Most of the month of December 1944, the Hell Hawk group was stationed at Chievres (Mons) Belgium. By Christmas Day, the Battle of the Bulge  despite the horrible weather — was in full swing. For most of December the weather was the best ally that the Germans had. Usually the ceiling was less than 1,000 feet. A few days, we couldn’t see halfway down the runway. Troops in our front line defense were taking a beating and air support simply couldn’t get there to help.

At night, the Germans were dropping English speaking soldiers in U.S. uniforms behind our lines and around our airfields. Some of our ground crew members guarded our planes by sleeping under the wings.

On Christmas Eve, the weather began to improve and our group flew six missions in the Liege-St. Vith-Malmedy-Bastogue area. Somewhat unexpected by the Germans, our pilots found an abundance of targets. Numerous trucks, armored vehicles, and gun emplacements were destroyed.

On Christmas Day of 1944, the weather was still improving, and our air support was going all out to assist the U.S. ground troops. In fact, the air over the entire area around St. Vith and Liege was flooded with planes. Too many planes in one area can cause problems.

The 388th Fighter Squadron was scheduled to take off at 1111. I was assigned to be blue flight element leader. This position was blue 3, and my wingman would be blue 4. As we were approaching our planes. Jerry Mast, leader of blue flight, fell on the ice and had to abort. He told me to take over as leader of blue flight. This was my first mission as a flight leader. My wingman became blue 2 instead of blue 4. This shift resulted in Byron Smith of Valparaiso, Ind., flying my wing. I was glad because Smith had established himself as a very dependable pilot.

Our squadron entered the combat area and immediately found plenty of targets to dive bomb and strafe. Flak was extremely heavy. It seemed that all anti-aircraft guns, ground guns, and personal weapons were focused on our squadron. When I dive-bombed a convoy of vehicles, my left wing bomb hung and almost caused me to flip upside down. After recovering, I made another run on a target and shook the bomb loose. Smith covered me as I unloaded the bomb.

Pilots in blue flight found themselves in an area where heavy bombers were at 18,000-20,000 feet while below them were medium bombers, and even lower we were strafing and dive-bombing on the deck. Our bomber escort fighters (P-51s) were engaged in battle with FW-190s and ME-104s.

As I was strafing a vehicle, a ME- 109 crashed right in front of me and an FW- 190 came down through blue flight. Smith and I were evading enemy planes, dodging flak, and checking the bomb bay doors on the bombers while trying to strafe ground targets.

I called Smith and told him that if another enemy plane came near us to be prepared to go after it. As soon as I made the next strafing pass, an FW-190 came down slightly in front of me. With Smith on my wing, I chased the FW-190. The German plane hit a treetop and I was closing in to shoot him down.

Before completely closing in, I decided to check on Smith. A P-51 was on his tall and firing away. My mind was on my old position as blue 3, and I called for blue 4 to break, but no one broke away. I called again and nothing happened. Concerned for Smith, I left the FW- 190, and broke hard left to get the P-51 off Smith’s tall. When the pilot of the P-51 saw my big elliptical wing, he left. No doubt he came down behind the FW-190 and through confusion thought Smith’s P-47 was the FW-90. This was my first mission with the position with blue 2 (Smith) as my wingman. By habit, I was calling for blue 4 to break when I should have called blue 2 to break. Fortunately, Smith was not shot down.

As Smith and I chased the FW- 190, we became separated from our squadron. We returned to our combat area and continued strafing vehicles. We found ourselves in heavy flak and both of us suffered plane damage from direct hits. I got hit in both wings and Smith took a severe hit in his left landing gear well.

We were now low on gas and ammo, so I decided that we should head home. As we approached the field, I lowered my landing gear and Smith said that I had a tire shot off. Smith tried to lower his landing gear, and only his right gear came down. I landed on one good wheel and one rim. As the plane slowed, I was pulled off the runway and into a field, but I did not cartwheel.

Smith landed on one wheel and kept his left wing up as long as possible. When his left wing came down, Smith’s plane left the runway and came to a stop near my plane. Nothing less than a miracle can explain why Smith didn’t cartwheel. Byron and I counted 16 bullet holes that the P-51 put in his plane.

Smith thanked me many times for saving his life. After this Christmas Day mission, Byron and I became closer friends. Although he felt indebted to me, I have never felt that I deserved any recognition. I realize that if Smith had not stuck with me as my wingman, that P-51 could have been putting bullets in my plane. Hence, our feelings were mutual and remained that way until Byron left us in 1968.

If it were possible for me to meet Byron today, we would recall our exciting events in London, Paris, Brussels, and the French Riviera — only after discussing the mission on Christmas of 1944.

Later in the day, we learned that the turkey promised to us for Christmas was going elsewhere and would not show up. Also, we learned that we were moving to Metz, France. Hence, the big Christmas dinner became a disappointment.

Christmas night, Byron Smith and I joined a few pilots and walked to a nearby crossroads. A small village church was located near the crossroads. The people congregated inside were singing “Silent Night.” These singers were natives of Belgium, called “Belgics” by us.

They were singing in French and the song, “Silent Night,” originated in Germany. We were outside singing in English. This song represented a commonality of four nations. The scene was touching , the song was peacefully penetrating and all around us was war.

(Cowen flew 88 missions over Europe in WWII in a P-47 Thunderbolt. He achieved the rank of captain at age 21 and is credited with shooting down a German jet. He lives at Lake Junaluska.)

 

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The Smoky Mountain News