Memories of a B-17 Tailgunner

By Ed Hays, June 2000

I was in the 95th Bomb Group, 8th Air Force stationed at Horham. Flew as tailgunner on B-17. Shot down Feb.24, 1944 over Denmark returning home from a target in Poland. 13th mission. Shot down by a squadron of Me109's, plane badly hit, pilot and co-pilot so badly injured they had to take her down and crashland. Rest of us bailed out at different altitudes. Two dead, all injured. I landed in field where a young lad (Johannes Ulrich, 15 yrs old) saw my chute coming down and hurried over and put me on his bike (I was injured) and wheeled me to a farmhouse where eventually a Danish doctor arrived and transported me to a hospital. After a week I was taken by the germans and sent to various Stalag Lufts in Germany. My pilot and co-pilot spent five months in hospital before being shipped to Germany. In May of 1945 I was liberated from Stalag Luft 1 at Barth, Germany. Flew to Camp Lucky Strike, France for rehab and then boat ride home to USA. Discharged in Octy. 1945, back to college, marriage, three wonderful children, etc.

The years passed, and then one day,Feb. 24 1995 (51 years to the day I was shot down) my phone rang! It was Johannes Ulrich, now a grown man and he had located me after much effort and invited me back to Denmark to help them celebrate their 50th year of liberation. The arrangements were made and I returned with my ball turret gunner, Bob Joyce, from Texas and his son, Gary. We spent a week celebrating with the Danes and much was made of our return by the Danes. The Royal Danish Air Force flew us by heleicopter over the field where we had landed and where our B-17 had crashlanded. We also visited the exact field where the plane crashed and were able to pick up pieces and spent sshell casings, etc. from 51 years prior. Much emotion and a few tears. In 1996 I returned with my wife Joan and we stayed with the Ulrich's at their home in Logumcloster, nearby to the crash site. Again in 1997 I returned with my wife, daughter Betsy and her husband John and we had a wonderful trip visiting the Danes who had helped us those many years ago. (I was beginning to feel as if I were Danish!)

Then in 1998, Fritz Ulrich (Johannes's son) now about 4o yrs old, after much research, had located the German pilot of the Me109 who shot us down that fateful day. As we were the only plane downed that day (2/24/44) he was able by researching Luftwaffe records to locate the pilot and again, after much effort, to phone him in Berlin and tell him the story. The pilot's name was Gunther Sinnecker and he lived in Berlin with his wife Ilse and he had raised two sons, both medical doctors. Sinnecker invited us to visit him and after much planning the trip was arranged and we flew from Copenhagen to Berlin for this historic meeting. I took my wife, my daughter Susie, my grandaughter Allison and my great-grandaughter Vanessa. (I wasn't about to go alone!) Well , we had one heck of a reunion. He met us a the airport in Berlin, took us about the city to see the points of interest and then back to his home for dinner and an evening of good conversation and reliving some of our experiences since that day we met in the skies over Denmark and had shot eachother down! My family experienced a wonderful history lesson and although Sinnecker and I did not talk much about war, we did close the circle and both of were glad to meet and be alive and to agree that war is not the answer to the world's problems. Such meetings are rare and I for one am very happy that we were able to exchange our thoughts and feelings.

Hope I have not put you to sleep with this "war story" - but it has been an unusual tale. Incidentally, I have relatives in England and we are in touch frequently and also my father attended college there during World War 1, tried to enlist in the British Army, no way would they take him, so he came back to America and enlisted in the Cavalry (29th Division) and was sent to France, was gassed but survived the war. He tried to get me in his old outfit (29th) in 1941 but I didn't want it, and good thing, they were the first to hit Omaha beach on D-day. I wanted to fly!

Regards always, Ed Hays