All following texts and pictures courtesy of Kris Zavoli and her father William Francis Crowe.
June 2-July 13, 1943"Our stay here [home base] has been very pleasant so far. Ken and I have a room to ourselves. It is really a honey. We feel more homey now."
July 15th"Tonight seems hopeless to me. I have the feeling I’ll never see home again. Yet again I know I will. Same old stuff around camp. No missions yet. "
July 16th"We made our first raid today. Now I feel like I have really done something. It was a queer feeling watching the flak break around the ship. You weren’t scared but you just kept wondering if it was going to hit you."
July 21st"Before we are through those Huns and Japs are really going to pay for this time they have lost us. Maybe I won’t live to see it, but if I die, it will be with my guns smoking at a Huns plane."
July 28th"Boy the enemy fighters came close today. They are going to get to us one of these days. Hope I make my 30 missions safe. You really think about home and all the gang when that flak is busting and the fighters are coming in."
July 29th"Boy was the flak thick over there. I never said so many prayers in so little time. I kept talking to the Blessed Mother during the whole trip. She must have heard me. This makes 7 missions for the group without loss."
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July 30th "Spent most of the morning sleeping. Cleaned my guns up this afternoon. Found out today we got a chunk of flak in our left gas tank yesterday. Hope we go on a raid tomorrow. I just need one more for the airman’s medal."
July 31st - Journal Continued by
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They were hit by flak and fire was seen in the bomb bays, the ship was tossed all over the sky but was under control – it fell in a flat spin burning and hit. Later in the eve one of the pilots of the spit said he saw 4 shoots open. In that case, as we hope is true – the 4 are in France either prisoners of war or playing hide and go seek with the Jerrys." |
No Date - William Crowe After He Returned to His Base"Many weeks have passed since I last wrote in this little book. Let me assure you it is a wonderful feeling to be able to write in it again.
I came down in a wood, my chute catching in the trees. I got loose and began to run. I saw a truckload of Huns coming. I dove into a clump of bushes and hid. As they passed me, my heart quit beating I’m sure. One Hun’s foot hit my head as he went by. I nearly died with fright. An old man was raking his yard. I gave him a call and he left his yard this time and looked around, then as it was clear he came over to me. He asked me if I was English and I told him “no I am American.” His face lit up like a lamp and he told me to stay down and he would be back in 5 minutes. All the conversation was sign language as I didn’t speak French and he only knew a couple words of English. He soon came back with a bottle of wine for me. When I got to the house where I was to stay who comes in just a few minutes later but Joe Hager my waist gunner. Well that was really a happy meeting. Every inch seemed like a mile. We were always under that feeling wondering if we would be caught before we reached a neutral country. We didn’t sleep but very little of the 14 days we were in France. Somehow sleep just wouldn’t come. Surprising enough we didn’t feel tired either. When we did drop off to sleep we usually were brought to a sudden awakening of the plane going down. The next morning we were in Spain, safe but not free. We still had to get through this country without being picked up. My feet were really a mess after 2 days of walking through mountains and foothills with nothing more than bedroom slippers. We arrived in London on the 26th just 27 days from the time we were shot down. This isn’t bad time considering the average time of escape is 6 months. We were greeted with open arms and many praises and awards came our way. We were awarded medals for distinguished service, raised a rank, told we were going home on furlough and that we had nothing to do from then ‘til the time we leave for home but have a good time." |