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STORY TIME: REAL HEROES FROM WORLD WAR II CHARLES "CHUCK" RICHARDSON
4 years ago

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Charles Richardson visited the NarroWay
Theatre in June 2017. But in the 1940's, he
was serving in the European theatre as a
gunner aboard a B-17. Emily Wilson wrote his
story down for us, including his recount of
what he dubs his "worst mission ever," a
mission to Munich, Germany in 1944. With
more than 600 holes in the plane, engines out
and 500 miles from England, Richardson and
crew literally found themselves "coming in on
a wing and a prayer."
Charles "Chuck" Richardson was born June 7,
1923 in Charlotte, NC. He grew up in the
Wilmore / Derita sections of Charlotte in a
family of six, having one sister and two
brothers, along with his parents, Frank and
Mary. Chuck married his sweetheart of many
years, Eleta Pitman, just prior to his active
service date in January 1943.
Richardson was inducted into the United
States Army on the 18th of January 1943. He
was sent to Camp Croft, South Carolina and
entered into active duty at Ft. Jackson, South
Carolina on January 28, 1943. He was
shipped from Ft. Jackson to Miami, Florida in
February 1943 then to Radio School in Sioux
Falls, South Dakota later that same month.
Charles completed Aerial Gunnery School in
Wendover, Utah in July 1943. While awaiting
lost orders for several months at Salt Lake
City AFB, he was subsequently sent to the US
Army Air Force Heavy Bomber Training
Command at Dalhart AFB in Dalhart, Texas.
There, he would be trained on the B-17
bomber.
Assigned to the 8th Air Force, 390th Bomb
Group, he awaited deployment in Kearney,
Nebraska for the European Theatre of
Operation. He was sent to Framlingham,
England, Station 153, via Goose Bay, Labrador,
Newfoundland, Iceland and Scotland, serving
as Radioman / Gunner / Mechanic and as a
Medic on a B-17 Bomber from April 1944 until
September 1944.
While serving in the European Theatre, Chuck
flew 35 missions. Some of the missions
included Strasbourg, Troyes, Paris-Acheres,
Boulogne, Abbeville, Caen Coast-Normandy,
Nantes, Dinard-Pleurtuit, Corme-Ecluse,
Beziers, Conches, St. Lo, Neuvy, and Brest in
France and Osnabruck, Hanover, Fallersleben,
Ruhland, Munich, Sweinfurt, Lutzkendorf,
Merseberg, Harbourg, Zeitz, Politz, Bremen,
Stuttgart, Mainz, Dusseldorf and Sindelfingen
in Germany. Missions to other countries
included Mons, Belgium; Drohobycz, Poland;
and Venlo, Netherlands, participating in
Operation Chowhound and the return of
rescued POWs.
The paragraphs that follow are Mr.
Richardson's recounting of his worst mission,
one to Munich Germany in 1944:

By far, the worst mission was
the mission to Munich, Germany
on July 13, 1944. The mission
was a MAXIMUM EFFORT, as
evidenced by the fact that
“every plane that could fly, would fly." As we
approached Germany, just south of
Strasbourg, France, the flak (anti-aircraft
gunfire) came louder and louder, closer and
closer. This area, known as the “Kammhuber
Line," was a defense system of fighter
airfields, radar tower installations, flak,
searchlight batteries, and ground observers-
stretching 650 miles from Switzerland to the
south of Germany, to Denmark to the north.
Nearing our target, our IP or beginning of our
bomb run, was the northern end of a large
lake named Lake Starnberg, just southwest of
Munich. The entire sky was black with flak
and I could hear the bomb bay doors groaning
and a clunk, signaling their opening. Sitting at
my radio table, I heard it coming...Whump,
whump, whump, wham!!
The plane felt as though it stopped abruptly
and tilted over on the left side. Holes
appeared everywhere; damage reports were
given…the number three engine had a hole the
size of a bathtub; there was fire in the engine
well and flames were extending beyond the
rudder; number four engine was smoking.
Fuel was transferred from the right wing fuel
cell, but the fire was not going out. The plane
tipped forward into a deep dive and everything
not nailed down began to float around.
Shutting down the systems did not put out the
fire and our pilot said to buckle up, as we
were going to dive to try and blow it out. The
cowl on Number 3 engine, which was
vibrating, had broken off and was gone. At
15,000 feet, the pilot and co-pilot began trying
to pull us out of the dive. Expecting our pilot
at any moment to say, “Bail out," I looked out
and could tell it was already too late, as we
leveled out at 500 feet.
Our pilot, talking to all stations on the
intercom said, “We have two engines out on
the same side, our bombardier is critically
wounded in the chest, out of formation, and
flying alone, over 500 miles from England, and
with a large undetermined loss of fuel. We are
in sad condition.” He broke radio silence,
asking for permission from the group
command pilot to land in Switzerland. “Do not
land in Switzerland, bring that plane home,
repeat, do not land in Switzerland!”
The pilot issued instructions to the crew: “We
need to lighten our plane as much as
possible, so start ripping everything you can
get loose and toss it out. We are fighting to
keep this bird in the air.” Out went the
parachutes, flak suits, oxygen bottles, extra
ammo, our heavy clothing and electric suits,
and the ball turret. Popping the rear hatch
door, we watched as our stuff hit the ground.
Can you imagine what the French people
thought when they saw all that stuff come
falling down as we passed over the French
countryside?
I must have said “The Lord’s Prayer” a million
times, and felt a calming peace overtake me
with the fact that we were not going to make
it.
The clouds still provided cover to keep the
German fighters off, and flying at tree-top
level would keep us off the German radar
screens. The ground seemed to be going by
so fast and our air speed was around ninety
to one hundred miles per hour. Flying around
Metz, we flew near Les gorges du Verdon.
Now about 75 miles from Germany and
looking ahead, we could see the trees of the
Argonne Forest. We crossed the Meuse River
near Charleville and even the small boats shot
at us and, again, the splinters flew on the
catwalk. They could not miss us, and could
have done real damage with a sling shot.
Flying south of Lille, with our course set to
exit France just south of Dunkerque and
Calais, we neared the coast of England. The
command was given to head us to the nearest
airfield, which was Manston. The only trouble
was, we had to get over the Cliffs of Dover.
Tapping out a Mayday just in case we had to
ditch...dit dit dit da da da dit dit dit, three
times, I screwed down my Morse code
sending key and reported that it was done.
A red light told us the landing gear was not
down. I opened the bomb bay door and the
top turret gunner already had the manual hand
crank to crank down the wheels. He turned
and cranked; I cranked a while, and then the
ball turret gunner. The top turret gunner took
another turn just as we crossed the beach and
I felt the plane lurch upward as we cleared the
Cliff by inches. We heard the landing gear
snap into lock position and the red light went
out. As I looked out my radio window, I
noticed our number one engine was smoking.
Our navigator brought us in sur le nez, (on the
nose), which was the official slogan for the
390th Bomb Group.
The Boeing representative that examined the
plane the next day remarked that “there was
no way that plane could fly." I counted at least
600 holes. As it turned out, it did live to fly
again as a refurbished bomber.

After returning stateside, Chuck served as an
instructor at USAF Radio School in Boca
Raton, Florida until his discharge at Ft. Bragg,
NC in September 1945. Upon discharge, he
returned to his job at Southern Bearing and
Parts Company. He was employed in the
automotive parts industry until his retirement
in 1991.
Charles and his wife, Eleta, were happily
married for almost 70 years before she
passed away in 2012. Together they have two
children, two grandchildren and two great-
grandchildren.
Mr. Richardson has served as elder in the
Presbyterian Church since 1946 and sung in
the church choir since that time. He speaks in
educational and community venues on his
experiences in the ETO during World War II.
He has been a member of astronomy clubs,
investment clubs, Fraternal Order of Masons
and is a current member of 8th AF Historical
Society, Metrolina Wing in Charlotte, NC and a
participant in 390th Museum Bomb Group
functions in Tucson, Arizona. He has
previously been an instructor on Automotive
Parts Distribution at CPCC in Charlotte, NC.<a>
Charles Richardson has penned 7 books, one
of which relates his experiences during World
War II. He hopes to have this book published
by the end of 2017. The list includes this
personal war history as well as a book of
poems, one of “sayings,” one of his “growing
up years,” and three novels of fiction.
MORE STORIES
Crew of the "Good O Yank," a B-17 Bomber
from WWII. Richardson is third from the left
on the back row.</a> 
Richardson in his 90's.Below is a poem from Mr. Richardson's soon-
to-be-published book, penned during his
travels to and from England in 1944. <a>
SCOTLAND, HOW FAIR
SCOTLAND, HOW FAIR,
SPRING WAS IN THE AIR.
HOW COULD THERE BE WAR HERE,
IN A LAND, SO BRIGHT AND CLEAR.
BUT THE MILITARY WERE EVERYWHERE,
ON THE LAND, SEA, AND IN THE AIR.
A MILLION JEEPS A-JAUNTING,
A ZILLION SHEEP A-YAWNING.
THERE WERE SOUNDS OF BOMBS AND SIREN,
AND PEACEFUL MEADOWS SO SERENE.
A SCOTTISH LASS WITH BRIGHT RED HAIR,
IN THIS LAND CALLED SCOTLAND, OH SO
FAIR.
AH SCOTLAND HOW FAIR THEE STILL.
AH SCOTLAND, HOW FAIR THEE STILL
‘ERE I PASSED THIS WAY AFORE
‘TIS WONDER TO SEE FROM CLYDE
TO HEATHERED RILL
AS BEING AT PARADISE DOOR.
YEA YOUR BONNIE LASSES WEEP
FOR THEIR BRAVE LADS LOST
ON LAND, SKY AND SEAS DEEP
THE TERRIBLE TEMPESTS TOSSED
YOUR PEOPLE BEAR THEIR BURDENS
AND CRY, “CARRY ON”
FOR YOURS WILL BE THE VICTORY
‘ERE THE FEW COME HOME
AH, SCOTLAND, HOW FAIR THEE STILL.
AWARDS / HONORS</a> 
The Distinguished Flying Cross
The Air Medal with Four Oak Leaf Clusters
Two Presidential Unit Citations
Russian Medal of Victory in the Great Patriotic
War
Good Conduct Medal with Four Bronze Stars
Certificate in recognition of contribution and
service in liberating France and participation
in the Invasion of Normandy, signed by the
French Secretary of Defense, John-Pierre
Messeret.
Approved as recipient of the rank of
“Chevalier” for the French Legion of Honor
Medal, presentation date of the medal is yet to
be determined.

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