#ground crew

For the families and friends of aerial combat crews, no phrase tolls so grim a message as "Four (or five or ten or 20) of our bombers are missing." Curt and dispassionate in themselves, the words are like a knell to those who wonder what fuller drama they foretell,

what tales of flame and flak, of dizzy death dives or parachutes blooming like water lilies in the high blue air. But to the ground crews waiting by the lonesome runways, the word "missing" holds other homelier but no less poignant connotations. For they are the

men who must look upon the empty bunks, the small abandoned treasures, the neat uniforms hanging in the quiet barracks. On these pages you see what happens at a U.S. air base somewhere in England when one of our Fortresses does not return from a mission.

Sweating out the mission the ground crew huddles in the dispersal area under a melancholy English sky, waiting for the brave comrades and the plane they had long devotedly served.

The other planes came in three hours ago. At last, picking up tool boxes and radio-room hatch cover (removed to free a gun when plane took off) they trudge sadly back to quarters.

Remembrances of a young American litter Navigator’s dresser. He was only 21 but he had directed his ship on many missions. Behind him he leaves these humble relics.

In silent array the neat empty uniforms hang above the neat empty bunks in the barracks. At right is a technical sergeant’s tunic with service ribbons, silver wings.

Pilot’s belongings are packed by assistant squadron adjutant for shipment home to missing man’s family. There are letters, clothes, snapshots, souvenirs, medals…

The mission is recorded on map in enlisted men’s barracks by the gunner of another plane. He told all he could see and ground crew is positive their pals escaped alive.

Chaplain writes to gunner's mother. He has waited a few weeks to make sure letter has been preceded by the official "The War Department regrets to inform you...."