On Dec. 20, 1943, Second Lt. Charles "Charlie" Brown was desperately trying to keep his heavily damaged plane, a B-17F bomber known as 'Ye Olde Pub,' aloft over Germany. This was the crew's first mission and they had been in the second wave of bombers targeting Focke-Wulf airplane manufacturing plant near Bremen in northwest Germany when they ran into very heavy flak during their bombing run. The anti-aircraft fire blew out the Plexiglas nose, destroyed one engine and damaged two others. There were holes all over the fuselage and the tail was half gone; they couldn't keep up with the rest of the bombers. Suddenly, they were attacked by a wave of eight Messerschmitt fighters, followed by another seven. His crew fought back and downed one or two of them, but then Brown, who was wounded along with most of his crew lost control of his plane. It flipped over and spiraled down, causing Brown to lose consciousness. The Germans figured the bomber was spiraling to it death and left. What they could not have known was Brown had finally regained control with just hundreds of feet to spare. Of his crew members, one was dead and six wounded, and Brown was alone in his cockpit since his co-pilot copilot Spencer "Pinky" Luke along with two other unharmed men, were tending to the others. Blood of the wounded crew was splattered throughout the plane's interior. When Brown asked for a damage report, one of the crew replied, "We're chewed to pieces." Directly below them was a German airfield.
On the airfield German pilot Franz Stigler, a former commercial airline pilot whose father and brother had both died while serving their country, was refueling and re-arming his Messerschmitt Bf-109. When he heard Brown's B-17 Flying Fortress roaring overhead, barely 200 above the ground, he looked up, dismayed at how low it was. Oberleutnant (Lieutenant) Stigler had already shot down two B-17s that day and one more added to his total would mean he would receive the Knight's Cross, Germany's highest military award. He took off in his fighter as soon as he could.
Soon after taking off, Stigler located the B-17 and he approached from behind and above the bomber. At that distance he could see the tail was half shot away. Stigler dropped lower, closing, watching for the tail-gunner's machine guns to rise, meaning he'd been spotted, but they never moved. He got close enough to see that the tail-gunner was dead or dying, his blood running down the gun barrel. 
Stigler edged his fighter alongside the stricken bomber. He had never seen a plane with so much damage still able to fly. There were so many holes in its fuselage he could see crew members tending to their wounded. Stigler remembered a former commander who, during the campaign in North Africa, told them: "You are fighter pilots first, last, always. If I ever hear of any of you shooting at someone in a parachute, I'll shoot you myself." Stigler considered that shooting these men down now would be the same as machine gunning them in parachutes.
Pulling in behind the Pub and concerned he would come under fire, Stigler had his finger on the trigger, one eye closed and the other squinting through his gun sight. He took aim and was about to fire when he realized what he wasn't seeing: This plane had no tail guns blinking. This plane had no left stabilizer. This plane had no tail-gun compartment left, and as he got closer, Stigler saw the terrified tail gunner himself, his fleece collar soaked red, the guns themselves streaked with it, icicles of blood hanging from the barrels.
Stigler was no longer energized. He was alarmed. He pulled alongside the plane and saw clean through the middle, where the skin had been blown apart by anti-aircraft shells. He saw these terrified young men attempting to tend to their wounded. He drew equal to the B-17 and saw that the nose of the plane, too, had been blown away. How was this thing still in the air? He maneuvered toward the disabled bomber's wingtip.
At first, Brown didn't notice the small German plane. He was thinking, thinking, thinking. He had six wounded men in the back. Some were strong enough to jump out, but the critically injured would never survive the cold German forest. He'd have to keep flying, try to make it to England, but the others should jump. He then noticed the German fighter.
Flying along the wingtip of the Pub, a relaxed Stigler nodded to Brown but he was in such a state of shock he did not return the greeting. Running through Brown's mind was how daring the German pilot in flying that close to even a badly crippled enemy bomber. Stigler signaled to Brown to land in Germany. Brown, in pain and still recovering from oxygen deprivation, refused. Stigler reconsidered and then tried to get Brown to swing northeast toward neutral Sweden, only 30 minutes away. 
He didn't think the B-17 could make it back to England. Again, Brown refused, sticking to his course. Stigler continued to escort Brown's Flying Fortress through the skies over Germany—partly because he didn't want anyone to shoot them down. When they were finally over the North Sea, Stigler saluted and turned away. He didn't think much of their chances.
Brown himself did not think much of their chances either but a crash-landing was never seriously considered since all pilots of B-17's were under strict instructions that if a crash-landing became necessary as a last resort, survivors were to destroy the aircraft and activate the explosive charge in the highly secret Norden bombsight. Since it appeared to Brown most of the crew would not survive a parachute jump into northern Germany in the winter, and possibly all of them would perish in a crash-landing, Brown would fly back over land to let any of the crew bale out who wished to do so, and would then try and fly the aircraft back to England. All agreed to stay on board and take their chances.
Brown managed to get his B-17 back to base. For getting his plane and crew back under such conditions, a Colonel told him he would be nominated for the Medal of Honor. However, during debriefing, he and his crew kept talking about the crazy German who had escorted them to the sea. Immediately after, he and his crew's participation in the mission was classified Secret and ordered not to discuss it with anyone. He never officially received so much as a pat on the back.
Stigler returned to his base and reported that he had shot-down the B-17 over the North Sea. To have done otherwise he would have been court-martialed and possibly shot for letting an enemy go free. By the end of the war he'd flown 487 combat missions and had 28 confirmed kills. He never received the Knight's Cross. He served through the end of World War II and, unable to ever feel at home in Germany living in fear that he'd be found out, relocated to Vancouver, Canada, in 1953.
Brown served right up until the beginning of the Vietnam War and eventually settled with his wife in Miami. Still deeply traumatized by the incident, he thought about searching for the German until finally, in January 1990, knowing the odds were against him, he took out an ad in a newsletter for fighter pilots, looking for the one "who saved my life on Dec. 20, 1943." He held back one key piece of information: Where the German pilot had abandoned his B-17.
At home in Vancouver, Stigler saw the ad. He yelled to his wife: "This is him! This is the one I didn't shoot down!"
Franz had always wondered if the great risk he'd taken had been worth it, if the American had made it home. Brown had always wondered what the German had been planning to do to him, and why he had let him go.
He immediately wrote a letter to Brown.
Brown was too impatient to actually read it. He called the operator and had her look up Franz Stigler's number, then placed the call immediately.
"When I let you go over the sea," Stigler said, "I thought you'd never make it."
"My God," Brown said. "It's you."
Tears were streaming down his face. Stigler had answered Brown's secret question without Brown having to ask it.
"What were you pointing for?" Brown asked.
Stigler, too, was crying. He explained everything: that he could tell that Brown had no idea how bad the plane was, that he was pointing first to the ground, to Germany, and then pointing away, mouthing "Sweden," that he was trying to escort them to safety and that he abandoned them only when he saw the gun swing from the turret.
"Good luck," he'd said to Brown from his cockpit. "You're in God's hands."
They met at a 379th Bomber Group reunion, together with 25 people who are alive now - all because Franz never fired his guns that day. For the rest of their lives, Charlie Brown and Franz Stigler became close friends. Both also felt that they should tell their story to as many people as would hear it, not for money but to make people realize that there's always another way that the world could be infinitely better than it was. Stigler and Brown both had heart attacks and died in 2008, six months apart. Stigler was 92; Brown, 87.
In their obituaries, each was listed the other as "a special brother.
The complete story can be found in a book written my Adam Makos and Larry Alexander entitled A Higher Call.
Mission orders generally followed requests for assistance by division or larger commands. Project Delta would then fall under operational control (OPCON) of the requesting unit.
While the operational strength of B-52 varied and fluctuated during its history, typically it was comprised of 11 officers and 82 enlisted men from the U.S. Army Special Forces, a 105 man CIDG (Civilian Irregular Defense Group) Nung Security Company responsible for compound and TCC security, a Bomb Damage Assessment (BDA) team consisting of four US and 24 CIDG 20 officers and 78 enlisted men from the Vietnamese Special Forces, a 123 man CIDG Roadrunner Company and the 81st Airborne Ranger Battalion (RVN) made up of 43 officers and 763 enlisted men. The 81st Airborne Ranger Battalion was the reactionary force for Project Delta. With the dire need for additional troops in Saigon during Tet 1968, the Airborne Ranger Battalion fought in Cholon and in the jungles northeast of Saigon.
The Recon Teams (combined USASF and VNSF) and Roadrunner Teams (VNSF equipped with enemy uniforms, accouterments and weapons) were the primary source of intelligence collection for Project Delta. Insertion of these Teams for infiltration was accomplished in a covert manner by helicopter with techniques developed initially by the 145th AVN PLT and Project DELTA and refined by the 281st AHC.
During its history, Project Delta identified 68 enemy units, captured vast amounts of equipment and supplies and identified many major enemy installations and supply routes. Enemy losses attributed to B-52 during its operations include 338 KIA, 25 WIA and 69 POWs. Operating in even combat tactical zone in Vietnam, it was OPCON to the 25th Infantry Division, 1st Cavalry Division, 101st Airborne Division, 4th Infantry Division, 3rd Marine Division, and the 5th ARVN Division as well as Company A, 5th Special Forces Group.
Among the many decorations Detachment B-52 soldiers received were two Distinguished Service Crosses, 18 Silver Stars, 58 Bronze Stars with "V" devices and 53 Purple Hearts. Project Delta was also the second most highly decorated unit in the conflict with the Valorous Unit Award, the Republic of Vietnam Cross of Gallantry, the Republic of Vietnam Civil Actions Honor Medal with Palm, and the Navy Unit Commendation Ribbon.
With the outbreak of World War II and the United States still neutral, he re-enlisted in the Legion in 1939 as a sergeant. He was wounded in action and imprisoned by the Germans during the 1940 Battle of France. He escaped the following year and made his way to the United States.
Promoted to major, Ortiz parachuted back into France on August 1, 1944, this time as the commander of the "Union II" mission. He was captured by the Germans on August 16 and spent the remainder of the war as a prisoner of war. He was the most highly decorated member of the OSS.
Ortiz died of cancer on May 16, 1988, at the age of 74, and was buried at Arlington National Cemetery. He was survived by his wife Jean and their son Peter J. Ortiz, Jr.
Another portion of the warehouse consists of endless rows of gigantic, airtight lockers. Every meaningful artifact that has been worn on a military battlefield is stored here, including Gen. Ulysses Grant's Civil War cap. Famous generals' uniforms and Revolutionary War powder satchels, flags, canteens and cannons. And the rows go on and on and on and on. But the crown jewel of the collection is the 16,000 pieces of fine art the army owns. The art is kept on giant rolling metal frames.
The art tells the story of America's wars through a soldier's unique perspective. Some works are just beautiful beyond words. Every aspect of war is captured in the collection which includes original army propaganda art, including beautiful Norman Rockwell originals that the Army commissioned in the 1940s.
A student of Christian Science, Davenport was dubbed the "praying skipper" and was known for his daring attacks against Japanese ships, often executed on the surface to gain additional speed. In all, he was credited during the Pacific War with sinking eight Japanese ships and damaging 10. While none of the men under his command were lost, he and his crews experienced many close calls and escapes. He credited his religious faith for his successes.
Seven days later, while maneuvering through an enemy fishing fleet and approaching her targets, Silversides' periscope became entangled in a fishnet marked by Japanese flags held aloft on bamboo poles. The sub continued her approach, fishnet and all, and fired three torpedoes at a cargo ship. Two hits tore the victim's stern. While that ship was sinking, the second cargo ship was also hit, but its fate could not be determined. Patrol boats were closing in as the submarine, probably the only American submarine to make an attack while flying the Japanese flag, quickly left the vicinity. After damaging a freighter and tanker in the same area, Silversides terminated her first war patrol at Pearl Harbor on June 21, 1942.
Beyond the expected and usual depth charging after attacks on ships, there were close escapes. Once, a Japanese airplane dropped three bombs directly on Silversides. The sub survived; although during escape, it went into a hard dive with bow planes jammed, exceeding its design depth. At the last moment, Davenport removed a cotter key, enabling the sub to level off to avoid being crushed.
Davenport's first patrol on the Haddock was also his first action as her commander. On April 3, 1943 off the Palau Islands, Davenport encountered a passenger transport protected by a corvette. The two "fish" launched at the corvette ran under without exploding. Davenport then turned to the passenger transport her with a spread of torpedoes. Following torpedo tracks, the persistent corvette dropped 24 depth charges, many directly over Haddock that caused damage to her conning tower and radar. At a depth of 415 feet, it had almost imploded. To close the hatch to save the boat from sinking, Davenport hit the hatch with a sledgehammer. The conning tower held, and Haddock escaped. Three days later she sank the cargo ship Toyo Maru. After 39 days at sea, Haddock went in for extensive refit to repair a defective conning tower.
In August 1943, Davenport was dispatched to Truk, making a 27-day patrol that would earn him a second Navy Cross. He fired four torpedoes on September 15, claiming two hits and fire aboard the target, which nevertheless tried to ram, leading Davenport to fire two more "down the throat." On September 20, he encountered the large tanker Tonan Maru II and fired six torpedoes claiming "at least three certain hits." Several days later he attacked another ship, missing with two torpedoes and on the 23rd, fired his last eight torpedoes at another, claiming three hits.
Following that patrol, Davenport, "at his own request," was detached for a rest but returned to duty in May 1944 as the commander of the new USS Trepang (SS-412) where the recipient of three Navy Crosses was credited with sinking five enemy ships.
Davenport weathered a typhoon and, on October 11, attacked his second convoy of two tankers and one escort. Firing four stern tubes, he claimed three hits. No sinkings were confirmed in Japanese records. The next night, he fired four torpedoes at a Japanese landing craft, believing all missed. Postwar, he was credited with Transport 105.
Davenport's gallant and skillfully pressed attacks earned him his fourth Navy Cross. He felt that he had damaged a Fuso-class battleship and had sunk a destroyer, but a study of Japanese records after the war did not verify either claim.
Davenport radioed news of her "find" to others in the pack then submerged. The submarine shot straight and true, sending freighter Banshu Maru Number 31 and cargo ship Jinyo Maru to the bottom in quick succession and damaging a third vessel, Fukuyo Maru. However, as Trepang came about to administer the coup de grace to Fukuyo Maru, the third cargo ship obligingly blew up and sank. Meanwhile, as Segundo and Razorback arrived on the scene, Trepang fired all of her remaining torpedoes at a fourth ship which, she reported, blew up and sank soon thereafter. However, this fourth sinking was not confirmed by Japanese records. In the meantime, the other two American submarines were trying to finish off the fleeing remnants of the shattered convoy and managed to sink two ships, one with the aid of American naval aircraft. Trepang, now out of torpedoes, sped back to Pearl Harbor, arriving before Christmas. Davenport received his fifth Navy Cross for what would be his last submarine patrol. He was reassigned for shore duty as an instructor at the United States Naval Academy.
forgotten by future generation who didn't know them on the battlefield.
John Douglas Foster was born in Los Angeles, California. He attended high school in Santa Cruz, California. In 1966, immediately after high school, he enlisted in the Marine Corps. He saw combat with the Second Battalion, Ninth Marine Regiment in 1967 and 1968. He was wounded during Tet of 1968. After Vietnam, Mr. Foster served as a Marine security guard with the American Embassy in Kabul, Afghanistan. He separated from the Marine Corps in 1979. He also received his bachelor's degree from Sonoma State University in 1979. John Foster is currently living in Southern California with his wife, Noelly. He is also a TWS member and there are many Marines on TWS that know his books. All profits from sales are being equally donated to the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial Fund and the Make a Wish Foundation.