“Everything changed on Dec. 24 when an urgent order came down for Harry’s squadron to fly an emergency munitions run.”

By Marcus A. Nannini

IT WAS DECEMBER 1944. First Lieutenant Harry Watson was in the Officers’ Club of the U.S. Army airbase at Greenham Common, England.

The room was decorated for Christmas and the atmosphere was upbeat. The radio in the corner was playing the latest tunes, courtesy of German propaganda broadcaster “Axis Sally.”

Suddenly, Sally interrupted the music with a message directed at American units located in Belgium. Then she welcomed members of the 28th Infantry Division into captivity.

“Shut her up!” one of the officers shouted. The bartender changed the station.

Minutes later, a second lieutenant fresh from home rushed in with news: The Germans had launched a surprise offensive and were “pushing us back to the English Channel.” The room erupted with a chorus of skeptical jeers and boos.

Harry, a C-47 pilot, and a fellow flier found themselves pondering the remote possibility the young lieutenant had been correct. The two laughed off the idea.

Over the next few days, reports flooded in about the enemy offensive in Belgium. The details were not encouraging. As December wore on, Harry noted that he wasn’t being ordered on freight-hauling missions to help ground forces stem the German advance. His colonel, a man named Donalson, reported that weather over the front was poor and confined the pilots to training flights.

Everything changed on Dec. 24 when an urgent order came down for Harry’s squadron to fly an emergency supply run. The 82nd Airborne was holding on to an important crossroads at Manhay, Belgium. The paratroopers were directly in the path of the crack 2nd SS Panzer Division “Das Reich.” The enemy was supported by elements from the 560th Volksgrenadier Regiment, the 3rd SS, “Deutschland” and the 4th SS, “Der Fuhrer.”

The mission briefing was tense and short. A captain from G2 explained that a supply run was the only way to save the 82nd. Each bundle would need to be air dropped onto a set of small landing zones the airborne would have to hold long enough for the planes to arrive.

The flight would be broken into three groups of nine Dakotas, each travelling in a V-shaped formation. Donaldson would lead one section; Harry would fly at the head of another. Each bundle of supplies was to be kicked out of the plane’s doors by the crew chief and radio operator. A parapack loaded underneath the plane would be released separately.

For maximum accuracy, Donalson ordered the Dakota pilots to approach the drop zone below 600 feet, while maintaining “very tight” formations. Lives would depend on the bundles landing on target.

As was the practice throughout the squadron, Harry would alert his crew chief, known simply as “Chief,” and “Sparks,” the radio-operator, to prepare to drop the cargo using a two-colour jump lamp located above the rear hatch. A red light indicated that the plane was approaching the target; green signalled the two men to begin kicking the crates out the door.

Harry wouldn’t activate the green light until he was certain Donalson’s group was unloading. That way there’d be a continuous supply drop from the first plane in the squadron through the last as they flew across the drop zone. Cargo bundles were identifiable by their colour of parachute: pink for ammunition, green for rations, white for medical supplies, etc.

Luftwaffe interceptors were not Harry’s first worry on any given mission; the ever-increasing accuracy of German anti-aircraft fire was the main concern. Truck-based, mobile flak units could appear anywhere. In fact, they could materialize so quickly, squadrons would have to alter their routes home from drops as batteries rushed to cover a flight’s inbound path making for a deadly trip back to base.

Pilot fatigue was also an issue. Increasing levels of stress had created a high turn-over of air crew, particularly co-pilots. Harry had not yet even become acquainted with his co-pilot, a man named George. In fact, the novice young flier only materialized moments before lift off.

Harry’s unease about his number two only grew. The junior seemed far too nervous and inexperienced to trust with the Dakota’s controls.

Following Donalson’s nine-plane formation proved easy; they took to the skies under near-perfect flying conditions. Donalson kept the entire flight on its toes by changing up the group’s altitude periodically, never by more than about 100 feet. Harry was paying his usual close attention to their progress scanning the skies for German fighters. As it turned out none would be encountered that day.

There were no beacons to guide them to their destination “because there weren’t any planes available for dropping ‘pathfinders’ that morning.” The mission was being flown on a strictly visual flight rules “VFR” basis. Their success would depend on the crews’ ability to identify various key landmarks along the route, something for which Harry had an uncanny knack.

Using his dead reckoning skills, Harry knew they were getting close to the drop zone and ordered George to flip on the red lamp to alert Chief and Sparks to be ready to commence the drop. He heard the signal lamp lever click confirming his order had been followed. A minute later, Chief came into the cabin and announced that all the crates had been successfully dropped. Harry looked at the man in horror. Before Harry could manage a word, Chief gestured out the front window. “Hey! Why’s the Colonel’s dropping his load so late?”

Red faced, Harry screamed at George loud enough to drown out the Dakota’s twin engines. “What the hell did you do?”

Harry couldn’t recall ever being so angry; without thinking, he’d flicked open his holster and had laid his right hand onto the wooden grip of his revolver. Startling even himself, Harry returned his hand to the wheel.

Unperturbed, George offered a bewildering excuse for his decision, declaring he decided to “skip the red warning light and go straight to the green drop signal to save time.”

Harry opened his side window and surveyed the rest of the formation. The planes behind him had taken his drop as the cue to release their own loads. Save for the first nine planes in the formation, everyone had dropped too soon, landing the supplies quite possibly into the hands of the Germans.

George offered a further explanation, but Harry cut him off and told him to “shut the hell up!” Harry, his hand again on the pistol, warned the copilot he was lucky he didn’t get shot.

Recognizing the scope of the error, George kept quiet for the rest of the flight.

Upon landing, Harry made for the debriefing room where he planned to make a full report about his co-pilot. That’s when a young second lieutenant from G2 informed the flier that George was of German descent and could even speak and write the language. Apparently, the Colonel of the G2 unit had been considering “grabbing” George to use as an interpreter, but due to the pilot shortage had not yet done so.

The young G2 officer appeared dumbstruck, and scared, as Harry “practically went nuts.” He screamed at the young man.

“With the Krauts dropping spies all over the place you send me out on a critical mission with a German?”

George was sitting only a few feet from Harry throughout the exchange and hadn’t said a word in his defence — likely a good decision on his part.

The lieutenant stood up and abruptly declared the briefing was over. Enraged at the lack of action Harry jumped from his seat, laid his right hand on his holster and threatened to shoot George as a spy.

The terrified co-pilot leapt behind the lieutenant, using him as a human shield. The officer told Harry that he’d “take care of” George and quickly ushered him from the room. Harry never saw “hide nor hair” of George again.

Harry didn’t have time to reflect on the strange events. The next day, Christmas Day, they were scheduled to make another supply run: A drop of desperately needed ammo and food to the beleaguered 101st Airborne at Bastogne. Despite clear skies that day in England, bad weather over the drop zone, forced the brass to scrub the mission.

Instead, Harry spent the day milling around the Officers’ Club with a few of the other pilots, gathering whatever information they could about the status of the 101st. What they heard wasn’t encouraging. Still ruminating over the previous day’s botched drop, he imagined the plight of the paratroopers on the ground fighting for their lives as they watched their desperately needed supplies fall among the Germans. His anger returned, but there was nobody to direct it towards. Instead, he took a long walk around the base to cool off.

On Dec. 26, 1944, the weather over Belgium was clear. The drop was on. Radio beacon pathfinder markers had been dropped and were functioning. All the squadron needed to do was ride a radio beam to their destination. All of the planes were still loaded from the day prior, saving significant prep time. One of the pilots mentioned it was better the Christmas presents be a day late than never at all. Harry agreed.

The entire squadron took off as soon as the briefing was finished. The colonel was flying the lead plane with, again, nine planes in his flight. Harry followed behind just as he had done on the first mission. Harry had a new copilot – one he could trust who “didn’t speak German.” The drop went off without a hitch. But after releasing the cargo, he noticed dozens of paratroopers scattered all around the drop zone far below. The tiny figures were jumping up and down while waving their arms at the planes. He imagined the paratroopers were waving their arms to alert the planes of their presence, and also to express their gratitude. He hoped the men on the ground would soon be relieved.

The flight encountered no anti-aircraft fire or interference from German fighter planes that day, though the radio chatter did include a sole Messerschmitt sighting in the general vicinity. The formation landed without incident at Greenham Common. They would fly no more drops during what would go down in history as the Battle of the Bulge.

It was around New Year’s Day when Harry learned the grim truth of what happened as a consequence of the botched the cargo drop. Most of the crates missed the drop zone. The 82nd Airborne found it necessary to retreat that night as the Germans mounted a full-on assault. Harry never forgave George and told me it was a good thing for George that he didn’t see him again. I leave it to you. Was the incident of Dec. 24, 1944, honest error, negligence or sabotage?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Marcus A. Nannini is the author of Left for Dead at Nijmegen, which tells the story of Gene Metcalfe’s experiences as a paratrooper and prisoner of war in WW2. It’s published by Casemate. Watch for Marcus’ upcoming Midnight Flight to Nuremberg. For more information, visit: www.chameleonsthebook.com