble about an inch high. I had on sheepskin flying boots, not the best running gear, but I ran anyway for what seemed like the length of a football field, toward his plane. When he finally stopped. he started to taxi in my direction, but someone called him on the radio and said to stay there, because I was coming to him.”
Andrews had watched Willsie land across furrows, then made a 180-degree turn, putting his gear and f laps down. “Seeing I was too close to the field, I picked my
gear up, made a turn and started my approach, putting my gear back down when I saw I could make the field. I landed with the furrows, making sure to make a smooth landing. I stopped 100 feet from a cornfield, pulled my flaps up and set them in takeoff position. Leaving the engines running at 1800 rpm, I locked the brakes,” Andrews said.
“When I got to [Willsie’s] P38, he was standing on the wing. He had dropped the fold-down ladder and thrown his chute away. Although out of breath, I managed to smile a big smile. He grabbed my hand and pulled me up on the wing. He said: ‘You f ly,’ and we both jumped into the cockpit with a miracle of precision. I sat as far forward as I could, with him behind me, not really on his lap and he not really on my back. His right leg had to be placed over my right shoulder, because the control column on a P38 comes up from the right side of the cockpit. His left leg was down under my left arm. My hind end was on the front part of the bucket seat.
“We pulled the canopy closed. He put up the right window and I put up the left. This all occurred within seconds. I then pushed the propeller control to low pitch, pulled back on the controls to keep the nose up, and eased the throttles forward. I felt the nose wheel dig into the soft earth of the plowed meadow when I let go of the brakes. I couldn’t get the control wheel back any farther, so I cranked in full trim— nose up.