First Hundred

Just before dark, the sleek, fast B-26 Marauder circled her English air base and slipped in to a smooth landing. Technical Sergeant William L. Stuart, a taciturn, red-haired Texan, heaved an eloquent sigh, rubbed his grease-stained hands together, got out his tools and prepared to go to work.

The ship rolling up to his dispersal station, the Mild & Bitter, had just made history: she was back from her 100th combat mission. Sergeant Stuart, her crew chief, had sweated out every one of the 100 for her; now he would check her over and get her ready for Mission 101. Mild & Bitter thus joined the select company of famed warplanes of World War II--planes like the embattled Fortresses Memphis Belle and Hell's Angels, and the R.A.F.'s Lancaster S for Sugar.

Quiet Type. But Mild & Bitter had no record of hair-raising escapes. Her saga was one of good luck and almost monotonous efficiency. She had lugged 166 different airmen to battle; 26 were decorated, but not one got a Purple Heart. During her robust career she acquired some 50 flak holes, but never any damage that Bill Stuart and his ground crew could not repair overnight.

On her first combat flight, last July 28, she led a sweep over Abbeville; the 100th mission was to bomb an airfield at Evreux, near Paris. In between she had taken the targets as they came; power plants, E-boat pens, air bases, all around France up to Holland and back. She still had her original Pratt & Whitney 2,000 h.p. engines. No one had picked any soft spots for the ship, even when she neared her record. Her last two missions were done between dawn and sunset, her last four in 36 hours.

Successful Type. Ninth Air Force men were proud of Mild & Bitter, proud also that her performance so well underlined the striking success in the European theater of the whole B-26 Marauder type. Once regarded by many airmen as a hot and dangerous aircraft, the B-26 has proved to be the outstanding medium bomber of the European air war. Its combat losses (less than 0.3%) are the lowest in the theater.

Crew Chief Stuart (who named the plane after hearing Englishmen ordering their pints of mild & bitter in a local pub) tried hard to think of something spectacular that had happened to the ship. On one raid, it is true, a burst of flak fountained up right through the open bomb bay. Hot steel fragments rattled against cold steel bombs with a hellish din. But nothing happened.

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