The mother of all oil leaks!

[Johnny Signor]

Q-tips and Goo-Off is all he needed

Yeah Real Big Ones and Gallons of Goo Off

[Devilhawks]

For those interested in the story of Ed King and his bird, I give you this account as told by Ed King.

350th Fighter Group

 

Narration by: Ed King, P-47 Pilot

347th Ftr. Sqd, 350th Ftr. Grp.

MTO, ETO WWll, 1944-45

 

January 12, 1945, Strafing Attack

Bresica, Italy Railroad Marshalling Yard

 

On January 12th, the weather condition over the Poe Valley was reported as unsuitable for dive-bombing. The Valley was covered with layers of solid to broken clouds, plus a broken to scattered low scud deck. A mist of rain also filled the air.

 

Since flying conditions on the south side of the Apennine Mountains were good, I was assigned to lead a flight of four on a combination weather and armed reconnaissance mission into the far reaches of northern Italy.

 

Upon arriving over the Bresica Area, we were able to spiral down and around the clouds to a relative low altitude. An active railroad marshalling yard, crowded with rolling stock, was spotted through a break in the scud below. Also, sighted alongside, was a protecting anti-aircraft battery.

 

In the belief I could take the gun pit out-of-play myself, the others were radioed to orbit

out-of-range until called. There was just not room for all of us to maneuver in such close

quarters.

 

As I was closing in on a firing pass, the gun pit opened fire, scoring a direct hit in my aircraft’s engine. At once, a heavy oil spray flowed from under the cowling, completely covering my glass canopy. My first reaction was to climb for altitude into the clouds because in my mind, a bailout was close at hand.

 

The other flight members were notified of my plight and advised to return to home base. Weather conditions would have made finding me very difficult if not impossible.

 

While in a climbing mode, the canopy was opened in preparation for abandoning ship. As the canopy opened, a heavy spray of hot oil hit me full in the face. For some reason, I had always carried a clean rag in the cockpit, to be used for whatever the need. In this instance, the need was to wipe the oil out of my eyes. I also discovered that by leaning well forward the oil spray missed my face.

 

 

Page 1 of 3 (over)

 

 

 

 

 

Upon reaching a comfortable altitude, the ship was leveled between a layer of clouds. The Area Radar Controller was contacted and the situation explained. He was also told of my decision to remain with the aircraft for as long as the engine kept running. At this point, my location was approximately 140 miles from my home base at Pisa, of which 120 of those miles were over enemy territory.

 

In a calming voice, the Controller gave me a heading towards the nearest coastline. In the event open sea could be reached, an air/sea rescue may be possible, even though I would still be behind enemy lines.

 

All clouds were cleared as I approached the coastline near La Spezia. After passing over the coast, a turn was made towards the south. As I proceeded down the coast, the enemy anti-aircraft coastal batteries apparently decided to make my situation a little more interesting because they opened fire. By this time, I was in no condition to take evasive action even though flak was bursting all around me. It was of utmost importance that my altitude be maintained. Fortunately, there were no hits scored by their gunners.

 

At around the 10 to 15 mile range from home base, more and more throttle had to be added, in order to hold my altitude. Engine oil starvation was evidently beginning to

set in.

 

In the meantime, an aircraft had sent to guide me the rest of the way home. As he joined me from the left, he was waved-off. It was apparent my engine would not hold out for a long straight-in- approach.

 

A high down-wind leg was entered. By now, the throttle was in an almost full forward position and the engine instruments were about to blow their tops.

 

Turning onto a close base leg, gear and flaps were dropped. Upon reaching the “now or never point”, the aircraft was put into a steep sideslip on the way down to runway level.

At the same time, the engine came to a grinding halt with the propeller frozen in an upright position. Touchdown was made about a quarter of the way down the runway and the aircraft coasted clear at the far end.

 

One of the things I remember clearly was the Tower Operator screaming for me to “level out” as I was nearing runway level. It must have appeared to him that I could not see well enough to break my glide. However, with that big four bladed prop acting as an airbrake, I had to make sure there was enough airspeed to maneuver the aircraft into a

landing position.

 

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After coming to a stop, the emergency crewmen who met me had looks of dismay on their faces. Their looks were justified because the whole of me, the cockpit and the aircraft were a black, greasy mess.

 

Upon leaving the cockpit, I was quickly ushered to the Flight Surgeon’s Dispensary.

My face was cleansed and my eyes flushed out. Outside of being somewhat excited and

my eyes burning, I appeared none the worse for the experience.

 

Within the hour, a return was made to the aircraft for a picture taking and debriefing session. One of the pictures taken that day is on display in the Air and Space Museum, WWll Army Air Corps Section, Washington, DC. A picture of that “oil covered” P-47 that brought me home safely, is posted along with several other aircraft that made it

back on a “Wing and a Prayer”.

[Wharfmaster]

SLICK !

 

 

W

[Leatherneck72]

He was only 19 at the time? I wonder if he's still around?

[Teamski]

Late to the show as usual. That is one hell of a story. Sounds like a DFC to me.

 

-Ski

[cutiger83]

Amazing story! It is always great to hear it straight from the source.

 

....Kat