A Bomber Pilot's Story
by Terry Plowman
Page 3
Roman Kruty began his search in earnest in 1992, when he was 26. But
by then he had realized how the stories he’d heard about December 6, 1944, had subtly influenced
his adult interests.
When he was assigned to the air force during his mandatory military
service in 1986, he had his first opportunity to see parachuting up close, and to fly as a passenger.
He enthusiastically studied the history of World War II air battles over Czechoslovakia, and after
he completed his military service he continued his aerial adventures through skydiving and glider
flying. Later, he learned to fly powered planes in a Z-226 military trainer.
These experiences rekindled his fascination with the stories he’d
heard as a child, prompting him to visit the older residents of his hometown to hear them again.
Kruty dug into his village’s historical archives, and he studied English to improve his ability to find
out more about the airmen in his boyhood dreams.
In 1994, Kruty placed a notice in a POW newsletter, which resulted
in a letter from James Cavallo, the seriously wounded airman who had been left for dead in Malzenice.
Cavallo’s contact with Kruty piqued his interest in the events of that day, so he looked up MacDonald’s
phone number and called him. MacDonald was stunned, of course, for as far as he knew, Cavallo
had been dead for 50 years.
This phone call did not connect MacDonald and Kruty, however —
Cavallo never mentioned the young man’s search, and, in a sad twist, he died before giving MacDonald’s
address to Kruty.
Finally, three years later, Kruty tracked down MacDonald by writing
to the 464th Bomb Group Association — and began to shed some light on the mysteries that had
long lingered in MacDonald’s mind.
Through letters and phone conversations, Kruty and MacDonald
explored the details of December 6, 1944. They discussed the idea of a visit to Slovakia, where
MacDonald would stay at the very house that had provided his "hour of calm and comfort."
But a heart attack and a pacemaker operation precluded the trip, so the two made plans for Kruty
to visit Rehoboth Beach.
In December 1998, almost 54 years to the day since he’d been
shot down over Malzenice, MacDonald opened his door to Roman Kruty — and to some long-lost
details about his past.
They spread out their papers and photos, and tried to sort out the
facts. Was this MacDonald’s bomber in an aerial photo of the mission? Where did the other crewmembers
come down? What became of the wreckage?
Through Kruty’s letters, MacDonald had learned that the Jakabovics
had made good use of his parachute, after arguing with local police who tried to confiscate it.
Paulina made several items of clothing, most notably a shirt that her son wore on his wedding day.
As a belated thank-you for the valuable Nylon, Kruty brought a gift from the family: a hand-embroidered
linen tablecloth. He also brought a few charred bits of the wreckage he had dug up, including a
spent 50-caliber cartridge and a small piece of Plexiglas from one of the plane’s windows.
Kruty also visited several other veterans while he was in the United
States. He says the experience was "unforgettable." Yet he still ponders the tale of
December 6, 1944.
"It’s a story about young men thrown into war, one of many
similar stories," he says. "I admired their bravery and their skills, but I think that many
times it was a lottery to survive, not a matter of skill. I think war is a tragedy — young people who
would have had common dreams had they met one another under different circumstances, had
to kill one another in order to not be killed themselves."
The reality of that tragedy continues to haunt MacDonald, who
feels in some way responsible for the deaths of his two crewmen. What if he had made other decisions?
What if he had aborted the flight because of mechanical difficulties the plane was having? "I
haven’t lived a day since then that I haven’t thought about those boys that were killed," he
says.
Despite his remorse, MacDonald says the information he has
learned from Kruty has brought some closure to the events. "For this sense of closure —
this tying up of nagging loose ends — I am deeply indebted and grateful to Roman,"
MacDonald says. "I have come by closure concerning other events of my life, but December
6, 1944, was more than just another incident in my life. In retrospect, that day marked the end
of my youth. From there on I was into adulthood, like it or not."
Epilogue: Warren MacDonald was liberated from a prisoner-of-war
camp in Barth, Germany, on April 30, 1945. After the war, he went to work for the American
Legion’s National Headquarters in Washington, D.C., where he worked for 24 years. He then worked
for the Administrator of Veterans Affairs for seven years before retiring to Rehoboth Beach in 1977.
Although his jobs as director of research and director of foreign relations for the American Legion
took him all around the world, he never revisited the war zone, and he never again piloted a plane.
Roman Kruty continues his historical research, as well as his flying.
He has about 150 hours flying time, is qualified to fly seven types of aircraft, and holds a glider-towing
license and an aerobatics license. Throughout his career in aviation, Kruty has made 204 parachute
jumps — which MacDonald told him were 203 too many.
[Web Editor's Note: The 464th's MIA booklet, page 13, lists the following —
Target: Nova, Czechoslovakia Squadron: 779 A/C # 42-52504 Nick
Name: "Green Hornet" Loss to: Enemy Aircraft. McDonalds crew:
CP. Anderson, Elmer H.; N. Timmerman, Kenneth W.;
B. Lacoss, Billy H.; EG. Vieira, Manuel J.; R/OP. Griffith, Harold R.;
G. Koster, Joe W.; G. Kubik, Walter T.; G. Garrow, Matthew J.;
G. Miller, James C.]
Back to Our War Stories.
This article and its photographs were originally
published in the Fall 2001 issue
of
Logbook magazine. This article and these photos have been reproduced on
this web site with the permission of David G. Powers, Editor.
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![[Graphic] Snapshots from the 464th Bombardment Group.](../images/flagd.jpg)