It's a cold chilly morning on October the 10th, 1943. Pilot Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal arrives at today’s briefing, joining 60 other pilots and navigators from the 100th bomb group. Among them is his copilot, Winifred “Pappy” Lewis, and his navigator, Ronald Bailey.
"Alright, let’s get this over with. Light. Your target today is Münster.
So far our targets have been factories, but not this time. Today, the aim point is the old town cathedral. " Murmurs and shocked faces spread across the meeting room.
Lewis and Bailey share a stunned look. "Yes! " Towards the front, 100th bomb group leader Major John Egan cheers the news.
Many of the men including Egan have lost close friends on previous missions. The pain of their loss means that some of the men consider such a mission rightful revenge. "Fuel pressure, oil pressure, looking good.
" "Münster is home to a large proportion of railway workers, they are crucial for the German war effort. " "We're gonna be there right in time for the Sunday mass. I don't know how I feel about it.
" "Come on, Pappy. You know it's our duty. " One by one the B-17s of the 100th bomb group rise into the air.
The Royal Flush takes up her position at the very back of the formation, a position that everyone aboard is well aware is particularly exposed and dangerous. But dwelling on it helps no one. "But it's not going to be any milk run.
Intelligence reports over 500 fighters ready to intercept along our path. You can also expect extremely heavy flak over the target. You will be part of a 274-bomber formation.
Major Egan will be the commanding pilot of the group. " "Land ahead. Engines low on power returning to base.
" "Egan, another one left! " "Damn it! Radio, put that in a log.
" "There's another one gone back. Lucky SOBs. " "To ease the burden on your attack you’ll have 216 P-47 Thunderbolt escorts, they’ll catch up over Holland and protect you along the entire mission.
" The armada flies over Holland and into Germany. They are now absolutely and without a doubt over enemy territory, “Where’s our fighters? ” “Gunners, do you see any allied fighters in the distance?
” “Negative. ” “Nothing on our 6. Nothing.
" "Left waist clear. " "They aren’t coming, are they? " "They’d already be here if they were.
" "Well, maybe they’re late and they’ll catch up. " But unbeknownst to the crews they aren’t just late. There are no fighters.
The weather on their bases didn’t allow them to take off and their absence leaves the bombers even more vulnerable, but escorts or not, they have got no choice but to press forward. As they venture deeper into enemy territory more reports of attacks come in, isolated groups of fighters launching attacks further up the formation and claiming a handful of B-17s. "Keep your eyes peeled, everyone.
" "Pilots. do you see this? " A cloud of fighters appears in the distance.
The interceptors have arrived. "Good luck. I'll see you all in a couple of hours.
" "Open fire! Show them what we've got! " In a blur, a swarm of Me 109s and Fw 190s cuts through the formation.
The guns from the Fortresses come alive, filling the air with tracers as the German fighters fire their deadly 20mm guns. "They are coming your way, Stanley" Moments later Me 110s appear from the rear, "Bandits 6 o’clock low! " sweeping in and firing rockets all around.
The sky is filled with a confusing mess of fighters and lead, the big Fortresses are soaking up shell after shell while the enemy fighters go down in flames. A rocket strikes the lead B-17 of the 100th bomb group, "Mademoiselle Zig-Zag" piloted by Major Egan. Two of their engines are lost and a gash is opened on the fuselage.
"Damn it! Damn it! We're losing power!
" There is nothing Egan can do as his bomber struggles and finally fails to keep up with the formation. Slowly the gap opens up more and more, isolating them. "We can't keep up.
Tell our men to leave us behind. " “Radio is gone. We have no contact.
” Unaware of the Mademoiselle Zig-Zag’s predicament, the bombers directly behind also slow and drop altitude to maintain formation, which leads to those behind also doing the same. It's a catastrophic chain reaction. "Two more are coming in, two o'clock" At first, no one realizes, they are too focused on the battle to notice, but soon the growing gap between their formation becomes obvious.
"We are falling behind, why? " "We’re getting dangerously isolated, speed up! " "Leader, do you copy?
Egan? ! " Confusion spreads, and the pilots are faced with an impossible decision.
Do they remain in a small formation with their brothers in arms? Or do they leave them behind and charge for the bigger one? Two of the 100th bomb group's Flying Fortresses take the plunge, pushing their throttles to full and racing for the bigger group.
On board the Royal Flush, all the way at the very back, the two pilots are caught up in the confusion. "The formation is breaking apart, we’re falling behind! " "Nothing we can do.
if we brave the gap every German is going to fall on us. " They decide to stay. The Germans very quickly notice the isolated group of eleven B-17s and pounce upon their prey.
Damage is rapidly building up, multiple B-17s are trailing smoke as the machine gunners are completely overwhelmed. The men of the Royal Flush can only watch as an Fw 190 sweeps in and strikes one of their compatriots on the wing, It triggers a massive fireball. Their friends bail for their lives before the bomber finally loses control and explodes into a million pieces.
Soon after a second B-17 catches fire after being hit by multiple 20mm rounds “We’re dropping like flies! ” “We’re 3 minutes out! ” Another B-17 is lit up by fighters, tearing its wings and fuselage to pieces.
Fearing the incoming flak the pilot turns away from the formation and heads for home on its own. "Where are you going? !
" But it only attracts the fighters. "Jesus! " They swarm all around it.
They tear it to shreds, but they leave it still flying to focus on the formation that is still headed for the city. The fighters turn their attention to Major Egan in the Mademoiselle Zig-Zag Relentless attacks destroy critical systems one after the other, making the fortress harder and harder to control. Fighting their sticks, Egan realizes they are done for.
"Get out of here. Bail! Bail!
" The crew starts jumping off, but the copilot stays, helping Egan keep the aircraft steady for their men. "Go, now, quick! " As soon as they’re gone Pilot John Brady and Major Egan move to jump out of the bomb bay.
"Go ahead, Brady, as I’m a senior man. " "No, you go ahead. " But then a fighter comes in from above and opens fire.
New bullet holes appear across the bomb bay door. "I’ll be seeing you, Brady. " Egan jumps first, followed by Brady.
They both make it out. Back with the Royal Flush the gunners are fighting for their lives while Rosenthal and Lewis resist the urge to run, holding position as they are forced to watch the other B-17s fall one by one. "I see 1, 2, 3…" But outside a fighter lines up a shot.
He fires a flurry of rockets at the Royal Flush, one strikes directly on the wing, punching a massive hole and instantly taking out two engines. "Feathering. " "Bailey, how far to the target?
? " "Just a little more, we’re almost there! " The German fighters turn away fully knowing what the B-17s are heading towards.
The tornado of fighters gives way to a flurry of flak. With the rest of the formation already gone, every gun in the city is now focused on the 3 surviving bombers. "Hold on boys, we'll get through this.
" The flak shreds the remaining aircraft. "Another one is down, Rosie. " One of them is set on fire and is forced to drop their bombs early before bailing from the flaming, flying wreck.
"We are here. " "Autopilot on, bombardier, it’s you plane! " "Roger, pilot, my plane.
" The control of the aircraft is given to the bombardier, "Bomb bay doors open. " the aim point approaching painfully slowly. "Almost there!
” "Damn it! ” The second to last B-17 is struck directly and bursts into a ball of flame, it slowly banks over and falls away. disintegrating all the way down.
The Royal Flush is the last one standing. "Bombs out, pilot, the plane is all yours! " "Roger, my plane.
" Immediately Rosenthal retakes control and maneuvers to avoid the flak. "Let’s get out of here. " They escape the city airspace limping with just two engines and heavy damage.
"Where is everyone? ” “Bandits, six o’clock! ” Multiple German aircraft appear from the clouds.
gunners from the Royal Flush open fire, but all alone they are sitting ducks. “Pilot to tail: make sure you have enough ammo. Hold on everyone!
" In desperation, Rosenthal throws all bomber piloting wisdom out of the window and breaks into evasive maneuvers. The waist gunners hold on for dear life as the B-17 turns left and right. They open fire for a split second before the bomber banks hard underneath them.
Four Fw 190s pull up on the six of the Royal Flush, chasing the B-17 across the sky. "Willy, they’re coming your way! " Rear gunner Sgt.
Bill DeBlasio aims at the second from his left and fires bursts of bullets his way. On the third he scores a critical hit, shearing its left wing clean off and making it crash into his wingman, taking both aircraft out of the sky. He immediately switches to the next fighter, striking it on the engine and breaking off its canopy.
The last fighter peels away, fleeing from DeBlasio’s deadly aim. But the Germans are far from done. 6 more aircraft line up behind the bomber.
DeBlasio opens fire as the twin-engine fighters unleash their rockets. Trails of smoke fire off from the fighters, flying all around DeBlasio. Miraculously none hit.
He fires back, aiming at one of them. The . 50 caliber guns rip through the German fighter, setting it alight.
The rest of the enemies open fire in return, unleashing a storm of lead that explodes against and punches clean through the bomber’s fuselage. Two waist gunners are struck by the shrapnel and fall onto the aircraft’s floor in pain. "Shaffer looks bad.
" Their screams for help sound on the radio while DeBlasio fires with all he has, fire in his eyes. He aims across the entire formation, changing from target to target. His bullets impact two of the 190s making them lose control and crash into one another.
Not long after, by sheer luck, the remaining German fighters turn away, limited by fuel. "They’re turning away! " "We’re clear?
" Suddenly, the skies fall to a calm. And the Royal Flush is still in the air. “Sky is clear, they’re gone.
” “Somebody check on the waist gunners! ” Radio operator Michael Boccuzzi abandons his post and rushes to the waist of the aircraft where the two gunners are on the floor and in pain. “Hang on!
Man, I've got you! Talk to me, Shaffer! You'll be okay, I promise.
" “Can we make it back? ” “We’re losing altitude, we need to shed some weight. ” "Gentlemen, we need to get rid of everything that isn’t bolted down!
And quick! ” The crew get to work: they throw overboard absolutely everything that isn't needed. Guns, ammunition, oxygen tanks, everything.
“We ditched everything. " "Is it enough? ” "Is it enough, Rosie?
” “I don’t know, Pappy. Maybe…. ” Back at Thorpe Abbotts mechanics and officers watch the skies, waiting anxiously.
The scheduled time of arrival has already come and gone, the other bomber groups have already returned, but nothing has been heard of the 100th. Then, in the distance, a single B-17 appears low over the horizon. Smoking and barely flying, the Royal Flush lowers its landing gear.
drifts in and touches down upon the runway. The gathered men watch in shock as the badly wounded aircraft comes to a stop. It rolls off the runway, and cuts its engines.
The silence is deafening. They are the only ones from the 100th to return. Medics rush to their aid while the crew piles out onto the grass.
There is no celebration, hardly any relief, the reality of what has just happened sinks in. The raid was one of the worst disasters of the 8th Air Force’s history. The 100th bomber group was the one that suffered most, earning it the nickname of “The Bloody Hundredth”.
Of the 130 men in the shot-down aircraft, 37 were killed and 93 would become prisoners of war.
