2Lt Len Wainick, bombardier: On August 18th, 1944 we flew a morning mission to bomb an aircraft factory in Metz, which was on the German/French border. It was a squadron effort of 12 planes. It was a beautiful, clear day and we had no problem in locating the target.  Right after "Bombs Away" there were four bursts of flak.  One took out our left inboard engine and another took out our right inboard engine.
 
We dropped out of the formation and attempted to return to base alone.  The engineer said we were losing too much fuel and could not make it across the channel.  We were getting ready to abandon the aircraft when my Navigator, Curt Clump, said we could make one of the fighter strips in Normandy and land.
 
We found one, I believe it was A-7, and prepared to land.  We made a successful landing and taxied to the end of the runway.  Instead of military personnel coming out to us, we were met by a very famous group of musicians who were touring France at that time. They were none other than -- Spike Jones and His City Slickers. The airbase was one used by a P-47 group.
 
The engines had to be replaced.  Both the P-47 and the B-24 used the same type of aircraft engines.  To save the B-24, the engineer and a crew supplied by the P-47 crew chiefs put their engines on our plane.  I think they were Pratt-Whitney’s. They had an extra supply plus they had a few planes they used to cannibalize to keep others flying. The engines fit perfectly into the nacelles, and that’s what they did. It took eight days to transfer two P-47 engines to our plane.  While repairs were being made we went along with the band who played at various air bases and some support bases and we had a great time with them.  My special contact was with Del Courtney, who made famous the song about Hitler's moustache.  After repairs were made, we returned to base and I found that all the cigarettes I had saved in my footlocker were gone .  A very close pal from college days was in the 467th.  When he heard we did not return he came to get those cigarettes.  After the war he married my cousin--but I always made him pay for his theft every time we met for years after. Not every war story was tragic.

A further addendum to our eight day "vacation" in France.  We toured around the area one day and found a French farmhouse.  It was owned by a French women.  Her name was Mme. Odette Pagney.  I still remember her to this day.   She gave us some DAY OLD Calvados that put my co-pilot on the ground.  She was a member of the French Underground and was about 40 years old.  She turned her back to us, took off her blouse, and showed us her back.  It was unbelievably scarred.  The Gestapo wanted her to reveal names of her associates, and she denied being involved.  They whipped her back and rubbed salt water into the wounds to make her talk--and she never did. I can never forget this brave woman with those brutal welts.