After finishing reconnaissance training at Key Field in Meridian Mississippi around the tenth of August 1944, we were sent to Hunter Field in Savanna, Georgia to be equipped for overseas duty. After a few days there, we were sent by train to Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn, New York. My buddy, the late John R. Ramsey, came from Brooklyn and we had a joyous time till about Aug 19 or 20 when we shipped out.

We boarded the Mauretania for our trip to Liverpool, England. The ship was fast enough that we would be traveling alone. The trip was to take five days. However, about three days out, a sub had hit a tanker a ways off and it really lit up the sky. As a consequence we would go off course for twelve hours and back on course for another twelve hours adding another day to our crossing.

We did hit a storm for a day or so, but no problem with that large ship. I guess a few got sick out of the 8000 troops on board plus the crew. There is a lot of water to cross in the old Atlantic.

While aboard that ship, that food we were served was the best I had in the three years I was in service. We only had two meals a day, but there was plenty.

On the way over, there was plenty of drinking water, but in the bathrooms it was all seawater. Try taking a shower with seawater and seawater soap. Like greasing your body. I tried it once and I said “The hell with it.” We all hoped we wouldn’t smell too bad. Each day we had an abandon ship drill and that didn’t get us lazy ones too sweaty.

There were numerous crap games and poker games around but I didn’t participate. No sweat.

About the time we could see the coast of England, they announced there would be fresh water in the bathrooms. As I was drying off, I heard rockets being shot off and by the time I got dried off, I heard airplanes. I thought, “What’s going on, are we being attacked at the end of our trip.” I finished dressing and rushed outside to see what was going on. They were our fighters greeting us after the ship disposed of all it’s rockets.

When we disembarked from the ship, our group was loaded aboard a train to where, I never did know. I do know we had a few hours layover in Oxford, England. We did end up somewhere on the southeast coast of England. From there we were flown by C-47 to a very rough field between Omaha and Utah Beach, Azeville A-7.

It was there we became the 363rd Tactical Reconnaissance Group. We were formed from the 363rd fighter group. We never flew from this field. While we were here we did get to visit Omaha beach and the German trenches and gun emplacements on the bluff. It made a person wonder how we managed to evict them. The trenches we saw were about six to seven feet deep and all were interconnected. Those cottages we saw on the newsreels were actually small fortresses. The gun emplacements had large calibre guns and the cover over them was a domed shaped of concrete at least four feet thick. The back side was open and that had to be how they were taken. There were large chunks of ceiling concrete on the floor, no doubt from whatever charges were used to get the job done.

One day a couple of us went up to have a look at Cherbourg. We didn’t see too much, but what we did see was total destruction. We were on the east side of the bay or river and the bridge was blown. I do know that whatever the water was, it was a watery junkyard. A day or two later we were told we were leaving to go to Le Mans. They were flying us out in C47s. It was an extremely rough field and there was a fairly high stone fence and a large stone house at the end of the strip. When we boarded C47 we threw all our belongings in the door and got in and sat down. All of our stuff was near the door towards the rear. The door was closed and the pilot started his takeoff run. I was sitting on the right hand side looking ahead at the obstacles when I noticed the front of the plane was flying, but not the tail. About that time the crew chief yelled “Baggage” and the front of that plane was inundated with baggage and off we went. Too close for comfort.

An uneventful flight after that. when we landed it looked like half of France was waiting to welcome us. Would you believe they were standing toe to toe on the edge of the runway on both sides. One mishap with a bad landing and hundreds would have been injured or killed.

The airfield at Le Mans was called A38 in Army nomenclature. It was there that I flew for the 1st time since flying a P40 on August 1st, 1944. On September 13th & 15th I flew a P51B an hour each day. September 19th I flew my first F51D(F6D) with the new designation F instead of P for one hour and forty minutes.

September 20, 1944 I few my first combat mission. We flew in Paris. The man I flew with was LT Larry Garr. He was to look for whatever he could. Do the recon work, take pictures if necessary and I as number two man was to fly cover. When over enemy territory we flew an erratic course, varying our flight, dipping, climbing, slipping, sliding, whatever we called it jinking.

Our mission was to check the sub pens at St. Nazaire France. You can bet that my jinking while over land was very severe. When we got over the water approaching our target LT Garr told me to level out until we got over the target area.

As we neared the shore, I saw two German warships tied at the dock. As I looked, I saw a large blast from the first ship and seconds later a huge blast between the left wing and the fuselage I jerked to the right to dodge the blast and another one blew just as close on the right. Needless to say, I was excited. I didn't see LT Garr so I called and he answered saying he was OK. He said he got the information he was after and when we got together we headed back to Le Mans. No more excitement for that day. However, later on, I thought, there I was on my first mission as an army pilot and my introduction to flak was from a German warship.

I flew my second mission Sept 25 from Le Mans. Then we moved to Luxembourg (A-97) on October 1, 1944.

Prior to leaving Le Mans, 20,000 Germans surrendered to LT Sam Magill at Orleans, France and three or four of us went to the site to scrounge. The Loire River separated us from the area and the old stone bridge to the area was pretty much destroyed. However, we could cross on foot by carefully jumping from the rocks still sticking out of the water. Once on the other side, we proceeded to the surrender site.

Of course the prisoners were gone but our men were there and the German equipment, or what was left was there. The areas were marked for helmets, guns, etc. There was a pile of pocket knives about 6’ to 8’ across and 1’ high in the center. I picked out two knives, which I still have.

We asked an M.P. where the good stuff was, cameras, pistols, etc. and he just laughed. LT he said, “None of that stuff ever hit the ground. Any high ranking officer with a car or vehicle opened the doors or trunk and the pistols, cameras, binoculars, and anything of value was deposited in staff cars.”

There was a very varied large amount of transportation equipment. Cars, bicycles, horses, whatever. We were warned not to go near the cars as they may be booby trapped. We each did take a bicycle.

The MPs told us where to go to get a ferry barge back across the river. When we got there, they were getting ready to leave, it was a fairly large barge and the biggest thing on board was a U.S. captain with a beautiful horse. The horse was smarter than the captain as the captain was trying to make the horse obey his command in English. I don’t think the horse understood English. We kept holding the horse would jump overboard and take the captain with him.

We left the barge and went to the base with our small amount of loot, but a very interesting experience.

Incidentally, LT Magill was formerly from Monroe Township and Joan of Arc was supposedly burn at the stake in Orleans.

All of the ground personnel and some of the pilots transferred to our group in the exchange, including a monkey “Mustang.”

A fighter pilot bought Mustang when the fighter group was in England and it wasn’t too long before he was shot down. All the succeeding owners suffered the same fate. I never did hear when the flight surgeon Capt Dale Ashbaugh, and a Chinese enlisted man “Fong” took the monkey and said that no pilot would own him again. Fong worked in the mess hall and had him tied outside the mess hall.

One of the pilots, Lt Harold Norman, took a liking to him and always played with him. One day at lunch when we approached the mess hall, Mustang had a newspaper that he was pretending to read. Norman sneaked up and lit the paper and that monkey went wild. For a couple of days Norman couldn’t get close to him. He always tested him. One day the monkey was receptive, rubbing against his leg and being lovey dove, and Norman said, “I think he made up.” He let the monkey climb on his shoulder and when he did he exploded. Norman lost a lot of hair and had a lot scratches on his face and neck before he knocked him off.

The strange thing about it was after that episode he was Norman’s buddy again. I guess he showed Norman who was in charge. I never did like that damn monkey.

While at Montrevil, Le Mans (A38) we went into town several times during the day and one time at night. I can’t recall seeing much damage if any. It sure was a busy city. We had two days to go into the city. To the west, the road into the city atop a small rise and turn left into the city. On top of the rise as we turned left was a small shop that sold apple cider. We had to try it. It was as bitter as it was in Normandy. We were walking and as we continued into town there was an apple orchard on the right side of the road with the prettiest, largest red apples I had ever seen. We went into the orchard and stuffed our shirt bands full. Back on the road, we took a bite. Now we knew why the cider was bitter. The apples were better as gall. Now we knew why they made calvados out of the apples.

The other way into town was to the east and it was fairly level. We were alongside a canal that headed east and when we got to the road or lane where we turned north onto the main road was a quaint old water mill.

The reason I went into town one time at night was due to the crowd wandering the streets it was like a semi darkness. it seemed like a majority of the crowd was free French or Maquis and a meaner looking bunch I had never seen. We found a restaurant and stayed there until our truck to the bas was leaving. Never went back.

I just remembered that the 161st squadron flew the first scheduled mission from German soil. Other Americans had landed and taken off from Germany, but ours was the first scheduled mission.

That mission was flown by Major Clynord Hansen (deceased) of Baton Rouge, Louisiana and Capt. Leo Sommers of West Hills, California.

How I remembered March 24, 1945 and Wesel, Germany as a tactical reconnaissance pilot with the 161st squadron of the 363rd tactical reconnaissance group. 1st Lt Louis Murtha and 1st Lt Harvey Maher.

On this morning, Major Jim Rose told Lt Maher and I that the army was to cross the Rhine at Wesel. Go up in the Borken-Haltern area north of Wesel and see if you can find the 116th Panzer Division. We have been looking for them for two weeks. I was lead man and Lt Maher was number two man.

We proceeded up to the area and searched for about two hours with no success. I called Lt Maher and said we might as well leave.

We went down to Wesel and saw the mess down there. Two B-17s were spinning into Wesel at about 2000 feet. No chutes were observed.

Paratroopers had been dropped into a large orchard on our side of the Rhine. More troopers hanging in their chutes than empty. Two gliders of many crashed into the trees and spewed their men and equipment like vomit. A number of twin engine aircraft were burning on our side of the Rhine. I learned later from an acquaintance, Dudley rose of Madison, Ohio, they were C-46s. One of them his.

We started to get pounded with flak when I remembered we had received no flak while looking for the tanks, so I called Lt Maher and said we would go back and give another look for the tanks.

After a short period of time, I was in a vertical turn to the left over a highway and there below me were six tanks on the way to Wesel. Our instructions were to call Mayflower, a P-47 group, for fire power. I called them and made a photo run and the P-47s were there. “Where are they?” the leader asked. “Right down there on the road,” I told him. “Still don’t see them,” he said. At that time, we weren’t supposed to be using our guns, so I called our controller requesting permission to lead the P-47s in on the tanks. “Granted.” So on the way down I thought, “I’ll wake them up.” So I raked the line of them. They were very much awake. I had never gotten so much flak in such a short period of time.

We didn’t linger to see how many tanks they found. We left and went down by Wesel again and saw a steady stream of B-24s at about 500 feet altitude headed for Wesel carrying supplies for our troops.

Back at our base (Y55) at Venlo, Holland, I was debriefed by Major Kaplin, our ground liaison officer of the 83rd division. When I was telling him of our success, our squadron C.O., Major Jim Rose told Major Kaplin he wanted to recommend the Congressional Medal of Honor for all the lives we had saved.

The next morning, when I got to the flight light, Major Kaplin said, “Lou, you should get the medal.” The 83rd division captured the commanding officer of the tank division and he said if it hadn’t been for those two P-51s, he would have gotten into action.

P.S. When I got back home in Boston, Pennsylvania, about July 21, 1945, I had the orders that I had received the D.F.C. (Distinguished Flying Cross) in June of 1945.

As a reconnaissance pilot flying the F6 (P-51) I had completed my required 75 missions April 19, 1945 at Gutersloh, Germany. We had moved to Braunschweig, Germany. On the morning of May 8, 1945, I was lolling around wondering when I would get my orders to go home. Our operations clerk Sgt Al Kotler came to me and said our operations officer, Captain Leo Summers needed a pilot for a local flight. I decided I would take the flight. I reported to Captain Sommers. He told me that we and our Allies, Britain, France, and Russia were gathering at Stendal, Germany prior to flying to Berlin. The purpose of my flight was to fly to Stendal and hand deliver a message to Air Chief Marshal Tedder. The message stated that French General Tassigny would not be able to attend.

Upon my arrival at Stendal, I was parked by a Colonel who jumped on my wing and asked me to state my business. I told him I had a message for Air Chief Marshal Tedder. The Colonel asked me for the message. I told him I was ordered to hand deliver the message to Air Marshall Tedder and that was what I intended to do. The Colonel told me to wait by my plane. I got out of the plane and in a few minutes I saw Air Marshall Tedder headed in my direction. I greeted him in the proper manner and gave him, the message. He studied the message, took a few puffs on his pipe and asked me to stand by. I looked around and it appeared that I was the lowest ranking officer on the field. The only enlisted men I saw were MP's or camera men.

Soon I saw four stars heading towards me. It was General Spaatz. We saluted and he asked me my name, rank and where I came from? My only identification when I flew were my dog tags. I told him I was stationed in Braunschweig. The General said I mean where are you from in the states? I told him I was from Pennsylvania. He then told me he was from Eastern Pennsylvania. I told him I was from the Pittsburgh area. We then had a pleasant conversation for about five minutes as man to man and not as a Four Star General and a First Lieutenant. He then asked me if l would fly into Tempelhof, Berlin with a message for the Russians. I immediately said yes, gladly. He smiled and said I thought you would. As an afterthought I added as if I had a choice. He answered "NO". General Spaatz then told his pilot, a Captain who was standing by to take me to his plane and get me an air chart that included Berlin. I told him that I knew the way. The General said get one anyway.

We went to his C-4 7 and what a surprise. There were two finely decorated rooms in the aircraft. The aft room was larger than the forward room. The forward room was for his secretary. She was the prettiest tall blonde Major that I had ever seen. “Wow"

We could not find a chart and on the way back to where a large crowd of high brass had gathered. The Captain asked me if he could go with me if the General approved. The General did not approve.

General Spaatz then briefed me on what was happening and the reason for my flight. They were waiting for Russian fighter escort and I thought he said a C-4 7 was bringing in two German officials. He gave me two messages. One in English signed by Tedder and one in Russian. He told me to fly over Tempelhof at 3000 feet, lower me gear and flaps and rock my wings. I reminded him of the troubles we were having with the Russians and they may start shooting. He said he knew and if those bastards do, get out of there and come back.

I went to my plane, and taxied out to the end of the runway. A C-47 was taxing in and I assumed it was the German officials. As I started my takeoff run a jeep came down the runway with two men waving their arms. l stopped to see what they wanted. They told me to return to my base as the Russian Fighter Escort had arrived. I looked up and there they were, seven of them as I recall. I anticipated that I might have a problem, l made a long high speed takeoff and looped he field so that I had plenty of speed when I headed for my base. Sure enough, one of them broke off coming down in my direction. I flipped on my gun switch and decided that I would be the aggressor. When he got close enough I made a head-on pass at him and in short order I was on his tail. We flew along a little when he rocked his wings and slid back alongside me. He waved and he headed back up to join his group. I kept an eye on him to make sure that he did not come diving down to catch me off guard. That was their tactic. He did go back to his group and lucky for one of us, he was not a problem after that. I flew back to my base, landed, reported in and I still have the original note that I was to deliver to the Russians signed by Air Marshall Tedder.