Edmond man recounts WWII experiences

MARK SCHLACHTENHAUFEN

The Edmond Sun

Radio operator Ben Little put on his chute and went to the fuselage door. Flak coming from an enemy anti-aircraft battery had killed Engine No. 3, rupturing it and setting it ablaze.

Little tried to escape out the fuselage door, but flames and smoke blocked his path. He radioed the bombadier who opened the bomb bay. Little bailed out of the belly of the B-17, flying at 24,500 feet. Clutching the taut cords rising to the air-filled chute, he looked for the rumored enemy planes that would shoot him out of the sky.

One by one, the airmen landed in the fields and pastures near Osnabruck, deep inside Nazi Germany. Little hit the ground at 18 miles per hour. He bounded and stopped in a farmer's back yard. Moments later, he found himself nose-to-nose with a shotgun barrel.

Little's warm handshake, friendly smile and grandfatherly appearance conceal the rest of the story. Closer inspection reveals hints of the Edmond retiree's history bit by bit.

Upon his head rests a burgundy overseas cap. Pinned to his burgundy, gold-trimmed commemorative vest is a replica of his dog tags. Other items include the 8th Air Force pin from World War II and the silver gunner's wings. A briefcase contains numerous photographs and documents, pages from his past. They detail the facts, seared into his memory, as vivid as the days on which it all happened.

In January 1942, shortly after he received his notice from the military and passed his physical, Little became a member of the Army Air Force. He completed basic training in Texas at Shepherd Air Force Base and was assigned to be a radio operator.

As required, he passed gunnery school in Las Vegas, Nev., and then it was on to Sioux Falls, S.D., where he learned the finer points of operating Air Force radios. After being assigned to a crew and completing flight training in Florida, Sgt. Little was on his way to New York, N.Y., where he boarded a converted oceanliner, the Queen Elizabeth, at that time one of the fastest ships afloat.

"There were 20,000 troops on that ship," Little said. "It was unescorted; we went solo across the Atlantic Ocean. They would change course real frequently. If a sub was sitting out there they would have to chase it and they couldn't catch it."

'The Gestapo

saved my life'

The ship landed at Glasgow, Scotland, where Little joined the 447th Bomb Group, 711 Bomb Squadron.

For some reason, Little said, the military mailed detailed, mission-by-mission accounts including what he did and where he went to his first wife, Rachel. No. 1 was over Brunswick, France. Second was a "no ball" mission. On April 29, Little was scheduled to fly, but was grounded. The plane he was supposed to be on did not return. One crewman was killed. Then there were back-to-back missions to Berlin. The next was over Zwickau on May 12, 1944, Little's 21st birthday.

Mission No. 6 began much like the others. Along with 199 others, Little's B-17 took off at 10 a.m. from Rattlesden Airfield, an operational bomber station. Flying conditions were good. Little's B-17 dropped its payload on the intended target, the marshalling yards at Osnabruck, Germany. On the return trip, flying at 24,500 feet, the formation encountered heavy flak. Engine No. 3 took a direct hit and caught on fire.

That's when Little bailed out of the B-17 and landed in the farmer's back yard. A young German yelling, "Pistola!? Pistola!?" ran up to him and rammed a 12-gauge shotgun in his face. He and the other civilians who had come to the spot took the American GI to a woodshed and started "working me over a little bit."

In one of the ironies that often accompany war, a Gestapo officer appeared.

"He motioned to me to come and those boys backed off," Little said. "I'd have to say the Gestapo saved my life. I probably would have been killed right there in that woodshed."

Stalag Luft 4

Little was marched to a nearby courthouse. He later learned the flak that brought down his B-17 had come from that very town. A crewmate, ball turret gunner Bob Wallace from Hibbing, Minn., was already there. Another, waist gunner John Gingrich from Redding, Pa., arrived soon after.

While at Cologne, Germany, the air raid sirens went off. The American POWs and Nazis took cover together in the same shelter. At a Dulag Luft, a transit camp for airmen, they were interrogated, then put on a train to Berlin. They arrived at the same marshalling yards they had just bombed. Once again, air raid sirens went off.

Eventually they wound up at Stalag Luft 4, a German POW camp for airmen in Poland near the Baltic Sea. Little and the others were processed - he was prisoner No. 1402. The camp was built to hold 10,000 POWs. Of the prisoners held at Stalag Luft 4 6,000 were non-commissioned flyboys, representing 1,000 downed Allied aircraft, Little estimated.

Cabbage, potatoes and rutabagas

Little and 250 others were put in Barracks 3, which contained 10 sleeping compartments, one washroom and one latrine. Each compound had a kitchen.

"Our mattress was a big ol' gunnysack stuffed with wood chips," Little said. "About once a month you had to take it out and fluff it up so it wouldn't be so hard to sleep on."

Little said that other than being forced to eat substandard food, which included dehydrated cabbage, and a steady diet of potatoes and rutabagas, he was treated fairly.

"We were not physically mistreated in any way," he said. "The only thing we had to do was keep our barracks clean and keep the compound clean."

The prisoners were allowed to play football, and games often were one barrack versus another. Softball equipment was also made available. Playing cards were delivered by the International Red Cross and YMCA.

'Where do we

go from here?'

For Little, liberation was a step-by-step process. As Russian forces closed in, the Germans gradually evacuated the POW camps.

"On Feb. 6, 1945, which was the last day that they evacuated the camp, we started walking," Little said. "I had wonders as to what was going on. You never knew when somebody left what happened to them."

During the walks, on two separate occasions, Allied aircraft fired on the POWs, not realizing who they were. However, none were injured, Little recalls.

On May 1, the Germans in charge came out of a building and surrendered. They heard the nearby gunfire, Little said. About an hour later, two Englishmen drove up in a jeep.

"They said, 'OK, you boys are free' and they hopped in that jeep. I said, 'Whoa, Sarge, wait just a minute here. You bring good tidings, but where do we go from here?' He said, 'I don't have time to fool with you. We've got too many Germans surrendering right now.' I said, 'Would you be kind enough to aim us in the right direction?'"

Home sweet home

On May 12, 1945, Little rejoined American forces in Brussels, Belgium. In France, he was re-issued GI gear. Near Le Havre, at Camp Lucky Strike, he was told he could either fly home or take a troop transport ship. Recalling the harrowing shoot-down, Little quickly chose the ship, which landed at Newport News, Va.

"I walked off the ship and kissed the good ol' USA," said Little, who soon after called Rachel, holding their daughter, 10-month-old Mary Elizabeth.

"She squeezed the little baby to make her cry so I could hear her for the first time."

In June, Little arrived at Ft. Smith, Ark., home.

"Needless to say we didn't get much sleep that first night," Little said. "We talked most of it."

No doubt Rachel heard the rest of the story, the story of a humble American hero.

(Mark Schlachtenhaufen may be reached at mschlachtenhaufen@edmondsun.com.)