Frederick E. Ehmann

Shot down over Italy, he was taken prisoner by the Germans.

By Jeff Werner, BucksLocalNews.com


Frederick E. Ehmann will never forget the day he was shot down over Northern Italy.
It was three days after Christmas in 1943. Ehmann was part of a 10-member crew flying a routine bombing mission when his B-24 came under heavy fire by enemy planes.

Within minutes, the whole back of the bomber was on fire. The tail gunner was dead and the left waist gunner had been hit. The ball turret gunner was still firing at the enemy unaware the plane was on fire.

The order was given – “Bail out.”
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Born in 1914 in Philadelphia, Ehmann grew up and went to school in the Logan section of the city. He attended trade school before getting a job with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.
In September 1942 his life took a sudden and dramatic turn when he was drafted into the U.S. Air Force.

“I requested the Air Force because I loved to fly,” he said. “I had a pilot’s license and I used to go up to [Roosevelt] Boulevard and fly a plane once in a while.”

At the time of his draft interview, Ehmann said he was asked if he had any hobbies. “When I mentioned music, he said, ‘I have just the spot for you – radio operator and gunner on a heavy bomber.’”

Between September 1942 and August 1943, he went through Boot Camp at Kessler Field, Miss., Aerial Gunner School in Kingman, Ariz., Radio School at Traux Field in Madison, Wis., flight training in Casper, Wyo., and final flight training in Herrington, Kan.

In August 1943, his crew took off for Europe, spending a short time in Iceland and Belfast, Ireland, before being assigned to the 376th bomber group in Africa.

He flew numerous missions as a radio operator and top gun turret operator before his plane was shot down. He documents his service in a book, “My Longest Mission – A World War II Memory.”

“We boarded our planes and took off for Vicenza on what we thought would be a milk run,” said Ehmann, who was a fill-in at the right gunner’s position.

“I saw a large group of fighter planes going in the opposite direction. The planes were too far off to identify and I heard my pilot say they were probably our escort returning to the base. A few minute later we saw and identified enemy fighters coming from behind our group. All hell broke loose.

“The guys in the back radioed up that we were on fire and we had to get out. There was absolutely no fear of jumping out. It had to be done.”

In the urgency of the moment, he didn’t know his back was on fire as he parachuted toward the earth. Fortunately, he landed in a canal, which put out the fire. “My back was burned, but not critical,” he said.

On the ground, Ehmann was greeted by an elderly man with a small pistol pointed toward his head. “Don’t shoot. I’m an American,” said Ehmann.

“We weren’t scared,” said Ehmann. “I don’t know why I had that attitude. All the guys in the crew were the same way. We were just overly curious about what the hell was going to happen to us.”

The Germans interrogated Ehmann, but he refused to divulge any information, giving only his name, rank and serial number.

Ehmann was now a prisoner of war. He was sent to Stalag 17 in Austria. He spent about a year and a half there waiting for liberation.

“There was no brutality. If anyone tells you something other than that, they’re a liar. There was a shortage of food. We would be fed once a day. Sometimes it would be a lousy soup,” he said.
There were times in which real life mimicked “Hogan’s Heroes,” though they never had a two-way radio or a secret tunnel system. They did managed to piece together a crystal radio and listen to the BBC.

Once, said Ehmann, the guys were given a giant sausage. “It looked good from a distance but it was full of maggots. We thought, what are we going to do with this now? We dressed it up in a little uniform and laid it on a board. We named it Adolph. We marched it around camp and then had an official burial in the latrine.”

Despite the difficult conditions, Ehmann said morale was always sky-high. And the Germans couldn’t understand that. “We didn’t want them to think we were all hurt or sad. We held up and they kept shaking their heads.”

After 15 months in captivity, the Germans and POWs evacuated the camp on April 15, 1945. “They said the Russian Army was only kilometers away and that they were killng prisoners and anyone who was not Russian. We found out later they were liberating soldiers being held by the Germans.”

After nine days of walking, the prisoners arrived at their new camp in a forest at the fork of the Inns and Salzach rivers. On the other side of the river was Germany.

“On the morning of our fifth day, I was sitting by the edge of the road when a military jeep came by with four American officers and a machine gun. Several of us stood up and shouted that we were Americans ... They said they would be back within 24 hours with help. They left us and we all had a feeling I will never be able to describe.”

A group of American soldiers arrived in trucks around noon the next day and within an hour they had removed all of the German guards. “We were finally able to say we were free.”

Back at home, Ehmann went to work for C. Schmidt and Sons in Philadelphia, where he spent his career in brewery operations. He married Kathryn Hipp on August 10, 1946 and the couple raised three children, Frederick, William and Evelyn Ehmann Pantuso.

The family moved from Philadelphia to Doylestown in 1957. He joined the Doylestown Country Club and at one point served as its president. He enjoys playing the piano and time with his dog, Cady.