Seen and Done

U.S. heavy-bomber crews came back from the hard-fought raid on Oschersleben (TIME, Jan. 24) full of admiration for the daring of an unknown fighter pilot -- a U.S. airman in a Mustang who took on singlehanded a formation of 30 Nazi fighter planes.

Fortress pilots and gunners could scarcely believe their eyes as the Mustang flyer slashed in, all knees, elbows and fists, shooting and turning like a man possessed. Observers vowed they saw him knock down five or six German fighters. Said the Fortress formation leader:

"It looked like one American against the entire Luftwaffe. He was over us, across the formation and around it. For sheer determination and guts it was the greatest exhibition I have ever seen."

What Price? The bombermen who saw the beginning of the combat lost sight of the Mustang in a dive. It seemed little better than a 1-in-100 chance that such gallantry could have survived such odds. But Eighth Air Force intelligence officers found that the odds had been cheated. Last week they identified the Mustang pilot as Major James H. Howard, of St. Louis. What was more, Major Howard had landed at his British base unscratched; even his ship had emerged from the maelstrom of Messerschmitts with nothing worse than one bullet hole in the wing.

Correspondents who interviewed Major Howard found no daredevil youngster, but a lanky, quiet-spoken, 30-year-old veteran air fighter with thinning reddish hair, a slow smile. They also found that the "one-man-air-force's" private war with the Luftwaffe had lasted for about 30 minutes, and included at least five combats with individual Nazi planes within the pattern of the general melee.

Flying long-range protection for the bombers, Howard's flight had attacked enemy fighters, and after the first encounter he found himself alone and near a forward box of Fortresses just coming under heavy attack by twin-and single-engine German fighters.

"I seen my duty and I done it," said he, properly embarrassed by his fame. "I'd just see one, give him a squirt and go up again, look around, see another, give him a squirt, then go up again, look around and repeat. There were: a lot of them around and it was just a matter of shooting at them."

Battle on Bluff. In the mixup Howard hauled out every trick in the book, among them "chopping the throttle" (to slow down abruptly) and dropping the flaps (to turn a tighter circle). He began with all four guns going, finally was reduced to one. He wound up his day, all ammunition spent, scaring off a rocket-carrying Dornier 217 by plain bluff, and then scooted for home.

Howard had learned how to fight from a top-grade teacher. Originally a Pensacola-trained Navy flyer, he resigned his commission to join the A.V.G. Flying Tigers in China under Major General Claire Chennault. He found good cornpany there, became a squadron leader in six months, shot down six Japs. When his China term was up, he came home rail-thin from dengue fever, took three months' leave, then went back to war, this time with the Army Air Forces.

Modest Major Howard's combat report last week claimed only two planes destroyed, two probables and one damaged. But the Confirmation Board which passes on his report may have the unusual duty of revising a victory claim upward. Shop-talking airmen in London this week understood that Major Howard was being recommended for the Congressional Medal of Honor.

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