Ploesti and Beyond: The Wartime Careers of Clarence Gerrick and Jack Dieterle

          Back in 2016, I put together an article entitled “Dragged Through the Mouth of Hell: Toledo’s Contribution to Operation Tidal Wave August 1, 1943” for Northwest Ohio History which explored the role of four native Toledoans who took part in that daring first air raid on the Ploesti oil refineries. Interestingly enough, they all served in the same bomb group (the 389^th) flying B-24Ds. Two of the four men (Clarence ‘Bing’ Gerrick and Jack Dieterle) were pilots, one (Robert Schwellinger) was a co-pilot, and the last was an aerial gunner (William Budai). All four men survived this harrowing mission, but two of the men were later shot down in bombing missions over Germany in the fall of 1943. Captain Gerrick’s B-24 was shot down October 4, 1943 near Ostende, Belgium; he was captured and spent the rest of the war as a POW including a stint at Stalag Luft 3. William Budai was killed in action November 18, 1943 when his plane was lost over the North Sea while on a mission to Oslo, Norway.

B-24s over Ploesti on August 1, 1943. Captain Clarence "Bing" Gerrick and First Lieutenant Jack W. Dieterle of the 389th Bomb Group both took part in this daring mission. Both men were native Toledoans from the class of 1935; Gerrick was a basketball standout at St. Johns High School and Dieterle was a track star at Scott High School.

I was fortunate in the course of researching that article to get in contact with the son of one of the pilots- Doug Gerrick shared numerous photos, newspaper clippings, and stories of his father’s experience during World War II. Earlier this year and quite out of the blue, I was contacted by the son of the other pilot: Richard Dieterle, a son of Jack Dieterle and an Army veteran of Vietnam (see: https://www.mnvietnam.org/story/an-infantry-action/), had come across an online reference to my Ploesti article and we exchanged information. He provided me with some wonderful color photographs of his father, numerous stories his father told him about the war, as well as a letter written in September 1943 in which Jack discusses some details of the Ploesti mission. My thanks go out to both of those men for their kindness in sharing this information.

 

Bing Gerrick as a flying cadet in 1941

Captain Clarence William Gerrick was born in February 12, 1917 in Toledo, Ohio to William J. and Mary R. Gerrick. He grew up at 328 Palmer St. in the Lagrange Street Polish neighborhood also known as Lagrinka. A Catholic, attended St. John High School in Toledo where he played varsity basketball, graduating with the class of 1935. He later played basketball at the University of Toledo and graduated from the U.T. business school in 1940; he was known by his friends as ‘Bing,’ a reference to his prowess on the basketball court. Bing went on to work as a collector in the finance office of Shank-Cobley Co. (a Plymouth-DeSoto car dealership in downtown Toledo) before enlisting in the Army as an aviation cadet on March 15, 1941 at Fort Hayes in Columbus, Ohio.

 

Bing Gerrick at the controls of a Fairchild PT-19 in 1941

Gerrick is at the controls of this AT-6 in late 1941.

As indicated in a March 1941 Toledo Blade article showing Gerrick swearing into the service, his primary (introductory) flight training was in Oklahoma at either Hatbox Army Air Field in Muskogee or in Tulsa. I’m going to offer that he trained with the 315^th Flying Training Detachment at Hatbox Field; this entity was operated by Spartan Aircraft Company. A photo from his collection shows him sitting in the cockpit of a Fairchild PT-19 during primary training. After acquiring 60-65 hours of flight time, Cadet Gerrick graduated to basic pilot training. In Basic flight training he flew either BT-9 or BT-13 aircraft, earning 70-75 hours of flight time during this training. He moved on to Advanced Pilot Training at Brooks Field flying AT-6s and graduated in October 1941, receiving his wings and a commission as second lieutenant. He was assigned to observation planes and had a brief period of transition training before being assigned to an active duty O-47 squadron.

Lt. Gerrick won his wings in October 1941

The O-47 had a dangerous job for its three-man crew- it’s mission was to fly over enemy lines and the observer would either photograph or sketch enemy positions. Army maneuvers in 1941 laid bare the shortcomings of the design and when World War II broke out, the O-47s were sent to the coast for anti-submarine and coastal patrols. A photo dated July 30, 1942 shows Lieutenant Gerrick at the controls of O-47B serial number 39-137 near Riverside, California; this particular aircraft was lost in an accident March 13, 1943 near Laurel, Mississippi. Lieutenant Gerrick applied for additional training on multi-engine aircraft and learned to fly the B-24 which eventually led to his assignment with the 389^th Bomb Group. While at Lowry Field, Lieutenant Gerrick was assigned to the 567^th Bomb Squadron of that group and met for the first time his assigned crew: Second Lieutenant George T. Martin, co-pilot, First Lieutenant Sidney Westlund, bombardier, First Lieutenant George H. Wilson, navigator, T/Sgt. Daniel A. Craddock, engineer-top turret gunner, T/Sgt. Roy L. Wells, radio operator, S/Sgt. Leopold J. Paulin, waist gunner, S/Sgt. Ross L. Koch, tail gunner.

Lt. Gerrick at the controls of this O-47B observation plane over Riverside, California on July 30, 1942. He soon started training to fly four engine B-24 bombers.

 

Lt. Gerrick at the controls of an early model B-24 over the New Mexico desert in early 1943. "This was taken the other day when I was flying in formation with another B-24 near Alamogordo, New Mexico," he wrote on the back of this photo. "To the right of the number 644 is a black cat with 'Kitten' painted above it. Just above the word 'Kitten' is the pilot's compartment and if you look closely you will see me busily engaged in flying this crate."

Captain Bing Gerrick stands at left with some his crew in a picture dating from 1943.

Before getting too much further, let’s circle back and discuss Jack Dieterle. Jack Woodrow Dieterle (named for President Woodrow Wilson) was born May 26, 1917 in Detroit, Michigan to Don E. and Ruby Jane (Potts) Dieterle. His father served as an army officer in WWI and the family moved to Toledo around 1930. Jack grew up at 2138 Maplewood in the Old West End and was part of the Scott High School class of 1935. His son Richard remembered that Jack was “a rather wild kid. He used to play hooky from school in order to go out to the airport and watch the planes take off and land. Otherwise, he used to disassemble and reassemble clocks, radios, and other complex technologies of the day. He was an indifferent student at Scott High School in Toledo.”

Jack, however, was an exceptional athlete and was a member of the 1934-35 Scott track squad that went undefeated in 13 contests. Jack attended the Ohio State University on a track scholarship, where he was a track teammate of someone you might have heard of: Jesse Owens. “His high point was an All Ohio meet in which he faced off against the famous Jesse Owens in the high hurdles. Jack, however, tripped over the second hurdle and was left in the dust,” his son remembered. It was while he was on the Ohio State track team that Jack became in favor of racial integration- the team had traveled to Kentucky and Jack was appalled when the hotel owner refused to house the African-American members of the team. It was the Jim Crow South and segregation was the rule. Jesse Owens would go on to win four gold medals at the 1936 Olympic summer games held in Berlin, Germany.

Jack Dieterle at center jumping hurdles with two teammates on the 1934-35 Scott High School track team.

 

1935-1936 Ohio State track team with Jesse Owens circled in back row; Jack Dieterle sits second from right in the front row.

Jack continued with live with his parents after college and was working as a laborer when the war broke out. He enlisted in the U.S. Army on January 20, 1942 at Toledo and was accepted into flight school. Like Bing Gerrick, Cadet Dieterle went through basic, primary, then advanced pilot training. His advanced pilot training took place at Roswell Army Air Field, New Mexico where he learned to fly Beechcraft AT-11 ‘Kansan’ twin engine trainers. Lieutenant Dieterle graduated in September 1942 and later joined the 389^th Bomb Group at Davis-Monthan in late 1942/early 1943. While at Lowry Field, he was assigned to the 566^th Bomb Squadron and met his crew for the first time and was assigned a new B-24D which he christened “The Little Gramper.” His crew was: Flight Officer Thomas G. Baum, co-pilot, Second Lieutenant Robert H. Hyde, bombardier, Second Lieutenant Thomas C. Campbell, navigator, T/Sgt. Marcus A. DeCamp, engineer-top turret gunner, S/Sgt. Leonard Boisclair, waist gunner, S/Sgt. Russell D. Hayes, waist gunner, S/Sgt. Ernest J. Cox, tail gunner.

Photo showing Jack Dieterle's B-24 christened "The Little Gramper" While the circled officer bears a striking resemblance to Dieterle, given the number of missions emblazoned on the nose, I don't think that this is actually Dieterle as by this point he was the squadron operations officer. Regardless, its a nice shot showing the nose of the ship he flew over Ploesti.

The 389^th Bomb Group was formed December 24, 1942 at Davis Monthan Field in Arizona; it then moved to Biggs Field in Texas in February 1943 for a few months and finished its training at Lowry Field, Colorado in June 1943. President Franklin D. Roosevelt toured Lowry Field on April 24, 1943 and a photo from Bing Gerrick’s collection shows the President laughing jauntily as the officers of the 389^th stood at attention in front of their B-24Ds. While at Lowry Field the flight crews completed their final combat training before departing for the European Theater of Operations. The 389^th was assigned to the 8^th Air Force whose primary mission was the strategic bombing of Germany.

 

Jack Dieterle standing behind the engines of one of the 389th's B-24s in a photo from 1944. By the end of his tour, Dieterle had been promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel.

In June 1943, the flight crews of the 389^th Bomb Group flew across the Atlantic and arrived in Scotland. Jack Dieterle wrote a letter to his family on June 27, 1943 reporting that he had made it England after “a pleasant crossing” over the Atlantic. The 389^th Bomb Group was assigned to RAF Hethel but soon was ordered to fly to the Mediterranean to support the Allied invasion of Sicily. The group flew to a newly opened air base called Berka 4 located near Benghazi, Libya.

Living conditions for the fliers in Libya were primitive: men were housed in canvas tents with canvas folding cots, a couple of blankets for covering, field rations and canned peanut butter, and drinking water brought on base in canvas bags and tasting bitter from the purification agents,. Bathroom facilities amounted to a 55-gallon drums buried in the ground (referred to by the aircrews as 'desert lilies') and gravity fed showers. Sand blew everywhere. Captain Philip Ardery of the 389^th commented that the camp was also fairly overrun with snakes, scorpions, and locusts. “Literally a million huge locusts- grasshoppers to me. While we pitched our tents they lit on our necks, hit us in the face, and got in anything left lying around. They were nasty things but after a while we got tolerably used to them.” The beaches of the Mediterranean lay just a short Jeep ride away from the base but the town of Benghazi was a bombed-out shambles. It was a far cry from what the men were used to stateside or even at Hethel.

Lieutenant Dieterle referred to Benghazi in a letter to his family as “the asshole of creation” but despite the harsh conditions and remote location, the U.S.O. put on a show for the men. “We had a U.S.O. show last night and you have to hand it to those people for the entertainment they can put out under very adverse conditions,” he wrote on July 22, 1943. “They had an accordion player, a dancer, a singer and an emcee. You should have heard the all- male audience when they saw the first white women since they had left England — it would chill your very bones. Oh yes, they also had a magician and about the only thing I can say about him was he would have been a great hit if he would have made himself disappear.”

 

Bombs from the 389th Group striking the marshaling yards at Littorio
Italy on July 19, 1943.

Starting on the 9^th of July, the 389^th flew a series of missions against targets in Sicily, Italy, and Crete culminating with an attack on the marshaling yards at Littorio, Italy on July 19, 1943 in which Captain Gerrick led the group. Jack Dieterle recalled that during the July 14, 1943 mission against Messina, he encountered the heaviest flak during his entire tour in the E.T.O. After flying six missions, the 389^th Bomb Group stood down to start training for the secret mission against the Ploesti refineries.

 

Formation map from the July 19, 1943 mission over Littorio led by Captain Gerrick; Lieutenant Dieterle also flew on this mission. The two men would also fly together two weeks later against Ploesti.

In preparation for the Ploesti mission, the group altered its B-24s- the top secret Norden bomb sight was removed and a ring and post sight replaced it (the Norden bomb sight was only effective at altitude); additional guns were added in the nose of the bomber that allowed the co-pilot to operate them via a foot switch; a fuel tank was added to the bomb bay to give the B-24s the necessary range to make it to Rumania and back. Jack Dieterle passed along some additional memories to his son of the intense training and preparation for the Ploesti mission. They trained in the desert flying low level runs against a mock up oil refinery at “200 feet off the ground, where they at least had the feeling of danger mitigated by occasionally terrorizing camel riders. When they were briefed on the upcoming raid on Ploesti, they were told not to worry about the dirigible balloons with heavy cables attached to them, and that they should simply cut them with their wings. When asked what those balloons were for, the briefing officer replied, “They’re designed to cut wings off.”

Mission day: August 1, 1943, a bright and clear Sunday morning in North Africa- the men were roused at 2:30 A.M. and given breakfast (powdered eggs) and a final briefing, then sat beside their aircraft in the dispersal areas waiting the signal to launch. Colonel John R. “Killer” Kane of the 98^th Bomb Group remembered the hours before the mission; “The hardest part was waiting for the long hours to pass before takeoff. Were we afraid? To men who had been shot at through months of aerial combat, fear was always the entrance card and courage the routine music of the dance. Yes, we dreaded this mission.”

         

A postcard view of the target- the Steaua Romana oil refinery at Campina, Rumania.

High command assigned the 30 bombers of the 389^th the mission of attacking the Steaua Romana refinery located at Campina, about twenty miles northwest of Ploesti. The group was assigned this target as it was located the farthest from Libya and the 389th had the newest model B-24Ds (block 90 and 95s) which had slightly better range than the older block B-24Ds in the other four bomb groups. It was also decided that since the 389th group was the least experienced group of the five, they would be given an ‘easier’ target to hit. However, Steaua Romana was the second largest refinery in the area with a capacity to refine 1.75 million tons of crude oil per year, so it was indeed a rich target.

Steaua Romana refinery at Campina in a postcard dating from the 1920s.

Five groups totaling 177 planes took off for Ploesti that morning, and the 389^th was the last group in the bomber stream; the planes were deployed in ten waves of three planes each flying in a V formation. Target Force Red, as the 389^th was called, carried roughly 70,000 lbs. of high explosive bombs and incendiaries, enough to destroy the entire Steaua Romana facility. The first ships of the 389^th took off at 7 A.M. with a route direct north at 4,000 feet across the Mediterranean Sea, then a turn northeast across Albania with a climb over the Balkans, then swooping down to the Initial Point at Pitesti, Rumania. The flight in to Rumania was relatively uneventful for the group- one aircraft failed takeoff, but none of the aircraft aborted the mission once aloft, a testament to the hard work of the ground crews and the new aircraft the group was flying.  The entire task force flew in radio silence in hopes of being able to surprise the German and Rumanian defenders.

 

Flight path of the 389th to and from Campina.

At about 1:20 P.M., the 389^th reached the initial point of Pitesti but the lead elements made a wrong turn at the secondary point near Targoviste. As the group reached the outskirts of Targoviste it was clear that they were in the wrong place; they had turned one valley too soon. Colonel Jack Wood, the 389^th’s commanding officer, then led the entire group over one valley to the north and started the bomb run on the Steaua Romana refinery, quite of feat of flying for a new air group. However, the other leading bomb groups on the raid had also made a series of navigation errors that had already fully alerted the Ploesti area defenses, including the approaches to Steaua Romana. Unfortunately, the element of surprise had been lost and the 389^th approached its target with “defenders 100 percent alert, the bombers stranded 200 feet above ground, 1,000 miles from home without fighter escort, and about to be hit by fighters, flak, small arms, everything but slingshots.”

 

The flight path of Target Force Red; note the wrong turn at Targoviste which Colonel Jack Wood quickly corrected. Low level navigation proved very difficult for the entire strike force.

Shortly after entering the valley leading to Steaua Romana, the 389^th broke into tactical formation of two columns of aircraft grouped in elements of three, fifteen aircraft in one column, fourteen in the other column. The ships started to space themselves apart for the bombing portion of the mission after being in tight formation during their flight from Libya. They quickly started taking fire from machine guns in the nearby hills. Pilots hugged their B-24s to the earth, many striking tree branches along the way. The aerial gunners started to blast at the enemy anti-aircraft guns, a novel experience for these fliers trained in high altitude operations.

 

Steaua Romana under attack by the 389th on August 1, 1943

Ahead lay Steaua Romana.  It was a small target located near a residential district. The critical part of the target consisted of four buildings located in a diamond shaped area only 400 feet wide; the boiler plant, power plant, and two still houses.  “A mile and a half from the refinery, we opened up with our fifties aiming at the oil tanks which held about 55,000 gallons of oil. They started to explode, throwing smoke and flames about 500 feet in the air. We were buzzing in at twenty feet, doing 200 miles per hour, flying through intensive flak and bouncing around between oil fires,” one pilot remembered.

 

Smoke pours from the target...

Capt. Philip Ardery, flying in the 564^th Squadron of the 389^th wrote, “as the first ships approached the target we could see them flying through a mass of ground fire. It was mostly coming from ground-placed 20mm automatic weapons, and it was as thick as hail. The first ships dropped their bombs squarely on the boiler house and immediately a series of explosions took place. They weren't the explosions of thousand-pound bombs, but of boilers blowing up and fires of split-open fire banks touching off the volatile gases of the cracking plant. Bits of the roof of the house blew up; lifting to a level above the height of the chimneys, and the flames leaped high after the debris. The second three ships went over coming in from the left and dropped partly on the boiler house and partly on the cracking plant beyond. More explosions and higher flames. Already the fires were leaping higher than the level of our approach. We had gauged ourselves to clear the tallest chimney in the plant by a few feet. Now there was a mass of flame and black smoke reaching much higher, and there were intermittent explosions lighting up the black pall.”

 

Target ablaze...

Chris Christensen of the 567th Squadron remembered: “The target ahead of us looked just like the model and movies we had watched so many times during the previous few days. The trail elements in each section swept out about a mile back in converging on their assigned targets just after the airplanes in the lead.  From our position at the rear of the formation we could see the events unfold in front of us.  The airplanes equipped with a single fixed machine gun loaded with incendiary bullets started some fires which produced heavy smoke.  The enemy had many guns firing pointblank at the airplanes.  Some of the early bombs hit installations, including the power house, which exploded or ignited even though the bombs had delay action fuses.  It was like stirring up a bees’ nest. The airplanes going straight in were getting hit.  The pilot and I looked at each other and I concurred by a hand gesture to go through the smoke and flames.  We were flying at an altitude about half way up the height of the chimney of the power plant, the target of the lead airplanes in each element.  Our bombardier released the bombs and we zipped through the smoke and flames.  We could see the flash from the barrels of guns shooting at us from pointblank range, but we continued to fly normally.”   

 

389th Bomb Group formation plan for the Ploesti mission. Bing Gerrick led the third flight of the right column while Jack Dieterle flew in the left wing position of the fourth flight in the left column. The other two Toledoans that flew on this mission included gunner William Budai who flew in McCormick's ship, the tail-end Charlie of the right column while Robert Schwellinger was co-pilot of Harold James' ship on McCormick's right wing.

One bombardier after dropping his bombs, started to fire his .50 caliber machine gun at the oil storage tanks. “I saw a tracer carve a little hole in a storage tank. It was a funny thing. A squirt of oil came out. It became solid flame, hosing out in a neat stream and spreading a big pool on the ground like molten iron. The tank got white hot and buckled. Then I lost sight of it.”

Colonel Wood had successfully led his entire group to their primary target- all 29 aircraft that took off made it to Campina. The rookie group flew the mission exactly as briefed, a testament to the group's focus on disciplined formation flying. But losses soon began to mount as the planes battled their way through swarms of anti-aircraft fire. A navigator on the mission remembered one loss in particular: “Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw an arm-sized stream of fuel exiting through the right waist window of our left wingman (the bomb bay fuel tank had been hit). The pilot stayed in formation as we entered the flames and smoke rising from the refinery, his bombs going into the target along with the rest of us. As they passed through the smoke and flame of an exploding boiler, the stream of fuel from the punctured tank ignited. The huge bomber resembled a meteor as flames streamed behind it. The pilot slipped under the formation, attempting a wheels up landing in a dry stream bed, but his wing caught the bank of the stream, causing the bomber to cartwheel to a tragic flaming end.” The pilot of that plane, Lieutenant Lloyd “Pete” Hughes, was later awarded the Medal of Honor. 

A photo shot from the nose of a B-24 racing away from Steaua Romana. The B-24s flew right on the deck; stories have been told that the planes landed in Libya with corn stalks jammed into the bottom of the plane. Seeing a picture like this, I believe the stories.

Jack Dieterle entered the combat area in a three-plane formation under the lead of element leader Melvin Neef who flew a B-24 called “The Boomerang” and for the only time in his tour had anti-aircraft fire directed down upon his plane from AA batteries in the nearby ridges. “We came into the attack at 200 feet and would have been lower if it hadn't been for the tall chimneys,” he wrote. “We used speed bomb sights and very neatly hit everything we went after. We gave them hell but we also took punishment ourselves.”

He witnessed the demise of his wingman Lieutenant Robert Horton who was flying a B-24 called ‘Sand Witch.’ Dieterle wrote in a letter that night “I saw Lieutenant Horton just after he had passed over the target and dropped his bombs. His ship caught fire from one of the explosions and it looked to me as though he was going to try and crash land beyond the town. Upon landing on what looked like a beach, Lieutenant Horton's plane exploded and burned. I failed to see anyone leave the ship after it crashed and burned.” It was later learned that only one man escaped from the burning bomber and was captured. It was pure luck that Dieterle had earlier in the mission traded spots in formation with Horton.

This beautiful color photograph was identified as Captain Gerrick, but his son insists that it's not him and the rank insignia bears him out (its a second lieutenant). The B-24 however was the ship that Captain Gerrick flew over Ploesti.

“I was the only ship to get back out of my flight and on the way back I didn't think I was going to make it into my home base because of my dwindling gas supply,” he wrote. “I thought I was going to have to make a landing in the sea but as luck would have it I set my ship down on the old home grounds with sputtering engines, crew intact, and but one machine gun bullet in my number one engine to show for my efforts in the raid. I lost many good friends on this raid and believe me the country owes something to those kids. I can say, with pride, that it was a tough raid, well done.”

Bing Gerrick's flight back to Berka 4 was also a hairy one: his ship had taken heavy antiaircraft fire over the target and had lost one of the engines. The plane fell behind the rest of the group on the way out and ended up flying over a German airbase with fighters refueling on the ground. The plane was nearly out of fuel when they crossed into Libya and ran out of fuel on the runway upon landing. The physical and mental exertions of flying a battle-damaged B-24 back 1,000 miles from Rumania took a heavy toll: Bing estimated that he had lost 10 pounds during the course of the mission and said he had worked never worked harder in his life than on the return trip from Steaua Romana.

 

Photograph showing the damaged Steaua Romana refinery.

The 389^th had wrought a lot of havoc: Steaua Romana was heavily damaged and did not return to full production until 1949. One officer commented afterwards that the bomb group’s attack was a ‘howling success’ with a high concentration of bombs hitting the target. A post attack assessment bore this out: the Stratford crude oil distillation plant was heavily damaged and would be out of action for months, the boiler house and power plant very heavily damaged and out of action for six months, the asphalt plant damaged and out for four months, the paraffin wax plant out for six months. The lubricating oil plant was totally destroyed.

But the group took heavy losses: four aircraft had been shot down over the target or in enemy territory, two more landed in Turkey badly shot up, while five more landed at Malta or Cyprus, unable to make it back to Libya due to battle damage or low fuel. On August 2, 1943, only 19 of the 30 planes that made the mission were sitting on the ramp at Berka 4, a loss rate of more than a third. These numbers were typical of the five groups that made the great raid. One raider stated at his debriefing that “we were dragged through the mouth of hell.”

 

Another photo showing damage at Steaua Romana

Captain Gerrick continued to fly missions from Benghazi until September when the 389^th rotated back to RAF Hethel to rejoin the 8^th Air Force. Bing’s wartime flying career ended October 4, 1943 when his B-24 was shot down at Koksijde, near Ostende, Belgium, right on the English Channel. He bailed out safely from his plane but was quickly captured by the Germans and sent to a prisoner of war camp called Stalag Luft 3. What’s interesting about this is that the 389^th did not fly a mission on October 4^th- they flew against Wiener Neustadt, Austria from North Africa on October 1, 1943, then the group flew back to England. They flew their first mission against Vegesack, Germany on October 8, 1943. It’s most likely that Captain Gerrick’s ship was damaged during this return flight. There isn’t a missing air crew report that I could find so its unclear exactly how Captain Gerrick was captured…

By early December 1943, the War Department had received confirmation that Bing was a prisoner of war. Doug Gerrick recalled in Bing’s obituary that “his father sometimes talked about the inadequate food, 100-mile winter treks from one prison camp to another, and his life constantly at risk. He was freed when Americans captured the camp at the end of the war and was fortunate to have sustained the ordeal in fairly good health.” Bing would be released from imprisonment in May 1945.

 

Captain Gerrick's POW Identification photo

In December 1944, Bing’s father was presented the Silver Star and Air Medal that Bing had earned for his valor during the Ploesti mission. The Silver Star citation read as follows: “As pilot of a B-24, Captain Gerrick contributed immeasurably to the outstanding success of the mission. Confronted with heavy fire from anti-aircraft and machine gun positions, repeated attacks by fighter aircraft and adverse weather conditions, Captain Gerrick displayed a combined courage and indomitable spirit which are a credit to the Army Air Forces.”

The Army Air Force awarded Jack Dieterle the Distinguished Flying Cross for his role in the Ploesti mission, and following the heavy losses, the 389^th Bomb Group was reorganized and in the shuffle Jack was promoted to Operations Officer for the 566^th Squadron. “I am now the Operations officer and no longer have a crew of my own. I don't fly as often as when I did have my own crew but I do fly missions with the new crews acting as instructor pilot. Back to the paper work, phooey,” he wrote in September 1943. Ploesti had proven the value of tight formation flying as protection against Luftwaffe fighter planes and Dieterle worked hard to train his new crews in this skill. Richard Dieterle remembers that “it became clear that the Luftwaffe especially targeted planes that were in ragged formations, no doubt on the supposition that the sloppiness might extend to the gunnery as well. So my father countered this by having his squadron go aloft and practice tight formation flying. While they were thus engaged, he would take off in a P-47 Thunderbolt fighter aircraft and dive through the formation like an attacking fighter plane. This way they would become inured to the distraction of fighter attacks and kept their formations tight and effective.”

Map of Steaua Romana as drawn by Lieutenant Dieterle

Dieterle continued as operations officer until February 28, 1944 and then was promoted to squadron commander. He continued to fly missions and wrote in January about his experiences on a recent mission to Bremen. “Believe me when I say flying at 25,000 feet in the winter time over Europe is no picnic. Temperatures of from minus 40° to 60° C are the usual thing and we have the cold to combat as well as the enemy. Speaking of the cold temperatures reminds me of the last raid I was on over Bremen, Germany. It was colder than the proverbial cat’s ass and we were having a helluva time keeping warm. I had on an electric flying suit complete with gloves and boots but the damn thing wasn't working just right. In order to keep my hands and feet from freezing I had to turn the rheostat to full high and when I did this the part of the suit covering my posterior got very very hot. Well to make a long story short I literally burned my fanny off! However, the Doc's say that with a little ointment in the right place I'll recover.”

 

Nice postwar photo of Jack Dieterle from 1946.

Jack Dieterle had completed his tour of 25 missions by late June 1944 but a friend asked him to fly in his place on one last mission that took place shortly after the D-Day landings. Richard Dieterle remembered: “One day another pilot asked him for a favor. He desperately needed to see his girlfriend in London but had been scheduled that day for a mission. Could he fly that for him? So my father said that he would. At that time, the British were trying to break out of Caen, where the German had them hemmed in with heavy Panzer support. The mission was to bomb in support of the British push. After having dropped his bombs, he started to head back to England, but before he could get beyond the Axis controlled area, his plane was hit multiple times by anti-aircraft fire. The plane fell into a gradual descent which could not be reversed, so he ordered everyone to bail out. After the crew had done so, he walked out on to a wing and jumped. Having had no experience in parachuting, he somehow got tangled up in the chute’s cords and did not land on his feet. He apparently landed somewhere in no man’s land, where several British soldiers rushed up. He had suffered a concussion and other minor injuries. The first man there said, “You’re alright, mate?” This ended Jack Dieterle’s tour in the E.T.O.

Jack Dieterle holding his son Richard on his shoulder in a photo dating from 1946 in Orlando, Florida.

Toledo Casualties on D-Day June 6, 1944

 

They waited at airfields and ports all over southern England. Eisenhower stated that the invasion would be a great crusade to rid the world of Nazi tyranny. They had a multitude of reasons for being there: pride, duty, the draft, old scores to settle, old debts to repay, love of country. Their mission was clear, the men were well trained and well equipped to complete their mission of cracking open the forward defenses of Festung Europa. They came from every creed and every walk of life, from every big city and small town across the nation. The earnest hopes and dreams and prayers of their loved ones back home echoed through the cosmos but at the tip of the spear, the men wrestled with the awful questions of doubts of how they would react to combat.

Tanks of Co. A, 741st Tank Battalion on June 4, 1944; two days later these men would storm Omaha Beach. Staff Sergeant Walter J. Skiba of Toledo would earn the Silver Star but lose his life trying to batter down the German defenses.

Most of them had never heard a rifle fired in anger. How would they react to the shelling, the machine gun fire, the mines and grenades and strafing and snafus and a million other things that would happen on that beach at dawn? Would they drown or be shot down before they even hit the beach? Would they be able to summon the courage to cross the shingle and climb the slope, and sink their bayonets into their enemy? How would they react to the carnage inflicted by flamethrowers, bombs, 16-inch naval shells, bangalore torpedoes? Would they crack up, or would they overcome it? None of them knew; history tells us the answer but 75 years ago today, for the average GI, it hung in the balance, it all hung in the balance.

          For some of the men, it would be remembered as the most tremendous and awe-inspiring experience of their lives. They would be marked and honored for the rest of their lives as being present at “D-Day.” For some of them, it marked the end of their earthly journey.  As we go about the humdrum tasks of our lives on what would otherwise be an ordinary Tuesday, let's remember for a moment that the freedoms we enjoy were bought at a high price by thousands of men and women whom we'll never know.

          They say that a candle burns brightest just before it goes out, and that is an apt analogy for Toledoan Walter Skiba. A staff sergeant and tank commander in Company A, 741st Tank Battalion, Skiba would be posthumously awarded the Silver Star for his heroism on Sector Easy Red that morning.

Here's his story:

          Staff Sergeant Walter J. Skiba lost his life while engaged in a desperate battle on sector Easy Red near draw E-1 (St. Laurent) during the morning assault on Omaha beach. Skiba served as a platoon commander during the attack and was fortunate in that he was commanding a standard M4 Sherman as an LCT landed him directly on the beach; many of the specialized DD-Shermans were launched far from shore and sank in the choppy waters of the Channel, including one tank which took the life of fellow Toledoan Joseph Kaminesky.

          The battalion after action report gives the mission and plan for the attack. “Company A had the mission of landing astride the beaches of EASY RED and FOX GREEN on beach Omaha at H-Hour to support with cannon and machine gun fire the assault of the troops on this beach. Company A was shipped on LCTs, its tanks having been waterproofed for wading. The LCTs were to beach at intervals in order to permit the tanks to disembark in reasonably shallow water and seek firing positions hull down in the water. During the initial phases of the assault, the beach area was under heavy artillery, mortar, and machine gun fire. The assault battalions of the 16th RGT were holding approximately 20 yards of beachhead at low tide and made no progress forward due to the intense fire.”

Omaha Beach, Easy Red Sector

          An additional complication arose when the radios malfunctioned; battalion headquarters tried to maintain control of the tanks by sending runners to each individual tank to direct their fire. “The tanks continued to fire on targets of opportunity during the infiltration of the infantry which was moving directly forward making an assault on the bluff behind the beach; the infantry was forced to make their direct approach under the protecting fire of tank weapons.” Skiba started to engage a particularly tough target known as WN65; this was a concrete pillbox located adjacent to the E-1 draw that had a perfect field of fire, inflicting very heavy casualties on the invading troops. “If the Americans were to take the draw and truly begin their inland advance, the pillbox had to be neutralized,” wrote historian John McManus. “It began to attract the fire of nearly every American weapon with a feasible shot.”

          Corporal Steven Hoffer was in the tank with Skiba and described their bitter fight to blast through the German defenses. “From our defiladed position behind the shingle, we fired on several machine gun nests from which fire was visible, then picked up a log emplacement located at the extreme top of the hill on our right and fired several rounds of 75mm. A captain from the 16th Infantry came to the tank and directed fire on a concealed 88mm gun. The captain also directed fire on two other targets which were knocked out and the infantry was then able to advance.”

Shoulder Patch of the 741st Tank Battalion

Skiba's Silver Star citation described what happened next: “With complete disregard for his personal safety, Sergeant Skiba dismounted from his tank on four occasions and remained exposed to enemy machine gun, mortar, and artillery fire in order to contact the infantry which he was supporting to determine targets upon which their desired him to fire. Upon mounting his tank the fourth time, Sergeant Skiba was killed my enemy mortar fire.” Hoffer remembered that Skiba was killed almost instantly at about 1045, and that the crew pulled his body from the turret and called the medics to his aid.

741st Tank Battalion tanks on Easy Red Sector of Omaha Beach on June 6, 1944

          Following Skiba's death, battalion S-3 Capt. William King took command of the tank and directed it in a successful attack on Exit E-3. “By his tenacity in accomplishing his mission, regardless of enemy fire, Sergeant Skiba not only contributed much toward reducing the many enemy emplacements, but so inspired his platoon that they carried on the work with increased fervor after his death, thus enabling the infantry to move across the beach toward objectives further inland.”

For his actions on D-Day, Sergeant Skiba was posthumously awarded the Silver Star, Purple Heart, and Presidential Unit Citation. His body was buried in France immediately after the battle, but his family requested that his body be returned home after the war. This was done and funeral ceremonies were held in his honor at St. Hedwig's Catholic Church on December 20, 1947, and Sergeant Skiba was laid to rest in Calvary Cemetery in Toledo on the same day.