The Crash Landing

THE CRASH LANDING September 9th, 1943. 10 o’clock in the morning and a large formation of US North American B-25 Mitchell twin-engined bombers was cruising in at 15,000 feet towards the southern Italian coastline. Mission objective the railway marshalling yards in Potenza, important junction for Germans troop movements both to and from the large land battle that was about to take place in the nearby coastal city of Salerno. Down below, on the ground, in the dusty village of Sanza, the local inhabitants were still stunned by the news announced 12 hours earlier on the radio by General Badoglio: Italy had made peace with the Allied forces and was out of the war. The war was over! Long live the King of Italy and long live Badoglio! The villagers had hardly slept: first the shouting and the shooting – some Italian soldiers nearby had immediately left their barracks and began firing wildly in the air with their antiquated rifles, an act of celebration. The local population, mainly old men, women and children had cheered loudly, and then gone to bed. They had been woken by the ominous sound of heavy artillery out beyond the Bay of Salerno round about 3 in the morning. They had run out into the streets towards the caves just outside the town. There was no knowing what would happen next. Aircraft no. 42-63584 was carrying a crew of five; pilot, co-pilot, bombardier, radio operator and top turret gunner. They had taken off from Menzel Temime air base in Tunisia an hour and a half earlier, fully aware of the Armistice signed with the Italian government but unaware of the consequences for them: would the Italian anti-aircraft batteries still be in use? Or would they have been taken over by German crews? About 30 miles south-west of their objective, as they crossed over the Italian coast, some of their questions were answered; the anti-aircraft fire was fast and accurate. The Germans had certainly reinforced the batteries with some mobile 88 flak guns of their own. Suddenly the plane was rocked violently, and the starboard engine cut out, a thick plume of black smoke trailing out behind them. The pilot cut the fuel and feathered the propellor. With only one engine left to fly on, their only hope was to leave the formation, jettison the bomb load and make towards the nearest friendly aerodrome. The crew had no idea where this might be – Italy had only left the war 12 hours earlier and nobody knew what was happening on the ground. The pilot decided to drop the bombs over open countryside and make for the open sea. From the relative safety of the small family farm just outside Sanza, Giuseppe, 15 years of age, was watching in fascination as the formations flew ovehead The peace of the summer morning was shattered by two explosions as two 1,000 lb bombs screamed to earth half a mile away, landing on either side of the main road. Then Giuseppe heard the sound of aero engines, quiet at first as the plane approached from behind the looming mass of the moutntain, but then bursting into a roar as it just missed the ridge, heading out over the open countryside beyond. Giuseppe could clearly see the faces of the pilots, who had spotted a flat field nearby, and gradually brought the plane down to within 100 metres, and then 50 and then …… all of a sudden a thick clump of chestnut trees appeared out of the morning mist. There was no way they could avoid it. Maybe they could have cleared the heavy branches, but they couldn’t and the plane struck the clump, cartwheeling up into the

air under its own momentum, before plummeting into the ground. There was a loud explosion and a fierce fire. Giuseppe ran down towards the crash. All of a sudden he noticed other people running out of the nearby homesteads. He could not get that close for the heat. One of the airmen had got out of the plane. Incredible! He was walking, staggering, away from the inferno. He was taken, roughly, by some of the locals, who pushed him away towards a small well. Was the US airman friend or foe? Italy was no longer at war with the US, since 12 hours earlier, but this pilot had still come to drop bombs on their country. The farmers were unsure what to do. Some started to manhandle the airmen roughly, demanding that he be taken to the German HQ nearby. Others wanted to take him to the local police station. In the end the issue was settled by the arrival of the local police themselves, who took the man away for safe keeping. The other crew were all killed. Their four bodies were laid out by the side of the small chestnut grove and buried in the field nearby until US military authorities came by a month or two later to take possession of the remains. Walking near the scene of the accident some days later, Giuseppe came across a US Air Force wrist watch. He picked it out othe damp grass and put it in his pocket. Maybe one day, somebody would come by to claim it……….