Paul M. Krueger

ㅤ“Lt. Krueger! You’re up!”

ㅤIt was my turn to fly with my squadron commander, Captain Fletcher on a seek and destroy mission. 

ㅤMost of our missions were B-17 escorts over Germany. More often than not we would have to buzz off a few Messerschmitts and a few of us got to paint a swastika on our Mustang after the mission, which indicated a dead Nazi. And as the child of a German immigrant, we believed that the only good Nazi is a dead Nazi.

ㅤI have four swastikas on my Mustang, which I affectionately call “Bugsy”. One more and I’ll be a fighter ace. A title that is revered among fighter pilots. Today might be my day. Bugs Bunny is the newest craze in cartoons these days. The pilot that had my plane before me named it “Itsawhiz” and, let’s be honest, that’s a bit silly. So since taking command of my aircraft, I had the 339th Fighter Group resident artist paint over that silly name and replace it with a Bugs Bunny holding a rifle. Bugsy is my plane and Bugsy will be my nose art. 

ㅤToday’s mission: Find any Axis asset and destroy it. A few hours into our sortie, we come across a train in Italy with an unsurprising amount of anti-aircraft weaponry.

ㅤThis is clearly a military target headed from the Reich to the diminished Italian forces still holding out in what Caesar once called Cisalpine Gaul.

ㅤToday isn’t the day I make fighter ace, but if we can disrupt a Nazi supply line to Mussolini’s remaining acolytes, it’s more than worth it. 

ㅤ“Tango, 11 o’clock low!” Captain Fletcher alerted me. 

ㅤ“Roger that.” I enthusiastically replied. 

ㅤI have six .50 caliber machine guns ready to deliver a loud message. Time to listen up. One, two, three, four cars burst into flames as I strafe the Nazi supply train. 

ㅤCaptain Fletcher strafes the train directly behind me. I couldn’t see how many cars he took out, but, as a fighter ace himself, and the commander of the 504th Squadron, I knew he had to have done some substantial damage. 

ㅤ“Ready for another pass?” I transmitted over the radio. 

ㅤA few seconds passed without reply. 

ㅤ“Captain, are you still with me?” 

ㅤA few more seconds passed. I began to worry. 

ㅤ“Cap, are you up?” I frantically inquired. 

ㅤRadio silence. 

ㅤWas he shot down? Was there a radio malfunction? I need to be careful. It’s a partly cloudy day so I am able to position myself for another pass safely, but if Captain Fletcher was shot down by AA, I needed to make sure I wasn’t the next victim. 

ㅤOnly moments ago I had an overwhelming sense of arrogance and determination. Nothing could possibly stop me. But now that I can’t make contact with Capt. Fletcher, my natural human reaction began to hinder my warrior’s resolve. Where is he? I can’t see any smoke trail, no parachute, no flaming wreck. Nothing. 

ㅤ“Captain! Do you read!?” I repeatedly inquired. 

ㅤWhere is he? If he got shot down, there should be a wreckage somewhere near the rail line. Maybe his radio got hit and he can’t reply? At this point I’m genuinely worried. If he’s circling the clouds, I would have seen him by now. On the other hand, if he went down, there should be smoke. What do I do now? 

ㅤ“Sir! Do you read me!?” I frantically transmitted, but was met with tragic silence. 

ㅤI need to make another pass. I need to find him. I hope he’s alive and up with a broken radio, but if he bailed out or was shot down, I need to know that as well. The worst possible scenario is not knowing what happened to him. The Nazi AA has me in his sights, so I need to make sure to stay out of range. After multiple passes I don’t see anything. No smoke trail, no fire. Nothing. What do I do? 

ㅤ“Sir! Are you there?” 

ㅤMy frantic inquiry was met with silence. The moment of truth is nearing because my fuel gauge suddenly became my commander. I can only stick around for a few more minutes before I need to head back to Fowlmere. If I keep searching for something that might no longer exist, I might not make it back to England. Now is the moment. I need to decide. 

ㅤ“Captain!? Do you copy!?” I exclaim. 

ㅤNothing. I need to return. If I don’t I’ll have to bail out over the English Channel

ㅤ“Fletch… I’m sorry.”

ㅤThe silence was deafening as I headed back to England alone. 

ㅤHours of silence. Hours of reflection. Hours of introspection. There’s not enough time in the world for me to come to terms with the fact that I may have left my commander behind. I still don’t know what happened to him. He was officially listed as missing in action. 

ㅤI think about him every day and don’t know how to atone for my failure to his family. The least I could have done was tell them he was killed in action. But I couldn’t even do that. The last I saw of Capt. Fletcher was following my lead. Was it my lead that killed him? Was it the Nazi AA? Was it a mechanical malfunction? The worst part is not knowing. Correction, the worst part is not being able to explain to his family what happened to him. I was never able to have closure. I never found out what happened to him. And for that reason, I’ll never be able to have an ending for this story.