Foil: 6 Panel: Distinguished Flying Cross Society Column: 4 Line: 44

Wall of Honor Level:
Air and Space Friend

Honored by:
Mr. Eli Mark

Mark was Commander of a detachment -- Detachment 1, I believe -- of the 1st Combat Camera Unit at Lecce, Italy in 1944. Whether he was there all the time, or travelled to the other Bomb Groups in our Wing, I don't know -- I first met him on the morning of our flight. At any rate, the enlisted men in his detachment had a tent, or tents, next to the enlisted men in my crew, and one of his men frequently flew with us on a mission. Well, on the morning of July 22, 1944, Mark appeared at the mission briefing and announced that this morning, he would fly with us. The evening before, we had been pre-briefed on the mission, a milk run barely into Yugoslavia. We teased him greatly about the flight -- told him it was going to be a real tough one and that he should wait until we had an easy one. This was my 48th mission -- I had only to fly two more to go home.
Lo! When the briefer began his briefing, we were not going to Yugoslavia after all, but were going to Ploesti. Ploesti was one of our toughest targets -- it would be my fifth time over it, and I was not looking forward to another one during my tour. Although Mark could have cancelled and flown on another mission, he wanted to go on this one. So, we went on out co our bird, Mark with his cameras, and readied it for the mission. It was the first mission for the B-24 we were to fly -- it had just reached Italy a few days before and was brand new. We took off and joined our squadron; I flew the right wing of the squadron commander. We had a full squadron that day -- three-three-with a single in the low slot.
Our flight to Ploesti was uneventful as I recall -- we ran into some flak over Yugoslavia, but it was low and inaccurate -- more of a nuisance than a danger. We saw no fighters, and reached our IP and turned onto the target to begin our bomb run. As usual, Ploesti was smoked in -- I guess that whenever our bombers began to penetrate Rumania, they automatically lit the smoke pots to obscure the refineries. Because of the camouflage, our lead would drop on radar, and we wing men would drop on his release.
When we rolled out of our turn to begin our bomb run and stabilized the formation to give a good pattern, the leader opened his bomb bay doors and we followed suit. The flak became so heavy that our men used to say that they could get out and walk on it. Just after we opened our doors and stabilized our position, WHA-A-A-N-G! We received a direct hit on number one engine – I’ll never forget that sound. I lost control of the aircraft with the abrupt loss of outboard power and we skidded rapidly to our left. I was on level with the lead, and I thought we would collide with him. I dumped my nose quickly, and had a brief impression of the number three man doing the same. We went under the lead, and over the number three, and the copilot and I regained control of the aircraft. We were in heavy flak and received more hits -- I could hear the shrapnel rattling through the plane and suddenly we lost control of the plane again. We later thought that one or more of our control cables may have been hit by the shrapnel.
With the loss of control this time, I rang the alarm bell to order bail-out. The number one engine had been blown off the wing, and the left wing was on fire. The aircraft began a spin as we started to bail and I remember hoping we could get out before we lost the wing. If we hadn't, the G's from a tight spin would have prevented us from reaching the escape hatches.
Well, obviously, we made it. One of our men was killed, and another's chute streamed and he was badly crippled. I next saw Mark in a caserne -- we had been captured by the Rumanian Home Militia, and he had an ugly gash across his forehead where he had been hit by shrapnel. Despite this, my men told me he had remained calm and directed them to bail out be fore he did. He was in the aft end for his camera requirements. For his bravery and coolness, he received a medal -- the DFC I believe.
We ended up in a prisoner of war camp in Bucharest, and throughout it all, Mark was cheerful. The upshot of the whole story is that Mark, on his first combat mission, became a casualty, was decorated for bravery and spent six weeks in a POW camp!

Narrative by Joe Guynes.