At 6:47 a.m.
on August 1st, 1943, Lieutenant Colonel Addison Baker and Major John Gerstad climbed into B24 Liberator Hell’s Wench at Benghazi airfield in Libya as 178 heavy bombers prepared for the longest and lowest bombing raid in history.
Baker was 36 years old, commanding officer of the 93rd bomb group with 11 months combat experience.
Jerstad was 25, had already completed his required 25 missions 3 weeks earlier, and had volunteered to fly this mission as Baker’s co-pilot.
The target was Powesti oil refineries in Romania, facilities that supplied 30% of Nazi Germany’s fuel, and intelligence predicted 50% casualties before the day ended.
Operation Tidal Wave required a 2400m round trip at altitudes between 50 and 500 ft, treetop level.
The Luftwaffa and German anti-aircraft crews had transformed Pestgi into the most heavily defended target in Europe.
Previous highaltitude raids had failed.
The only way to destroy the refineries was to fly directly through the defenses at chimney height.
Drop delayed fuse bombs.
Hope the explosions didn’t catch your own aircraft.
The Eighth Air Force had lost 47 B-24s during training exercises for this mission.
Pilots misjudged altitude over water, flew into hillsides during low-level practice runs, collided in tight formations.
Command estimated they would lose 90 aircraft over the target.
That meant 900 men.
Baker knew these numbers.
Gerstad knew them, too.
He’d finished his tour, could have returned home to Oregon.
Instead, he’d asked to fly one more mission.
Baker needed experienced pilots.
Jerstad was operations officer, understood the mission plan better than anyone except Baker himself.
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Hell’s Wench carried 10 crew members that morning.
Navigator Harold Sweetman, bombardier John McCormack, engineer James Merritt, radio operator Cecil Fight.
Four gunners.
Every man understood the statistics.
One in two aircraft wouldn’t return.
But Pesti produced 12 million barrels of refined petroleum annually.
Every day those refineries operated, German tanks rolled deeper into Russia.
Yubot hunted Allied convoys.
Messers intercepted bomber formations over Germany.
Destroying Pesti could shorten the war by months, save thousands of Allied lives.
The mission was worth the cost.
Baker had briefed his group three times.
Emphasize timing.
The entire attack depended on five bomb groups reaching their targets simultaneously at exactly 9:30 a.
m.
Romania time.
Spread defensive fire.
Overwhelm anti-aircraft crews.
Any delay meant concentrated defenses.
Any deviation from the flight plan meant disaster.
Each group had specific refineries to hit.
The 93rd would attack the Astro Romana and Nunria refineries.
Baker’s aircraft would lead the formation.
Set the example, show his men the way through.
At 7:00, engines thundered across Benghazi airfield.
178 B-24s lifted into the morning sky, formed up over the Mediterranean, turned north toward Romania.
The formation stretched for miles, 19,000 ft altitude.
Initially they would drop to wavetop height over the Aian sea.
Stay low across Greece and Yugoslavia.
Reach Pyesti below German radar.
Baker settled into his seat.
Gerstad took the co-pilot position.
Hell’s Wench flew in the lead spot.
17 aircraft from the 93rd followed directly behind.
3 hours into the mission.
A B24 from the lead navigation group lost power over the Mediterranean.
The aircraft carrying the mission’s lead navigator.
It descended toward the water, attempted an emergency landing.
The bomber hit waves at 140 mph, disintegrated.
All crew lost.
The entire operation had just lost its Pathfinder.
No backup navigator knew the complete route.
Baker watched the formation continue north.
Something was already wrong.
The formation crossed the Greek coast at 9,000 ft, descended to 500 ft over Yugoslavia.
B-24s flew so low that pilots could see individual trees.
Sheep scattered as bombers roared overhead.
The plan called for terrain masking.
German radar stations couldn’t track aircraft flying below hilltops, but low altitude meant fuel consumption increased.
Navigational errors became critical.
A wrong turn at this altitude could send the entire formation into mountainside.
Baker checked his instruments.
Fuel consumption normal, engines running steady.
Behind him, 17 B-24s from the 93rd maintained tight formation.
To his left and right, other bomb groups spread across the sky.
The 44th, the 98th, the 76th, the 376th.
Five groups, 177 aircraft still flying, one target 30 minutes away.
At 9:05 a.
m.
Romania time, the formation reached the initial point near Pesti, the IP, the spot where bombers would turn east toward Pesti.
This was the critical navigation moment.
Every group needed to identify landmarks, turn at precisely the right moment, follow the correct valleys toward their assigned refineries.
Without the lead navigator, the mission commander’s aircraft took over navigation duties.
Baker watched the lead group begin their turn.
They turned toward Bucharest.
Wrong city.
Wrong direction.
Baker recognized the error immediately.
The lead group had mistaken one valley for another.
A simple navigational mistake at 500 ft altitude.
But Bucharest lay 30 mi southeast of Pesti.
The lead group was taking three bomb groups, over 100 aircraft, away from the target, away from the mission.
The attack plan was collapsing.
Baker grabbed the radio transmitter, tried to contact the mission commander.
Radio discipline had been strict throughout the flight.
Minimal transmissions.
German listening posts were tracking them, but this was an emergency.
The mission was about to fail.
Baker called repeatedly.
No response.
Either the lead aircraft wasn’t monitoring the frequency or they couldn’t hear through radio interference.
German jamming had started the moment the formation crossed into Romania.
Static filled the airwaves.
Jarstad looked at Baker.
The decision was simple.
Follow the lead group to the wrong target and waste the entire mission.
Or break formation.
Turn the 93rd toward Plawi alone.
lead his 17 aircraft into the most heavily defended target in Europe without the planned support from other groups.
No simultaneous attack, no split defenses.
Every German gun would focus on the 93rd.
Command had predicted 50% losses with the full formation attacking together.
What would losses be with one group attacking alone? Baker made his decision in 5 seconds.
He banked Hell’s Winch hard left away from the lead group toward Plawesti.
behind him.
Every aircraft in the 93rd followed.
17 B24s broke from the main formation.
The original attack plan called for 94 bombers hitting Pawesti together.
Now Baker was leading 18 bombers toward targets designed to be attacked by five times that number.
German radar operators watched the formation split.
Flack battery commanders received urgent updates.
American bombers approaching from the south.
Small group, 18 aircraft.
Altitude 500 ft.
Speed 210 mph.
Every available gun crew in Plesti received the same order.
Concentrate all fire on this group.
Stop them before they reach the refineries.
Baker flew toward the smoke stacks of Astro Romana.
11 mi ahead.
10 minutes flying time.
Gerstad scanned the horizon through the co-pilot window.
Black smoke already rising over the city.
Something else too.
Small dark shapes lifting from the ground around the refineries.
Dozens of them.
Then hundreds.
Barrage balloons.
Steel cables dangling beneath them.
Designed specifically to destroy low-flying bombers.
The cables would shred wings, tear through fuselage, rip engines from mountains.
Pesti defenders had raised every balloon in the city.
Hell’s wench was flying directly into a forest of steel.
At 9:17 a.
m.
, Hell’s Wench entered the Pesti defense zone at 470 ft altitude.
The city sprawled ahead.
Seven major refineries, miles of pipelines, cracking towers, storage tanks, smoke stacks belching black smoke, and above everything, barrage balloons.
300 of them.
Steel cable stretched from ground to balloon.
Each cable designed to catch aircraft wings, snap them off, send bombers tumbling into the ground.
Baker had no choice about altitude.
The mission required bombing from chimney height.
Delayed fuses needed time to arm.
If they dropped from normal bombing altitude, the bombs would explode before penetrating deep into refinery structures.
The entire mission depended on flying low, flying through those cables.
The 93rd crews had trained for this.
Practiced low-level bombing runs over desert targets in Libya, but training targets didn’t shoot back.
Training balloons didn’t have steel cables.
Behind Hell’s Wench, 17 B24s followed in tight formation.
Nose gunners tracked the balloons ahead.
Top turret gunners searched for fighters.
The Luftwaffa had stationed 200 fighters at airfields around Pesti.
Messers 109s, Faula Wolf 19As, Romanian IAR81s.
Intelligence had predicted waves of fighter attacks during the bomb run.
So far, no fighters appeared.
German commanders were holding them back, waiting.
The flack batteries would handle the bombers first.
The first 88 mm shell exploded 200 ft ahead of Hell’s Wench.
Black smoke, orange flash.
Shrapnel sprayed outward.
Baker flew through the blast.
The aircraft shuddered.
More explosions erupted across the sky.
German gun crews had the range.
The Powesti defenses included 230 flat guns, 88s, AAA batteries, machine gun nests on rooftops, every gun opened fire simultaneously.
The sky filled with tracers, red lines streaking toward the formation, black puffs of exploding shells.
The barrage was so dense that pilots couldn’t see through it.
A balloon cable appeared directly ahead.
Baker yanked the controls left.
Hell’s wench banked hard.
The cable passed 20 ft from the right wing.
Another cable to the left.
Baker rolled right.
Flying through the forest, dodging cables that appeared without warning through the smoke.
Durststead called out positions.
Cable high left.
Cable low right.
Baker flew by instinct.
The refineries were 3 mi ahead.
Three more minutes.
The formation had to stay together.
Had to reach the target.
An 88 shell detonated beneath Hell’s Wench.
The explosion lifted the aircraft 30 ft.
Shrapnel tore through the belly.
Punctured fuel tanks, ripped through hydraulic lines.
Red warning lights flashed across the instrument panel.
Fuel pressure dropping in number three engine.
Oil temperature rising in number one.
The aircraft was bleeding.
But the engine still ran.
The control still responded.
Baker kept flying.
2 mi from target.
Another barrage balloon ahead.
Baker aimed between two cables.
Calculated the gap.
40 ft clearance on each side.
Enough room.
He committed to the path.
Then the aircraft jolted.
Hard impact on the right wing.
The B-24 had clipped a cable Baker hadn’t seen.
The steel wire scraped along the wing leading edge.
Tore aluminum.
The wire caught on the outboard engine necessel held.
The balloon was now attached to Hell’s wench.
300 lb of rubber and canvas dragging on the right wing, creating massive asymmetric drag.
The aircraft pulled right.
Baker fought the controls, struggled to maintain heading.
Another shell exploded.
This one struck directly.
An 88 mm round hit the right wing route, punched through the fuel tank.
Aviation gas sprayed into the engine compartment.
Hot metal sparking electrical systems, leaking fuel.
The mixture ignited instantly.
Orange flames erupted from the wing, spread toward the fuselage.
Hell’s wench was on fire.
One mile from target, 60 seconds to the release point, Baker looked down, saw an open field below, flat, clear, perfect for emergency landing.
They could set down safely, the entire crew could survive, or they could continue the bomb run.
Baker kept the nose pointed at Astro Romana Refinery.
The fire spread across the entire right wing.
Flames reached back toward the fuselage.
The metal skin glowed red.
Temperature inside the cockpit climbed.
Smoke filled the interior.
The crew could bail out.
Open field below meant everyone could parachute safely.
Or Baker could set the aircraft down, execute emergency landing, walk away.
Mission failed.
But 17 B24s were following directly behind Hell’s Wench.
If Baker landed now, those aircraft would follow.
The entire 93rd would abort.
The mission would fail completely.
Jerstad knew the calculation.
He’d flown 25 missions, survived the odds, earned his ticket home.
Now he sat in a burning bomber with a choice.
Survival or mission.
He didn’t reach for the bailout lever.
Didn’t suggest landing.
He checked the bomb release panel.
Verified the delayed fuses were armed.
Prepared for the drop.
Baker understood.
They were continuing.
The flames grew worse.
Fire consumed the right wing from engine to cell to wing tip.
The aluminum structure began failing.
Rivets popped from heat stress.
Metal panels curled.
The wing was disintegrating, but it still produced lift.
The aircraft still flew.
45 seconds to target.
The Bombay doors were already open.
Bombardier John McCormick lay prone in the nose.
Watched the refinery approach through the Nordon bomb site.
Cracking towers, storage tanks, pipeline networks.
The primary structures were dead ahead.
Behind Hell’s Winch, the 93rd formation held together.
Every pilot saw the flames.
Every crew knew their lead aircraft was dying.
But Baker hadn’t turned away, hadn’t landed.
The formation followed.
17 B24s flew through the flack barrage, through the balloon cables, through smoke so thick that visibility dropped to 100 ft.
They followed Hell’s Winch because Baker and Jerstad were still flying.
German gunners concentrated their fire on the burning bomber.
every tracer, every shell.
If they stopped the lead aircraft, the formation would break apart.
88 rounds exploded continuously around Hell’s Wench.
One shell detonated so close that shrapnel shredded the left horizontal stabilizer.
The aircraft yawed violently.
Baker fought the controls, used rudder and aileron together, kept the nose steady.
The bomb site required stable flight.
Any deviation meant missed target, wasted mission, wasted lives.
30 seconds.
The refineries filled the windscreen.
Cracking towers rose 300 ft high.
Hell’s wench flew between them at 400 ft altitude.
Wings level.
Speed steady.
The fire had now reached the fuselage.
Flames licked along the cockpit windows.
Paint blistered.
Glass cracked from heat.
Oxygen masks provided breathable air, but the temperature was unbearable.
Baker’s hands were blistering on the control yolk.
He held course.
McCormick centered the crosshairs.
The delayed fuse bombs would penetrate buildings before exploding, cause maximum structural damage, destroy the refining equipment.
He waited for the precise release point, calculated drop trajectory, accounted for wind, altitude, speed.
The numbers aligned.
He pressed the release.
4,000 lb of high explosive dropped from the bomb bay fell toward the Astro Romana facility.
Hell’s wench lurched upward as the weight released behind Baker.
The formation released simultaneously.
18 aircraft, 72,000 lb of bombs.
The delayed fuses meant the explosions would occur in waves.
First bombs penetrating deep into structures, then detonating, then the next wave, then the next.
The entire refinery was about to be destroyed, but Hell’s Wench was still in the blast radius.
Baker pulled back on the yolk, tried to gain altitude, get above the coming explosions.
The right wing barely responded.
Fire had destroyed the control surfaces.
The aircraft climbed slowly, 100 ft per minute, not enough.
The bombs would detonate in 18 seconds.
The blast radius extended 1,000 ft.
Hell’s wench was 400 ft above ground, 500 ft past the target, still climbing, still burning.
The wing structure was failing.
The fire had reached the center fuel tanks, and below, 18 seconds had just expired.
The first explosion erupted beneath Hell’s Wench.
A delayed fuse bomb detonated inside the main cracking tower.
The structure disintegrated.
Steel beams shot outward.
The blast wave hit the burning B24 like a physical wall.
The aircraft tumbled, rolled 30° right.
Baker fought the controls, leveled the wings.
More explosions followed.
Sequential detonations as bombs penetrated deep into refinery buildings before exploding.
The entire Astro Romana facility was collapsing.
Fireballs rose 300 ft.
Black smoke mushroomed upward.
The 93rd had hit the target perfectly.
Behind Hell’s Wench, the formation scattered.
Each B24 peeled away from the target area, sought escape routes through the flack, through the smoke, through the balloon cables.
Some aircraft made clean breaks, climbed rapidly, turned south toward Libya.
Others weren’t as fortunate.
A B24 from the 93rd hit a balloon cable at full speed.
The wire caught the left wing, sheared it off completely.
The bomber rolled inverted, crashed into a storage tank, exploded.
10 men dead instantly.
Another B24 took a direct hit from an 88 shell.
The round penetrated the Bombay, detonated the remaining bombs still on their racks.
The aircraft vanished in an orange fireball.
Fragments scattered across 200 yards.
No parachutes, no survivors.
A third bomber flew directly through a flack barrage.
20 mm round stitched across the fuselage killed the pilot, wounded the co-pilot.
The aircraft nosed down, struck the ground at 200 mph, cartwheelled through a residential area.
14 civilians died alongside the crew.
The 93rd was paying the predicted price.
Command had estimated 50% casualties with full formation support.
Baker’s group was attacking alone with 1/5ifth the planned aircraft against the full defensive capability of Paweshest.
The mathematics were brutal.
18 bombers entered the target zone.
Four were already gone.
40 men dead.
The survivors were still fighting their way out.
Hell’s Wench climbed through the smoke at 800 ft, still burning.
The right wing was completely engulfed.
Flames had spread to the fuselage.
The cockpit filled with black smoke.
Visibility zero.
Baker flew by instruments alone.
Air speed.
Altitude heading.
The gauges showed critical damage.
Number three engine seized.
Number four losing oil pressure.
Number one running hot.
Only number two operated normally.
The aircraft was flying on one functioning engine and three dying ones.
Jerstad scanned the instruments, checked fuel levels.
Both right-wing tanks were empty, ruptured by flack.
Leaking fuel had fed the fire.
The leftwing tanks showed half capacity.
Maybe 30 minutes flying time remained.
The Mediterranean coast was 90 minutes south.
They wouldn’t make it.
The aircraft was dying.
But they’d climbed to 800 ft, high enough for parachutes to deploy.
The crew could bail out.
All 10 men could survive.
land in Romanian territory, become prisoners of war, but alive.
Baker assessed their situation.
The mission was complete.
The 93rd had destroyed their assigned targets.
Bombs had devastated the Astro Romana refinery.
The other bombers were escaping.
Some would make it back to Libya.
Some wouldn’t.
But the attack had succeeded.
Germany’s fuel supply was crippled.
The cost had been enormous.
At least four aircraft lost, probably more.
Hell’s Wench was finished.
No possibility of reaching friendly territory.
The smart decision was immediate bailout.
Save the crew.
But Baker knew the statistics.
Bailing out over Romania meant capture, interrogation, prison camp, years of captivity.
Some crew members wouldn’t survive that.
The harsh conditions, disease, malnutrition, and if Germany lost the war, which seemed increasingly likely, some prisoners might never make it home.
Executions happened.