The Tenth Mission - Part IV - Into Switzerland

One of the boys became very moody and tired. I had spent a few days with his family and lovely fiancee, so tried to goad him out of it. One day he said, "Oh, to hell with it. Give me your gun and I'll shoot myself. I can't go on any further.

Later on he sat down and refused to get up. He said, "Go, and let me die." I told him that I couldn't go home and tell his mother and fiancee that I just left him alive up here. I cocked my 45 and handed it to him and said, "Either shoot yourself or I'll do it for you. At least your family will know you didn't suffer."

He became very abusive, hollering, "You think you're so darned smart, want to run everything, tell everybody what to do!" In the meantime, Ken started to move off. The fellow got up and followed. My psychology worked. He got so mad at me that he forgot himself.

I'd like to have you believe I'm a tough guy, but you know, there wasn't a clip in the gun.

After we crossed the border, we knew we weren't out of danger. I had read about a German patrol crossing ten miles into Switzerland to pick up an escaping crew. Illegal, but they did it. Also, at this stage of the war, you'd better hope the German military picked you up, and not civilians. The civilians were so angry towards air crews that many were killed by the town's people upon landing.

My third worst moment came when, as we descended a steep cliff, Ken (he always led and I brought up the rear) all of a sudden lost his footing. He disappeared from view. When I could get to where I could see him, he was waving at me from 500 or 600 feet down the mountainside. We slowly descended, and when we reached him, I asked if he was okay. He said, "Yes, I just banged up a knee a little." Another of God's miracles. I sat down and shook for five minutes.

We all tied ourselves together with shroud lines, and agreed if we were going to go, we all would.

This was the low point of the ordeal for me. I don't think that I could have taken another full day. At that point I truthfully didn't know how many days had elapsed since bailing out. I had lost count of days and hours and was mentally disoriented. Except for things like the compass. With the compass I somehow miraculously maintained amazing clear mental processes. Maybe a psychiatrist could explain it. I can't!

My bad or low point was fortunately short-lived. Less than ten minutes later, Ken whooped, "Look, a building!" Sure enough. There was a building almost a half a mile away. It was obviously another ski lodge. It was quite dark by the time we got down to it and found it shuttered with a metal plate bolted over the lock.

Ken crawled up on the veranda, and using the approved "Lannigan method of illegal entry," opened the door. (Incidentally an American team inspected the damage and reimbursed the Swiss for this because we reported it in full.) Ken opened the front door, and we flopped in.

We immediately built a fire, but as usual, the chimney was covered and all it did was smoke. Ken went out (where he got the energy I'll never know), crawled up, uncovered the chimney, and then promptly fell off the steep roof into a fifteen foot snowbank. He came out laughing. But I was again about to shake apart. I said, "If I ever get to make delivery of you into your loving mother's arms, I hope to never see you again. My poor, old, tired body has taken about all your theatrics I can stand for one day." Supporting each other, we staggered inside the lodge and collapsed beside the other already asleep boys.

Ken and I awoke about the same time. The fire was burning brightly. We gathered mattresses and blankets from the sleeping lofts and put them in front of the fire, and then we went reconnoitering.

The dining room and kitchen shelves were bare, but leading off the kitchen were a couple of steps down and a metal barred door. We got the fireplace poker and a piece of wood, finally prying it open.

Ken let out his famous whoop, an insulated root cellar pantry - with enough food for an army. Canned venison, sausages, potatoes, rice, onions, oatmeal, canned milk. I sat down on the steps, emotionally and physically drained. I cried like a baby.

Ken said, "Why, you wild Irishman, you're not as tough as you'd like everybody to believe, are you?"

I said, "Ken, if I'd have had to go another mile today, tomorrow or ever, I don't think I could have done it." He put his hand on my shoulder, and in a quiet voice said, "Me either buddy." This, to my best estimates by working in reverse, was about the 18th day after bailing out.

Well, Army doctors told me later that they didn't know why we didn't all die from the way we gorged ourselves the next three or four days. We slept and ate.

By my map I figured we weren't far from civilization, so we packed only light lunches and started off. Within an hour we saw other habitations a few miles down the mountain side. Suddenly I saw an unusual sight. Three men in green even-pointed hats with feathers were coming up a trail. They didn't see us. I could tell there were wearing official uniforms of some type, so we decided to ditch our weapons, and avoid any problems that way. Soon the men came over a rise and we were face to face. Their leader threw up his arm and said, "Velcome to Switzerland! For you the Var is over."

The Tenth Mission - Part III - The Bailout

The snowflakes and I floated through the darkness together in an unreal detached sort of atmosphere. It was growing dusk. I lit hard, and gusty winds blowing the chute pulled me along the ground. Grasping the bottom shroud lines, I pulled them towards me. I finally tripped the chute - only to have it again get away from my snow-soaked mittens to take me sledding in the snow some more. I again got to the silk, and this time dived in the middle of it.

Laying there gasping for breath and for the second time that day, a chill gripped me. Looking about I realized that I was 15 feet from a rocky precipice that looked bottomless.

I finally stood up shaking and sweating. Looking around, I discovered that I was in mountainous country; deep snow, no trees, just rocky juts here and there and a lot of swirling snow. I took out my 45 and fired the lost signal - three quick shots because I couldn't think of anything else to do. I lay down to remove my "Mae West" inflatable life jacket and parachute harness. Time to take stock.

I had on the best cold weather clothing money could buy; wool underwear, OD's, an electric flight suit, fleece-lined coat, electric heated slippers and fleece-lined boots. Being a charter member of the 'live by the book' club, my GI shoes were tied tightly to my belt.

The parachute is the best piece of survival equipment there is- warm, wind resistant, easily dried and light weight. I had the 45 caliber pistol holster and belt, 15 rounds of ammo and a trench knife, a K ration and one-half, and a couple of packs of Raleigh's (why, I don't know as I've always been a non-smoker). I had an Air Force escape kit which contained 44 dollars in greenbacks, matches, fish hooks, dextrose tablets, and 11 x8 inch map of Europe (worthless that was), morphine syrette and a mickey-mouse size compass.

It was rapidly turning from dusk to pitch black. I was startled by a noise made behind me and turned rapidly. Had I made a choice under those particular circumstances to share the ordeal to come, I would have picked Ken Hoffman of Mollala, Oregon. Ken was raised very much as I was, but was an ancient 22 year-old infinite wisdom.

We hugged each other like Russian brothers; tears streaming down both our cheeks.

"Ken, what are we going to do?" I asked. By now the snow was swirling hard. Almost a blizzard.

"Well," Ken said, "we can go for a walk and walk off one of those cliffs you almost took a quick trip off, or we can find a little shelter, hole up, and think this out."

It wasn't a tough decision. We found a rocky ledge on the wind side, spread one chute on the ground and covered ourselves with the other.

I asked , "Are you okay?" Ken said , "Yes, but I couldn't save a thing except my clothing, the chute and my escape kit. I was so busy on that darned radio, I had no jump preparation time....even lost my cigarettes on the way down."

"Pal," I said, "you chose the right traveling companion," and dug him out the 40 smokes plus 8 from the K rations. He said, "Even before this added incentive, had I a choice of a traveling companion, you'd have been it."

Dinner was a half can of cheese apiece from my K ration. We tried to sleep but the blizzard increased and howled in fury. That night time seemed to stand still. After what seemed an eternity, daylight arrived.

We started to walk through waist-deep snow in the only direction possible - away from the cliffs. Numb and exhausted, all we could do was just keep trudging. We wore our chutes wrapped about our heads looking like Arabs - the swirling snow changing the terrain by the minute.

Western Union telegram to Ralph L. Lannigan, Bonners Ferry, Idaho
THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS HIS DEEP REGRET THAT YOUR SON STAFF SERGEANT ARDEN L LANNIGAN HAS BEEN REPORTED MISSING IN ACTION SINCE FIVE FEBRUARY OVER AUSTRIA IF FURTHER DETAILS OR OTHER INFORMATION ARE RECEIVED YOU WILL BE PROMPTLY NOTIFIED. J A ULIO THE ADJUTANT GENERAL

I lost track of time, even days. One afternoon we sighted a building. The chimneys were covered and it looked deserted. An altitude marker showed metric measurements and I was alert enough to transpose it into slightly over 12,000 feet.

A ski lodge - which we warily approached. The door was locked and the windows were heavily shuttered. Naturally Ken asked, "Now what?"

I said, "I think I happen to have the key." I took out my 45. Ken said, "God no. If we're in enemy country, you'll bring every German for miles around." I asked, "Any other ideas?" He resignedly stepped aside and said, "No."

Splinters flew and the door blew open. Ad our eyes became accustomed to the darkness after the brilliant snow, I looked above what was obviously the front receiving counter of the ski lodge hotel. There hung a 5x5 foot picture of Adolf Hitler with a beautiful swastika flag draped over it. I suddenly know who had uttered those questionable words on the announcement of the third swing over the target as I heard myself again say, "Oh God."

Later, and here I apologize for lack of chronological accuracy....we heard a shout and went cautiously to the door to see coming, from a quarter of a mile away, two more of our air crewmen. Our other waist gunner Glenn W. Machovec and togeliar John Olinik. They were both in a exhausted condition by the time they got to us. We had been able to start a fire, but the chimney was partially blocked and we created more smoke than heat. There was ersatz coffee (roasted chicory and barley), tea and flour - that was all. No salt or leavening.

We slept and slept and slept and dreamed of food. Another blizzard closed in for three or four days. I made pancakes out of the flour, but with nothing to put in it, they were unpalatable and gave me diarrhea. We were understandably nervous, and irritable with one another.

In poking around, I found an excellent hand-made map, even contours by a dotted line. I concluded that we were near the Swiss border and plotted a course complete with Mickey Mouse compass headings. Outside the door were willow trees. I got the guys to start making snowshoes with the shroud lines and willows.

Finally after four or five days, the morning dawned bright and clear. The snow was frozen solid; we didn't need the snowshoes, so we carried them. Not long after we started out the wind came up again and brought visibility to almost zero. I followed by compass, but my traveling companions questioned it's veracity vigorously. But I insisted we follow the compass.

I had some bad moments on the dotted line business....legated beacons did mark the border, but I didn't know if they would be guarded. They weren't. We passed right between the beacon towers. I gloated. My trusty compass had us right on course, and my navigation was not subsequently questioned..........