43-38179 CHASTAIN'S KINDERGARTEN
NO MACR
MISSION #227
TARGET: HANDORF AIRFIELD
DATE: MARCH 21, 1945
NO MACR
MISSION #227
TARGET: HANDORF AIRFIELD
DATE: MARCH 21, 1945
Chastain's Kindergarten: The crew
of this plane was under the
teaching and direction of their pilot
Luther Chastain. Since everyone
was new to flying combat missions,
they thought of themselves as
being in kindergarten.
of this plane was under the
teaching and direction of their pilot
Luther Chastain. Since everyone
was new to flying combat missions,
they thought of themselves as
being in kindergarten.
BOMBS AWAY!
This plane was part of a group of 38 planes of the 452nd BG on
March 21, 1945. Their mission was to bomb the Handorf Air Field in
Germany. While over the target, the aircraft was hit by flak in one
engine and flew back to Deopham Green with the engine burning.
Upon landing, fire broke out in the
bomb bay and spread throughout the plane before it could be
extinguished by ground crews. The plane was later salvaged.
March 21, 1945. Their mission was to bomb the Handorf Air Field in
Germany. While over the target, the aircraft was hit by flak in one
engine and flew back to Deopham Green with the engine burning.
Upon landing, fire broke out in the
bomb bay and spread throughout the plane before it could be
extinguished by ground crews. The plane was later salvaged.
|
Thanks to Michael Cosman/son of Lt Cosman for crew list, pictures, and
story below.
story below.
Original Crew Members
A Few World War 2 Exploits of James A. Cosman
by Mike Cosman, son
These notes are made from conversations we had over the years, and stories he told assorted groups of his children
and grandchildren. Like many of his generation that transitioned from childhood to adulthood by going to war, he was
reluctant to talk about the more sobering experiences he had. The few experiences he would freely talk about had
humorous dimensions and helped us appreciate how very different things were back then.
Every young man of the WW2 era knew that when he turned 18, he had to decide whether the enlist in some branch of
the service or be drafted. Jim turned 18 in early 1943, and decided he would rather spend the war flying than walking or
floating, so he enlisted in the Army Air Corps. At the time, his mother Mildred worked as a clerk at March Air Field in
Riverside, California, and was privy to the real casualty figures coming back from the war. The statistics were quite grim
for air crews in Europe, and she was quite fearful for the future of her only surviving son (two others had died as
children, after which her husband abandoned the family and fled the country.) But security rules forbade her from
warning Jim about the grim odds that lay ahead.
Fortunately, our stateside training for flight crews was pretty thorough and took quite a long time. Crews formed up
stateside and trained together before shipping out overseas. Dad was copilot on a B17-G called “Chastain’s
Kindergarten”, after Luther Chastain, the old man (he was 20; everyone else was a teen-ager.) They got to England in
early ’45 as part of the 452nd Bombardment Group, Squadron 730. By now, with defeat eminent, the Germans were
about out of planes, pilots and fuel. Chastain’s crew only got 16 missions in before the Germans folded, but two of them
were pretty hairy.
On one mission deep into Germany, the flak was pretty intense and stretched for miles. They took some shrapnel that
left the #1 engine (far left) rough and smoking. Then they took another hit that created some flames in the #2 engine,
which the fire-extinguisher was able to put out. This left them with two feathered engines. Fortunately, they had dropped
their load of bombs, and half the gas was burned off. Now, if you watched the movie “12 O’Clock High”, you saw the crew
abandon a B17 in just this configuration, claiming it wouldn’t fly on just the two right engines. This is hogwash. In fact, a
B17 will hold 10,000 feet on just the two right engines, although the rudder trim isn’t sufficient to alleviate the need for
heavy, continuous pressure on the right rudder pedal. Dad and Chastain took turns stomping the pedal, and the trip
home contained no further surprises--at least not until the last minute.
The formation was long-gone ahead of them, and they knew they’d be dead-last on the ground at Deopham Green (their
air base, just outside Attleboro, 25 miles southwest of Norwich). You didn’t get in-flight meal service on these runs, and
after 8 or more hours you were pretty hungry. The crews looked forward to the coffee and doughnuts always served
after each mission. But you had to get there close to on-time or they were all gone. As they stewed on their situation, it
occurred to them that they wouldn’t be able to taxi unless they had at least one engine on each side. This would leave
them far away from the mess hall, and waiting for some ground assistance. Well, as teenagers will do, they thought and
thought until they came up with the bright idea of restarting the rough-running but not flaming #1 engine. They (wisely)
held off implementing this plan until they were turning final, then unfeathered #1 and hit the ignition.
Unbeknownst to them, flak had severed a gas line, which had leaked a trail of gas down through the wing that pooled in
the bomb bay. As the prop began turning and the first cylinders fired, the airplane was instantly ablaze. They got it on
the ground, and off the runway onto the grass, as crew members scrambled out. When Dad and Chastain opened the
door into the main fuselage, they were greeted with a wall of fire, so they retreated and switched to Plan B. There are
two sliding windows on the sides of the cockpit, and a suitably motivated person can actually get out through them.
Chastain started out his with his flak suit still on, got caught, and shimmied right out of the suit, leaving it hanging from
the window. Dad started out his side and was immediately aware of a slowly turning propellor. After a little kicking at the
throttles, he was able to get the #3 engine into idle cutoff, and finished his escape. The airplane burned to a black
outline in the grass.
The CO called them all in for a report, explaining that they had just destroyed a $250,000 airplane (my, how time
changes the value of a dollar!), and wanting to know what he should write in the report. Chastain stepped forward and
succinctly replied “Battle damage, sir!” A picture of this event made it into the May 1945 issue of Yank magazine, without
any specific information about who’s plane it was. But you can see Chastain's flak suit hanging down from that little
window, the feathered #2 engine, and the flaming remnants of the #1 engine. I think the thing that made this incident
memorable to the group was that bombers either didn’t make it home at all, or got back mostly intact. It must have been
unusual to see one fly successfully home for several hours, then burst into flame as it prepared to land...
On another mission in April of 1945, the squadron had its only encounter with the new German jet, the Messerschmitt
262. The first thing they discovered is that the jets didn’t mess with guns--they were only armed with rockets and
cannon. Then they discovered that the motors on the ball turrets couldn’t spin them fast enough to track the jets when
they flew through the formations. Chastain’s Kindergarten took a cannon round in a prop blade of the #3 engine
(inboard right side), which failed to explode, but left a gaping hole in the blade while curling it nearly over. Had the shell
exploded, all would have died. Jim always thought of every day after that as a gift of sorts. About four Me 262’s made a
single pass through the formation, causing heavy losses and requiring many of the surviving B-17s to divert to other
bases rather than returning home.
At the conclusion of the war, the 452nd helped repatriate POWs, and participated in the food drops in Holland. The
bombers were loaded with food supplies, which were dropped from the bomb bays while the bombers made low runs over
a stadium or other suitable area. Often the starving civilians would rush onto the drop zone and be injured or killed by
falling food packages, so great was their distress.
When Jim got back stateside, the Air Corps was still trying to figure out what to do with all these combat veterans. Dad
told us the story of when he was given a proficiency check-ride in a B-17 by a stateside instructor pilot who had never
seen combat. Now Dad had flown this airplane for thousands of miles on four, three and two engines, with all sorts of
loads and all kinds of battle damage. As they rolled out on final approach for the first landing, the instructor indicated
that they were too high. Dad knew better, and simply continued the approach. Again, and with more emphasis, “You’re
too high.” Dad continued the approach. By now, I suspect, the instructor may have begun to realize that they weren’t
too high, but his pride may have gotten in the way. As they neared the runway threshold, he shouted “You’re too high!
Go around!”, then he banged all four throttles to the stops.
On turbo-supercharged engines, particularly ones with the primitive system controls of the Wright Cyclone R-1820’s of
the B-17, the pilot (or copilot) was responsible for carefully walking the throttles forward in a slow, progressive manner
that did not result in a “runaway turbo”. If the throttles are advanced too quickly, excess exhaust gas spins the turbos up
too fast, resulting in a rapid rise in intake manifold pressure, which further increases the amount of exhaust gas, resulting
in further over speeding. The whole process takes only a few seconds, during which the manifold pressure climbs way
past the normal limits, and something finally lets go.
In a fraction of a second Dad saw the manifold pressure gauges begin climbing, and by the time he had reached the
throttles to retard them some, the gauge on the #2 engine pegged, followed by a loud bang and the sudden appearance
of a cylinder-sized hole in the cowling. The excessive fuel and air being pumped into the piston chambers had caused
one assembly to simply blow off the engine! The instructor, who was clueless about what was going on, watched as Dad
feathered the #2 engine and commenced an aborted landing, low and dirty, in a crippled B-17. He made no further
comments as Dad cleaned up the airplane and began the turn to crosswind. He made no comments about being too
high as Dad brought the bomber in for a flawless landing on the numbers, and he made no comments as he signed off
Dad’s check-ride, exited the plane and walked away.
__________
by Mike Cosman, son
These notes are made from conversations we had over the years, and stories he told assorted groups of his children
and grandchildren. Like many of his generation that transitioned from childhood to adulthood by going to war, he was
reluctant to talk about the more sobering experiences he had. The few experiences he would freely talk about had
humorous dimensions and helped us appreciate how very different things were back then.
Every young man of the WW2 era knew that when he turned 18, he had to decide whether the enlist in some branch of
the service or be drafted. Jim turned 18 in early 1943, and decided he would rather spend the war flying than walking or
floating, so he enlisted in the Army Air Corps. At the time, his mother Mildred worked as a clerk at March Air Field in
Riverside, California, and was privy to the real casualty figures coming back from the war. The statistics were quite grim
for air crews in Europe, and she was quite fearful for the future of her only surviving son (two others had died as
children, after which her husband abandoned the family and fled the country.) But security rules forbade her from
warning Jim about the grim odds that lay ahead.
Fortunately, our stateside training for flight crews was pretty thorough and took quite a long time. Crews formed up
stateside and trained together before shipping out overseas. Dad was copilot on a B17-G called “Chastain’s
Kindergarten”, after Luther Chastain, the old man (he was 20; everyone else was a teen-ager.) They got to England in
early ’45 as part of the 452nd Bombardment Group, Squadron 730. By now, with defeat eminent, the Germans were
about out of planes, pilots and fuel. Chastain’s crew only got 16 missions in before the Germans folded, but two of them
were pretty hairy.
On one mission deep into Germany, the flak was pretty intense and stretched for miles. They took some shrapnel that
left the #1 engine (far left) rough and smoking. Then they took another hit that created some flames in the #2 engine,
which the fire-extinguisher was able to put out. This left them with two feathered engines. Fortunately, they had dropped
their load of bombs, and half the gas was burned off. Now, if you watched the movie “12 O’Clock High”, you saw the crew
abandon a B17 in just this configuration, claiming it wouldn’t fly on just the two right engines. This is hogwash. In fact, a
B17 will hold 10,000 feet on just the two right engines, although the rudder trim isn’t sufficient to alleviate the need for
heavy, continuous pressure on the right rudder pedal. Dad and Chastain took turns stomping the pedal, and the trip
home contained no further surprises--at least not until the last minute.
The formation was long-gone ahead of them, and they knew they’d be dead-last on the ground at Deopham Green (their
air base, just outside Attleboro, 25 miles southwest of Norwich). You didn’t get in-flight meal service on these runs, and
after 8 or more hours you were pretty hungry. The crews looked forward to the coffee and doughnuts always served
after each mission. But you had to get there close to on-time or they were all gone. As they stewed on their situation, it
occurred to them that they wouldn’t be able to taxi unless they had at least one engine on each side. This would leave
them far away from the mess hall, and waiting for some ground assistance. Well, as teenagers will do, they thought and
thought until they came up with the bright idea of restarting the rough-running but not flaming #1 engine. They (wisely)
held off implementing this plan until they were turning final, then unfeathered #1 and hit the ignition.
Unbeknownst to them, flak had severed a gas line, which had leaked a trail of gas down through the wing that pooled in
the bomb bay. As the prop began turning and the first cylinders fired, the airplane was instantly ablaze. They got it on
the ground, and off the runway onto the grass, as crew members scrambled out. When Dad and Chastain opened the
door into the main fuselage, they were greeted with a wall of fire, so they retreated and switched to Plan B. There are
two sliding windows on the sides of the cockpit, and a suitably motivated person can actually get out through them.
Chastain started out his with his flak suit still on, got caught, and shimmied right out of the suit, leaving it hanging from
the window. Dad started out his side and was immediately aware of a slowly turning propellor. After a little kicking at the
throttles, he was able to get the #3 engine into idle cutoff, and finished his escape. The airplane burned to a black
outline in the grass.
The CO called them all in for a report, explaining that they had just destroyed a $250,000 airplane (my, how time
changes the value of a dollar!), and wanting to know what he should write in the report. Chastain stepped forward and
succinctly replied “Battle damage, sir!” A picture of this event made it into the May 1945 issue of Yank magazine, without
any specific information about who’s plane it was. But you can see Chastain's flak suit hanging down from that little
window, the feathered #2 engine, and the flaming remnants of the #1 engine. I think the thing that made this incident
memorable to the group was that bombers either didn’t make it home at all, or got back mostly intact. It must have been
unusual to see one fly successfully home for several hours, then burst into flame as it prepared to land...
On another mission in April of 1945, the squadron had its only encounter with the new German jet, the Messerschmitt
262. The first thing they discovered is that the jets didn’t mess with guns--they were only armed with rockets and
cannon. Then they discovered that the motors on the ball turrets couldn’t spin them fast enough to track the jets when
they flew through the formations. Chastain’s Kindergarten took a cannon round in a prop blade of the #3 engine
(inboard right side), which failed to explode, but left a gaping hole in the blade while curling it nearly over. Had the shell
exploded, all would have died. Jim always thought of every day after that as a gift of sorts. About four Me 262’s made a
single pass through the formation, causing heavy losses and requiring many of the surviving B-17s to divert to other
bases rather than returning home.
At the conclusion of the war, the 452nd helped repatriate POWs, and participated in the food drops in Holland. The
bombers were loaded with food supplies, which were dropped from the bomb bays while the bombers made low runs over
a stadium or other suitable area. Often the starving civilians would rush onto the drop zone and be injured or killed by
falling food packages, so great was their distress.
When Jim got back stateside, the Air Corps was still trying to figure out what to do with all these combat veterans. Dad
told us the story of when he was given a proficiency check-ride in a B-17 by a stateside instructor pilot who had never
seen combat. Now Dad had flown this airplane for thousands of miles on four, three and two engines, with all sorts of
loads and all kinds of battle damage. As they rolled out on final approach for the first landing, the instructor indicated
that they were too high. Dad knew better, and simply continued the approach. Again, and with more emphasis, “You’re
too high.” Dad continued the approach. By now, I suspect, the instructor may have begun to realize that they weren’t
too high, but his pride may have gotten in the way. As they neared the runway threshold, he shouted “You’re too high!
Go around!”, then he banged all four throttles to the stops.
On turbo-supercharged engines, particularly ones with the primitive system controls of the Wright Cyclone R-1820’s of
the B-17, the pilot (or copilot) was responsible for carefully walking the throttles forward in a slow, progressive manner
that did not result in a “runaway turbo”. If the throttles are advanced too quickly, excess exhaust gas spins the turbos up
too fast, resulting in a rapid rise in intake manifold pressure, which further increases the amount of exhaust gas, resulting
in further over speeding. The whole process takes only a few seconds, during which the manifold pressure climbs way
past the normal limits, and something finally lets go.
In a fraction of a second Dad saw the manifold pressure gauges begin climbing, and by the time he had reached the
throttles to retard them some, the gauge on the #2 engine pegged, followed by a loud bang and the sudden appearance
of a cylinder-sized hole in the cowling. The excessive fuel and air being pumped into the piston chambers had caused
one assembly to simply blow off the engine! The instructor, who was clueless about what was going on, watched as Dad
feathered the #2 engine and commenced an aborted landing, low and dirty, in a crippled B-17. He made no further
comments as Dad cleaned up the airplane and began the turn to crosswind. He made no comments about being too
high as Dad brought the bomber in for a flawless landing on the numbers, and he made no comments as he signed off
Dad’s check-ride, exited the plane and walked away.
__________
The stateside photo of the crew, no
doubt taken during their advanced
training, shows an earlier model of the
B-17 (missing the chin turret), and a
crew of only 9. The crew names were
written on the back of the photo, and
were quite legible (mostly). I
transcribed them onto the lower
portion of the photo to make a more
self-contained record.
doubt taken during their advanced
training, shows an earlier model of the
B-17 (missing the chin turret), and a
crew of only 9. The crew names were
written on the back of the photo, and
were quite legible (mostly). I
transcribed them onto the lower
portion of the photo to make a more
self-contained record.
The hometown press was pretty kind to
the servicemen and their families,
often publishing short articles
expressing pride in the local heroes.
When some heroic action did occur,
each member of the group involved
(the aircrew, for example) was
portrayed as the hero in his or her
hometown paper. The press release
on Chastain’s Kindergarten sent to the
Riverside, California Press-Enterprise
has Jim’s photo in the inset; I am sure
it had Chastain’s in the photo sent to
his home town, etc. The families got
high-quality photo prints of the related
stories.
The May 1945 issue of Yank
Magazine, our publication for US
serviceman, was mostly photos
detailing the waging and successful
conclusion of the war in Europe. The
picture of the burning bomber appears
without any identifying information, and
is taken from a different angle (and a
little later) than the press photo. By
carefully comparing details, particularly
the position of the propellors and the
remains of the aircraft, it is evident that
this is Chastain’s Kindergarten. I have
the entire issue of Yank, and have
scanned it into image form.
the servicemen and their families,
often publishing short articles
expressing pride in the local heroes.
When some heroic action did occur,
each member of the group involved
(the aircrew, for example) was
portrayed as the hero in his or her
hometown paper. The press release
on Chastain’s Kindergarten sent to the
Riverside, California Press-Enterprise
has Jim’s photo in the inset; I am sure
it had Chastain’s in the photo sent to
his home town, etc. The families got
high-quality photo prints of the related
stories.
The May 1945 issue of Yank
Magazine, our publication for US
serviceman, was mostly photos
detailing the waging and successful
conclusion of the war in Europe. The
picture of the burning bomber appears
without any identifying information, and
is taken from a different angle (and a
little later) than the press photo. By
carefully comparing details, particularly
the position of the propellors and the
remains of the aircraft, it is evident that
this is Chastain’s Kindergarten. I have
the entire issue of Yank, and have
scanned it into image form.