In an episode of Masters of the Air, a B-17 pilot tells one of his crew to “pull the pins” on the load of bombs nestled in the bomb bay of their aircraft. Keeping high explosives safe on the long trip to the target was deadly serious business. The simple cotter pins, attached to manila tags, fit into a hole in every bomb fuse, physically blocking the firing plunger from inadvertently striking the detonator. After a crewman removed these pins, the bombs quickly armed as they plummeted through the cold skies over Europe.
The top brass at some bombardment groups demanded that all the tags be returned—to prove that the crew armed every bomb. Other units were not so strict, leading to a scattering of pins and tags tumbling around inside the windswept bomber, coming to rest among the spent .50-caliber shells and cigarette butts on the floor.
After every mission, Technical Sergeant Garland Kerlec hunted down one of the tags and stuffed it in his pocket. Later, he used them to make a sort of diary of his combat flights, recording the date, target, and some commentary on the nature of the mission, usually focusing on its difficulty, or duration.
New Orleans native Garland Kerlec entered the Army Air Forces service in April 1943. After basic training, he attended airplane and engine mechanic’s school in Texas and six weeks of gunnery training in Arizona. As a newly minted B-17 flight engineer, Kerlec was stationed behind the pilots and monitored its engines and instruments. When things got hairy, he climbed into the B-17’s top turret to help defend the bomber.
Overseas, he served with the 336th Bombardment Squadron of the 95th Bombardment Group, based at Horham, England. His first combat mission took place on October 23, 1944. The target for the day was Hamburg, and Kerlec’s skills as a flight engineer were put to the test immediately as they limped home on three engines.
Kerlec and his crew went on to hit other targets—Berlin, Frankfurt, Mannheim, and Leipzig—but Hamburg was often on the mission board at the start of the day. Besides his first, Kerlec and his companions went back for “Lucky Thirteen.” He relates that one of his fellow flyers, “Held [his] own church service in turret” and Kerlec’s fighting station gathered eight unwanted holes. He was back again on his second-to-last mission, his thirty-fourth, on March 30, 1945. As usual, the attack on Hamberg was no “milk run.” He relates, “A real rough one,” and “Got shot up.”
Kerlec’s mementos, including these tags and his flight jacket, were donated to The National WWII Museum by his widow, Mae, who volunteered at the museum for many years.