Flight of the Lady Corinne

By John S. Mapa, Maj. USAF Ret.

“During the many air battles fought in the European skies during WWII, hundreds of almost supernatural events happened that bordered on the domain of the supernatural to both sides. There is no doubt that our Lord held out a helping hand to many – while his Angel smiled."

June 7, 1944, was just another day in my life in sunny Italy. I was here, as were thousands of airmen, to disrupt the dreams of Adolph Hitler in his quest to rule the world.

 This bombing mission today would be my 31^st with only 19 remaining and if all went well, I would be homeward bound before long.

 Our task was to destroy certain marshalling areas abutting the port of Genoa with its vast storage facilities of munitions, fuel, and other supplies vital to the successful advances of the German and Italian forces.

 As a member of the elite U. S. Army Air Corps and sporting with pride the coveted pilot’s “Silver Wings” on my tunic, (this) was truly fulfillment of many long hours and many days of dreams that I had experienced in my youth and early manhood.

 I must confess, those dreams made my days, laboring with other migrant workers in the farmlands of San Juan Batista, Hollister and the Salinas Valley, more bearable.

 Thinning lettuce and sugar beet plants with a short handle hoe, and with the aches and pains associated with that form of labor, seemed not to exist when I envisioned myself as one of many movie characters I has seen, in air combat films during the 1930’s and prior to WWII.

 Yes, I was one of the heroes in “Wings”, “The Dawn Patrol”, “Flying Leathernecks”, “I Wanted Wings”, and even as Robert Stack, who played the role of an American flier in the RAF Bomber Command in, “One of Our Aircraft is Missing.” 

During those many hours of “self-induced” musings, it made no difference to me whether or not I was destined to be shot down, as were many of the subjects in those movies. I knew that my family, and others who cared, would be proud of me and surely, the integrity of our family name would be upheld.

 Now with the “Silver Wings” I had earned, and the status of Aircraft Commander of one of Uncle Sam’s B-24 bombers, came reality and with it, the responsibility for the health and welfare of my crew, and the successful accomplishment of an assigned mission.

 Flying out of Italy to romantic areas such as Vienna, Bucharest, Budapest, and other areas near where the Danube flowed, always whelmed my thoughts of Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald, and the beautiful waltzes they shared with the world.

 Unfortunately those rare moments of serenity hurriedly left when Jerry sent up his Luftwaffe fighters and flak in a desperate attempt to divert us from our objectives.

 My squadron, the 747^th of the 456^th Bomb Group was preparing to participate in today’s mission. Those of us, up to this day, were fortunate – many of the crews we had trained with in the states were no longer with us.

 As we sat at our respective stations in the aircraft completing our “check lists” and awaiting the “start engines” flare signal, I suspected that the thoughts enveloping the minds of each of my crew members were no different than mine. 

It was 44 days ago on a mission to Bucharest, Rumania, and near the “Tail-end Charlie” position in the formation, my squadron was attacked by nine Me109 fighters concentrating all of their fire on my aircraft – wounding me and three of my men, one fatally. My aircraft, “The Nancy Anne” that had brought us safely to Italy from Hamilton Field, California, despite her numerous damages, limped back to our base on 3 engines and was declared economically unfeasible to repair and was scrapped.

 Ironically, that aircraft that was assigned to us today was “The Lady Corinne”, a B-24J – serial number 44-40485 – the first silver (unpainted) replacement to join with the olive-drab [painted] Liberators in the Group.

 Upon her arrival, I was one of the many pilots who felt a bit apprehensive about flying this “silver bird” for fear that the enemy fighters would concentrate all their efforts on this paintless craft for certainly, she must have “Wheels” aboard. Of course, our reactions to her were in jest! She truly was a beauty!

 Despite the frightening moments we shared over Bucharest, I hoped that the crew would not detect and signs of apprehension that momentarily possessed me. If they too were experiencing those “flashbacks”, their demeanor did not reflect it – which gave me that “vote of confidence” that I truly needed. 

What a joy it was to be among these courageous men, actually, boys, who had a job to do and would do it unflinchingly at the “drop of a hat!” I was privileged to be among them and I must admit, that period in my life was, and will forever be, my most memorable association with any group of individuals I have ever known. I cannot envision in today’s or future types of air warfare, where aircrew comradeship will ever again flourish such as this.

According to the briefing officers and the red tape on the map on the briefing room wall, we notes the target to be Genoa, Italy.

 The intelligence officer stressed the importance of remaining well clear of the island of Elba which was heavily defended by crack anti-aircraft ship and shore batteries who excelled in blowing out of the skies daring Allied fighters and medium bombers who penetrated their island.

 As for the primary target, moderate to heavy flak was anticipated but enemy fighters were not expected enroute or near Genoa. We appreciated that but being the veterans that we were and sitting in on many briefings, we learned to always expect the unexpected. 

Takeoff was routine and after forming over the city of Cerignola, the Group took a westerly heading that would put us over Naples in short order. Because of a lower deck of clouds, we were unable to see Naples but knew we were over it when Group turned on a northwesterly heading and commenced a slow climb to our cruising altitude of 21,000 feet. 

The weather briefing officer had informed us that for the most part we would be flying between layers of clouds to and from the target and he was correct up to this point. 

After flying Lt Bishop’s (my flight leader) wing for about two hours, I passed the controls to Lt. Ross (my co-pilot) who accepted with a smile as I slid back my seat to stretch my legs while the 4 powerful synchronized engines droned on.

 While Lt. Ross, looking across the cockpit to his left and maintaining good proper positioning of our left wing on Lt. Bishop’s right wing, it wasn’t difficult for me to relax and think about a young Italian lad gingerly dipping his toes into the blue waters of “Golfo di Genova,” who did not realize then, that one day he would prove to the world that – it truly was round.

 Shortly thereafter, the navigator advised me of our position so I instructed the crew to don their helmets and flak jackets, man their stations, and prepare for action as I took control.

 As we approached the IP (initial point) where our “bomb run” would commence, our target area was clearly visible as was the barrage of flak awaiting us at our flight level of 21,000 feet.

 Upon “bombs away,” our plane rose slightly as her load lightened, and with this, Group took a hurried descent to a lower level. Up to this point we flew through the smoke of several flak bursts but did not feel or hear the familiar impact of particles striking our aircraft – this was unbelievable! I can’t recall when we fared so well over the target!

Suddenly, as we proceeded out of our turn, I felt a few jerking movements of the aircraft and immediately noted that our number 3 engine was erratically cutting in and out and sputtering violently! Ironically, before we could begin our “engine out” feathering procedure, the jerking became more prevalent as one by one, the remaining three engines began to fail!

 Needless to say, the moments of contentment upon leaving the target unscathed were short lived as total disbelief engulfed me! Our chances of extending our time aloft would have improved if even one of our 1200HP Pratt and Whitneys had remained in normal operation condition!

 It was then, during a fleeting moment in my thoughts, I wondered about this “Silver” bird that we were aboard at this moment especially when Sgt. Reel, my very dependable and dedicated crew chief, informed me that he had not been transferring fuel! I wished he had been!

 How well I recall those happier days when the crew and I would get on the intercom and sing, “The Army Air Corp Song,” along with “Coming in on a Wing and a Prayer.”

 The situation became more curious when Sgt. Reel stated that he did not believe that our problem was due to enemy action.

 Many thoughts hurriedly raced through my mind. Frankly, the best of course, was the hope that this was all a nightmare that I would soon awaken from! Alas, that was not to be.

 There was no published emergency procedure established by the U.S. Army Air Corps at that time to confront the situation that we were no facing – nor did I hear that familiar sympathetic voice with the request to “Repeat after me…”, so I decided to leave all switches in the “on” position and allowed the props to windmill and insured my cowl flaps were closed – then lowered about ten degrees of flaps and adjusted the elevator trim to maintain a descent attitude and airspeed slightly above stalling.

 I learned in short order, of what a pitiful and helpless state it was (not) to hear the steady drone of powerful engines – and to hear the rush of air passing my window!

 To describe it, I would liken it to the sensation an instructor pilot would experience when his student “cut” his engines too soon prior to the main gear impacting the runway on landing!

 The situation we were in forced me to ease out of the formation and advise Lt. Bishop of my plight just prior to penetrating the tops of a heavy layer of clouds. He wished us well. There was no need to inform the crew of our predicament.

Needless to say, I wondered about “The Lady Corinne” again, but was pleased to see the calmness of the crew members who fitted themselves behind me on the flight deck. Somehow I got the feeling that they too felt as I – that all would end well. At that point, I had not yet formed an opinion on what action I would take so I requested a heading from our navigator, a 2^nd Lt. On his first mission without an instructor, who provided me with a reasonable heading, I suppose with a “your guess is as good as mine!” With the situation as it was, I couldn’t blame him.

 We were in the clear but hurriedly approaching the tops of another layer of clouds and soon we were in the “soup” again! Now it was time for me to decide whether to head back to Genoa and “ditch” in the bay or “bail” the crew out if we made land, or proceed in the direction of Corsica and do the same, or continue on to the sea between Elba and Corsica and hope for the best. I opted for the latter.

 As we broke into the clear nearing 4,000 feet, a most extraordinary happening occurred: the sounds of sputtering engines from both sides of the cockpit broke the silence along with the rousing cheers from the crew on the flight deck as Lt. Ross and I brought the engines back in!

 Fortunately, we remained in the clear and the layer of clouds below topped out at about 3,000 feet. Yes, I was still very apprehensive about this “Silver Lady” and the situation we were in and knew that our base was still about 3 hours away.

 After approximately an hour and a half of normal flight, I passed the controls to Lt. Ross and settled back to recant our predicament and hoped that our engines would hold up for at least another 2-3 hours when suddenly, Lt. Ross violently kicked left rudder and stood the aircraft on its left wingtip giving me a clear view of the activity below, shouting “FLAK!”

 The clouds had parted and I could see bursts of flames from the anti-aircraft guns from ship and shore batteries resulting in the blackened sky around us! I knew that we were over Elba! Again, another strange and unbelievable happening – and should I expect more?

 There again, I don’t believe that the Army Air Corps had a standardized procedure for a B-24 bomber, flying at low level, or at any level, on “How Not To Be Blown Out Of The Sky By Flak!” So – I took over the aircraft from Lt. Ross and violently skidded, slipped, climbed, dove – and accomplished many maneuvers, short of snapping and barrel rolling this “Silver Bird!”

 Being at low level while flying over Napoleon’s island had its advantages too as we remained a target for only a short period of time for the bewildered gun crews! Once again we cleared another “flak” area without a scratch to our airplane!

Perhaps a four engine American bomber at low level had never been seen by the Nazi forces on the island so a direct hit on one could have meant a “feather” in the hat for the lucky gun crew and its proud commander, and the wine that should have flowed that evening in celebration of a downed Liberator, was perhaps quietly sipped in shame and humiliation by those gunners and their commanders who let one get away!

 Perhaps even today there may still exist a few mystified ex-gunners and their superiors, who received no promotions or awards because of their failure to eliminate another bomber from the U.S. Army inventory.

 After many more words of thanks to our Lord, and with renewed hope, we continued on and I decided to climb to a higher altitude before reaching landfall and Naples – to give us time to “bail out” in the event the “Lady” became temperamental again.

 From 20-30 miles out, I could see the cone of Mt. Vesuvius with a wisp of smoke gracefully floating out of its crater. Only a few months before, I saw it angrily spewing its innards with full force!

 When abeam of Vesuvius, I broke radio silence and informed our control tower of our situation, our position, and time of arrival – and requested that Lt. Leo Florick, our squadron maintenance officer, meet us at our “hardstand.” After issuing us landing instructions, the tower informed us that all other aircraft had landed and we were cleared to land.

 I decided to arrive over the base at higher than the normal pattern altitude and prepared the plane for a landing configuration short of lowering the gear, and prepared myself for a “dead stick” landing, just in case.

 This day was the height of weirdness for us! First, to expose ourselves to flak over Genoa, breezing through without a scratch, then to involuntarily glide without power like a “rock” for 18,000 feet – and finally, finding ourselves at 3,000 feet with all “fans” turning over the “Little Corporal’s” exile dodging bursts of flak – and without a scratch again!

 After a normal landing, thank God, and turn-off onto the taxiway to our “hardstand,” I could sense the feelings and thoughts of the crew that stood behind Lt. Ross and me patting our backs. I am sure that their emotions were no different from mine and I know that they recognized the enthusiasm and appreciation I had for our Lord’s helping hand.

 I don’t believe that any of us released a sigh of relief until we swung into position on the “hardstand” and cut our engines!

 At about that time, Lt. Florick arrived and jumped from his jeep. He approached below my window and with his hands on his hips looking up at me, I sensed what appeared to be a forced smile on his lips, shouting “Nice going John, but where in the hell do I begin to find out what happened to your engines?” I felt deeply for my friend Leo’s problem, just where would he begin? God, if only we could have seen the smile on that Angel’s face that I knew was behind me!

 I had the pleasure of flying “The Lady Corinne” to Rumania four days later on June 11, 1944, yes, with some apprehension, but again without a scratch – and 10 more missions over Vienna, Budapest, Munich, Nis, Trieste, completing my 53^rd over Ploesti – and still without a scratch! Each time, her powerful engines droned in perfect harmony like the proud contented “Lady” she was!

 Note: Unfortunately, as fate would have it, on her 154^th mission, she took off with her gallant crew never to return.

 My hat is off to Lt. Florick and the maintenance ground crew of “The Lady Corinne” who enabled her to accrue 154 missions, the most ever flown by a B-24 in the 15^th Air Force.

Compare this story to that of the Al Miller crew and their loss of all four engines and subsequent crash at Muroc Field by clicking the link.

---

747th Sqdn., taken 24 Jan 1945. Back row, L to R: Bill Cooke, Reed Whitaker, Al Couture, Erskine Hatfield. Front row , L to R: Tom Frawley, Gene Platrich, Sam Kalser, Gil Maestas, Ross Campbell, Clayton Vickery. 

---

After this story was posted the following was received, expanding on the fate of The Lady Corinne after the story above.

Dear Webmaster,
    I was particularly interested in the recent article on April 3, 2002 by John S. Mapa and the "Flight of the Lady Corinne." The "Lady" had a number of admirers which included our crew from the 747th Squadron. We were fortunate to fly with her on several of our sorties and had actually adopted her as our "favorite " airplane. She had better flight characteristics than most of the later models that were arriving. I happened to be the assistant operations officer and whenever our crew was scheduled to fly, I would try to assign "The Lady Corrine" for us but there were four other crews that had her as their first choice so we needed to share. 
    Back in December of 1944, those four crews along with us were dropped off in an olive orchard and we were assigned to the 747th Squadron. Even though the Allies were closing in on the Germany cities, the flak guns were being moved back to protect against our bombing. Each day the targets were becoming better fortified. The first of these five crews to be shot down was ( Lt. Sugden) over Augsburg, Germany on February 27, 1945. (See "Mission 207") Two days later, the second of the five crews (Lt. Cartwright) went down over Isarco, Italy on February 28, 1945. 
    Our crew was on "rest leave" during the week of March 23, 1945 and upon our return found out that the third crew (Lt. Hauptley) had been shot down over Pecs, Hungary. They were flying "The Lady Corrine." Two days later, March 25, 1945 the fourth crew (Lt. Edmondson) was shot down near Kolin, Czechoslovakia. One month later, the Hauptley crew returned to the 747th to fly again and reported that The lady Corinne was a "Lady" to the last. The crew was able to walk away with a few lacerations but no serious injuries -- she was destroyed. But any landing you can walk away from is a good landing. 
It took 50 years to find out what happened to the rest of those four crews. The results were written up in a special 1994 Edition by the Turner Publishing Company in conjunction with Fred H. Riley heading the 456th Bomb Group Editorial Staff and other Turner Company Staff members. There was a beautiful colored portrait of "The Lady Corinne" on the front cover, by Bob Carlin, and inside on page 8 is a photo of "The Lady Corinne" taken with our crew on January 24, 1945. 
    Out of the five crews that joined the 747th Squadron back in December 1944, we were the only one completely intact and without a single injury to any of us. Our crew had completed 30 sorties when the war ended and all came back to the States and were discharged in 1945. Our navigator, Albert R. Couture, was called back to active duty on October 1949. He entered and completed pilot training and attained command pilot status with over 6,000 flying hours. He retired as a colonel and at present is the 456th Bomb Group President for the 2002 Reunion in Charleston, South Carolina, May 15th to 19th. This should fill in the last chapter for the amazing "Lady Corrine" and her 154 mission record -- the most ever flown by a B-24 in the 15th Air Force.
    Sincerely,
    Reed Whitaker

More on the Lady Corinne, including a painting, and another of her pilots: Bob Carlin.  

Photo of John and Crew with The Nancy Anne here.

Late in the war another Lady Corinne arrived: The Lady Corinne II.

Home

Top of Page