Personnel

CREW



2ND LT   JAMES J. BOVENZI                     P FEH

F/O        JOHN A. STEFANUCCI               CP FEH

2ND LT   JAMES C. BARTLETT, JR.        NAV FEH    TAPS 3/27/89

T/SGT   LOUIS E. BERARD                    TTE FEH    

T/SGT   WILBERT H. CHRISTIANSEN     ROG FEH   TAPS 12/14/75

T/SGT   ROBERT H. DI SANDRO             NG FEH

S/SGT   DENZIL E. FERGUSON              WG FEH    TAPS 8/23/89

S/SGT   EDWARD A. GEORGE               BTG FEH

S/SGT   EDWARD J. KOCH                     TG FEH 



418th Sqdn.  Crew, as above, joined 100th Gp on 18/2/45 (18 Feb 45)



MISSIONS: 



APRIL 3, 1945-KEIL                            337636 LD-W   MALFUNCTION JUNCTION    HARDSTAND 49

APRIL 10, 1945-BURG-bei-MADEBURG    338945 LD-F    DUFFY'S TUFFYS                HARDSTAND 48



CHOWHOUND:

MAY 2, 1945  SCHIPHOL AF- HOLLAND  338945 LD-F    DUFFY'S TUFFYS                 HARDSTAND 48

Just for some background, an old friend of mine John Stefanucci was a co-pilot in the 100th. While doing a little research I found pilot and crew information too. I'll attach that photo for perspective. Anyhow one of the crew members, many years later wrote this poem. I thought you all would find it fitting on todays special day. Thanks to all vets and enjoy the poem and pic. 



MY CREW



The queen has given up her throne; 

The eagle no more leaves her nest. 

Her silver wings are folded now. 

The flying fort has come to rest. 

But some of us can still recall 

Her fame in days that are long gone by 

When she was hailed the queen of all 

And mistress of the sky. 

I still recall the names of men 

I flew with long ago. 

There's George and Koch and Christensen; 

Berard, who engineered the show. 

Bovenzi rode the pilot's seat; 

A better man I never knew. 

And Johnny Steffenucci was a good co-pilot, too. 

Disandro was our togglelier; 

Skinner Bartlett blazed the way; 

And I just went along because 

They wouldn't let me stay. 

I wonder where the old gang went 

Since we busted up the crew. 

And do they see in dreams sometines 

Our gallant lady, too? 

In regal solitude she'd sit; 

Waiting eagerly to fly; 

Needing but our pilot's touch 

To send her hurling through the sky. 

I smile to think of how we'd joke 

At our early morning meal 

And laugh and banter just to hide 

The nervousness we'd feel. 

I seem to hear Bovenzi's voice 

As he would calmly say 

"There's bandits in the area boys 

And heading straight this way." 

And when we'd have it pretty rough 

We'd hear old Skinner's southern drawl, 

"I hope you've got your prayer book, Ferg; 

We'll likely need it in this brawl." 

Then oe'r the channel once again; 

See southward pier of Felix Stowe, 

And heave a lusty thankful sigh; 

We'd but a few more miles to go. 

We'd bring our fortress smoothly down 

Upon Thorpe Abbott's landing strip 

To wait the coming of the dawn 

While sweating out another trip. 

There were no heroes on our crew; 

Just nine flack-happy, shook up guys 

Who flew the forts to hell and back 

Through angry, flaming skies.

Written by Daniel Ferguson