Boulder Hill man shares WWII experiences as B-17 gunner

Ed Reuland of Boulder Hill was a gunner on a B-17 Flying Fortress in World War II, flying 30 missions over Germany and France.

He received several commendations for his service, including a Purple Heart and Distinguished Flying Cross.

71 years after his discharge from the military, Reuland received one more thank-you for his service, from France.

Beginning in 2004, the country of France, via its consulates in the United States, began awarding the French Legion of Honor medal to those who assisted in the liberation of the country during World War II.

Reuland said he became aware of this last year when an old war buddy, who had received the medal, told him about it.

“Our tail gunner, who lives in Boulder, Colorado, he heard about it and he called me,” he said.

After submitting paperwork proving his service, Reuland received his medal approximately a year later. It now is proudly displayed in a case along with his other medals and memorabilia in his living room. The 92-year-old Reuland, a native of Aurora, has lived in Boulder Hill for 40 years. He and his wife, Betty, were married for 55 years before her passing in 2006.

Reuland had just recently turned 18 when he joined the U.S. Army Air Forces, a precursor to the modern Air Force, in November of 1942.

“There were a bunch of us together, and one day my cousin, he said, ‘I’m gonna join – they’ll get me anyhow,’” he said. “I had just turned 18. So we went down to the recruiting station, we signed in. [The recruiter] says ‘What branch do you want?’ I said, it doesn’t matter, what’s open?”

He continued, “They were going to make airplane mechanics out of us, so they shipped us off to Lincoln, Nebraska, for mechanic’s school for six weeks.”

Following that, his group was moved to Burbank, California, where he worked at the Lockheed Vega plant.

“When we were at Lockheed Vega, the captain came in and said they really didn’t need any mechanics now so we’d have to stay in the States until we were needed,” he said. “He said, what we really need are aerial gunners. So he says, if any of you guys want to volunteer for it, we’d be happy to oblige you. So we decided we’d go for gunnery, so we were shipped off to Las Vegas for gunnery school.”

Reuland was later shipped down to El Paso, Texas, to work as a mechanic on B-29s, which he said he “didn’t like.”

“The pilots that were coming out of school were just kids, and they were afraid of 29s,” he said.

Eventually, he was based in England, where he flew missions over Germany and France from November 1943 to July 1944. One particular mission, he said, could have been his last.

Reuland shared a yellowed, typewritten account of an air raid over Frankfurt – the plane, named “Blue Blazing Blizzard,” was hit with fragments from German shells, and the navigator, Lt. William C. Rau Jr., of San Angelo, Texas, was hit in the abdomen and the legs. Rau charted the course home despite being mortally wounded in the attack, the account says.

The plane descended into the clouds, only to be attacked by German planes if it attempted to descend further, but eventually met up with a group of allied planes and made its way back to England. Rau died from his injuries and the bombardier on the plane, Lt. Matthew Nathan of Brooklyn, New York, was injured in his back but survived. Rau, who died in Nathan’s arms during the flight, was 20 years old.

Included in the account was a list of those on the plane, including Staff Sgt. Edward G. Reuland of 220 High Street, Aurora, Ill.

“We had two engines shout out, our nose was shot off, our electrical and oxygen systems were shout out,” he said. “Brand new plane.”

In his own recollection of the incident, Reuland recalled that the co-pilot’s oxygen went out and he fell across the controls.

“We thought it was the end, but the pilot yelled to the engineer, ‘Get up here and get the co-pilot off the controls!’” he said. “We got the plane leveled out at about 2,000 feet, in the clouds; we were at 23,000 feet. But the plane stayed together and he got it leveled out. Two German planes came down and made sure we crashed, and if you bailed out with parachutes, they’d use you for target practice.”

He continued, “What the Germans would do, is they’d send a fighter plane up to our altitude, then he would radio down our altitude and they’d shoot the ‘ack-ack’ [guns] up at our plane. It could get pretty hairy.”

The crew radioed ahead to get an escort, but the support said no, that they couldn’t come in that far, they’d run out of gas, Reuland said.

“They said, when you get down to the coast, call in and we can get you some escort,” he said. “Every time we’d come out of the clouds, two German fighters were sitting there waiting for us, and they’d take potshots at us. Our navigator was shot pretty bad.”

Reuland said his plane eventually joined a formation of B-17s, but they couldn’t keep up because they had two engines out. He also said they couldn’t get the landing gear down, and didn’t even know if the tires had been blown out from the attack; one of the guys cranked it down manually, he said.

“We made it back that time,” he said.

Overall, though, Reuland said he has good memories of his time during the war.

“I can’t say that I didn’t have a good time in England; I did,” he said. “I’ll show you why.”

He opened a scrapbook to reveal a photo of a handsome woman, posing and smiling.

“Outside of our base was a little pub, about a block away,” he said. “She ran that pub. I never did find out her name. She went by ‘Mom.’ And there were about six or eight of us guys that went over there, and some Englishmen were there. That was the nicest place. She knew the plane we were flying in. We would fly low over her place, and she’d run outside and say ‘There’s so-and-so!’”

Reuland and others in the pub would play the game of skittles, an indoor pub game similar to bowling or billiards.

“We’d play skittles and have a couple of beers, and she’d fix us sandwiches and never charge us,” he said. “She was a wonderful woman. We had a real friend there.”

Reuland bought a bike from one of the pub regulars for $30 and he would take bike rides with a friend.

“If we were grounded – the weather was bad over Germany and we were grounded for a couple days – he and I would take a bicycle ride, and just ride through the country,” he said.

Reuland also recalled adopting a dog, Cpt. Bombsite, that he and a friend found one day walking to the mess hall.

“We got about halfway there, and here comes a dog up to us,” he said. “We stopped and petted the dog, well then the dog decided he’s going with us. So we went down to the mess hall and ate, and the dog laid outside; we figured he’d been gone when we finished. We came out about 20 minutes, a half-hour later and the dog was lying there. So I went in and bummed some food from the mess sarge, and I fed him, and that was a mistake.”

He continued, “He followed us back to the barracks, and I went in the barracks, and the next morning he’s lying outside the door. So the guys in the barracks said, bring him in, and we kind of adopted him.”

The dog became an unofficial member of the crew.

“The co-pilot took a liking to him, and he made him an oxygen mask out of a tomato can,” he said. “He flew with us.”

Reuland was discharged from the service on Sept. 30, 1945.

“It was really nice,” he said. “I can’t say I didn’t like it over there; I did.”