The following is a letter written by my father to Myra McCreery, niece of Bob Sloper, a member of my father's B-24 crew who was killed in action over Austria. Myra had written to Sol to ask about her uncle, who she never knew, and his war time experiences. I have made some small edits for clarity and to add information previously told to me by my father.
This is a brief history of my life in the service of the United States Army Airforce. In December of 1943, I received a notice for induction into the service. At the time I was working as an inspector in a war plant. The company made tugs and forklifts for the Navy. Because of this, I had an exemption from the draft. I decided to allow my self to be drafted since that was what everyone else was doing, which is to say, going off to the war. I reported to the induction office in downtown Chicago and was given a physical exam and told to report back on February 3, 1944. On February 3 they sent me to Camp Grant in Rockport, Illinois. We were issued uniforms and other equipment and they put us on a troop train to Miami Beach, Florida for basic training. After basic training I was sent to Sheppard Field in Wichita Falls, Texas, for aircraft engine mechanics school. When I completed the mechanics course they sent me to Tyndall Field in Panama City, Florida for gunnery school. I was given a few days leave back in Chicago after gunnery school and then reported to Salt Lake City, Utah. There we waited for orders.
I'm sure Bob and the rest of the enlisted crew were also there but we didn't meet until we got to Davis-Monthan field where we took transition training which involved high altitude flight training. This allowed us an opportunity to become aquatinted with our fellow crew members. During this training, our aircraft sustained minor damage when it scraped the top of a building. Although they brought charges against our pilot for this incident, they were later dropped when none of the crew would testify against him. The pilot was assigned to another crew and flew dozens of combat missions without ever losing a man. We were assigned a new pilot, Riddle, who had been a flight instructor and it was Riddle who would fly our B-24 bomber named, "Miss Fitt" to our base in Italy. After we finished training at Davis-Monthon, the crew traveled to Topeka, Kansas to pick up "Miss Fitt". We took this plane to Panama City Naval Air Station field and then on to Homestead, Florida. At Homestead, our new aircraft was modified and after five days restricted to base, we flew her off into the wild blue yonder.
Our first stop was in Trinidad. Then we went to Belem, Brazil. Then we flew across the Atlantic to Dakar, Senegal, and then to Morocco. From Morocco, we flew to Barr, Italy and then to Cerignola, Italy which was the base from which we flew our bombing missions. We were assigned to The 472 Bomb Squadron, 455th Bomb Group, 15th Air Force. We lived in a big tent that looked like a dining tent or a circus tent with three center poles. Just the enlisted crew slept there. There are three other remaining crew members although I never did have the addresses of the pilot and co-pilot who were officers. The other surviving member of the crew is Fred E. Beitz, Red Field, Arkansas. I'm sure you can find him through the Pilots Association directory.
On June 26, 1944 almost the entire wing was assigned to bomb an oil refinery near Vienna, Austria. The German fighter planes and anti-aircraft artillery guns were waiting for us. I understand that we lost over 110 planes and their crews that day. The target was hit and the smoke was up to 23,000 feet. Our plane was hit and it was on fire above my turret. The aluminum was melting and flowing down into the turret. I opened the hatch door and had my hand on the pull cord. Apparently there was an explosion and I was knocked out and blown from the aircraft. The next thing I knew, I was floating under a big parachute. I landed through some trees on the banks of a stream in the middle of the village Michaelbock, Ostmark. I was captured by farmers with pitch forks and they put me in a cell with the other three men in my crew who had survived the shoot-down and an airman from another plane.
Because I spoke some Yiddish, I found I was able to communicate pretty well with our captors. In fact, I was the only one who could understand them or make myself understood to them. I kept asking for a doctor for my crew and they were finally taken to a hospital. They were all burned very badly, much more so than myself although I had significant burns as well. Because I had blond hair and blue eyes, yet they knew I was Jewish from my dog tags, I became a considerable item of interest to the local people. They had never seen or heard of a blond-haired, blue-eyed Jew, and they all wanted to come see one. We saw the bodies of our men being transported in a wagon. I understand they were transferred after the war to Sam Houston National Cemetery.
The next day they sent a truck to pick a large number of captured airmen and took us to Gestapo Headquarters in St. Polten. The next day they took several of us on a train to Frankfort to a Dulag, which was an interrogation center. They assigned Germany pilots to guard us and they were pretty effective in assuring our safety from often hostile civilians who mobbed around us. At one point a German guard raised his gun and fired it into the air to get a crowd to move away from us. On June 28, one of the guards looked at my papers and cheerfully wished me a happy birthday. We spent thirteen days in Frankfort in solitary confinement where we were interrogated. Then we were sent to Stalag Luft IV, a prisoner of war camp. I was there until March of 1945 when they took a group of 1500 men and tried to get us away from the advancing Russian line. We traveled in box cars, 75 prisoners to a car. We spent a week on the train and ended up at Barth, Germany on the Baltic sea and were held at Stalag Luft I. We got to Stalag Luft I about April 10, 1945. Luft I was an officer’s camp.
On May 1 the Russian Army liberated us. The German guards had left the night before the Russian troops arrived. The POWs who did not travel by train from Stalag Luft IV to Stalag Luft I were marched out on foot with very little or nothing to eat. A lot of POWs were shot for not being able to keep up or for trying to escape. After the camp was liberated, the US Air Force flew in B17 bombers to transport the American and British former prisoners to France for processing. They offered us leave in France, but there was a chance that if we left the camp, we would miss the first planes to go back to the states, so I stuck around the processing center. I didn’t need any more of Europe, I just wanted to get back home and see my family. My experience as a POW was both boring and frightening. I hope this is at least part of what you wanted to know about.
Samuel S. Rosenberg
165 Chestnut St.
Brookline, Massachusetts
July, 1999
This is a brief history of my life in the service of the United States Army Airforce. In December of 1943, I received a notice for induction into the service. At the time I was working as an inspector in a war plant. The company made tugs and forklifts for the Navy. Because of this, I had an exemption from the draft. I decided to allow my self to be drafted since that was what everyone else was doing, which is to say, going off to the war. I reported to the induction office in downtown Chicago and was given a physical exam and told to report back on February 3, 1944. On February 3 they sent me to Camp Grant in Rockport, Illinois. We were issued uniforms and other equipment and they put us on a troop train to Miami Beach, Florida for basic training. After basic training I was sent to Sheppard Field in Wichita Falls, Texas, for aircraft engine mechanics school. When I completed the mechanics course they sent me to Tyndall Field in Panama City, Florida for gunnery school. I was given a few days leave back in Chicago after gunnery school and then reported to Salt Lake City, Utah. There we waited for orders.
I'm sure Bob and the rest of the enlisted crew were also there but we didn't meet until we got to Davis-Monthan field where we took transition training which involved high altitude flight training. This allowed us an opportunity to become aquatinted with our fellow crew members. During this training, our aircraft sustained minor damage when it scraped the top of a building. Although they brought charges against our pilot for this incident, they were later dropped when none of the crew would testify against him. The pilot was assigned to another crew and flew dozens of combat missions without ever losing a man. We were assigned a new pilot, Riddle, who had been a flight instructor and it was Riddle who would fly our B-24 bomber named, "Miss Fitt" to our base in Italy. After we finished training at Davis-Monthon, the crew traveled to Topeka, Kansas to pick up "Miss Fitt". We took this plane to Panama City Naval Air Station field and then on to Homestead, Florida. At Homestead, our new aircraft was modified and after five days restricted to base, we flew her off into the wild blue yonder.
Our first stop was in Trinidad. Then we went to Belem, Brazil. Then we flew across the Atlantic to Dakar, Senegal, and then to Morocco. From Morocco, we flew to Barr, Italy and then to Cerignola, Italy which was the base from which we flew our bombing missions. We were assigned to The 472 Bomb Squadron, 455th Bomb Group, 15th Air Force. We lived in a big tent that looked like a dining tent or a circus tent with three center poles. Just the enlisted crew slept there. There are three other remaining crew members although I never did have the addresses of the pilot and co-pilot who were officers. The other surviving member of the crew is Fred E. Beitz, Red Field, Arkansas. I'm sure you can find him through the Pilots Association directory.
On June 26, 1944 almost the entire wing was assigned to bomb an oil refinery near Vienna, Austria. The German fighter planes and anti-aircraft artillery guns were waiting for us. I understand that we lost over 110 planes and their crews that day. The target was hit and the smoke was up to 23,000 feet. Our plane was hit and it was on fire above my turret. The aluminum was melting and flowing down into the turret. I opened the hatch door and had my hand on the pull cord. Apparently there was an explosion and I was knocked out and blown from the aircraft. The next thing I knew, I was floating under a big parachute. I landed through some trees on the banks of a stream in the middle of the village Michaelbock, Ostmark. I was captured by farmers with pitch forks and they put me in a cell with the other three men in my crew who had survived the shoot-down and an airman from another plane.
Because I spoke some Yiddish, I found I was able to communicate pretty well with our captors. In fact, I was the only one who could understand them or make myself understood to them. I kept asking for a doctor for my crew and they were finally taken to a hospital. They were all burned very badly, much more so than myself although I had significant burns as well. Because I had blond hair and blue eyes, yet they knew I was Jewish from my dog tags, I became a considerable item of interest to the local people. They had never seen or heard of a blond-haired, blue-eyed Jew, and they all wanted to come see one. We saw the bodies of our men being transported in a wagon. I understand they were transferred after the war to Sam Houston National Cemetery.
The next day they sent a truck to pick a large number of captured airmen and took us to Gestapo Headquarters in St. Polten. The next day they took several of us on a train to Frankfort to a Dulag, which was an interrogation center. They assigned Germany pilots to guard us and they were pretty effective in assuring our safety from often hostile civilians who mobbed around us. At one point a German guard raised his gun and fired it into the air to get a crowd to move away from us. On June 28, one of the guards looked at my papers and cheerfully wished me a happy birthday. We spent thirteen days in Frankfort in solitary confinement where we were interrogated. Then we were sent to Stalag Luft IV, a prisoner of war camp. I was there until March of 1945 when they took a group of 1500 men and tried to get us away from the advancing Russian line. We traveled in box cars, 75 prisoners to a car. We spent a week on the train and ended up at Barth, Germany on the Baltic sea and were held at Stalag Luft I. We got to Stalag Luft I about April 10, 1945. Luft I was an officer’s camp.
On May 1 the Russian Army liberated us. The German guards had left the night before the Russian troops arrived. The POWs who did not travel by train from Stalag Luft IV to Stalag Luft I were marched out on foot with very little or nothing to eat. A lot of POWs were shot for not being able to keep up or for trying to escape. After the camp was liberated, the US Air Force flew in B17 bombers to transport the American and British former prisoners to France for processing. They offered us leave in France, but there was a chance that if we left the camp, we would miss the first planes to go back to the states, so I stuck around the processing center. I didn’t need any more of Europe, I just wanted to get back home and see my family. My experience as a POW was both boring and frightening. I hope this is at least part of what you wanted to know about.
Samuel S. Rosenberg
165 Chestnut St.
Brookline, Massachusetts
July, 1999
