Former B-17 pilot reflects on World War II, D-Day

• A local World War II vet flew 35 missions over German-occupied Europe during World War II
• Two of the missions, both bombing runs, occurred on D-Day
• The pilot, who lives in Etna, received a Purple Heart after being hit by flak on one run

ETNA – Richard "Dick" Harvey still keeps a small, leather-bound book detailing each of his 35 missions over German-occupied Europe during World War II.

A handwritten note from June 6, 1944 simply reads, "June 6 Caen invasion." Another note from the same day reads, "June 6 Falaise."

Harvey, of Etna, flew both missions in support of the D-Day invasion, and he does not need his leather-bound book to remember details from the flights over France, in addition to details from his 33 other flights during the war.

Harvey, 93, piloted a Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress in the United States Army Air Force 336th Bomb Squadron — 95th Bomb Group.

His mission and the mission of his crew was to drop bombs on strategic sites, such as German-controlled oil refineries and bridges.

Harvey can talk at length about his service during World War II, but the humble, retired farmer does not do so very often. He still gets emotional talking about the friends he lost, both to injury and to death, and the hard-to fathom things he saw while piloting the heavy bomber high above the European theater.

The United States lost nearly 40,000 aircraft in Europe during World War II, but Harvey's easy-target-of-a-plane — the B-17 measured more than 74 feet in length, with a wingspan of more than 103 feet, and flew no more than 300 mph — never fell from the sky. He credits his mother for that fact.

During one bombing mission, Harvey looked out his window and saw a German Focke-Wulf Fw 190 fighter headed right at his plane.

"I didn't even have enough time to notify the gunners," said Harvey, referencing the 13 .50-caliber guns in his plane, which housed he and his co-pilot and eight other crewmen. "I saw him coming, and his guns were pointed right at us. I don't know why he didn't shoot at us. If he did, my mother's prayers were answered and the bullets went somewhere else."

On another mission, Harvey watched incredulously as another B-17 in his formation was hit by anti-aircraft fire.

"I saw right out past the wing the airplane was just a ball of flames flying through the air," he said. "Then it was gone."

Harvey spent his flights focused on the other pilots flying in close formation. One distraction could have proven deadly.

"You don't have a brake up there," he said matter of factly.

That is why Harvey did not notice all the blood around him when two nearby crewmen were hit with flak on one mission.

One of them nearly lost his arm, and he was sent home.

"The day those two fellas were shot up the front looked like a slaughter house, but I didn't even notice it until we got back," he said.

Harvey also does not have many memories of D-Day, save for the fact it was one of the few days he did not have to worry about anti-aircraft fire exploding around his plane or German fighter planes trying to knock him out of the sky.

"The men all saw the boats down there (below us), but I never saw one because I was flying in formation," he said. "I never saw the men at all, just the other guys we were flying off of (that day)."

Harvey's focus did not go unnoticed by his crewmen.

Save for Harvey, they are all deceased now, but Harvey's wife, Margaret, 89, met a few of them during mini-reunions when they were still alive.

"One of them said they saw him tightly holding onto all his different instruments, and his hands were sweating despite the freezing (air) temperatures," she said. "They all said it was because of him they got home."

Upon hearing the story, Harvey laughed and in his own self-effacing way and attempted to deflect any credit.

"I said 'I wasn't bringing you home. I was trying to go home.'" he joked.

Harvey, who flew the majority of the time, with his co-pilot flying the remaining time, completed all but one mission. On that mission, an impenetrably-thick fog made it impossible for he and his crew to see their target in German-controlled territory, so they returned with their full bomb payload.

Still, he endured multiple close calls. Many of them involved anti-aircraft flak fired by ground-based German cannons.

On more than one occasion, flak narrowly missed the plane.

"The flak is that close," he said. "It's just a split second, and if you took a direct hit you would blow up mid air."

On July 31, 1944, Harvey flew to Munich on a bombing run, and flak penetrated his window and hit him in the leg.

His crew patched him up, and he flew home and spent two weeks on medical leave before returning to his crew.

He ultimately received the Purple Heart. He also received the Air Medal and Distinguished Flying Cross during his stint in Europe.

He flew his last mission on Sept. 3, 1944 over Brest in northwest France.

His journal notes his unadulterated joy at reaching the 35-mission limit at which all pilots and crews were sent home.

It reads, "35 — Brest — French port yippee finished."

Harvey spent three weeks in Miami upon returning to the United States, but he missed Ohio and asked to be stationed at Lockbourne Air Force Base, which became Rickenbacker Air Force Base in 1974.

He worked as a flight instructor there until his discharge in August of 1945.

After leaving the military, Harvey used the G.I. Bill to attend The Ohio State University, and it just so happened his future wife, Margaret, was his sister's roommate. They met on the first day of classes and fell in love.

They have been married 68 years, have five children and 15 grandchildren and still live on the same farm he and his father bought in 1947 in Etna.

Harvey now keeps most of his World War II memorabilia boxed up, but it is impossible not to notice the picture of the B-17 hanging on the wall of his living room. A hand-carved wood model of another B-17 stands on a mantle.

Looking back at his time flying over Europe, Harvey can't help but shake his head when referencing a conversation he had with his mother prior to his enlistment.

"Before I went in, I came home one night, and they said there had been 1,000 bombs dropped over Europe that night," he remembered. "I talked to my mother, and said the war would be over before I got there, but it wasn't. Not even close."