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Our War Stories
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Jinxed
by George W. Carney (778) — as told to Diane Carney
Page 2
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"What we're trying to say is that we've had so many accidents and
near misses already, it's spooky. We're all thinking we're jinxed....either us or the ship, and if
you don't break us up we'll never make it through combat."
I sat down in the chair behind my desk and looked over at my
assistant. Lieutenant Martin. He'd been at his desk typing when we came in but had stopped
while the sergeants were talking. He resumed typing tentatively.
I turned to the fIrst man. "What's your name?"
"Staff Sergeant Wendell McBeth, Sir."
"How about the rest of you?" I asked.
"Sergeant Anderson, Sir."
"Sergeant Carr, Sir."
"Sergeant Close, Sir."
"What about the rest of the crew? Are they part of this
jinxed nonsense?" I asked.
"Yes Sir, they all are, Sir," McBeth said.
"The officer's too?" I asked.
"Yes, Sir," they said.
Lt. Martin tapped out another sentence on the typewriter. I saw
him watching us over the rim of his glasses.
"You guys aren't superstitious, are you?" I asked.
"No Sir, but we're jinxed, Sir," said McBeth.
Lt. Martin typed another word.
I sat quietly for a minute. The crew closed in around my desk
like buzzards. "Now listen", I said, "I don't believe in anything like jinxes or hexes
or whatever. You've been training as a crew for months. You're about to go overseas. You need
to keep your crew together. I'm not superstitious. There's nothing wrong with you or your plane,
and to prove it I'll personally pilot your plane overseas."
Lt. Martin abandoned his typing altogether.
"Go get your pilot and co-pilot, I'll talk to them," I
said.
This was not the outcome they'd anticipated. No one spoke. A
gust of wind blew down the stovepipe of the wood stove and a puff of smoke came through the grate
into the room.
During the next coupIe of weeks I sent the crew's co-pilot overseas.
Since I was to fly the plane, the pilot would now be my co-pilot.
In mid-February the bomber group planned to depart, but bad weather forced a stand-down for
five days.
On February 18, 1944, at 5:25AM, the group was cleared for
take-off. Everything seemed okay with our ship. The ground crew had completed the pre-flight
checkout with nothing amiss. We taxied to our place in the line-up. We were the second aircraft
in line for our squadron. That cold, clear Idaho valley hummed with the sound of 200 Pratt & Whitney
1200 hp. radial engines. Our first leg would take us to Lincoln, Nebraska.
We started down the runway. Following normal procedure, I put
my hand on the throttles with the co-pilot's hand over mine and followed it up to full throttle. Once
we had full throttle I'd remove my hand and the co-pilot would lock it in. But as I applied power I
noticed the engines didn't sound right. At full throttle I could tell we weren't drawing full power. A
quick look at the instruments confirmed we lacked the manifold pressure and rpms for take-off. I
chopped the throttles. We got out of line, taxied in, and parked on the ramp. Before I could get
out of my seat, the rest of the crew had filled the cockpit and the catwalk leading to it.
"See what we mean?" someone said. "We're
jinxed!"
I could see that they all looked satisfied with this turn of events.
We all listened and watched as the remaining 46 planes departed
at about 40 second intervals. Then the valley was quiet and the air-strip deserted. The ground
and flight crews discovered that most of the spark plugs in all four engines of our aircraft were
fouled. It was curious, because the plane had been pre-flighted and the spark plugs were clean
before take-off.
We finally departed around noon, a lone bomber, counterpoint
to the grand exodus of the morning. The flight to Lincoln was uneventful. We arrived at dusk, tied
up and went to our quarters.
The next morning we heard that, during the night, a B-24 had
been hit by a fire engine and that the nose had been knocked off.
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From the Dec. '01 issue of the 464th Bomb Group Newsletter.
Published with the permission of Tony Schneider, Sec./NL Ed. (464th, 776)
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