"The first time your bombers came over Hanover, escorted by fighters, I began to be worried. When they came with fighter escort over Berlin - I knew the jig was up." ~ Hermann Göring, when asked postwar when he finally realized the war was lost.
1600 hrs. Saturday, March 4, 1944. 26-year-old 4th Fighter Group commander Lt. Col. Donald J. M. Blakeslee, of Fairport Harbor, Ohio, in his P-51B Mustang at Debden, Essex just after shutting down upon returning from the five and a half hour round trip leading the escorting fighters providing target support for the first American bombing strike on Berlin.
But the mission’s overall success for the group (four enemy fighters were destroyed) was tempered a bit in the colonel's eyes. During the wild dogfighting near the target Blakeslee had lined up on a Bf 109 for a sure victory - but his guns wouldn’t fire. Jammed! "I pulled up right beside him," he told those gathered around after whipping his Mustang into it's parking spot in a blast pen near the 335th Fighter Squadron headquarters, "and looked at the dumb sap. He must have thought I was crazy!"
He was promoted to full colonel 4 days later.
Don Blakeslee was not unlike other top commanders in the Mighty Eighth as an effective leader of fighter pilots, but his vast combat experience beginning with the Royal Canadian Air Force and Royal Air Force as an American volunteer, coupled with a natural aggression and unique gift for inspiration, dogged endurance, and a remarkable ability to manage the overall complex battle scene from his cockpit placed him in rarified air with the brass. He had long been promised the leadership of the first Berlin escort mission - and in the meantime was frequently chosen to lead newly arrived groups on their first few missions …
"He was of medium height and build, with wavy brown hair, and pinned you with a penetrating gaze from steel-gray eyes which, if not accompanied by a smile, made one decidedly uncomfortable. He was all business … I’ve often wondered which scared us most on that first mission, meeting the Germans or displeasing Col. Blakeslee." ~ Lt. Col. Richard E. Turner, 354th Fighter Group ace, in his book, Big Friend, Little Friend.
Col. Blakeslee and his 'Debden Eagles,' along with an attached squadron from the 352nd Fighter Group, were tapped to pick up on relay and escort a force of 8th Air Force B-17s which had bombed Germany and were due to continue eastward and land in Russia as part of a prearranged cooperation program with the Soviets. From there, the force would slowly make their way back to England via bases and targets in ten countries over 29+ hours of operational time and 6,000 miles of flying. His leadership of the fighters during the two week "Shuttle" mission known as Operation FRANTIC II resulted in his second award of the Distinguished Service Cross (now called the Air Force Cross).
His own pilots were expected to fly and fight hard, and that they did, both in the air and on the deck attacking enemy ground targets. Seemingly laced together with steel cables, as one described him, Blakeslee's energy and aggressive nature were inspirations and examples to his men. An enigmatic figure and "Type A" before the term was coined, he is perhaps best described by a man who knew him well and watched him daily as part of his job:
"Blakeslee flew more missions and fought the Luftwaffe longer than any other American pilot. He had more than 1,000 hours of combat operations and a total of between 400 and 500 missions. Other pilots went home for rehabilitation leave when they completed 200 or 300 hours. Blakeslee didn't because home to him was the cockpit of his plane. Blakeslee had been in it so long that one day Corporal John Cowman, of Sapuba, Oklahoma, looked out of the window at the planes parked in the gray mist and mused, 'I guess Col. Don must have been born under one of those planes …'
“If, as they say, an institution is but the lengthened shadow of a man, the 4th Group can be explained in terms of Don Blakeslee. In the first place, being a fighter pilot was like nothing else in the war. It could yield an exhilaration such as an infantry man couldn't get from firing a bazooka into Hitler's mouth. One day the group was racing back to Debden after leaving 50 German planes burning and exploding on the ground. A transmitter button got stuck and the pilot didn't know the whole group was listening to him talk to himself. His soliloquy buzzed in the earphones of the other pilots, irritating as a snorer's wheeze. They could hear his panting breath as he mumbled ecstatically: ‘Gee those kites really burned ... Yes, they sure as hell really burned ... Hah, hah, hah, I sure had a good day today ... Yes sir ... Those bastard planes really burned ... I looked pretty sharp on that last pass ... Hah hah, hah ... Say, that Me 109 looked like a PT-19 ... Boy, whatta day I had today.'
“Doubtless, this same pilot was tight-lipped and reticent when the intelligence officer interrogated him, possibly saying, 'Nothing much - just a lot of flak.' But inside he was jumping with lumpy excitement. Blakeslee spoke for himself and for the 4th Group's star performers when he said:
“‘We love fighting. Fighting is a grand sport.'
“Can you imagine a bomber pilot, an infantryman or a medic saying that fighting was a 'grand sport'? Their only thrill came with surviving another day's combat. The fighter pilot, Blakeslee in particular, found dogfighting six miles above the earth about the same as knights jousting and breaking lances before the ladies of the court in a tournament. At 7am a Debden pilot might be eating fresh eggs and reading the Daily Express; at 9am diving on a Focke-Wulf atop a cumulus cloud at 600 m.p.h. and splintering him; at 8pm standing in the glitter of the bar at the Savoy Hotel in London telling his Goat friend how he did it …" ~ Capt. Grover C. Hall, Jr., wartime 4th Fighter Group Public Relations Officer, in his 1946 book, 1000 Destroyed ~ The Life & Times of the 4th Fighter Group.
‘Col. Don’ Blakeslee retired from the Air Force in 1965 and passed away in 2008 at age 90.
Completed 2017
Collection of Gary Joiner
"The first time your bombers came over Hanover, escorted by fighters, I began to be worried. When they came with fighter escort over Berlin - I knew the jig was up."
~ Hermann Göring, when asked postwar when he finally realized the war was lost.
1600 hrs. Saturday, March 4, 1944. 26-year-old 4th Fighter Group commander Lt. Col. Donald J. M. Blakeslee, of Fairport Harbor, Ohio, in his P-51B Mustang at Debden, Essex just after shutting down upon returning from the five and a half hour round trip leading the escorting fighters providing target support for the first American bombing strike on Berlin.
But the mission’s overall success for the group (four enemy fighters were destroyed) was tempered a bit in the colonel's eyes. During the wild dogfighting near the target Blakeslee had lined up on a Bf 109 for a sure victory - but his guns wouldn’t fire. Jammed! "I pulled up right beside him," he told those gathered around after whipping his Mustang into it's parking spot in a blast pen near the 335th Fighter Squadron headquarters, "and looked at the dumb sap. He must have thought I was crazy!"
He was promoted to full colonel 4 days later.
Don Blakeslee was not unlike other top commanders in the Mighty Eighth as an effective leader of fighter pilots, but his vast combat experience beginning with the Royal Canadian Air Force and Royal Air Force as an American volunteer, coupled with a natural aggression and unique gift for inspiration, dogged endurance, and a remarkable ability to manage the overall complex battle scene from his cockpit placed him in rarified air with the brass. He had long been promised the leadership of the first Berlin escort mission - and in the meantime was frequently chosen to lead newly arrived groups on their first few missions …
"He was of medium height and build, with wavy brown hair, and pinned you with a penetrating gaze from steel-gray eyes which, if not accompanied by a smile, made one decidedly uncomfortable. He was all business … I’ve often wondered which scared us most on that first mission, meeting the Germans or displeasing Col. Blakeslee."
~ Lt. Col. Richard E. Turner, 354th Fighter Group ace, in his book, Big Friend, Little Friend.
Col. Blakeslee and his 'Debden Eagles,' along with an attached squadron from the 352nd Fighter Group, were tapped to pick up on relay and escort a force of 8th Air Force B-17s which had bombed Germany and were due to continue eastward and land in Russia as part of a prearranged cooperation program with the Soviets. From there, the force would slowly make their way back to England via bases and targets in ten countries over 29+ hours of operational time and 6,000 miles of flying. His leadership of the fighters during the two week "Shuttle" mission known as Operation FRANTIC II resulted in his second award of the Distinguished Service Cross (now called the Air Force Cross).
His own pilots were expected to fly and fight hard, and that they did, both in the air and on the deck attacking enemy ground targets. Seemingly laced together with steel cables, as one described him, Blakeslee's energy and aggressive nature were inspirations and examples to his men. An enigmatic figure and "Type A" before the term was coined, he is perhaps best described by a man who knew him well and watched him daily as part of his job:
"Blakeslee flew more missions and fought the Luftwaffe longer than any other American pilot. He had more than 1,000 hours of combat operations and a total of between 400 and 500 missions. Other pilots went home for rehabilitation leave when they completed 200 or 300 hours. Blakeslee didn't because home to him was the cockpit of his plane. Blakeslee had been in it so long that one day Corporal John Cowman, of Sapuba, Oklahoma, looked out of the window at the planes parked in the gray mist and mused, 'I guess Col. Don must have been born under one of those planes …'
“If, as they say, an institution is but the lengthened shadow of a man, the 4th Group can be explained in terms of Don Blakeslee. In the first place, being a fighter pilot was like nothing else in the war. It could yield an exhilaration such as an infantry man couldn't get from firing a bazooka into Hitler's mouth. One day the group was racing back to Debden after leaving 50 German planes burning and exploding on the ground. A transmitter button got stuck and the pilot didn't know the whole group was listening to him talk to himself. His soliloquy buzzed in the earphones of the other pilots, irritating as a snorer's wheeze. They could hear his panting breath as he mumbled ecstatically: ‘Gee those kites really burned ... Yes, they sure as hell really burned ... Hah, hah, hah, I sure had a good day today ... Yes sir ... Those bastard planes really burned ... I looked pretty sharp on that last pass ... Hah hah, hah ... Say, that Me 109 looked like a PT-19 ... Boy, whatta day I had today.'
“Doubtless, this same pilot was tight-lipped and reticent when the intelligence officer interrogated him, possibly saying, 'Nothing much - just a lot of flak.' But inside he was jumping with lumpy excitement. Blakeslee spoke for himself and for the 4th Group's star performers when he said:
“‘We love fighting. Fighting is a grand sport.'
“Can you imagine a bomber pilot, an infantryman or a medic saying that fighting was a 'grand sport'? Their only thrill came with surviving another day's combat. The fighter pilot, Blakeslee in particular, found dogfighting six miles above the earth about the same as knights jousting and breaking lances before the ladies of the court in a tournament. At 7am a Debden pilot might be eating fresh eggs and reading the Daily Express; at 9am diving on a Focke-Wulf atop a cumulus cloud at 600 m.p.h. and splintering him; at 8pm standing in the glitter of the bar at the Savoy Hotel in London telling his Goat friend how he did it …"
~ Capt. Grover C. Hall, Jr., wartime 4th Fighter Group Public Relations Officer, in his 1946 book, 1000 Destroyed ~ The Life & Times of the 4th Fighter Group.
‘Col. Don’ Blakeslee retired from the Air Force in 1965 and passed away in 2008 at age 90.