George Preddy hits the Silk over the English Channel
This article by Troy White was first published in Air Classics Magazine...
The English Channel has a reputation for being a cold unforgiving body of water, inhospitable even at the height of summer. During WWII the Channel swallowed many pilots and aircrews without trace. Descending through wintry clouds over the Channel on January 29th 1944 Captain George Preddy wrestled with an emergency situation in his crippled aircraft as he attempted to return to England from a bomber escort mission. Realizing that he may not survive, Preddy hit the silk and bailed out of his stricken Thunderbolt, floating down through the biting cold into the churning waves below. Unlike two bomber crews that were lost in the North Sea that day, George Preddy survived to tell his tale.
During the previous year the US Army Air Force strategic bombing campaign in Europe had been taught a bitter lesson on several infamous missions when they had attempted to bomb German industrial targets outside the range of escorting fighters. On October 14, 1943 the 8th Air Force tried to knock out the ball bearing factories at Schweinfurt for a second time. Four groups of P-47s had provided 196 fighters to escort the bombers. One of those groups was the 352nd FG which was flying its 14th operational mission that day. German fighters attacked both the bombers and their fighter escort as soon as they crossed the Dutch border thus shortening the range of the American fighters. Sixty bombers went down over the continent; five crash landed with battle damage and a further 121 bombers had to be repaired before they could fly again.
8th Bomber Command was unable to undertake a large-scale deep penetration mission for some time after the October 14th mission which became known as “Black Thursday”. So with winter approaching and the foul weather that came with the season, the 8th Air Force licked its wounds.
By January 1944 8th Bomber command was back up to strength and 8th Fighter Command had added several more groups. The fledgling 352nd FG was now getting seasoned and its pilots were starting to rack up victories against the Luftwaffe. One of the rising stars in the group was Captain George Preddy, a flight leader who had cut his teeth against the Japanese in the pacific, had knocked down two Germans in December and earned a Silver Star for saving a crippled B-24 Liberator.
On January 29th over 800 bombers were launched against industrial targets in Frankfurt Germany. They were escorted by over 600 fighters. The weather in England is rotten most of the time and poor the rest of the time. On this date it was no different It was crummy over the continent as well with completely overcast skies. The 352nd FG was assigned withdrawal support and shot down six enemy aircraft. George Preddy and his wingman Lt. Bill Whisner accounted for two of the victories but for George it was nearly his last.
Here is how George described the mission in his encounter report:
"I was leading Crown Prince Yellow Flight and we were escorting two boxes of bombers. The group leader called for everybody out and I started to join him when my number two man, Whisner, called out that the bombers were being attacked. I turned back coming in behind the bombers and saw a FW 190 below and behind them. Whisner had started a bounce on another enemy aircraft so I went down on this 190. He went into a steep dive and I closed to about 400 yards and started firing. I was closing rapidly and saw a few hits and a little smoke before I broke off. I lost the enemy momentarily but picked him up again on my left at about 4,000 feet. I started after him and he made a steep turn to the left. I turned with him and started firing at 300 yards and 60 degrees deflection. He straightened out and started down at about 45 degrees. I got a good long burst at 300 yards and saw hits all over the ship. The engine was evidently knocked out as I was closing rapidly after that. The last I saw of him he was at 1500 feet and going down at an increasing angle to the left.
I made a steep climbing turn to the left and saw Whisner. He joined me and we climbed back to 10,000 feet. It was past time to go home so I picked up the heading as I did not have enough fuel to do any more fighting. We went below the clouds and came out on the deck crossing the French coast somewhere north of Calais. Suddenly, a concentrated barrage of flak opened up. I began kicking the ship around but felt hits. She began smoking but didn't loose power so I climbed to 5,000 feet and gave a Mayday. Shortly afterwards my engine cut out. I bailed out at 2,000 feet. A P-47 spotted me and I was picked up from the drink by a Walrus. CLAIM: 1FW 190 Destroyed.
The English Channel has a reputation for being a cold unforgiving body of water, inhospitable even at the height of summer. During WWII the Channel swallowed many pilots and aircrews without trace. Descending through wintry clouds over the Channel on January 29th 1944 Captain George Preddy wrestled with an emergency situation in his crippled aircraft as he attempted to return to England from a bomber escort mission. Realizing that he may not survive, Preddy hit the silk and bailed out of his stricken Thunderbolt, floating down through the biting cold into the churning waves below. Unlike two bomber crews that were lost in the North Sea that day, George Preddy survived to tell his tale.
During the previous year the US Army Air Force strategic bombing campaign in Europe had been taught a bitter lesson on several infamous missions when they had attempted to bomb German industrial targets outside the range of escorting fighters. On October 14, 1943 the 8th Air Force tried to knock out the ball bearing factories at Schweinfurt for a second time. Four groups of P-47s had provided 196 fighters to escort the bombers. One of those groups was the 352nd FG which was flying its 14th operational mission that day. German fighters attacked both the bombers and their fighter escort as soon as they crossed the Dutch border thus shortening the range of the American fighters. Sixty bombers went down over the continent; five crash landed with battle damage and a further 121 bombers had to be repaired before they could fly again.
8th Bomber Command was unable to undertake a large-scale deep penetration mission for some time after the October 14th mission which became known as “Black Thursday”. So with winter approaching and the foul weather that came with the season, the 8th Air Force licked its wounds.
By January 1944 8th Bomber command was back up to strength and 8th Fighter Command had added several more groups. The fledgling 352nd FG was now getting seasoned and its pilots were starting to rack up victories against the Luftwaffe. One of the rising stars in the group was Captain George Preddy, a flight leader who had cut his teeth against the Japanese in the pacific, had knocked down two Germans in December and earned a Silver Star for saving a crippled B-24 Liberator.
On January 29th over 800 bombers were launched against industrial targets in Frankfurt Germany. They were escorted by over 600 fighters. The weather in England is rotten most of the time and poor the rest of the time. On this date it was no different It was crummy over the continent as well with completely overcast skies. The 352nd FG was assigned withdrawal support and shot down six enemy aircraft. George Preddy and his wingman Lt. Bill Whisner accounted for two of the victories but for George it was nearly his last.
Here is how George described the mission in his encounter report:
"I was leading Crown Prince Yellow Flight and we were escorting two boxes of bombers. The group leader called for everybody out and I started to join him when my number two man, Whisner, called out that the bombers were being attacked. I turned back coming in behind the bombers and saw a FW 190 below and behind them. Whisner had started a bounce on another enemy aircraft so I went down on this 190. He went into a steep dive and I closed to about 400 yards and started firing. I was closing rapidly and saw a few hits and a little smoke before I broke off. I lost the enemy momentarily but picked him up again on my left at about 4,000 feet. I started after him and he made a steep turn to the left. I turned with him and started firing at 300 yards and 60 degrees deflection. He straightened out and started down at about 45 degrees. I got a good long burst at 300 yards and saw hits all over the ship. The engine was evidently knocked out as I was closing rapidly after that. The last I saw of him he was at 1500 feet and going down at an increasing angle to the left.
I made a steep climbing turn to the left and saw Whisner. He joined me and we climbed back to 10,000 feet. It was past time to go home so I picked up the heading as I did not have enough fuel to do any more fighting. We went below the clouds and came out on the deck crossing the French coast somewhere north of Calais. Suddenly, a concentrated barrage of flak opened up. I began kicking the ship around but felt hits. She began smoking but didn't loose power so I climbed to 5,000 feet and gave a Mayday. Shortly afterwards my engine cut out. I bailed out at 2,000 feet. A P-47 spotted me and I was picked up from the drink by a Walrus. CLAIM: 1FW 190 Destroyed.
39 years later, in a letter to George's cousin Joe Noah, Bill Whisner recalled. "...we were withdrawing together after an encounter with FW 109s. I had joined with George and we were low on fuel. George never talked on the radio-- nor did he talk much ever. I called him on the radio and asked his intentions since we were 100 miles inside the continent. No Answer.
He proceeded to head west at 1,000 feet altitude with reduced power. Shortly I saw an airfield ahead and as we were flying about 250 MPH, I suggested to him that we change course and increase speed. No Answer.
We crossed the airfield and to my surprise drew no AA fire. A few minutes later I could see the Channel and the North Sea and again called George on the radio. My words to him were that we needed to increase speed and hit the deck. No answer and no change in George's course of flight.
At this time I had approximately 150 gallons of fuel left and no reason to feel that George had any more or less. When we reached a point approximately two miles short of the coast, I made a right starboard turn of 90 degrees and shoved on full power, and hit the deck, keeping George in my sight to my left. He was obviously intent on keeping the low airspeed and maintaining his altitude. ...Crossing the coast I saw a gun battery and was fired upon as I crossed the coastline. ...I received four rounds of 88mm fire and looked to George. He received four 88mmrounds which missed and then four which bracketed him. He was still flying slow at 500 to 1,00 feet altitude.
At this point I want to say that George Preddy was disdainful of the enemy. He had no respect for nor fear of enemy AA or fighters. Thus, his disregard for my warnings.
His radio was working as I heard his emergency transmittals to the Marston Controller. The events were as follows: After George crossed the coast and was hit by 88mm fire, he began to emit white smoke from his engine. As I closed on him, I observed that he opened the canopy and heavy smoke was coming from the cockpit as well as from the engine. I called him and suggested he should bale out as the aircraft could explode. No Reply.
I remained on his wing at about 100 feet distance and called him again suggesting that he abandon the aircraft. At this time he began calling Marston for an emergency steer. I had switched to emergency "D" channel, and made no calls until later-- after the bailout.
He began slowing and reducing altitude and finally descended into the cloud (an undercast which topped at about 1,000 feet and and rose to the west in multiple layers as there was a front moving in). At this time he disappeared into the cloud, he was flying at an indicated airspeed of 180 MPH, and he couldn't have seen his instruments due to the heavy smoke in the cockpit. He was flying by the seat of his pants and was in no way panicked.
Rather than stay on his wing after his penetration into the cloud tops, I elected to do a 360 degree turn and enter the cloud in a descent at approximately the same point which he had done. We had not obtained an altimeter setting since before take-off on the mission, and I knew that the low pressure system which had moved in would cause a significant change. I determined therefore that I would penetrate at 180 MPH until I reached an altitude of 100 feet, and no lower. At just above 100 feet I observed waves/foam/water below and suddenly to my right-- I saw a P-47 strike the water. Then, there was a parachute opening and even before I could start a turn George swung once in the chute and hit the water. He had waited almost too long to bail out."
A few days later Captain Preddy recalled the the incident for the Group's Public Relations Officer. "It was my own fault, really. I knew I was in an industrial area. While I did not have a lot of gas I could have done a lot more twisting. But I didn't do nearly enough squirming. My ship was hit by flak and started smoking badly from the tail. Also the smoke started to fill the cockpit. I called Whisner and asked if he was O.K. He said, "Yes." We'll I ain't, I'm smoking I told him. I told him to keep an eye on me, as I didn't think I could make it across the Channel. Just before I left the ship I let out some Maydays.
I hit the the water and went six feet under...but came up again. I had undone the leg straps of my chute before I landed so I was able to move pretty freely. Though a gust of wind caught the chute when I came to the surface and carried me a little way.
I inflated my Mae West and as I came to the surface I started to inflate my dinghy, which I always wear under the seat of my pants. After the right amount of cuss words, I found the right valve, pulled the pin out and then pulled another valve which does the inflating. I crawled in, threw out my anchor and started to bail with the canvas bucket."
Getting out of his parachute harness and into his dingy was by no means an easy feat. The water in the English Channel in January is less than 40 degrees F. In frigid waters like that it doesn't take long for fingers and hands to become useless. The fact that George had enough altitude and situational awareness once he saddled out to undo his leg straps before he hit the water probably saved his life. Fumbling with the snaps after hitting the water would have been exponentially more difficult in the water than under canopy and cost precious seconds. Many pilots succumbed to hypothermia and died before getting into their dinghies.
Whisner picks up the story again although his 1983 version does not quite agree with what George reported in 1944 . "The weather was miserable-- wind and waves high, the visibility low, and the cloud almost on the water. I made a tight low-airspeed 360 degree turn and when I again picked him up visually he was in the dingy. He'd obviously followed standard procedure, despite his difficulties and and inflated the dinghy before entering the sea. I circled him several times while calling Marston for a radio fix on his position. Marston directed that I must obtain more altitude as I was too low for a fix. Then I climbed through the cloud on a turn which I calculated to remain over his position. Marston then confirmed a positive fix and advised that a Dumbo (air-sea-rescue aircraft) was on the way.
Presently a flight of Spitfires flew overhead and Lt. Preddy attempted to attract their attention with the signal flares provided in his emergency kit but the Spitfires just kept going. Soon another P-47 flew overhead.
"I got my last flare ready, kept blowing the hell out of my whistle and waving my red flag. Another ship! I pulled the pin out of my last flare-- but no good. This one wouldn't work either. But the airplane saw me. The pilot flew right above me, no more than 200 feet and flipped his left wing. I felt even better when I recognized the markings on the Thunderbolt. It was from my own group. I later found that Lt. Frederick Yochim was flying that day as a spotter. No more than three minutes after Lt. Yochim showed up an air-sea rescue Supermarine Walrus came out of the clouds. But it kept right on course and passed me by! Lt. Yochim saw what was happening and caught the Walrus and brought it back. They managed to drop a few smoke flares and landed near me. After four attempts with a rope they finally got me out of the water. I had been in the water 40 minutes and was getting tired and the sea was getting rough."
When the Walrus attempted to take off, the rough seas ripped off one of its pontoons and the rescue aircraft was in danger of sinking so the crew and Preddy prepared to take to life rafts when and RAF rescue boat showed up and towed the stricken craft back to shore. The rescue crew got George out of his wet clothes and fed him plenty of brandy. Whisner summed it up, "...George was tough, and as I recall, two days later we were drinking in the bar at the Officers Club, speculating on George's rescue and health, when he walked in wearing an RAF uniform. He shrugged off any hardship and advised us that he had laid the gal whom we all knew from her voice on the Marston Control Radio. She had a lovely sexy voice and we had all speculated on how great it would be to meet her".
He proceeded to head west at 1,000 feet altitude with reduced power. Shortly I saw an airfield ahead and as we were flying about 250 MPH, I suggested to him that we change course and increase speed. No Answer.
We crossed the airfield and to my surprise drew no AA fire. A few minutes later I could see the Channel and the North Sea and again called George on the radio. My words to him were that we needed to increase speed and hit the deck. No answer and no change in George's course of flight.
At this time I had approximately 150 gallons of fuel left and no reason to feel that George had any more or less. When we reached a point approximately two miles short of the coast, I made a right starboard turn of 90 degrees and shoved on full power, and hit the deck, keeping George in my sight to my left. He was obviously intent on keeping the low airspeed and maintaining his altitude. ...Crossing the coast I saw a gun battery and was fired upon as I crossed the coastline. ...I received four rounds of 88mm fire and looked to George. He received four 88mmrounds which missed and then four which bracketed him. He was still flying slow at 500 to 1,00 feet altitude.
At this point I want to say that George Preddy was disdainful of the enemy. He had no respect for nor fear of enemy AA or fighters. Thus, his disregard for my warnings.
His radio was working as I heard his emergency transmittals to the Marston Controller. The events were as follows: After George crossed the coast and was hit by 88mm fire, he began to emit white smoke from his engine. As I closed on him, I observed that he opened the canopy and heavy smoke was coming from the cockpit as well as from the engine. I called him and suggested he should bale out as the aircraft could explode. No Reply.
I remained on his wing at about 100 feet distance and called him again suggesting that he abandon the aircraft. At this time he began calling Marston for an emergency steer. I had switched to emergency "D" channel, and made no calls until later-- after the bailout.
He began slowing and reducing altitude and finally descended into the cloud (an undercast which topped at about 1,000 feet and and rose to the west in multiple layers as there was a front moving in). At this time he disappeared into the cloud, he was flying at an indicated airspeed of 180 MPH, and he couldn't have seen his instruments due to the heavy smoke in the cockpit. He was flying by the seat of his pants and was in no way panicked.
Rather than stay on his wing after his penetration into the cloud tops, I elected to do a 360 degree turn and enter the cloud in a descent at approximately the same point which he had done. We had not obtained an altimeter setting since before take-off on the mission, and I knew that the low pressure system which had moved in would cause a significant change. I determined therefore that I would penetrate at 180 MPH until I reached an altitude of 100 feet, and no lower. At just above 100 feet I observed waves/foam/water below and suddenly to my right-- I saw a P-47 strike the water. Then, there was a parachute opening and even before I could start a turn George swung once in the chute and hit the water. He had waited almost too long to bail out."
A few days later Captain Preddy recalled the the incident for the Group's Public Relations Officer. "It was my own fault, really. I knew I was in an industrial area. While I did not have a lot of gas I could have done a lot more twisting. But I didn't do nearly enough squirming. My ship was hit by flak and started smoking badly from the tail. Also the smoke started to fill the cockpit. I called Whisner and asked if he was O.K. He said, "Yes." We'll I ain't, I'm smoking I told him. I told him to keep an eye on me, as I didn't think I could make it across the Channel. Just before I left the ship I let out some Maydays.
I hit the the water and went six feet under...but came up again. I had undone the leg straps of my chute before I landed so I was able to move pretty freely. Though a gust of wind caught the chute when I came to the surface and carried me a little way.
I inflated my Mae West and as I came to the surface I started to inflate my dinghy, which I always wear under the seat of my pants. After the right amount of cuss words, I found the right valve, pulled the pin out and then pulled another valve which does the inflating. I crawled in, threw out my anchor and started to bail with the canvas bucket."
Getting out of his parachute harness and into his dingy was by no means an easy feat. The water in the English Channel in January is less than 40 degrees F. In frigid waters like that it doesn't take long for fingers and hands to become useless. The fact that George had enough altitude and situational awareness once he saddled out to undo his leg straps before he hit the water probably saved his life. Fumbling with the snaps after hitting the water would have been exponentially more difficult in the water than under canopy and cost precious seconds. Many pilots succumbed to hypothermia and died before getting into their dinghies.
Whisner picks up the story again although his 1983 version does not quite agree with what George reported in 1944 . "The weather was miserable-- wind and waves high, the visibility low, and the cloud almost on the water. I made a tight low-airspeed 360 degree turn and when I again picked him up visually he was in the dingy. He'd obviously followed standard procedure, despite his difficulties and and inflated the dinghy before entering the sea. I circled him several times while calling Marston for a radio fix on his position. Marston directed that I must obtain more altitude as I was too low for a fix. Then I climbed through the cloud on a turn which I calculated to remain over his position. Marston then confirmed a positive fix and advised that a Dumbo (air-sea-rescue aircraft) was on the way.
Presently a flight of Spitfires flew overhead and Lt. Preddy attempted to attract their attention with the signal flares provided in his emergency kit but the Spitfires just kept going. Soon another P-47 flew overhead.
"I got my last flare ready, kept blowing the hell out of my whistle and waving my red flag. Another ship! I pulled the pin out of my last flare-- but no good. This one wouldn't work either. But the airplane saw me. The pilot flew right above me, no more than 200 feet and flipped his left wing. I felt even better when I recognized the markings on the Thunderbolt. It was from my own group. I later found that Lt. Frederick Yochim was flying that day as a spotter. No more than three minutes after Lt. Yochim showed up an air-sea rescue Supermarine Walrus came out of the clouds. But it kept right on course and passed me by! Lt. Yochim saw what was happening and caught the Walrus and brought it back. They managed to drop a few smoke flares and landed near me. After four attempts with a rope they finally got me out of the water. I had been in the water 40 minutes and was getting tired and the sea was getting rough."
When the Walrus attempted to take off, the rough seas ripped off one of its pontoons and the rescue aircraft was in danger of sinking so the crew and Preddy prepared to take to life rafts when and RAF rescue boat showed up and towed the stricken craft back to shore. The rescue crew got George out of his wet clothes and fed him plenty of brandy. Whisner summed it up, "...George was tough, and as I recall, two days later we were drinking in the bar at the Officers Club, speculating on George's rescue and health, when he walked in wearing an RAF uniform. He shrugged off any hardship and advised us that he had laid the gal whom we all knew from her voice on the Marston Control Radio. She had a lovely sexy voice and we had all speculated on how great it would be to meet her".
Post Script:
In late 2011 Mr. John Buttery contacted Joe Noah of the Preddy Memorial Foundation with this amazing story. Here is his letter to Joe.
“My father Edward Buttery who died in 2010 was RAF ground crew on air sea rescue squadron 277 based at Hawkinge near Folkestone, England between 1941 and 1944. I have been reading a book "Another Kind of Courage" by Norman Franks - about the UK based Walrus ASR squadrons and on page 158 is a combat report by Captain George E. Preddy of the American 352nd Fighter Group who was rescued by an RAF Walrus based at Hawkinge after he baled out at 2000 feet. Well you won’t believe this but I have his life preserver jacket that he must have worn on that mission. It is clearly stenciled with "Capt G.E.Preddy and a number 0-430846. It is in quite good condition and I could email some photographs if you like. I remember my dad having it when I was boy but never realised it belonged to a Fighter Ace until I read Norman Franks book. Best Regards John Buttery, Manchester, United Kingdom 11th Jan 2012.”
The “Mae West” B-3 type life preserver is rare piece of aviation history with obvious provenance. Currently plans are being made to donate the artefact to a worthy museum where it will honour Preddy and the men of the ASR squadrons and can be seen my many.
Special thanks to Joe Noah & Tom Ivie for their help with the above text. Photos copyright ©352ndFG Association via Sam Sox. Used with permission.
In late 2011 Mr. John Buttery contacted Joe Noah of the Preddy Memorial Foundation with this amazing story. Here is his letter to Joe.
“My father Edward Buttery who died in 2010 was RAF ground crew on air sea rescue squadron 277 based at Hawkinge near Folkestone, England between 1941 and 1944. I have been reading a book "Another Kind of Courage" by Norman Franks - about the UK based Walrus ASR squadrons and on page 158 is a combat report by Captain George E. Preddy of the American 352nd Fighter Group who was rescued by an RAF Walrus based at Hawkinge after he baled out at 2000 feet. Well you won’t believe this but I have his life preserver jacket that he must have worn on that mission. It is clearly stenciled with "Capt G.E.Preddy and a number 0-430846. It is in quite good condition and I could email some photographs if you like. I remember my dad having it when I was boy but never realised it belonged to a Fighter Ace until I read Norman Franks book. Best Regards John Buttery, Manchester, United Kingdom 11th Jan 2012.”
The “Mae West” B-3 type life preserver is rare piece of aviation history with obvious provenance. Currently plans are being made to donate the artefact to a worthy museum where it will honour Preddy and the men of the ASR squadrons and can be seen my many.
Special thanks to Joe Noah & Tom Ivie for their help with the above text. Photos copyright ©352ndFG Association via Sam Sox. Used with permission.