1st Fighter Group 07/11/1943
HEADQUARTERS 1ST FIGHTER GROUP
Office of the Intelligence Officer
APO 520
20 July 1943
SUBJECT: Escape.
TO : A-2, NASAF, APO 520.
For the Group Commander:
CLYDE W. GABLER
Major, Air Corps,
Intelligence Officer.
1 Incl:
Incl 1 - Account of Escape of Lt. CHAPMAN.
71st FIGHTER SQUADRON
1st Fighter Group
APO 525
17 July, 1943.
SUBJECT: Account of Escape.
TO : Intelligence Officer, 1st Fighter Group, APO 525.
The accident occurred on Sunday July 11. 1943 between the hours of 1630 and 1700 “B” hours,in which Lt Diamond’s ship and mine collided in mid-air, during an air attack by 3 Me 109’s over the Licodin, Scovdia Rd 3-4 miles North of St. Vizzini. The squadron had just completed the job of idve bombing and straffing enemy tanks and trucks. We had picked up our course for home and were at approximately 3,500 feet when three enemy fighters were reported at 12 o(clock) above and in front of us. We kept an eye on them and cautiously watched them as they flew straight over the top of the P-38 formation about 500 feet overhead. From this position we could see that they were Me 109’s, painted grey with big black crosses painted on their sides, and tails. One of the Me 109’s turned left and came in on our flight which was white. After they had passed over us, one of them made a left diving turn at white flight. A call was made for a right turn and the flight watched the enemy aircraft go up in a steep turn. No. 2 man
turned high and wide and turned right below him a short distance behind and stayed on the bottom side. He had been flying on the inside of the flight. We were approximately 90o to 100o around when I heard a loud noise and felt something hit me. I thought at first that I had been hit by a 20mm H.E. I had been hit once before on a previous mission on the stabilizer and the jar was identical with the one which I had just experienced. The next thing knew I was in a flat spin with absolutely no pressure on the controls. A silly thought ran through my mind: “What difference does it make whether I get out or not?” I then decided that I should try and get out of the plane. I pulled the emergency release and the canopy came off immediately. I started to get out and then thought of the window, which I rolled down. I then thought of the “cheese knife”; glanced back to look at it, and was relieved to see that it was aparently gone. I started to get out once again and the safety belt held me in the cockpit. After releasing the belt, I got my head and shoulders out of the left side of the cockpit and was pleasantly surprised at the small amount of air resistance. At the same time, I was a bit disappointed that it did not pop me right out of the cockpit. My efforts to get entirely free of the cockpit were frustrated again by the water canteen on my side and the wires to my helmet which were caught within the cockpit. With a few frantic tugs I broke free and rolled out on the wing over the left engine, and I believe off the trailing edge of the wing. I grabbed for my left side; found the rip cord and pulled it. My next sensation was a strong jerk all over my body. I blacked out momentarily. When I collected my wits a little, I looked around, and the first thing I saw was a spinning P-38 with apparently no tail. I thought: “God, they got somebody else”. Then I realized that this ship must have been mine.
I then saw a fairly large sized town at the head of a valley towards what I thought was the south. Presently, I saw a group of P-38’s in a steep turn and thought that they had seen me bail out safely. (This was not the case however, as the formation did not see any chutes open.) I then cast my eyes downward and saw that I was coming down on high tension wire, then I noticed, to my relief, that I was being carried over it by the wind.
I landed in a fig grove, and my chute was deflated on a medium sized fig tree. The ground, fortunately, was soft, so I received only a slight jolt upon landing. I suffered a “charlie horse” in the calf of my right leg, which bothered me quite a bit later on. I then got up and took off my parachute harness; unfastened my dinghy from my Mae West; and then debated whether or not to keep my Mae West or leave it behind. I decided that the bright yellow color of it would be too easily seen, thereby disclosing my whereabouts, so I left it behind. I thought of the rations in the dinghy and the drinking water, and decided that there was nothing in it that I would need. This decision was erroneous, as drinking water became a real want during the course of my way back to friendly lines. I had a strange feeling that I was forgetting something. I hesitated before starting out, for I was not sure exactly what was my best plan. Then I heard the sound of automobiles and some shouting, which caused me to start off, half running, half walking down a path to a dry river bed. I went underneath a train bridge over the river bed, and began walking down the dried-up river, expecting any minute to hear rifle shots. I heard none.
I decided that I was too much in the open so I ducked into a grove of low-hanging orange trees, which gave good cover. I walked and ran through them a little way when suddenly, I heard a low flying plane overhead. I looked up and was terrified to see a Me 109. I hid neath a tree and watched him make a couple of turns, apparently looking for me. I felt as though he could not help but seeing me, and was coming on down to strafe me. He failed to see me, as he soon left. This marked the first time that I was really frightened. Things had happened so fast before that I had no time for symptoms of fear.
The orange orchard was a poor hiding place. A short distance away from it, I came across a low level spot that was thickly covered with low-hanging bamboo-like plants growing about 5 feet. Running through the middle of this spot, I found a small gulley about 15 inches deep and about 24 inches wide. I got down on my stomach and wormed my way down the gulley about 10 feet. There were no plants growing in the gulley itself, but were growing thickly on both sides of it, so that they overlapped and made a small tunnel which proved to be an ideal hiding place. I glanced at my watch which read 1715 “B” hours. Off in the distance I could hear cars stopping; their doors slamming and people talking. None of this was too near to me.
I made the discovery that my canteen had apparently torn off from my web belt when I jumped, which left me without water. I began to think of the small can of water I had left behind my dinghy, as well as the D rations and other equipment in my jungle kit, and also my escape devices which I had left in the plane. However, I decided that it would be foolish to go back for them.
While resting there in my hiding place, I thought that after such a narrow escape, I most certainly would throw in the towel now, once I got back to my base again. Another thought that annoyed me was the fact that I had been shot down by a Me 109 (this thought was wrong, for it was the collision which brought Lt Chapman down) when as far as I could see, there was no excuse for it. I figured that if Jerry had got me, then he surely must have got the No. 4 man also. There were 12 P-38’s and only 3 Me 109’s, so I could see no reason for us losing any P-38’s. However, when I got back to the base, I found out that it was a mid-air collision with No. 2 man and not a 20mm that caused the accident.
Things written down appear to be definite, clear and well-founded, but everything occurred so fast when I jumped that I, for the most part, can recall only fleeting impressions of events and their sequence. Moreover, I was a little dazed by the turn of events.
I remained hidden until about 1030 P.M., unsuccessfully trying to sleep. I made up my mind that my best bet was to head for the British Lines, which I figured to be about 15 miles southeast of my location. Cautiously, I made my way out of my hiding place, taking my time and looking the situation over from every angle. The moon was out and afforded quite a bit of light. My right leg was rather sore, but the pain soon vanished once I started to walk. I took up a generally easterly heading going by a small pencil clip compass that I had received from S-2 the day before. I soon came across some fruit trees, consisting of figs, pears and oranges. I was disappointed to see that the fruit was too small and green to be edible. I wanted something especially to quench my thirst. I kept on walking at a slow, plodding pace, down a path to a dry river bed. The dry river bed afforded better walking conditions than the stony ground, orchards and walls through the farmlands.
I was just coming up to a road when I heard some trucks go by. I debated whether it would be better to walk along side the road which was easier walking or to take to the hills. I decided on the hills, for the chances of being discovered were more remote. I headed out thrugh a large orange orchard, whose ground was well broken up for irrigation with many furrows with ridges running between the rows of trees which made walking very difficult. The ground was also covered with dry leaves which seemed to make an ungodly amoun to f noise when I would step on them. I was getting thirstier all of the time. About 12 hours had gone by since I last had any drinking water. I decided to try a green oragne. I looked for the biggest ones as I could find which were about 1 ½ inches in diameter. I cut them in two and sucked some of the juice which was limited in quantity and even more limited in quality. These were of little help. I continued on further until I found a few puddles of irrigation water, which I more or less lapped up. I came to the conclusion that there should be another irrigation ditch filled with water. I continued on until I finally came across a ditch with running water. Strange to say, I could not drink any large quantity of water. This seemed to be true regardless of whether I went five or ten hours without water.
I kept going, keeping the ridge on the other side of the valley in view. I tried using the north star to naviagate by several times, but found it rather difficult. This was due to the fact that the big dipper would change its place in the sky, and thus confuse me a great deal. I lost sight of the mountains. When I looked at my compass, I couldn’t see how it was right. So I went where I thought was right, and ended up where I had just been about 15 miles before. After that, I went by the compass without the least bit of doubt, in my mind.
The orchards were well divided up by stone walls and high hedges of prickly pears, as well as being studded with farm houses. I believe each farm house in the country must have two or three “barking” dogs. All of these combined obstacles made an endless amount of detours necessary. Finally, just after the moon had gone down, I came up to a hedge of prickly pears, about 15 feet high with thorny vines growing at the base. I could neither get through it nor could I find a place to hide. I then laid down to get some rest. I had just got through walking in a circle, and finding this new obstacle, I felt frustrated. I soon went to sleep.
I woke up just at dawn feeling much better. I soon discovered a hole in the hedge and found myself in open country. About two miles ahead of me, I could see the ridge of the mountains which I headed for. I passed some hay stacks which I thought I might hide in during the day, but I was afraid that the farmers might be still working in the fields, so I contineud on. I reached the top of one hill where I found a half decent place to hide. I had no sooner laid down when up the hill comes a peasant looking over his few scrawny almond trees on the hill side. I was thankful that I still had my .45; not that I was going to shoot him, but simply that I did have that added feeling of security. When the peasant got about 10 feet from me, I raised up and said: “Bon jour, Monsieur “, and with that remark just about scared the wits out of him. He was rather friendly and wanted to know whether I was English or German. I did not know how I stood with him, so I told him: “No compri”. Through much sign language and some broken French he offered to treat me to a breakfast at his house. I feel that he came to the conclusion that I was English, because I answered a few questions with monosyllabic “Yes” and “No”’s. I refused his offer for breakfast as I was afraid that he would notify the police, while I was eating. He left very much disgusted. I got up and started walking again. In about an hour I made it over the ridge where I found a good hiding place amongst some rocks. No one came looking for me, or if they did; they did not get very close.
During the day, I could hear and see large explosions toward the sea. At one time, I saw some ships shelling the shore. I could the flashes of the guns better than I could see the boats. It later turned out to be some British Cruisers shelling an Italian shore battery.
All day long, I could hear the drone of airplanes interruped once in a while by the machine gun and cannon fire. They were extremely difficult to see from the ground. Every once in awhile, they would get in the flak area, then all hell would break loose. They would take evasive action and get out of the area. The flak never seems to get near them. Around noon, I heard a large formation of bombers from the north heading south. They appeared to be B-26’s, but they flew in groups of threes, and their formation was so open that they could have been B-25’s. I noticed a plane pulling up out of Porta Augusta as fast as It could go with its wheels down. It puzzled me at first, but then I think it must have been a Stuka bombing the British.
My hiding place was exposed to the sun. I began to get pretty hungry and thirsty. It was about Monday noon and 24 hours since I had eaten. The valley in front of me was sparsely settled, and there was little vegetation. The hill was covered with blackberry bushes, but very few blackberries, for I had to scour the entire hill to get a mouthful of berries. On the other side of the valley, I noticed some green patches. I decided that these must be irrigated and hence there must be water there. As I could see only one or two people, I thought it fairly safe to cross the valley.
When I arrived there, I had to ask a peasant where there was some water. He wanted to know whether or not I was English. He was under the impression that the English were bombing his country night and day.. He did not seem to take an appreciative attitude toward this . However, he directed me to a spring. From my encounters with the peasants, I came to the conclusion that they are not too friendly nor are they hostile. They seem to be possessed with the fear that military authorities will punish them if they aid the wrong side. For the most part they want nothing to do with you.
I walked all Monday night across stony mountains. For the most part, walking was most difficult and I was sure thankful that I had a good pair of G.I. shoes. Oxfords would have lasted about 4 hours of this type of walking. I never walked very fast; just slow and steady, and I was surprised at the territory which I covered. I found a vegetable garden, but the tomatoes were green and there wasn’t much of anything else. I also found some fig trees but the figs were not ripe, and I could not eat them.
When the moon went down about 2:00 A.M. Tuesday morning, I found a hay stack which made a very warm, comfortable bed. I got a couple of hours sleep and started out again. I found some more blackberries and made a meal out of these. I also ate some green pears, which were fairly edible, especially if you ate those which had worms in them, because these ripen prematurely. All day Tuesday, I stayed on top of a ridge. Several peasants saw me, but for the most part they ignored me.
During the day when you can’t sleep and there’s nothing to do and you are thirsty or hungry; thoughts of turning yourself in, enter your mind, but soon you think about getting back to camp and even eating “C” rations; then you come to the conclusion that you will hold out as long as you can walk. Going hungry is not as bad as going thirsty. Had I only some way that I could have carried water with me, I would have been much better off. I also thought of the candy and gum in the escape kit which I had put back where my radio is, instead of carrying it on my person. Regardless of how awkward the escape kit is, hereafter it goes right with me.
I waited until it got dark Tuesday night before I started walking. The country was too thickly populated to risk moving early. On the other side of the valley where the hills were rocky and barren, I could see a canyon far below. I could hear frogs croaking down below so I had a good idea there was a river down there. Finally, I could make out the river, bu the reflection of the moonlight on the water.
Once down in the bottom of the canyon, I noticed truck movement along the road. It was about midnight of Tuesday. I hid by the side of the road, until I heard an English man holler to another. Then I realized I was in safe territory. I hailed them and they slowed down. Somebody hollered: “Hurry up”, so I ran alongside one of the trucks and hopped on the running board, which was very foolish because as I looked up, in front of my face, 6 inches, was a revolver. The English were moving up and were a trifle jumpy. They asked for identification, fortunately, I had on my dog tags which satisfied them. I learned from them that I was on the road to Syracuse. They told me that there was an infantry outfit back the road a bit. I went back to them and got the first food which I had since Sunday noon. It consisted of biscuits and cheese.
One way in which I could identify the English position was with flak which was shot up when enemy planes were over the territory. Then when Spitfires flew over; there was no flak shot up so I could fairly well tell which was which. It is not too good a method because it was difficult to identify enemy fighters from the ground. You could tell almost as well by their sound as you could from sight. Monday and Tuesday night there were enemy air raids over Syracue which give a good idea as to what heading to take.
I managed to hitch hike back to Syracuse. Once there I was directed to the N.O.I.C. (Naval Officer In Charge), which was headquarters for all shipping in the harbor. They got me a ride on a Royal Navy L.S.T. 198 which brought me to Sousse. Once aboard ship, I got cleaned up and was outfitted with some clean survivors clothes. The English were extremely cordial and hospitable and generous to me. We landed at Sousse at noon on Friday, 16 July, 1943 where I disembarked.
I went to the Troop Carrier Command Headquarters where I was furnished a ride on a C-47 back to my base at Mateur. I arrived back at my squadron headquarters at approximately 1700 “B” hours on 16 July, 1943, a wiser pilot than when I had started out on that mission of 11 July, 1943.
ERNEST A. CHAPMAN,
2d Lt., Air Corps.
Official US Army Air Forces Combat Report by Ernest Chapman of the 1st Fighter Group. This material is a transcription of official reports-testimonials of Ernest Chapman's combat experience.
Ernest Chapman: Personnel File
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