In the middle of my Alps reverie, all of a sudden Pete called me over the intercom, "Hey Ed, have you seen any of our fighter support?"

  Stunned for a second, I cried, "NO!" This was strange. There weren't any P-51s around, as the pre-mission briefing had indicated there would be. As airmen, this made us feel very uneasy, especially when no one on the crew had seen hide nor hair of them. Boy, was I looking out for them after that. A few moments later, the copilot, Frank Collela, let everyone know what he'd heard over his radio, which was turned into the group's activity, over his radio, which was turned into the group's activity, not the crew. Frank called out, Bandits in the area!" These were words we never enjoyed hearing. I sighed and sat up and, if it was possible, started concentrating even more than I had before. I knew I had to provide extra focus on protecting the back of the plane, or we might never have a view of the Alps again.

  I was remembering what happened to the 445th when they missed their fighter support. Their gunners had .50-caliber machine guns, but they might as well have been armed with slingshots when they came up against the German fighters and their nose section cannons. If we got one cannon shell in our wing tank, we would be history. I wished that we had cannons too, but it would have been impossible to hit them with cannon shells.

  I remembered that day the 455th nearly met extinction, September 27,1944, when our mission was to bomb the Henschel engine plant at Kassel, Germany. We, the 44th bomb group, were the last group in the formation In front of us was the 445th Bomb Group. But their head navigator made a huge miscalculation. When the 445th hit the IP, they didn't turn and start their bomb run on Kassel. They just kept heading east, deeper into enemy territory. When we turned, started our bomb run and opened our bomb bay doors, I noticed the 445th was still heading east and muttered to myself, "Hey, what's the matter with you guys? The target is this way!"

  I realized their fighter escort would be waiting for them after they dropped their bombs at Kassel. All of  a sudden the flak came up hot and heavy. I forgot all about the 445th-we were being hit. On each mission my courage was tested, and without realizing it, I was working to keep my fear under control.

  The next day we were told that the germans had blown twenty-three millimeter cannon shells into the American bombers. With three minutes of air superiority over the 445th, the German fighters had shot down thirty of it's thirty-seven bombers, before American fighter support finally arrived. Thirty bombers in three minutes adds up to a lost bomber every six seconds, or ten bombers a minute. The 445th did manage to shoot down some enemy aircraft.

  These were not good statistics to be reciting to myself at the moment as we flew alongside the Alps, but I couldn't help it. "Brace yourself," I  thought, moving my turret from left to right and my gun up a down. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, so when the Bandits arrived, we would know it. From the tail, I spotted the Bandits first. They were directly in front of me at five o'clock level. They were so much faster than us that they just dove through the formation, firing their cannons. All I could do was open fire and aim the best I could with my tracers. Still, I figured lots of us were done for. Where the hell were those escorts! We weren't very far from becoming a statistic.

  Looking around, I didn't see any of our bombers going down. When the second wave hit us, I opened fire. I saw one of my tracer bullets bounce off the engine cowling of a Folke Wolfe190. Talk about armor protecting your engine-Geez!

  At four o'clock low, I saw one of our bombers explode. Another at seven o'clock high seemed to just split down the middle and break up. I saw no parachutes from either bomber. But I said to myself, We are not going to be next!"

  Then a certifiable miracle happened. Between the peaks of the Alps , directly over my turret, I saw one beautiful silver P-38 after another fly over me. I was so happy, I was waving at them. What a sight! The Alps had been gorgeous, but the P-38s topped them, still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life. Without their arrival, I don't see how I would be around today to write this.

  I assumed these P-38s came up from Italy to help us out, but I really don't know. Years later, I learned that the Hughes Aircraft Company had built some of those P-38s. Thanks, Howard, wherever you are!