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SSgt. Jack Paget - Tail Gunner

401st Bomb Squadron, 91st Bomb Group

A Distinguished Veteran

 
John R. Paget was born on September 25, 1923 in Pasadena, California. At age 8, his father passed away, leaving his mother to raise three children during the Great Depression. He was drafted on January 11, 1943, and after receiving basic and flight training, he reported to the 91st Bomb Group at Bassingbourn. He was assigned to B17 (specifications) “Destiny’s Child”, and was scheduled to fly 30 missions before returning to the United States. On July 20, 1944, his 29th mission, he was flying aboard “Liberty Run” on a mission to Leipzig, Germany, when his plane was shot down. He served the rest of the war as a POW in Stalag Luft 4, and participated in “The Black March”, a 45-day march in the winter of 1945 from Stalag Luft 4 to Stalag 257. He received the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air medal with three oak leaf clusters, and the Prisoner of War medal. The following are excerpts from his book “Destiny’s Child”. Jack Paget. Copyright 1988. All Rights Reserved.
jack paget photo.
Jack Paget signing "Full House - Aces High"
 
Welcome to Bassingbourne

stinky in engine maintenance.“In the morning after breakfast, several of us in the billets went out to explore the base. First, to the flight line, where we visited the 401st hanger, the last one to the left of four. Amazed at its size, we entered through an immense side door and observed about three B-17s being worked on by ground crews. Then we passed through a regular door leading to a hall that came out onto the flight line…

We walked out to the flight line where two B-17s were parked. Sgt. Russell Ruth and I entered one from the waist door and looked around. I noticed several various sized sheet metal patches inside the fuselage, and looking at Ruth, said, ‘What do you suppose those are?’, and I pointed out two or three patches. ‘I don’t know, but there sure are a lot of them’, he answered. Just then a ground crew sergeant entered the aircraft with some tools, and after greeting him, I asked, ‘Why all the patches here?’, and I pointed to them. ‘They’re repairs from flak and enemy fighter shells,’ he explained, ‘They keep the sheet metal men pretty busy after a mission.’ Ruth and I looked at each other, and we both realized at the same time that this was the real war, we’re here now, and soon will be in it ourselves.”

 
The Leipzig Mission

photo of destiny's child's noseart.“On previous missions I had experienced fighter attacks from every conceivable direction, but generally from the front. This mission, however, was different. I remember the navigator informing the crew that we were to pick up P-47 escort in this area. Looking out to my right at about the 7 o’clock position, the left side of the aircraft, I observed a horde of fighter aircraft sweeping into a turn to approach us from the rear. At least 60 or more of them. At first I thought they were the P-47 fighter escort. Then I identified them as FW-190s, with a few ME-109s. They were stacked so as to be able to fire upon us all at the same time. It was then I informed the crew, ‘Enemy fighters are attacking at 6 o’clock level. There are dozens of them. They’re coming in fast.’ I began to fire at them in short bursts, alternating my guns so that I was able to keep up a constant fire. ‘There, one exploded right in front of me. There goes another one, I can’t miss. Wow! They’re coming right at me,’ I yelled into the intercom. ‘Right waist to tail,’ a voice called to me, ‘Where are they?’ ‘Coming low now at 5 o’clock,’ I quickly answered, ‘Some are level flying between us, get on them. They’re FW-190s.’ A lot of chatter over the intercom continued, and you could here all the gunners firing… Then from all that noise from the attack, there was momentary silence. The German fighters had passed through and now were regrouping for a second attack. I could see them off in the distance, and I scanned the skies hoping to see some of our friendly escort, but could not see them if they were there. On the first pass I saw ‘Destiny’s Child’ go down. I also saw one or two others go down. I had been quite busy with returning the enemy’s fire with my own. Fighters had been exploding or falling apart all around me… Just as we dropped our bombs, another wave of enemy fighters hit us. I was firing at two FW-190s as they appeared slightly below and to my left, and they were gone in a matter of seconds. I guess I hadn’t hit them, at least seriously. Up front, the cockpit lit up like a Christmas tree from German magnesium tracers. The plane shuddered. We had been hit, and hit hard. All the intercoms were gone. Lt. Hultin worked feverishly as the rudders and ailerons responded sluggishly to his efforts to control the aircraft. Captain Martin switched to auto-pilot, and that aided in controlling the plane. The number 3 and 4 engines were on fire… The pilot gave the order to abandon the aircraft.”

 
Freedom
“Around 10 o’clock, with all POWs outside, we heard tanks coming up the road that passed the camp. Then we saw them; dozens of tanks began to pass by, their top hatches open, and soldiers sitting on them and throwing dead chickens over the fence at us, all the while waving and shouting, ‘You are free, you are free.’ After they all had passed, a jeep, followed by two trucks, came up the road to the camp gates. A British officer jumped out, followed by his troops, and flung the gates open. We were ecstatic, crying, yelling, and hollering at them. The fences on both sides of the road were overburdened by the weight of the men climbing on them. Never had I experienced such a glorious day. Good God, I am free, free at last. Other vehicles drove up the road, and the men in them ran up to the gates and inside of the camp, grabbing POWs and handing them cigarettes and candy bars. The laughter and yelling seemed like it would never stop. We soon learned that this was the famous ‘Desert Rats’ division of the British Army. In a while things settled down, and the officer in charge stood up in his jeep that had now been driven inside the camp and announced: ‘Good morning to all you fine men. You have been liberated by the British Army, and believe me, we are happy to be here with you on this memorable day. We knew you were here and fought the war around you. An American attachment will arrive by tomorrow and the processing of your return to your own military forces will begin. In the meantime, you are advised to stay within the camp boundaries; this is for your own safety. If you feel you must leave the camp for any reason, do not venture far. Again to you all, languish in your new found freedom. God bless you.’ With that, a roar went up from the POW’s, and many of them pressed forward to shake the officers hand. The celebration lasted all day.”
 
Jack Paget is one of our Rogue's Gallery members.
(Thanks are due Jack for providing photos and stories)
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