MACR 5806: "2D LT MORLEY"S A/C was hit by flak in left wing root while over Caen, France.  Entire fuselage then burst into flames and A/C nosed down.  Tail twisted off during spin and A/C was seen to crash.  One 'Chute' reported."

Date	Target	Pilot	Sqdn	Mission No.
14-Jun-44	Domleger (Noball)	Morley	754	1
17-Jun-44	Msn2 Tours A/D	Morley	754	2

The following is a portion of a letter written to Maurice Phister, cousin of Paul Dulmage, by co-pilot Bennie Hill’s son:

“…He had told us that on the day that their plane had been shot down it was their very first mission.  As they were flying into their bombing position, they began to encounter very heavy gunfire and flak from below.  Their plane was hit in three different areas all at once – the wing, the center section, and the tail section.  My father got up out of his seat and went back to inspect the damage.  He stated that when he looked into the bomb bay section, it was engulfed in flames.  Fuel from the damaged wing had leaked into the section, had ignited and all their bombs were in flames.  They never had a chance to release their bombs!  He told us that there was nothing he could do, so he went back to his pilot’s seat and sat back down.  Within minutes the plane exploded!  He was blown out of the plane and the fire of the explosion burned off the covering of his parachute.  As he was falling it came out and was burning as he came down.  Shortly before the ground the chute burned off and he fell into a plowed field.  The flight oxygen mask he had on had melted and when pulled from his face, took all the skin with it.  Also, his flight gloves had melted and took all the skin from his hands when they were removed.

“He lay in the field and within a short time the German soldiers arrived and took him prisoner.  He said that the first thing they had done was splash filthy water on his burns to try to get him to talk.  However, due to his severe burns, he could not.  They then turned him over to some Catholic nuns who took care of him in a German hospital.  The German doctors did many skin grafts on him, taking skin from the inside of his upper legs and grafting it onto his face and hands.  On one occasion they cut too deep into his leg, which became infected and had to have a skin graft.  His recovery was long and slow.  In order that his hands not become stiff and unusable, he had to work with putty each day to keep them limber.  He then began playing cards with other prisoners as his hands improved.  He mentioned that as the American troops got closer, the area was bombed quite regularly and although they could hear many shells going over, none ever hit the hospital.  Eventually he was liberated by the American troops and sent to an Army hospital in the east, possibly West Virginia.  He was treated there for quite some time for his burns and was finally able to go home almost three years after being shot down….”

2Lt Jackson Granholm, navigator, witnessed Morley’s crew go down:

“Our lead navigator of the day was a bit off course and took us directly over Caen.  The city was full of panzer units and they opened fire.  As I was to learn with time, the anti-aircraft fire of German tanks was highly accurate.  They laid their first shells right to the middle of our formation, and for the first time I got the full impact of flak fire.

“Gniewkowski was down in the nose with me.  Though he was only to toggle on the drop of the lead ship this day, he always liked to practice at his bombsight, preparing for the day when he would lead the attack — performing the essential sighting himself — in the nose of the foremost bomber of the formation.  When the intense sounds of the bursting flak shells hit our ears, I looked at Eddie Gniewkowski.  His face was as white and bloodless as I’m sure mine must have been.

“The sound of accurate flak aimed at your bomber is unforgettable.  To this day I can remember it, and hear it, and have bad dreams about it.  There is the loud crunch of the shell explosion, followed by the sharp rip of those fragments which penetrate the fuselage, and the rattle of those which bounce off.  It sounds a bit like someone throwing big fistfuls of gravel down a huge tin pipe.

“At about the tenth loud crunch a bomber of the 754th Squadron, flying formation to our right, suddenly pulled up and out of formation.  This was the aeroplane of Lieutenant Morley’s crew, in bad trouble.  The ship made a 180-degree turn, heading back for England, and feathering the right inboard engine.  I watched this turning back with fascination from my side blister window.  About the time our neighbour had finished his turn and was northbound, headed noticeably downhill, the bomber burst into flame.  The whole ship lit up in a giant, blinding flash of fire.

“There was a great fire in the sky where the bomber had been the instant before.  The whole tail section fell off, and one parachute dropped out of the wreckage.  The rest of the aeroplane, burning fiercely, fell spinning into the countryside of France below.

“I fought off the urge to vomit in my oxygen mask.  But the facts were made plain to me: one could die suddenly flying combat with the Eighth Air Force over Europe.  I’d just watched some people do it.  My knees were still shaking when we got back to Horsham St. Faith four hours later.”