Our crew was formed in Westover Field, Mass. We had two good pilots, navigator, bombardier, flight engineer and radio operator that were the best. Our gunners were no slouches either.

We flew to Charleston, SC for B-24 training. We went on night missions and gunnery practice. We would shoot a burst into the ocean and try to hit the splash.

My main memory is a high altitude mission, we needed oxygen and the ground men didn't fill my supply in the ball turret. It was my fault, I should have checked it before take-off. Anoxia is a feeling like you are drunk. I heard the pilot on an oxygen check and I could not answer him so I rolled the turret up and shut off the switch. Next thing I remember, Stan & Tex pulled me out. I woke up in the waist cold and freezing. Those guys saved my life.

We then went to Mitchell Field in NY, picked up a brand new B-24 with a radar dome instead of a ball turret. I was so happy, I thought I wouldn't have to ride the turret anymore.

From Mitchell Field we flew to Bangor, Maine. That was our P.O.E. We landed in Bermuda where the weather was beautiful, this was Jan. 1945, we were stuck in Bermuda because our next stop, the Azores was weathered in. When we were finally cleared to go to the Azores we were landing on this steel mat runway and on the final approach we hit a cross wind that put one wing down. So I asked, "Should we bail out" and Red told me "we were to low to bail out." Anyway, we landed O.K.

Next stop was Marrakech, Africa, the to Tunis, Africa and on to Gioia del Colle, Italy. From there we joined the 376th Bomb Group, 513th Bomb Squadron. We were about 9 planes in the squadron. This was located in San Pancrazio, Italy. We went on missions bombing Marsalling Yards, bridges and one Anti-Personnel Mission.

The two heroic things that Red did, when our bombardier got wounded from flak, (we never saw any fighters but the flak was very thick), Red cut away Frank's pants and Jacket and tended to his wound. I saw it a month later and it was all purple and ugly. Pilot got hit right across the nose. We had to emergency land right outside the battle line. We all jumped out of the plane and I'll never forget seeing Swede's nose hanging in half and the large clumps of blood in the oxygen mask. Red also attended his wound. It's a damn shame that Red didn't get two D.F.C. medals for bravery.
Wesley "Red" Baker and Sammy Carbone in Bangor, Maine