Art Kramer

ART KRAMER'S WWII STORIES

I'm Hit!, I'm Hit!

Bob slammed back his copilots seat and threw his hands over his face."I'm hit! I'm hit!" he shouted. I whirled around to see Bob over my right shoulder from my position in the nose. Bob was writhing in pain holding his head. Then Paul came on the intercom, "There's no blood, you're not hit, get back up here and help me on the rudders". "I'm hit. I'm hit." Bob shouted. "No you're not!" Paul retorted. "Pull your seat forward and get back on the controls with me." Paul was getting mad. We had just been hit and a 20mm round had come into the cockpit. It bounced and ricocheted all over the cockpit, and when it was almost out of steam it hit Bob right on the nose. But it was so weak that all it did was swell his nose up to the size of a small grapefruit, but it didn't even break the skin. But it really hurt. Bob finally pulled his seat forward and got on the controls with Paul. After we landed Bob went on sick call. The flight surgeon examined him and promptly kicked him out without treatment saying he had men who really needed help and Bob wasn't one of them. And since the round didn't even break the skin, poor Bob never even got a Purple Heart. For years after that, very time we all got together, the moment we saw Bob we would all say, "I'm hit. I'm hit." . And Bob would blush red, look shyly down and say "Aw you guys...." I remember when Bob died I thought to myself, now he is really hit.

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