“Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength.”

–Saint Francis de Sales

Lt. Colonel Winston Tucker was a WWII pilot of the Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress aircraft. As a member of the 8th Air Force, Winston spent 10 months in the European theatre of Operations.

As the pilot of a heavy bomber aircraft, Tucker kept a journal of his missions that has been uncovered and compiled into the book, “Contrails.” Tucker’s children were willing to share their father’s story with The Times.

A quiet soldier

Tucker’s life was that of a humble man who spoke little of his harrowing experiences.

Trained as a bomber pilot, Tucker entered the war at the beginning of America’s combat fight over Europe at a time when a complete tour of duty was defined as 25 operational flights.

“At the time, the average mission survived by all the B-17 crews was 11 of the 25 missions,” Jack Fedor said, founder of the Warbirds Unlimited Foundation who, along with the Foundation’s Volunteer Historian Leon Stewart, compiled Winston’s journal entries and detailed military career on their website, warbirdsunlimited.com.

Tucker completed 25 combat missions without any casualties to his bomber crew, a feat that defied the odds of success and survival.

On arrival home from his first mission, Tucker found thirty holes in his aircraft. Despite returning unscathed, Tucker lost his best friend, Bill Carrey, in that mission.

On his second mission, Tucker witnessed a total of 20 fellow B-17 pilots go down.

On his third mission, Tucker was tasked with bombing a plane repair factory in Paris, France. He saw two B-17s explode in front of him before being forced to turn back due to cloud cover over the target.

It wasn’t until his seventh mission that Tucker and his crew were forced to crash land. Below is a journal entry from that mission on July 17, 1943.

“Takeoff 0540, target Hanover, Germany. See no fighters on way over. Never reached target because of weather. Met heavy fighter attacks on way home. Got several attacks on our ship alone. Did evasive action against fighters. Nose Turret Guns out. Twenty MM shells exploded in waist seriously wounding both waist gunners. Tail gunner also hit.

“Another shell exploded in waist, 20mm shell hit left wing tip making a large hole. Shell hit left wing at root cutting our electrical system. Our landing flaps would not work. Burned out brakes trying to stop. Several more holes in ship. Some of control cables shot up. One waist gunner hit in back with piece entering lung, other hit several times in legs. One leg broken. Both will get along O.K. Tail gunner hit lightly in tail. Pride hurt only. Hard mission. Waist gunner finally lost right leg.”

On his 13th mission, Tucker crash-landed again, this time into the North Sea after being shot down by antiaircraft warfare. Unable to spot an open field, Winston landed his B-17 in the water approximately two miles off the English coastline. Uninjured, the crew was picked up by an English vessel and returned home two days later.

“Unlucky Thirteen” Tucker wrote of his thirteenth mission.

During his time as a pilot, Tucker achieved the WWII Victory Medal, WWII Freedom Medal, Bronze Star Medal Lapel Pin, Air Medal Ribbon, WWII Pilots Wings, Distinguished Flying Cross Ribbon, three Oak Leaf Clusters and a Distinguished Flying Cross.

As a bomber pilot in the 40th Combat Bombardment Wing, 92nd Bomb Group, 327th Squadron, Winston not only dealt with enemy fighters but also a ground attack called flak; exploding shells that explode at a particular altitude. Although aircraft were more likely to be shot down by enemy fighters, the sight and sound of exploding shrapnel were unnerving to aircrews. Below is Tucker’s retelling of his 22nd mission on Oct. 14, 1943.

“Takeoff 10:00 o’clock. Target Schweinfurt, Germany. Raining at takeoff. Zero weather. Get heavy fighter attacks twenty minutes inside Germany. Attacked by wave after wave of single engine and twin-engine fighters. Twin engine were shooting large rockets at us, sometime as many as twenty attacked at one time. Forts burst into flames all around us. One blew up just below me and almost blew us out of air.

“Lt. Brown was in ship that exploded. Fighters stayed with us for three hours. Hit target. Lost about 70 Forts. My crew shot down four fighters. Several holes knocked in ship. Twenty MM shell burst in nose, wounded Navigator. Returned to base and weather closed in. Couldn’t find field. Started to have men bail out. Happened to locate field in hole in clouds.

“Hardest mission ever pulled. Lost six ships out of our group. I was leader of low squadron.”

According to Warbirds Unlimited Foundation Volunteer Historian Leon Stewart, Tucker’s 22nd mission was also known as “Black Thursday.”

“Records indicate of 291 Flying Fortresses sent on the mission, 60 were lost and 17 damaged severely requiring them to be scrapped, and 121 others with battle damage,” Stewart wrote. “Losses included 650 of 2,900 bomber crewmen.”

Tucker’s daughter, Sandra Guiney, and son, Robert Tucker, told a story of their father that was not found in his journal which involved a tragic coin toss between their father and a fellow pilot.

“[Tucker] and his buddy who were both pilots had just gotten back from a mission, and very quickly after that were told that one of them had to go out on another mission,” Sandra said. “So, they flipped a coin to see who was going to go. And my dad won the coin toss.”

Winston’s fellow pilot climbed into the Flying Fortress and upon takeoff, the plane exploded, killing the pilot.

It took four attempts for Tucker to finally complete his final mission on Dec. 5, 1943. He wrote this in his journal.

“Early takeoff. Target La Rochelle, France. My fourth start on my 25th mission. Lost one engine before takeoff. Had given up on going. Another stuck in the mud. Had them pull it out and took off 1:30 late. Almost crashed on takeoff when snow completely covered windshield cutting off all vision.

“Finally caught group twenty minutes inside France. Lost engine after catching them. Target was covered by clouds. Had to salvo my bombs to keep up. Last Mission S/Sgt. Thurston and S/Sgt. Gailey finished also. The rest of my crew have two missions to go. THE END.”

Upon returning from the European theater of Operations, Tucker was assigned to the Air Transport Command (ATC) where he played football for the ATC Rockets in Nashville, Tenn. Following his 25 missions, Tucker was recovering in a hospital where he met his wife, Dorothy, a Red Cross hospital volunteer.

Following the war, Tucker coached football at Van Nuys High School in California, instructing students like Don Drysdale, Robert Redford and Stacy Keach. Tucker later became the school’s athletic director and chaired the boy’s physical education department.

A gentle father

“They didn’t have a name for it back in those days,” Tucker’s son Robert said when asked about his father’s mental health. “They called it shell shock, which was only a little tiny piece of a very complex thing, PTSD, but I remember my father was always strong in a crisis. He was unbelievable in a crisis.”

Growing up picking cotton on a farm in Seymour, Texas, Robert said that his father and his five siblings “had to fight their way out of a lot of situations all the time, and they always stuck up for each other.”

Sandra spoke of her father’s forgiving side. She recalled a story of herself misbehaving as a little girl.

“I was six years old, and I knew that if I kept my arm straight…I could draw a perfect circle on the wall,” Sandra recalled. “My mom came in and caught me and she yelled for my dad. And he came in and I was just in tears. And he's like, ‘Bend over’ and I’m over the bed and I’m just crying. And he said, ‘Sandy, stand up.’ And I stood up. And he said, ‘When I hit the bed you scream.’ And my mom caught him hitting the bed,” Sandra laughed. “He had a real sensitive and caring side.”

Since his passing in 1995, remnants of Tucker’s military experiences have been uncovered by his children and shared with Jack Fedor of the Warbirds Unlimited Foundation, who counts this as the most complete story that the Foundation has put together due to the information left behind by Tucker.

“I hate to use the cliché ‘unsung hero,’ but he did so much quietly and could have disappeared from history without anyone knowing what he did,” Robert said of his father. “The sacrifice that he and thousands and thousands of others have done are unsung.”

Tucker and his wife, Dorothy, retired to Fountain Hills in 1989 where both Sandra and Robert now live with their families.