Commentary: Walking with Heroes

  • Published
  • By Lt. Col. Tom Torkelson
  • 351st Air Refueling Squadron commander
RAF MILDENHALL, England --  "I look back on those days and think, 'Is that me?'" said Capt. (ret.) Robert Wolff, a former pilot of the famed 100th Bombardment Group, World War II Prisoner of War and recent distinguished visitor of RAF Mildenhall's Sept. 11 Air Force Ball. He posed that question to me as I eagerly absorbed the many stories, reflections and reminiscences he so graciously shared.

Together with Capt. (ret.) Robert Shoens, another B-17 aviator from the "Bloody Hundredth" and former member of the 351st Bombardment Squadron, the two Bobs (as they insisted I call them) fascinated and motivated dozens of members of the 100th Operations Group during a six-day visit here last week.

Academics, airpower theorists and many military professionals often debate the soundness of strategic bombardment during World War II. From initial concepts suggesting the B-17 could operate effectively without fighter escort, giving ironic justification to the "Flying Fortress" nickname, to subsequent employment ideas of achieving "precision" effects through pure masses of men and machines over the target, these discussions de-humanize the devastating process of waging war and the riveting recollections of men like Captains Shoens and Wolff risk becoming lost in these conversations. Thankfully for me and many other fortunate members of Team Mildenhall last week, these heroes re-cast World War II from a distant, historical event into an intimate, personal experience interlaced with memories and emotion.

The Bloody Hundredth received its infamous distinction after a particularly brutal period of tremendous losses in 1943. Flying out of Thorpe Abbotts airfield, a short one-hour drive from RAF Mildenhall, the 100th Bombardment Group lost seven of 21 crews on an Oct. 8, 1943, mission to Bremen, Germany. The remaining 14 aircraft took off two days later to Munster, losing all but two crews, including two squadron commanders and three operations officers.

With 10 men per aircraft, these losses over a short two-day period amounted to 190 lives, about 75 percent of the group. Numbers like these highlight not only the incredible sacrifice so many endured during World War II, but also the almost-inconceivable cost America and Britain were willing to pay to liberate Western Europe. One wonders if any modern global threat would inspire a similar level of commitment today. Regardless, Captains Wolff and Shoens remember the days when the Allied democracies did accept that cost, they remember the hundreds of comrades lost and they humbly give those men all the credit.

"I'm not a hero," said Captain Shoens. "All my friends who didn't make it back are."

During a cool, breezy walk around Thorpe Abbotts on a crisp, grey East Anglian afternoon, the two Bobs painted a vivid picture of what life at a World War II bomber base was like. At its height, Thorpe Abbotts airfield consisted of three runways and 52 hardstands. Now only one grass-infested hardstand and a few remnants of the main runway remain. From the top of the restored control tower, the two Bobs described the throaty rumble of dozens of "Square D" B-17s departing the field, seeing dozens more lifting off from surrounding airfields, then taking over two hours to re-join into their squadron, then group, then wing and then division.

This formation of hundreds of aircraft would then fly another six to 10 hours to bomb a distant city and hopefully most would return. I asked them about fear and if they ever felt the next mission might be their last.

Captain Shoens related that, "we were trained to do a job, and we did it."

Once airborne, his singular focus was simply to maintain position, get the bombs on target and get his crew home safely. Both men described flying through the debris of an aircraft destroyed immediately in front of them, and Captain Wolff, shot down himself, ditched off the coast of France. The anniversary of that event on Sept. 15, 1943, passed during his visit, and he shared that his crew typically called each other on that day to say, "remember what happened in 1943?" Now, Captain Wolff sadly reflects, "we don't do that anymore. I'm the only one left."

Many times, the two Bobs commented on the professionalism of the Team Mildenhall Airmen who assisted with their visit and with whom they interfaced at their many events.

"It's good to see today's Air Force is in such good hands," each man would say at various times.

I'm grateful that these men's hands shaped yesterday's Army Air Corps, and that their words shaped the minds of today's Team Mildenhall Airmen. Witnessing today's KC-135 Stratotankers operate incessantly, emblazoned with the Bloody Hundredth's "Box D," understanding that the missions we conduct today extend the influence of democratic ideals those patriots ensured and knowing dozens of Airmen are required to propel a single jet into the air, should represent tremendous sources of pride for each and every one of us.

For me, it is truly an honor to command a unit whose legacy stems from such a storied past and to be a member of Team Mildenhall and the 100th Air Refueling Wing on the soil of a nation so instrumental in the preservation of democracy decades ago. It was difficult to see Captains Shoens and Wolff depart our midst, because the opportunity to walk with heroes, to physically touch our heritage and to hear first-hand the incredible stories of sacrifice and triumph these warriors willingly expressed do not appear often. To hear these men's particular experiences comes once in a lifetime.