During World War 2 the United States Army Air Forces undertook a strategic bombing offensive against its enemies' war industries, military facilities and power sources. The campaign was waged in daylight at the edge of the stratosphere and with intended precision. Most of these aerial forays were fiercely contested and as the scale of operations grew, the battles that resulted can justly be called epic.

To give an idea of the scale of activity that these operations engendered, the details of the preparation and participation- of a single Fortress on a particular day's operation is detailed. In this reconstruction of an actual mission involving a B-17G Fortress flying from England to attack a target in central Germany in February 1944, it should be appreciated that daily these tasks were being repeated a hundredfold at dozens of different locations. While there were developments in procedures, technique and equipment during the 1942-45 period of the campaign, there were no major changes in the way a mission was organized. The actions and tasks in the preparation and execution of the sortie described are typical.

MSgt Floyd Franklin opens the door of a shack and steps out into the chill of the English night. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he tries to find some distinction in the blackness before him. Presently, as his pupils adjust, a slight lightening silhouettes the familiar outline of his charge, Boeing B-17 '988'. Propeller blades, the hump of engine nacelles and fuselage, the distinctive sweep of the ventral stabilizer impose above the black skyline of woods and hedgerows.

Reaching inside his sheepskin jacket, Chief, as he is familiarly called, retrieves a flashlight clipped to his coverall pocket, to shine on his wristwatch. It is nearly 4am, only four-and-a-half hours since he had rolled, exhausted, on to the improvised bed in the shack and fallen asleep almost instantly. Across the airfield he can hear trucks on the move; no doubt the ordnance crews collecting bombs from the dump. From over the adjoining fields comes the laboring chuffing of a steam locomotive hauling through nearby Eccles Road railway station on the line skirting the southern boundary of Snetterton Heath airfield.

Blowing on his hands for warmth, Chief pushes open the door and goes out. The flashlight picks out a sleeping figure covered by army topcoats. His hand on the shoulder brings Cpl Tom Brownie, the armourer, out of his slumbers. 'Just on four. Ordnance is on the move', is the gentle opener from the Chief as he switches on an improvised table light powered by cycle batteries. Brownie makes no reply but after a few seconds swings his boot-clad feet down on to the concrete slab floor and sits on the edge of the bed while reaching for a Thermos flask. After pouring out coffee into three tin mugs he hands one to the Chief, saying, 'Will you start the putt-putt and check it for me?. 'Sure ',replies the Chief.

The putt-putt is the popular phonetic for the auxiliary power plant, a petrol engine-powered generator used to not to be depleted while the various systems are tested before the aircraft's engines are running to generate its own electrical power By now the third occupant of the shack has awakened and stretches with an oath; 'Jeepers feelers, let a guy sleep won't you'. Corporal Robert G. Apperson, mechanic, taking his morning shift on '988', is handed a mug of coffee by the Chief who gives the message: 'Engine start, 0805'. This is the time when engines will be started on their bomber for the mission it has to undertake today; there is much work to do.

Brownie lights a cigarette. There is little conversation as each man comes to terms with his awakening and the chill of the night. It is cold enough for breath to show in the dim light, for the shack affords little isolation from the external elements. The ground crew had made this shelter from salvaged wood packing cases employing only basic carpentry. Despite the chill, drowsiness is not easily shed; all three men have had little sleep of late. They had been alerted the previous evening that their bomber was to be ready to undertake another mission the following morning; all had worked long into the night to carry out the necessary maintenance on the Fortress which had just returned from a mission deep into Germany.

A vehicle drives on to the hardstanding, its screened lights playing across the large wheels of the B- 1 7 as it swings round and comes to a halt under the bomber's wingtip. A man jumps out and runs to the tent. The face of the Armament Officer appears round the edge of the door; 'Ten M-43!' He grins and is gone. The Jeep departs into the darkness as Brownie extinguishes his cigarette and mumbles: 'Same load as yesterday'. He gets up and leaves the shack, followed by the Chief. The Chief pulls the protective cover from the auxiliary engine-generator, picks up the attached cable and walks over to the aircraft.

He shines his flashblight along the left underside of the fuselage below the cockpit until he finds a small door. Unlatching this, he plugs in the power cable from the putt-putt. Meanwhile Brownie, also using a torch, has gone to the door on the left-hand of the Fortress's fuselage. He opens it and, with a hand each side, pulls himself up into the blackness of the fuselage. Unclipping his flashlight from his top coverall pocket, Brownie first turns its beam left along towards the aft wheel well and the tail gun position. There is no purpose in this act, just a habit he has formed in countless similar entries into the darkened interior of B-17s over the past few months.

Closing the door behind him, the armourer moves forward up the fuselage, past the two waist window-gun positions and the gimbal supporting the under-known as 'the ball'. A bulkhead leads into the radio operator's compartment and beyond, another door to the bomb-ba . Brownie carefully walks along the narrow bomb-bay cat-walk, being careful not to catch sheepskin jacket on the racks. The door at the far end of the bomb-bay has been left open and he steps up on to the engineer's compartment, squeezes by the top turret ban frame and drops down through the hatch in the flightdeck behind the two seats.

Stooping, he enters the mm compartment, dodges round the navigator's seat and table on the left side and finally reaches his goal, the bombardier's seat in the nose. By now the Chief has the putt-putt started and running smoothly. Brownie switches on the lights which illuminate the bombardier's panel attached to the left side of the nose between the forward observation window. Down below the front of the panel are two levers, one so shaped that it prevents the other being moved first. Brownie pushes this lever rearwards and immediately the whirr of electric motors can be heard as the bomb doors come down and open out. When the two doors are fully down a red light illuminates on the bombardier's panel.

Brownie then moves the other lever to one of its three positions marked 'Selective'. This is the bomb control lever and in this position it allows selective drop of bombs from the racks. He then turns on the Intervelometer on the panel, which determines the set intervals at which bombs can be dropped in train. The bomb shackles and electric firing solenoids are still fixed to the racks for the previous day's mission and the armourer sets up various release combinations of the panel switches and tests them by pressing the bomb release attached to the top of the panel.

Various lights, white, red and amber, flash on and off. Satisfied, he cuts the switches and pushes the bomb control lever forward through to the 'Salvo' - the emergency drop of all bombs together - and then brings it back to the 'Lock' position. Meanwhile, the Chief is standing under the bomb-bay watching the operation of the bomb shackles in the aircraft's soft interior lighting. Satisfied all are operating correctly, he pulls himself up on to the catwalk and goes forward into the cockpit. Sliding the pilot's side window, the Chief reaches out and pulls away the canvas cover which has been laid over the top of the cockpit to keep frost from clouding the windshield. He lets the canvas fall to the ground and, after closing the side window, exchanges a few comments with Brownie, who has left the nose compartment and is making his way back to the bomb-bay.

Bob Apperson, the duty mechanic, has emerged from the tent and, using a wooden stepladder, proceeds to remove the canvas wraps over each engine cowling. He has just moved the steps under another engine when the lights of a motor vehicle come stabbing through the darkness towards the aircraft: ordnance crews and bomb load have arrived. With much flashing of torches and shouted directions the rearmost of the bomb trailers is disconnected from the bomb service truck and manhandled under the nose of the Fortress, being carefully guided back under the bomb-bay.

The lights in the bomb-bay show the configured trailer to have 10 M-43 5001b General Purpose bombs. Each has a single yellow band painted round the front and another round the rear, indicating a TNT filling. The ordnance men remove the stainless steel shackles from the aircraft's racks and attach them to the two lugs on each bomb. A cable attached via pulleys to a hand winch in the bomber is pulled down and slipped around a bomb and secured. The bomb is then carefully winched up into the bay until it is at the required station on the rack. Once the shackle has been fixed to the rack, the cable is removed from the bomb and the same procedure repeated until all 10 bombs on the trolley have been placed in the bay.

While this work is in progress the Chief has been keeping a close eye on proceedings to see that nothing in the bay is damaged; the loading crew works fast and with the haste a bomb can accidentally be swung against some piece of equipment. The Chief knows if this should happen the heavy bomb usually wins. The empty trolley is pushed clear and attached again to the Chevrolet bomb service truck. While this is done, one member of the ordnance crew climbs up into the bay to screw on the bomb fins, kicking them tight. Finally nose and tail fuses are carefully screwed into the bombs. Each fuse has a small arming propeller-like vane which turns to arm the fuse as the bomb drops. The vane is made safe by a securing wire which will be removed by a member of the air crew after the bomber has taken off for its target.

The whole bomb loading operation has taken 35min. It is an exacting task but the ordnance crew have learned to work in an ordered and quick way. Once the bomb service truck has departed, the ground crew can begin pre-flighting the bomber. The Chief and his assistant begin by pulling on the lowest propeller blade of No 1 engine, that on the far left as viewed from the pilot's cockpit. It is pulled through nine blades so that the propeller makes three complete revolutions, an action to remove any fuel that has accumulated in the engine cylinders overnight. In this laborious task the armourer comes to lend a hand. While they are 'pulling through the fans' another truck arrives. The driver carefully reverses up close to the rear fuselage door and 10 wooden boxes of .50in caliber ammunition are unloaded by the light of a lamp fixed inside the covered rear of the vehicle.

There is an enforced blackout in the United Kingdom to avoid attracting the attention of enemy aircraft. However, unless there is an air raid warning in progress the lights are not extinguished by those working around the airfield. Brownie goes over to help, climbing up into the fuselage to stack each box of ammunition as it is handed up by the two ordnance men. The armourer prefers to receive the ammunition before the bombs are loaded so that the rounds for the front end guns can go in through the open bomb-bay doors. Now it will be necessary for each box to be carried forward, an awkward task.

The Chief, on his way to the cockpit, takes the rope handle on the end of an ammunition box and helps Brownie lug one forward. Apperson also comes to give a hand. In the cockpit, the Chief takes the right seat - the co-pilot's - to commence his engine checks by turning on the battery and ignition switches. Apperson, having the putt-putt running again, has picked up a fire extinguisher and moved out to stand in front of No 3 engine - the left inner - where he can flash his torch to indicate his position to the Chief.

The Chief, bending over to look under the pilot's seats, is making sure that the terminals on the voltage converters are not short-circuited as sometimes spent ammunition cases can find their way there. The fuel booster pumps are turned on while the pressure reading is checked and the throttle set at the 1,000 rpm mark. He then sets the hand primer of No. 1 engine and operates the priming pump on the right side of the cockpit, giving long steady strokes to atomize fuel as he holds down the appropriate starter switch for 12 sec to build up sufficient inertia. Using the same hand, he slips his thumb on to the mesh switch which engages the electrical starter with the engine.

No. 1 seems to protest and then, with a flash of exhaust catches and splutters into life. Chief moves the mixture control lever on the central pedestal to 'Auto Rich' and turns his gaze to the oil pressure gauge, watching the indicator slowly rising. The engine having smoothed out, the Chief stops priming. When the oil pressure shows 70lb, the Chief turns his attention to starting the other three engines by similar procedure. Only No 3 proves difficult, as always, requiring three attempts. But why this happens is a mystery as everything has been frequently checked and found in order.

When all engines have been running smoothly for a few minutes whilst the instruments are checked for correct readings, the Chief then runs up each individually to check magneto delivery and after this, if satisfactory, the turbo-superchargers are tested. Then each propeller pitch mechanism is tested before being finally satisfied that all is performing to the stipulated requirements. Fuel and ignition switches are cut and all engines shut down. The engine run-ups have taken nearly 15min.

A clipboard that has been lodged behind the pilot's windshield is picked up by the Chief to study the Form 1A thereon, recording the pilots' complaints of mechanical problems encountered on the previous day's flight. A slight tail-wheel shimmy was reported on landing and the flight engineer also reported vibration in the top turret rotating mechanism. There had been no prior opportunity to check these as the first essential had been to service the bomber for another mission. The Chief hauls himself out of the co-pilot's seat and goes down into the nose, opens the hatch, grasps the edge and swings down to the ground some six feet below.

He goes out to the armourer, who is standing on a stepladder examining the chin turret: 'Brownie, did you check out the top turret?'. 'Yeah' comes the reply, 'looked at it last night. Seemed plenty free; but I cleaned the ring gear and gave it a little oil.' The Chief, checking his Form 1A, stoops under the fuselage and goes back to the rear door, pulls himself up into the aircraft and starts to examine the tail-wheel oleo. Producing a pocket rule, he measures between the oleo attaching pins, then shines his torch down on the tail-wheel yoke. At this moment Apperson looks up through the tail-wheel well. Found the trouble?' he inquires. 'Yeah, the shear bolt's busted. That's why he was shimmy. Never took the lock off quick enough after landing. You'll have to give me a hand.'

While the two mechanics go about inserting another aluminum shear bolt in the tail-wheel castor assembly, another truck has arrived on '988 s' dispersal point. A soldier in the back jumps out, lets down the tail gate and carries body armor into the shack. This is worn by the fliers, quite effective in stopping splinters from shells. He then removes a .50in caliber machine gun into the shack. Three more guns follow. These are the ones used by the bombardier and navigator in the front of the aircraft. They have just been collected from the squadron armory where they have been cleaned and inspected.

Each gun, weighing 64 1bs, has an average rate of fire of approximately 850 rounds/min with a muzzle velocity - the speed at which a bullet leaves the gun barrel - of 2,850ft/sec. The effective range - that at which destruction can be wrought on an enemy aircraft - is around 3,500ft. The USAAF standardized on this weapon, the half-inch diameter bullets being judged to have far more destructive effect than the rifle-calibre machine guns standard on British and German bombers.

The Dodge truck bringing the armament departs, while Brownie prepares to install the four nose guns. The other .50s will be collected by the air gunners themselves and fixed into position when they arrive. As soon as Apperson is ready to lend a hand, one gun at a time is removed from the shack where they have been placed to give weather protection and, using the stepladder, the 'chin turret' guns are installed. This armament is remotely controlled and sighted by the bombardier in the nose. The turret has been turned to the extreme right so that its rear is easily accessible. Brownie slides each of the two guns into their mounts and the perforated blast barrels before securing them. The guns had not been fired on yesterday's mission and the two magazines, each with 365 rounds, are full. The ammunition trace is fed into the guns and the charging levers set. While the armourer goes back into the bomber via the nose hatch, Apperson retrieves two more guns from the shack and hands them up. These are installed in the two 'cheek' positions in the nose side windows for use by the navigator. The positions are staggered, that on the left side being placed further forward than that on the right in order to clear the navigator's work area. As a consequence, this gun has a more restricted field of fire. With the restricted visibility at these stations, they are of limited value in forward defense.

The small ammunition boxes under each gun still have the 132 rounds loaded the previous day. The ammunition trace is pulled up to each gun but the weapons are not cocked. For safety, this is left for the navigator to carry out once the bomber is airborne. Yet another vehicle approaches in the darkness. 'Here's the gas wagon', Brownie calls out. Apperson answers with 'Okay' from the tent where he has gone to fortify himself with more coffee from a large Thermos flask - appropriated from a wrecked B-17 which had been cannibalized for spare parts. Although the B- 17 tanks were refilled after yesterday's mission, the ground crew's engine tests have consumed several gallons. The early morning visit of the gas wagon was to top up the tanks.

The B- 17G has a maximum total fuel tankage capacity of 2,780 US gal and while a good reserve is always allowed in computing mission fuel requirements, it was standard policy to fill the tanks to the maximum to cover any emergency. Today's mission stipulates not less than 2,400gal but the tanks will still be filled to the brim. With the aid of a torch, Apperson signals the large articulated fuel truck back to a position in front of the nose.

While the gas crews remove the hoses from the rear of the tanker, Apperson goes back into the aircrafte to check that the static electricity safety wire is grounded. He then pulls himself up out of the hatch in the radio room roof, having previously removed the cover, and edges forward along the top of the engines, shining his flashlight on to the oil-stained concrete below. Wright Cyclone engines have an oily reputation due to the extreme low temperatures at high altitude causing oil to be thrown from crankcase breathers and collecting within the cowlings. The Chief keeps an eye open to see that this waste is not excessive and the clues are to be found on the ground under the engines after they have been run up. He pushes the tubular engine inspection frame across the hardstand, climbs up and has a look inside the cowl of No 3 engine, which gives difficulty in starting. The cooling vanes on each of the nine cylinders are examined but all seems satisfactory.

Attention is then turned to the exhaust manifold extending back to the turbo-supercharger compressor 'bucket' wheel on the underside of the nacelle. The turbo enables the 1,200hp-rated engine to maintain full power performance at altitudes between 20,000ft and 30,000ft. Exhaust gases turn the bucket wheel which feeds compressed air via an intercooler to the engine carburetors. The Chief runs his flashlight over each engine's turbo bucket wheel and spins them with his hand. These can become red hot in operation and if too much speed is built up they could disintegrate. In the east the sky continues to lighten.

The oxygen team has arrived and are in the Fortress to check that there has been no leakage since after yesterday's mission. A B-17G has four independent low pressure oxygen systems, each supplying a portion of the crew with the object of reducing the possibility of complete oxygen failure through combat damage. The major supply is contained in 18 light metal bottles, each giving approximately five hours' supply for one man at 30,000ft. Additionally, the ball turret has its own supply and there are 10 walk-around bottles at convenient locations with each containing an average of nine minutes' supply. The oxygen man checks that the pressure of 425lb/sq in is available and, finding everything in order, swings out of the nose hatch and goes back to his vehicle. This tows a cart laden with high-pressure cylinders from which aircraft systems can be replenished.

The Fortress is now ready for war. The gaining daylight reveals that it is one of a dozen dispersed alongside hedgerows and trees. To the southwest a hangar and a number of buildings take shape. The Chief is munching a stale doughnut as he surveys the scene, mulling over the reasons for No 3 engine's reluctance to start. The whole area is comparatively silent, so that the distant chugging of a locomotive on a nearby railway is dominant. Then more trucks are heard and seen proceeding round the perimeter roads.

The Chief glances at his watch: 0735hrs, the crews should be on their way. Presently a large 'six by six' truck (a name derived from its 6 x 6 wheel drive) swings up the taxi road to the dispersal point. A man jumps from the cab, runs round and lets down the tail gate. The crew flow out, lugging parachute packs and large olive green flight bags. They wear a mixture of flying clothes: olive coveralls, heavy brown sheepskin jackets and trousers, and one man has a light blue one-piece electrically heated flying suit. Most gather around the rear entrance door of the Fortress and don 'Mae West' water immersion life preservers and parachute harnesses. One man detaches himself from the rest and walks towards the Chief. Unlike the others, he still wears an officer's peaked cap but no badges of rank are visible on his coveralls.

This is 1Lt Paul Herring, captain of the crew, a wiry, dark-haired young man of 24. 'Hi Chief, got the Form 1A?' he asks in a confident southern accent. 'Yeah', the Chief responds, handing him the clipboard with the form on which Herring entered those items with which he was unhappy during the previous flight. 'Found the cause of the tail-wheel shimmy. Broken safety bolt', the Chief comments as he looks at the Form 1A with Herring. 'Guess someone was late pulling off the lock when you landed yesterday', he grins. Herring calls to one of the crew who is clipping a parachute harness up between his legs and over his yellow 'Mae West':

'Hey Charlie, the Chief says we broke the tail wheel shear bolt'. Charlie is Flt Off Charles Beard, the co-pilot, a solidly built extrovert of 22 and another Southerner. Coming over to Herring and the Chief he says 'Not me! I was right on the ball.' They have a friendly discussion about the matter and follow the Chief to the tail-wheel assembly as he points out the location of the safety bolt. 'Okay', exclaims Herring, 'better do the ground check. 'By this he means the visual outside inspection of the aircraft which a pilot has to perform before entering. It may look haphazard but there is a definite route and order to this.

From the rear fuselage entrance door Herring, Beard and the Chief move forward along the right side of the fuselage. Herring glances up at the right waist window where SSgt Luigi Iacoviello is in the process of sliding his .50 into the barrel mount. 'Okay Ike?' 'Sure', comes the reply. The chubby Iacoviello hailing from Massachusetts, is 27 years old. Herring and Beard duck down under the fuselage where SSgt Roger Dearmon is fixing two guns in the ball turret. Dearmon is 24 and his short build makes him a good candidate to ride in the tight confines of the ball. The turret door, which also serves as an armored back panel for the gunner, is hinged down on the hardstand and Dearmon is kneeling on it reaching into the turret.

From Tennessee, he is the newest member of the team, having only recently been assigned to replace a gunner who has been moved to another crew. 'Everything all right Sergeant?' Herring inquires. 'No problem Lieutenant', comes the reply. The pilots glance at the bomb-bay doors which the armourer has retracted, before passing on to examine the right main landing gear and wheel. There is a brief discussion with the Chief as to how many landings the tires have seen. Herring looks up into the wheel nacelle, the control cables and electric wiring. He knows the Chief will have double-checked all this already and he doesn't want to be too searching in his inspection so that the Chief does not think he has his confidence.

Next Herring and Beard move forward under the turbo, Herring puts up a hand and spins the bucket wheel while Beard looks along the exhaust line and checks the cowling fasteners are tight. They then move to the outer engine, No 4, before walking along the trailing edge of the wing examining the flaps and aileron and not forgetting to look at the fuel cap doors. Moving to the front of the aircraft, both pilots run their eyes over the propellers for nicks or cracks and then move on towards the aircraft's nose.

Here Herring checks that the protective cover over the pitot tube has been removed. There had been major accidents caused through this being left in place, preventing air pressure building up in the tube and so giving no indication of airspeed on the cockpit instrument when the aircraft took off. Bombardier 2Lt William Wood is in the nose. Another 24-year-old of athletic build, he was a record-breaking track star at high school. No bomb sight today and Wood will act as a togglier, the popular name for the member of aircrew who toggles (operates the release switch) bombs on the visual sighting of another aircraft's release.

Apperson is on the stepladder giving a final polish to the Plexiglas nosepiece: it is imperative that the bombardier's vision is not impaired by a transparency clouded by the effects of the chemical discharge from flare and marker bomb smoke or exhaust from other aircraft engines. On the right hand Herring notices that an 18th yellow bomb symbol has been added to the outline indicating missions completed. 'Still haven't got anyone to paint the name on for us?' he asks the Chief. 'Guy I asked in the paint shop hasn't turned up yet. I'll give him another reminder', he is told. Most of the B-17s on the airfield have nicknames emblazoned on their noses and the Herring crew have chosen 'The Iron Ass' for this bomber which they are assigned to fly. This name is a play on words, an ass being the American derivation of the British 'arse', with an iron ass meaning someone who is tough, insensitive.

Through the left hand nose side window navigator 2Lt John Wilson can be seen bent over his table. He is a 23-year-old hailing from California. Wilson is the humorist of the crew, a great practical joker. Continuing their inspection, the pilots proceed along the front, scanning the props and engines of the left wing before moving round under its tip and along the trailing edge, examining the flight surfaces. They then look at the engine nacelles and landing gear on that side. Out from under the trailing edge and along the left side of the fuselage towards the tail.

This B- 17 has only been in service a few weeks but already the matt olive paintwork on the upper surfaces is stained. Painted in light grey on the fuselage, just above the wing trailing edge, are the large letters 'QJ', and aft of the waist gun position a similarly sized letter 'A'. The 'QJ' identifies the 339th Bombardment Squadron and the 'A' is the individual aircraft letter within that squadron, used for both visual and radio identity purposes. However, for the most part this B-17 is referred to by the last three digits of its serial number 42-39988.

This number forms the basis of the radio-call number painted on the fin in yellow - 239988 - but it is not the practice to use this form of identification for radio communication in the European Theatre of Operations, the reason being to avoid confusion with other numerical information in radioed messages. Instead, codewords provide an aural identity for aircraft. The most striking marking on the aircraft is the large letter 'C' painted in dark blue on a white rectangle adorning the upper section of the tail fin. Another tactical marking, this distinguishes aircraft of the 96th Bombardment Group of which the 339th is one of four component squadrons.

Herring gives the big 'Square C' a glance as he walks round the tail and tries to flex the elevators. The pilots are back at the entrance door on the right side, their inspection complete. Now they climb into the aircraft to carry out an internal visual inspection of equipment, moving forward to the flight deck. They start by looking at the tail-wheel assembly and then, squeezing between the two waist gunners, they run their eyes over the control cables stretched along the roof of the fuselage. Next into the radio compartment where the radio operator, TSgt Robert Doherty, is seated at his radio table on the left side sorting out the various codes for the day.

Tall and thin, Doherty at 20, is the youngest member of the crew. Beard sees that the emergency landing gear crank handles are secured on the rear bulkhead of the radio room and that the release handles for the emergency release of the liferaft stowed above the bomb-bay are correctly set. Passing into the bomb-bay the pilots look around to see if anything is amiss, though the armourer and bombardier will have already gone over everything thoroughly. But no one is infallible and there is the odd occasion when even the most fastidious and careful individual misses something.

On the flight deck they find the engineer, TSgt George Goetz, just coming down out of the top turret after installing his guns. 'Reckon you'll need those babies today George. Brunswick is a tough pitch'. Beard grins. 'Yeah, the FWs clobbered the B-24s yesterday. I hear they lost eight', Goetz replies. 'Let's hope our little friends drive them away today', Herring says with feeling. Apart from a glance to see that the all important fuel transfer valve switch is in the 'off position, there is no need to check out the engineer's compartment, both pilots know George Goetz is a meticulous engineer and will have double-checked everything. Goetz, who always seems to have a '5 o'clock shadow' is, at 28, the 'old man' of the crew.

Reaching the cockpit area, Charlie Beard pushes the parachute he has been carrying under his seat. It is a chest pack that can quickly be clipped on to the front of the parachute harness he is wearing. Some pilots wear back-packs which they sit on but it is difficult to move around the aircraft wearing this type. Pilots' inspection complete, Herring goes into the nose and drops down on to the hardstand through the nose hatch. He signs the Form 1A, accepting the aircraft as mechanically satisfactory and then fills out the crew list, entering all names and the position flown, before handing the form back to the Chief.

The gunners, having installed their guns and attached the ammunition traces, are now outside the aircraft talking. Paul Herring looks at his watch: 'Fourteen minutes then we go'. The crew have 14min to relax before it is time to enter the aircraft and take positions for engine start. Most walk to the nearby hedge and relieve themselves. With the layers of flying clothing this is always a tricky task in the air, so it is better to start with an empty bladder.

Bob Doherty attempts to light up a cigarette but the chill northeasterly breeze extinguishes the flame of his lighter. SSgt Everett Johnson, the left waist gunner, puts on his flying helmet for warmth. Johnson, from Connecticut, is a strong, serious young man of 21 and goes by the nickname 'Swede'. He moves into the ground crew shack as do most of the others. Conversation is light, with some levity about experiences with girls in Norwich. No one mentions the mission ahead.

Apprehension is hidden but every aircrew member is well aware that it is unlikely to be an easy trip. Brunswick is regarded as being the heart of the enemy fighter land. The target name is not mentioned in front of the ground crew, nor would they inquire, knowing that security is paramount. Paul Herring and Charles Beard with the Chief are looking up at No 3 engine, discussing the possible reasons for its poor starting record as a Jeep drives up the access track. The brakes squeal as it comes to a halt. An officer beside the driver leans out and shouts to Herring: 'Take-off has been put back 30min.' Without waiting for an acknowledgment the Jeep speeds away to the next dispersal point.

Beard curses. 'Shall I tell 'em Paul?' Herring nods. Beard walks over to the shack. Wilson has opened the door, having heard the Jeep and anticipates the delay. 'How long?' he asks. 'Thirty minutes', Beard answers, turning away. There are moans and curses from the shack. Everyone hates these delays and hopes it will not lead to the mission being scrubbed (canceled). Once keyed up all would rather fly the mission. Someone tries to start up a crap game but there is little enthusiasm.

The pilots and ground crew continue to review the bomber. The 30 min soon pass. 'Okay fellers, time to go', Beard calls to the men sheltering in the shack. 'Check your harness.' Each man looks at another's harness to see that the webbing is not twisted or bunched tight. In the event of an emergency, loose or twisted harness could cripple a man with the force of his parachute opening and arresting his fall. The bombardier and navigator use the ground crew's step ladder to enter via the nose hatch. It is possible to pull oneself up into this hatch from the ground, but weighted down in heavy flight clothing makes this an exhausting act most can do without. The rest of the crew enter by the rear door except for SSgt Charles Haywood, the tail gunner, who prefers to use the small escape door just behind his station. It is easier than squeezing past the tail wheel storage and mechanism. The Chief gives his almost ritual 'Good Luck' and then adds "Give 'em hell for me!'

Thanks to Roger Freeman for allowing this portion of his new book to be reprinted here.