by crewman Walter Cline

August 18, 1944 was a beautiful, clear day over France.  The Allied forces pushed inland to near Paris, and the war was going well.  The 458th Bomb Group was on a mission to Metz, with the initial point of the bomb run over Verdun.

 Our crew, flying A DOG'S LIFE, with Charles S. Evans as pilot, was leading the high right squadron at 21,000 feet.  No flak, no fighters, an ideal type mission. 

(Picture: Capt. Evans, back row, middle)

That ideal mission suddenly became a disaster.  As we turned on the I.P., we encountered severe turbulence, prop wash from the squadrons preceding us.  That turbulence bounced the aircraft violently, flattening us out from our turn.  At the same moment, our Deputy Lead smashed into our right wing tip, stripping eleven feet from the wing, and leaving it dangling in the wind.

The drag of that broken wing sent us into a diving right turn.  Somehow, the Deputy Lead slid under us, so close that I could have reached out and shaken hands with the top gunner.  Fortunately, no actual contact was made.  However, we continued in our diving turn, dropping 6000 feet in one 360 degree turn.  (Pretty close to a spin, yes?)

As we continued to nose dive, the following conversation was heard on the intercom- "Evans, have you got it?" ...no answer.

Again, "Evans, have you got it?"...Again, no answer.  

"Evans, have you got it? If you won't answer me, I'm getting out of here." 

Finally, a slow Texas drawl came back- "Ah've got it", and sure enough he did! 

We straightened, out at 15,000 feet, still dropping, but at least flying again.

Our bombs were still on board, of course, so we started to find a place to unload them.  We could not make a left turn to hit a rail yard ahead, so we found a convenient forest to drop them in.

Meanwhile, our Command Pilot, Major Hinckley was trying to get fighter escort for us.  Crewman Don Conway says, "We were all alone and rather fearful of Nazi bandits picking us off."  It seemed an eternity, but it was only a few minutes before we had a P-51 sitting on each wingtip...Don't try try to tell any of us that the P-51 isn't the most beautiful airplane ever built! 

The Navigator was laying a course for Allied lines. According to our briefed information, Paris was still in German hands. However, our escort pilots assured us that they had been flying over Paris all day, without seeing any flak, so we altered course to go that way-but our course took us close to Le Havre, and there were a few anxious moments when flak started coming up from there.
 

We really were not in a position to take any evasive action. With climb power on engines 3 and 4, with full left rudder trim cranked in, we could maintain straight and level flight at 153 mph indicated airspeed. When power was reduced to reduce the strain on the two engines, we found our stall speed to be 148 mph. That wasn't very comforting.  The fastest we could fly was 153 mph because of the damage and if Captain Evans flew below 148 mph our plane would drop from the sky for lack of lift over the wings.

Eventually we reached England, and proceeded to the crash strip at Woodbridge. There, life became a bit more complicated again. Out of necessity we flew a right hand pattern, and when we turned final, the right wing simply refused to come up. There we were, descending to touchdown, unable to fly level. But there was no chance of going around. We were committed.

Finally as Evans flared, prepatory to touchdown, the wings reluctantly leveled, and we were down and rolling. We were a much relieved crew, and a very thankful one for the skill of Charles S. Evans.


The leading edge spar of the wing had remained intact, and from the front of the airplane it looked as though we had only lost a foot or two of wing. As we in the front section exited the aircraft, one by one we looked up to see the damage...and then our eyes slowly followed the damaged wing section down to its end-the wing was nearly broken off, nearly touching the ground about 18 inches from the runway.

That shock added the cap to our climax of excitement for the day.


Capt. Charles Evans and his crew were awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, the third highest award the United States awards for bravery, awarded to any officer or enlisted member of the United States armed forces who distinguishes himself or herself in combat in support of operations by "heroism or extraordinary achievement while participating in an aerial flight." 

Said Capt. Evans, "I wasn't a hero.  I had a job to do and I did it."

Another Mission, Another War Story

Says Capt. Charles Evans  24-7-44 "We hit a lot of air turbulence on the mission and used up most of our fuel. When we were landing, the nose wheels would just not go down.  Because most of our fuel was used up when we were landing we would have only one chance to do it. A plane was landing on the emergency strip just before us and we were given the signal to go around but I knew there was no fuel to do that, I thought the other plane was off the runway far enough so I ignored the order to go around.

I had the crew all run to the back of the airplane so their weight and my flying could keep the nose of the airplane up till the last second as the slowed down on the runway.  I "feathered" the port engine because there wasn't any fuel for it.  I told one of the crew to attach a parachute to the plane and toss it out so it would open up just as the wheels touched the runway because I couldn't use the plane's brakes.  That would cause the plane's nose to hit the runway.

I landed it so that the nose stayed off the ground until the very last second. The emergency truck arrived just about the time when the plane came to its final stop and as the nose gently touched the ground. My crew had to hold back my co-pilot as the ground crew officer yelled at me "why didn't you wait for me to put a box under the nose before you put the nose down!"

"I had to answer for ignoring the signal to go around. I told the reviewing officer that I had no more fuel left and would have crashed if I tried to pull up. 'I chose life for my crew.' There was some grumbling but I never heard anything more about that." 
 

310 American servicemen died while in service with the 458th Bomb Group.  A young serviceman had a one in ten chance of being killed.  Capt. Charles Evans went back to college after the war, became a lawyer and then became an Administrative Law Judge for the United States government.  He currently decides Social Security Disability cases at the Office of Hearings and Appeals in Portland Oregon.   

               (Picture: Evans' crew at 1994 reunion, Capt. Evans 2nd from left)

Story and pictures compiled by Daniel A. Bernath, US Navy 1966-1970
Former petty officer Bernath works with former Captain Evans at the Office of Hearings and Appeals.

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