EVERY FIGHTER THAT FLEW A B-17 THANKED THE LORD FOR THEIR PROFICIENT GROUND CREWS... In the heart of the battlefield, amidst the roar of engines and the thunder of bombs, their unwavering dedication was the bloody Hundredth's lifeline. They toiled in the shadows, unseen but never forgotten; their hands shaping the fate of missions and the lives of comrades. With each takeoff, each perilous journey into the unknown, their expertise was an armor, their commitment a shield. In the face of adversity, they were the unsung heroes, the silent champions of the skies. To them, the soldiers owed not just gratitude, but also their very lives.
For every breath they took in freedom's air, they whispered thanks to those whose hands kept the wings aloft. Their sacrifice, their resolve, their unwavering devotion — it was the cornerstone of the Bomb Group's courage, the foundation of their victories. Despite all of this, there was no glory in what they did... No medals were handed out for patching flak holes, or rebuilding carburetors. It were the crew chiefs that were responsible for keeping the planes up in the air on any given commission, which meant that they were also responsible for the lives of dozens of men.
And the best, most competent of them all was Corporal Ken Lemmons, who was no more than 19 years of age. In the crucible of war, his presence was the beacon of hope, guiding all the aircrewmen home through the storm. It was common knowledge to every man that ever flew a B-17 that without ground crews, they were nothing but metal birds — grounded and helpless. Major l/n, in particular made it a point to openly appreciate their hard work before every mission. Slowly the others too began practicing unconditional gratitude, lifting their voices in solemn tribute, honoring their memory with each flight, for they were the guardians of our skies.
