First Fight

Source

The Emperor was up early, today was the day that the Armée du Nord struck north. There had been a couple of the inevitable screw ups, units not getting their orders on time, commanders sleeping late, but all in all, things were going according to plan. He called for his master of horse to prepare his mount Désirée¹. He would ride the grey Arabian mare up to where elements of Vandamme's III Corps were preparing to force the crossing over the Sambre at Charleroi.

As he donned his riding coat, Berthier interrupted him, "Sire, Vandamme's corps is on the move, there was a brief delay, they set off an hour late, disrupting Gérard's movements, but all is well now. Général Vandamme claims that my messenger was late, not his fault."

Napoléon closed his eyes briefly, he was in a good mood and was determined that nothing would change that, "Did you get a receipt for that message?"

"Of course, Sire. My aides tell me that Vandamme overindulged last night and overslept."

"Note that in the headquarters ledger. I'll deal with Vandamme after the campaign. Unless, of course, he makes another such error."

Leaving Berthier standing there, the Emperor mounted his horse, nodded to his escort commander, today's duty squadron were from the Guard, and then set off for the head of his right wing's advance.

The Emperor could hear cannon fire to his front, even though his piles weren't that bad this day, the thought of urging his mount forward faster checked him for a moment, that might prove to be painful. But the thought of returning to exile, or worse, persuaded him to spur Désirée on.

His escort drew their sabers, ready for any eventuality, four of them moved closer to the Emperor, intended to shield him from danger. As they advanced they saw signs of combat, dead Prussians, a dead Frenchmen here and there, though far fewer than enemy dead, it still irked the Emperor to start losing men so early in the campaign. Eventually the Emperor's party made contact with an officer attached to Pajol's I Cavalry Corps.

"What news?"

The young officer of hussars turned and was to shocked to see his Emperor riding up to him.

"Sire, we've seized the bridge at Marcinelle, we're skirmishing in the outskirts of Charleroi, Maréchal Ney is up and threw in the Sailors of the Guard and the Guard engineers to clear the way. Général Vandamme's corps is moving in force into the city, Général Gérard's troops are flanking the remaining Prussian outposts."

"Very well, carry on Captain!"

Turning to his escort, Napoléon shouted out, "Let us make haste gentlemen, it seems that Le Rougeaud² intends to hog all the glory for himself!"

Ignoring the shouts of "Vive l'Empereur" which were spreading along the road, Napoléon Bonaparte rode north, surrounded by his escort and numerous aides and messengers.

Maréchal Michel Ney stood sweating beside his downed horse. He had managed to jump clear when the animal had been struck by Prussian musket fire, but he was annoyed at having to wait for his spare mount. He had been unprepared for this campaign and only had the one spare, which one of his two aides was allegedly bringing up now.

He saw the commander of III Corps, Dominique Vandamme directing a battery of cannon into position and shouted over to him.

"Vandamme! Have we cleared the outskirts?"

Vandamme turned his horse, wondering who had the audacity to be yelling at him. When he saw that it was Ney, he grimaced. The man was allegedly commanding the Guard in Mortier's absence, why was he here? And not with the Emperor?

"Yes, Monsieur le Maréchal, but why are you not with your troops?"

Ney looked up at Vandamme and at the same moment his aide arrived with his spare mount, climbing up, he turned to Vandamme.

"I am with my troops! I heard that the bridge over the dike at Marcinelle was obstructed. My engineers were the closest, so I led them and my sailors forward to clear it!"

Vandamme puzzled at the mention of sailors, then he remembered, there was indeed a detachment of sailors in the Imperial Guard. Ignoring Ney for a moment, he directed one of his brigades up the road, some of Gengoult's men from the 34th Regiment of the Line. Turning back to the marshal he shouted ...

"I must be off, where is the Emperor? You should find him and let him know what we did here!" Then he galloped off, followed by his staff.

Ney was dumbfounded, he felt that as a Marshal of France, and being the senior man on the scene, Vandamme should be asking him for orders, not galloping off to do his own business.

Napoléon shook his head when he spotted Ney. "What are doing here, Ney? Why are you not with the Guard?"

Ney, dirty, drenched with sweat, and hatless, turned when he heard his name called.

"Sire, we have won the day! The Prussians are in retreat!"

"Answer my question Ney!" It was clear that the Emperor was upset.

"Vandamme was stalled at the bridge, I brought my engineers up to ..."

"Your engineers, Ney? How dare you commit my Guard to battle without my say-so. Return to your place. The main body of my Guard is back down this road, perhaps five kilometers, your place is with them. Now go!"

As Ney rode off, chastised but also clearly angered by his treatment, the Emperor shook his head.

"The man is too damned headstrong. I wonder if he is fit for this task?"

The nearest soldier, a corporal in the Guard Chasseurs à Cheval, shrugged his shoulders, thinking that the Emperor was addressing him.

"Ah, care to comment on the situation, soldat?" Napoléon barked at the man, amused and angry at the same time.

"Above my pay grade, Sire."

As Napoléon turned his horse to go back to headquarters, he grinned at the man, "Cheeky bastard!"

¹ The Emperor had a number of horses at Waterloo, in addition to Désirée there was Marengo, another Arabian mare, and Vizir, an Arabian stallion. Napoléon's horses.

² One of Ney's nicknames.

Fresh Intel from an Unlikely Source

Prussian Landwehr Cavalry
Uniformenkunde, Lose Blätter zur Geschichte der Entwicklung der militärischen Tracht, Berlin, 1890¹
Richard Knötel (PD)

"I tell you, Damian, Fähnrich Nowak is completely lost." Reiter August Domżalski hissed at his fellow Pole, Reiter Damian Więcław.²

"I know, did you see the sign for Gosselies a while back? We're too close to the border. That was the Sambre River we crossed back there."

The two men, Polish in their hearts but Silesian according to the Prussian king, were serving in the Prussian army. If there had been another way to cross western Europe to join Napoléon's army, they would have chosen that. But they had been swept up into the Landwehr, a type of militia, when word of the Emperor's escape from Poland had reached their backwater town. Now they were Prussian uhlans.³ At least they knew how to use a lance, many of their comrades were somewhat clumsy with that weapon.

"Here comes the Fähnrich now." Damian nodded at the horseman picking his way through the thick crops in the field which bordered the river.

Fähnrich Horst Nowak looked out of sorts, as if he'd seen a ghost August said later. He reined in by the two Poles and speaking slowly, as if the two men spoke no German, he said, "The French, are over there." Gesturing back towards the river.

In Polish, Damian remarked, "Well, that way IS France, where else would they be?"

Both of the Poles spoke Polish, German, and Russian fluently, August had a smattering of French as well, his uncle had served in Napoléon's Guard. Invalided out after he'd lost an arm at the Battle of Leipzig, he'd taught his nephew some French. August wondered if that might not come in handy at some point.

"Prussian scouts?" one of the French troopers asked his sergeant.

"Yes, I suppose we should prevent them from returning across the river. There is no way that they missed Gérard's campfires. Le Tondu would rather our crossing into Belgium be a surprise." the sergeant of Chasseurs à Cheval whispered to the men.

A corporal added, "There's a path back there," he nodded at the forest behind him, "which will take us to the nearest crossing, no doubt the crossing those scouts used."

Gently prodding his mount, the sergeant turned the horse's head back into the forest to find the path. He didn't doubt the corporal's knowledge of this area, he had been born and raised nearby.

Napoléon looked up from the dispatch he was reading, "Prussian cavalry? On this side of the river?"

Berthier looked at the man who had brought the message, that man nodded and looked as if he had something to say.

"What is it man?"

"There were three of them, Sire. We captured one of them, a Pole, or so he claims."

The Emperor stood up and walked over to the cavalryman, "A Pole you say?"

"Yes Sire."

The Emperor thought for a moment, then spoke to the cavalryman, "Bring me the prisoner."

Turning to Berthier, "Send for Jerzmanowski, the commander of my Poles can test this fellow."

August Domżalski was still in shock. As they had ridden back to the bridge over the Sambre, they had been attacked by a party of French light cavalry. His friend, Damian Więcław, had instinctively rode at the enemy, he had managed to unhorse one Frenchman, but the others had cut him down.

August had thrown down his lance, he had no desire to die for the Prussian king. As he was manhandled from the saddle and bound up, he watched three Frenchmen ride down Nowak and kill him without mercy.

He had been beaten, his clothing searched for any coin he might have on him, then brought to the French camp, the one he and his late comrades had seen the campfires of. He was frog marched to a cluster of tents when they had arrived. Roughly shoved down to the ground, one of his captors went into one of the tents, no doubt to make his report.

Moments later he found himself standing in front of Napoléon himself and, by his uniform, an officer of lancers. At least he was holding the classic Polish czapka at his side.

Polish Lancer in French Service
The soldier is wearing a czapka. (Headgear)
Wojciech Kossak (PD)

Scarcely had he been dragged into the tent than the Polish officer began barking at him in rapid fire Polish.

"Why do you wear the uniform of those bastards, the Prussians?"

August stood as tall as he could, "When the enemy comes into your village, and drags you to one of their camps and tells you, 'you're a soldier now,' what choice did I have, Sir."

Lieutenant Colonel Jan Paweł Jerzmanowski turned to the Emperor and said, "The man was conscripted into the Prussian army, by his accent I'd say he's from Silesia, the Wrocław area if I'm not mistaken."

Napoléon walked over to August and looked into his eyes, "Do you speak any French?"

August said, "A little, Sire. Enough to get by."

Napoléon nodded, "Are you well enough to join me? Will you join me?"

Before August could answer, the soldier guarding him spoke, "We roughed him up pretty bad, Sire. He's probably got a couple of busted ribs."

"Unbind him, bring Larrey, get this man a chair."

The Emperor and Jerzmanowski had questioned the captive Pole extensively. His regiment was part of the Prussian II Corps, commanded by von Pirch. That corps lay further away than that of Ziethen but the Prussian chief of staff, Gneisenau, had von Pirch's cavalry scouting the length of the Sambre River and the French border along with that of Ziethen.

The man had been cooperative in the extreme, he'd even expressed a desire to join the French army, but Doctor Larrey had pronounced him unfit for duty, "At least for two weeks, the man should be in hospital."

But now the Emperor had a far better picture of the Prussian positions, even those around Charleroi.

"Send out the orders, Berthier. Have Davout, Soult, and Ney, along with all of the corps commanders report to me at once. I intend to have Davout take Reille's II Corps and part of the Cavalry Reserve up the main road to Brussels, d'Erlon's I Corps will follow them and be ready to act as my strategic reserve. The remainder of the army will be under Soult and myself, we shall march on the Prussians."

The messages went out, the Emperor was excited, it seemed that there was a very good chance that the Prussians could be caught with their corps separated allowing them to be destroyed in detail while Davout kept the English and their dogs busy on his left.

Once the Prussians were set to flight, then he would turn the bulk of the army on Wellington's flank and destroy that army in turn.

He would dictate peace from the Royal Palace in Brussels, hopefully the English army would be completely destroyed and its commander captured or killed. Then he'd see if the English wanted to continue the fight.

Without English gold, he doubted that Berlin and Vienna would continue the war.

"A lasting peace, Berthier!"

"Sire?"

"This will be the last coalition raised against me, Berthier, then we shall have peace. A lasting peace.

Berthier, though skeptical, simply answered, "Of course, Sire."

¹ Uniform Studies: Loose-leaf sheets on the history of the development of military dress. Published in Berlin 1890.

² Yes, I know, more foreign names, sorry, not everyone can be named Bob or Ted. But I'll tell you how to pronounce these: Damian Więcław is pronounced (roughly) Dah-mien Vee-en-swoff and August Domżalski is pronounced (roughly) A-oo-goost Dom-zhal-ski. Got those pronunciations from Google Translate, which is handy for how to pronounce things. Oh and Fähnrich is an officer grade just below Second Lieutenant, called an Ensign in some armies.

³ Uhlan is what the Prussians called their lancers, cavalry armed with both sword and lance. Derived from the Polish word "ułan" which in turn comes from the Turkish word "oğlan," meaning "boy" or "young man." The Tatars brought the cavalry, and the word, to the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in the 1700s. In German (and Polish) the word is pronounced "oo-lawn." (In Turkish it's pronounced "oh-lawn.")

Wow, Glad we moved!

 Whaddaya mean juvat!

Well, if you haven't watched the news and seen the report on the flooding that happened this past few days on the Pedernales River you should.  Texas rivers have a pretty regular tendency to flood after a heavy rain, but this was close to Noah proportion.

Sorry I couldn't get this video to post as part of my post.  Just go to this URL and see what was happening. (https://www.facebook.com/reel/1577538870424097) 

This river was about a 1/2 mile south of where our previous house was located.  But, we were on the top of a small hill and the road to our property also went uphill a bit.  I strongly doubt that it would have gotten to us.  However,  we definitely wouldn't have been able to get out.  The bridge on Texas Highway 16 between our property and town had water flowing over it and also a good part of the highway.  

Bad Ju-Ju for sure.

 Source

The river is under flood warning until today at a minimum.  Unfortunately, more rain is in the forecast.  Usually rain is appreciated in Texas, but not right now!  Our Fredericksburg had 12.4" and Kerrville had 19.54". Our last home was halfway between.  Those numbers may not be much in a tropical rain forest, but in Texas that's an awful lot, and proof thereof is the Pedernales river water level rose 32 feet in 4 hours. That's the highest it's been since 1979, 47 years. 

 

Source

I believe this picture was taken a bit later than the video posted above.  It wouldn't surprise me if the bridge wasn't there anymore but I haven't heard if that's so.

So...Rain is good...in reasonable amounts 

Just to answer any questions, this rainstorm didn't affect us.  We're about 180 miles to the East. I guess the storm dumped all it's rain on the middle of Texas. 

Thank You, Lord!

 Sources

https://www.statesman.com/weather/severe/article/texas-flash-flood-emergency-guadalupe-river-22347523.php  

https://youtu.be/cXjA2jV10UY?t=5 Pedernales state park

 https://www.fredericksburgstandard.com/news/article_533bd6b7-9655-4df2-a69a-93f124aac933.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xA2Uovobes   

 

 

 

The Army Prepares

Napoléon Ier Bonaparte dans les bivouacs à la veille de la bataille de Waterloo en 1815.
Jacques Marie Gaston Onfray de Breville dit JOB¹
Source

Berthier set his quill aside, then leaned forward onto the table, his hands covering his face. He had managed to get what he thought was the Emperor's intent onto paper. His staff was busy making up the copies to be dispatched to the corps commanders. He had entered the days events into his record of staff activities for this day in early June, in the year 1815.

Truth be told, he was exhausted, he had just turned 61 years of age, and he felt every month of that span of time, in his bones, and in his spirit. He almost wished that he had not heeded his Emperor's call to return to his service. He would still be at home, with his family.²

He looked up as he heard a tap at the door.

"What is it?"

"Sir, Maréchal Ney and his, ahem, 'entourage' are said to be close by." The young staff officer had smirked when he had said "entourage," in truth, Marshal Ney was traveling with only two aides, having left Paris in haste to join the campaign.

"Your sense of humor would not be appreciated by the Marshal, nor the Emperor for that matter. I certainly understand, but control yourself, Antoine."

"Oui, Monsieur." Suitably chastised, the young staff officer returned to his duties.

Berthier shook his head then muttered, "I'd best get some sleep while the Emperor visits the bivouacs."

Napoléon Bonaparte bit into the half-cooked potato, it was hot, nearly burning his mouth, but he gave no sign of pain.

"So caporal, where are you from?"

The man in the brown overcoat looked up from the pot he was stirring and said, "Normandy, Sire. Just outside Caen."

"How many years have you followed my eagles?"

"Twelve, Sire. Much of that in Spain. Though I was with you at Austerlitz and Jena."

"And still a corporal?" the Emperor asked, with some amusement.

"I only learned to read during your time, uh, away. Sire."³

Nodding, the Emperor said, "Ah, while I ruled oved Elba, I'm glad you kept busy in my absence."

"Well, there were no jobs, Sire. Not for a former soldier. So an officer of grenadiers took me under his wing, taught me to read, write, and cipher. Upon your return, I rejoined my regiment. When the captain discovered I could read, he made me a corporal."

Before Napoléon could respond he turned to see what the commotion behind him was, a rider, horse lathered, caught his eye. Looking to Maréchaux Davout and Soult, who stood nearby, he remarked, "News I think, of the enemy or of Paris, I do not know."

The horseman, a man of Berthier's staff, approached and handed the Emperor a message.

Napoléon snatched it, his stomach growling as he did so, more from the anticipation of bad news than of the undercooked potato. Quickly he read, then his stern visage cracked a smile.

"Le Rougeaud⁵ it seems, has arrived. Let us return to headquarters gentlemen."

Le voyageur (Le maréchal Ney à cheval luttant contre le vent)⁴
Jean-Louis-Ernest Meissonier (PD)

Michel Ney had ridden hard, he was soaked to the skin by intermittent rain showers and his cloak and horse were mud spattered, the horse lathered with sweat. Upon arrival at headquarters he had told his two aides to find something to eat for themselves and for him. He went into the headquarters to report to the Emperor. Only to find that Napoléon was not there, only Berthier.

He had stormed into Berthier's office, shedding his wet cloak and hat as he did so, spattering Berthier's precious maps with muddy water.

"Where is the Emperor?" he demanded imperiously.

Berthier looked up and sighed, "And a good morning to you as well. The Emperor is in the field, Ney, where one might expect him to be. Where have you been?"

Casting a dirty look at the man he considered to be nothing more than a glorified clerk, Ney answered, "In Paris, settling my affairs. His Majesty's message, commanding me to report to the army, only arrived two days ago. I have no staff, only two aides, and no command that I am aware of. Why the urgency?"

Berthier stood, he went to a decanter sitting on a table nearby and poured a glass of brandy, he lifted the glass in Ney's direction. "You must be thirsty after such a hard ride."

Ney took the offered drink and gruffly thanked his fellow marshal. Then he looked down at the maps on the table in front of him.

"So the Prussians are in the east and Wellington sits astride the road to Brussels, what is my assignment?"

Both men turned as the voice of Napoléon overrode that of Ney, "My dear Ney, nice of you to join us."

Ney's face went even redder than usual, "Sire, I ..."

Napoléon raised his hand and smiled gently, "I don't have a job for you as yet, perhaps the Guard as Maréchal Mortier is unable to take the field, his back you know."

"The Guard? I've never ... What about either of my old corps, the III ..."

"Commanded by Vandamme."

"The VI ..."

"Mouton has that command, besides which, it is a smallish unit, barely a corps. The Guard seems more suited to your talents." Napoléon watched Ney's reaction.

"Well, um, I'm honored Sire, but the Guard rarely fights and ..."

"On this campaign, every man fights Ney. I will knock the Prussians back on Liege, no doubt the Guard will be called upon there. Then when I turn on Wellington, to inflict the coup de grâce on this latest coalition, the Guard will be there at the kill. Still hesitant?"

"But Sire, I had hoped for ..."

"What Ney? An independent command? Like you had in Spain? You didn't exactly cover yourself in glory there, now did you? Or as a Peer of France, as Louis named you, do you feel the command of my Guard is beneath you?"

Ney looked at the Emperor, he knew he was on dangerous ground. Many in the army never forgave him for leading the "Marshals Revolt" which led to the Emperor's abdication in 1814 Many considered him, if not quite a royalist, then a turncoat, willing to sell his talents to whoever was then in charge.

Ney bowed his head, "Forgive me, Sire. I will go where you send me, I will fight whomsoever you point me at. To the death ..."

Napoléon clapped both hands on Ney's shoulders, "Excellent."

Turning to Berthier, he saw that his chief of staff was already formulating the orders appointing Michel Ney commander of the Imperial Guard. He wondered if he would have cause to regret such an assignment. The Guard was his trump card, only to be thrown in to recover a losing battle, or do put the seal on a victory. The Guard attacked, Ney understood attacking, and he was damned good at it.

"Berthier, see to the arrangements. Ney, dine with me tonight, won't you?"

"Certainly, Sire."

¹ Napoleon I Bonaparte at the bivouacs on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo in 1815. The artist, de Breville, went by his initials "JOB." In French when one has a pseudonym, that pseudonym is preceded by the word "dit," which means "known as." So in English it would be "Jacques Marie Gaston Onfray de Breville known as JOB." Similar to how we use "aka" in English, "also known as."

² In point of fact, Berthier died on the 1st of June 1815, a fall from a window killed him, whether he fell or was pushed remains open to debate. But had he stayed home, he would have died. At least that's what happened in reality.

³ Napoléon insisted that his non-commissioned officers be able to read, only in extraordinary circumstances would a man be promoted if he was illiterate, then his regiment would undertake to teach him to read, write, and do simple arithmetic.

⁴ The Traveler (Marshal Ney on horseback battling the wind)

⁵ Various meanings, "the ruddy" or "the redhead." French troops nickname for Michel Ney, also known as "the bravest of the brave" by many.

Editor's Note: So my moratorium on historical fiction didn't last long, did it?

More Stealth is good Stealth

Well folks, there I was...a little bit burned out on Medal of Honor stories.  I have a lot of respect for those guys, many of whom did not survive. But I was having trouble keeping the story and facts straight. So I took a break and started putzing around on my laptop looking for something I could use to entertain myself or maybe find a new subject to discuss on Sarge's Blog. Fortunately, I found a little of both.

 

Artist conception of a 6th generation fighter

Source

As many of you are aware, our current, newest, Air Superiority fighter, the F-22 and the newest Strike fighter (primary mission is air to ground but has air to air capability), the F-35, are Fifth Generation Fighters. The Eagle is Fourth Generation and a bit long in the tooth, but her air to air kill ratio is 105-0. So gotta love her.

F-15D 

Source

 

 As I've mentioned here before, back in the day, my name was on the canopy rail of that exact F-15.  Miss her I do.

 

While that Eagle and many of her sisters are still flying, what has become known as the "5th generation fighters" have become the backbone fighter force in the Air Force.

 

F-22

Source 

 

 

The F-22 and the F-35 both are operational fighters now. "Operational Fighters" is the terminology to describe the fact that they are currently handling "Real World" missions.  However, due to budget considerations, the F-22 fleet, which had been planned for 600ish jets, is currently limited to 183. 

 

 

 

F-35 

Source

 

 

The F-35 fleet has, at the time of this writing, 883 jets.

 

And recently, the first of the 6th Generation fighters has started to be developed and is expected to  become operational starting in 2029. The number of jets of this next generation to be built under the plan  is 185.  Seems a bit small to me, but I'm sure they are hideously expensive.  Hopefully, they are equally extremely capable.

 

I now have a very good idea how my father felt when I told him I was going to be flying the F-15.  He had been an F-86D pilot. 

 

Source

My how time has passed!  Quite a difference wouldn’t you say?

Source

 

 We shall see what will be.  Peace out y'all.

 

 

 Addendum: Regular reader and commenter Nylon found an additional fighter being developed an F-15X. Info here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boeing_F-15EX_Eagle_II

 

 

 

Sources

https://militarymachine.com/f-47-ngad-sixth-generation-fighter

https://aviationnews.eu/news/2025/07/meet-the-f%e2%80%9147-americas-sixth%e2%80%91gen-stealth-fighter/

https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/screen-shot-2020-09-15-at-12-31-41-pm-1600198341.png?crop=1xw:0.887120651369356xh;center,top&resize=1200:*

https://simpleflying.com/how-many-f-35s-in-service/ 

https://www.militaryupdate.net/2025/09/how-many-f-22-raptors-does-us-have.html 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boeing_F-47

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/456th_Fighter-Interceptor_Squadron 

 

 

 

She Was a Good Dog ...

Kodi
OAFS Photo

The Nuke called me around eight o'clock Monday morning, she was on her way to the veterinarian as one of her dogs, one of our granddogs, had collapsed that morning and her prognosis didn't look good. When the vet's office tells you that they would try and keep your four-legged family member alive until you get there, that's not good.

Our dear granddog, Kodi, passed before The Nuke could get there.

We are devastated. Kodi, and her sister Bear, have been so much a part of our family for over a decade that it feels as if an important part of our lives has been ripped away.

Kodi patrolling grandma's garden a few years back.

OAFS Photo

Kodi and her sister Bear.
OAFS Photo

We're really worried about how Bear is going to react to Kodi's absence, the two have been inseparable for Kodi's entire life (Bear is a year older than Kodi). Bear always looks for Kodi when she's off at the vet's office or even if she's just sleeping in another part of the house.

Kodi on her Throne at Grandma's House
OAFS Photo

Kodi and Bear
It is dinner time, is it not?
OAFS Photo

Kodi, probably looking for Bear
OAFS Photo

Kodi checking for crumbs
(The grandkids had just had snacks in the living room.)
OAFS Photo

Kodi inspecting the lawn.
(Shouldn't you cut this, Grandpa?)
OAFS Photo

The last time we visited Maryland, two weeks ago, when I was petting Kodi, I told her to hang in there as long as she could.

Lord knows, she tried.

She was a good dog.

We will all miss her so much.

Sleep, dear Kodi, we'll see you again some day ...

Donald J. Gott MOH & William E. Metzger Jr. MOH

Ok, Folks, this post tells the story of a Dual Issue of the Medal of Honor to two members of the same crew.   I'm sure there may be other times when the Medal was  issued to ground soldiers or naval sailors from the same unit who may have been both issued it, but dual award for aircrews are few and far between. There are a few and they will be covered also. So, here goes.

Lt Metzger (L) and Lt Gott (R) as they would look if you saw them from the front of the B-17 Source

 

In any case, the date is 9 November 1944 and the USAAF is attacking  Saarbrücken Germany.  A B-17 commanded by 1Lt Donald J. Gott and co-pilot 2LT William E. Metzger is on its bombing run when it is hit by Anti-Aircraft Artillery (AKA Triple A). 3 of it's engines are no longer useable and one is on fire.  This is especially dangerous as aviation gasoline is extremely flammable and since they are over the target, they still have at least half a load of gas, plus reserve. Several of the crew members were injured and the radio operator had lost an arm.  Lt Gott  and Lt Metzger decided that the best case scenario was to find a place in hopefully friendly territory where they could crash land and be rescued by friendly forces. (Given that they'd just bombed the target that was under them the populace below might not be in a charitable mood to treat them kindly.)

So, after dropping their bombs they exited the target area and found a friendlier area where the rest of the crew could safely bail out and did. 

 Lt Gott and Lt Metzger stayed on board and treated the radio operator while looking for a crash landing site.   Unfortunately, as the were approaching a field that looked like an acceptable landing site, at about 100' AGL (above ground level), the fire burned through the control cables and the bomber crashed killing them.  Adding to the tragic event, when one of the crew had bailed out, his parachute became caught on the horizontal stabilizer (the horizontal control that made the plane go up and down).  He evidently couldn't free himself and also died in the crash.  

Both Lt Gott and Lt Metzger were posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for their actions. 

 

Source

Citation of the Award of the Medal of Honor to 1Lt Donald J Gott

In a bombing run upon the marshaling yards at Saarbrücken a B-17 aircraft piloted by 1st. Lt. Gott was seriously damaged by antiaircraft fire. Three of the aircraft's engines were damaged beyond control and on fire; dangerous flames from the No. 4 engine were leaping back as far as the tail assembly. Flares in the cockpit were ignited and a fire raged therein, which was further increased by free-flowing fluid from damaged hydraulic lines. The interphone system was rendered useless. In addition to these serious mechanical difficulties the engineer was wounded in the leg and the radio operator's arm was severed below the elbow. Suffering from intense pain, despite the application of a tourniquet, the radio operator fell unconscious. Faced with the imminent explosion of his aircraft, and death to his entire crew, mere seconds before bombs away on the target, 1st. Lt. Gott and his copilot conferred. Something had to be done immediately to save the life of the wounded radio operator. The lack of a static line and the thought that his unconscious body striking the ground in unknown territory would not bring immediate medical attention forced a quick decision. 1st. Lt. Gott and his copilot decided to fly the flaming aircraft to friendly territory and then attempt to crash land. Bombs were released on the target and the crippled aircraft proceeded alone to Allied-controlled territory. When that had been reached, 1st. Lt. Gott had the copilot personally inform all crewmembers to bail out. The copilot chose to remain with 1st. Lt. Gott in order to assist in landing the bomber. With only one normally functioning engine, and with the danger of explosion much greater, the aircraft banked into an open field, and when it was at an altitude of 100 feet it exploded, crashed, exploded again and then disintegrated. All 3 crew members were instantly killed. 1st. Lt. Gott's loyalty to his crew, his determination to accomplish the task set forth to him, and his deed of knowingly performing what may have been his last service to his country was an example of valor at its highest.

 

Citation of the Award of the Medal of Honor to 2Lt William E Metzger   

On a bombing run upon the marshaling yards at Saarbrücken, Germany, on 9 November 1944, a B17 aircraft on which 2d Lt. Metzger was serving as copilot was seriously damaged by antiaircraft fire Three of the aircraft's engines were damaged beyond control and on fire; dangerous flames from the No. 4 engine were leaping back as far as the tail assembly (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tail_assembly). Flares in the cockpit were ignited and a fire roared therein which was further increased by free-flowing fluid from damaged hydraulic lines. The interphone was rendered useless. In addition to these serious mechanical difficulties the engineer was wounded in the leg and the radio operator's arm was severed below the elbow. Suffering from intense pain, despite the application of a tourniquet (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tourniquet), the radio operator fell unconscious. Faced with the imminent explosion of his aircraft and death to his entire crew, mere seconds before bombs away on the target, 2d Lt. Metzger and his pilot conferred. Something had to be done immediately to save the life of the wounded radio operator. The lack of a static line and the thought that his unconscious body striking the ground in unknown territory would not bring immediate medical attention forced a quick decision. 2d Lt. Metzger and his pilot decided to fly the flaming aircraft to friendly territory and then attempt to crash land. Bombs were released on the target and the crippled aircraft proceeded along to Allied-controlled territory. When that had been reached 2d Lt. Metzger personally informed all crewmembers to bail out upon the suggestion of the pilot. 2d Lt. Metzger chose to remain with the pilot for the crash landing in order to assist him in this emergency. With only 1 normally functioning engine and with the danger of explosion much greater, the aircraft banked into an open field, and when it was at an altitude of 100 feet it exploded, crashed, exploded again, and then disintegrated. All 3 crewmembers were instantly killed. 2d Lt. Metzger's loyalty to his crew, his determination to accomplish the task set forth to him, and his deed of knowingly performing what may have been his last service to his country was an example of valor at its highest.

 

References

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donald_J._Gott

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_E._Metzger_Jr. 

https://www.uswarmemorials.org/html/monument_details.php?SiteID=755&MemID=1046 

https://www.thisdayinaviation.com/medal-of-honor-first-lieutenant-donald-j-gott-united-states-army-air-corps/ 

https://www.ghostsofthebattlefield.org/medal-of-honor/medal-of-honor-donald-j-gott-world-war-ii-air-mission-november-9-1944 

https://www.taraross.com/post/tdih-metzger-gott-moh