The 100th Bomb Group that went down in history as “the Bloody Hundredth” remains one of the most outstanding examples of bravery and determination of WWII airmen. They weren’t just a record set or a bunch of great war statistics. It was the enormous feat built on the courage, toughness, and pure willpower of the guys that brought their B-17 Flying Fortresses up into the hellish skies of Nazi-occupied Europe from Thorpe Abbotts, England. Their epic was about doggedness, sacrifice, and the unyielding spirit to move on amidst such terrible odds.
It was at Walla Walla Army Air Base in Washington State that the group’s history unfolded in 1942. The training period was nothing to brag about. Several problems, including confusion, overconfidence, and poor discipline, led to a shaky beginning. One infamous navigation exercise spread aircraft all over the western U.S.—some touched down in Vegas while others drifted all the way to Tennessee due to some personal rather than military reasons. Their first commander, Colonel Darr H. Alki, didn’t mince his words and warned his men that the road would be anything but fabulous. Discipline grew stricter under Colonel Howard M. Turner, who got the team ready for takeoff to Britain in 1943.
The 100th thus became the Eighth Air Force’s instrument for the campaign of daylight precision bombing after arriving in England. The task was to paralyze the industrial machine of Germany. The actuality was that without the protection of the long-range fighter escort, their B-17s were sitting ducks for enemy fighters and flak. The losses were so great, and with each mission, the risk was terrible.
It was at the first raid over Bremen that their baptism by fire took place, where three planes and thirty men were lost. On the other hand, characters like Operations Officer John “Bucky” Egan and Capt. Gale “Buck” Cleven played an important role in keeping the men’s morale up in the darkest hours, making them focus on what was yet to come. The reputation they had was partially myth, partially superstition, and the “jinx” rumors only helped the fame get stronger.
The raid at Regensburg on August 17, 1943, has probably been the 100th mission most talked about. It was the 100th that took the most dangerous spot in the formation—the dreaded “Purple Heart Corner.” Only three of the twenty-two bombers made it back. Nineteen went down in a single day, which was the heaviest loss of the group, and with that, they got their name as the “Bloody Hundredth”.
The awful side of combat was met with the use of gallows humor and tild defiance. Stories about fearless antics, sharp wit, and the irreverent behavior that somehow kept morale high in the face of constant danger were spreading fast.
“Black Week” was the month of October 1943, a series of disastrous missions. During the Münster raid on October 10, just one bomber out of thirteen managed to get back—Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal’s Royal Flush. A lawyer by profession before the war, and the only Jewish pilot of the group, Rosenthal became a one-man show of legend. He was in a crash situation after another, survived, went on to do fifty-two missions, and was the epitome of defiance to death when living seemed impossible.
The strain on aircrews was huge. Acknowledging the strain, the Air Force gave the men the opportunity to rest in “flak houses” for a short time. Leaders like Colonel Neil “Chick” Harding were aware that morale and mental strength were just as important as discipline. Fellowship, humor, and friendship most of the time were the only lifeline for tired crews.
Though the 100th was statistically never the leader in losses, the magnitude and drama of their darkest days—Regensburg, Münster, Schweinfurt—had them carved into history more distinctively than most. The colorful personality of the group, from the audacious “Bucks” to the navigator Harry Crosby (who once refused to bomb Beethoven’s birthplace out of respect), only heightened their myth.
What is more, the 100th in the face of continuous danger contributed significantly to the turning points of the war. They bombed Berlin, supported the D-Day landings, and fought at the Battle of the Bulge. By the end of the war, they had completed 306 missions, and 757 men lost their lives. Their legacy was carried on not only in official documents but also in reunions, memoirs, and in the accounts of men like Capt. John “Lucky” Luckadoo and Lt. Jim Rasmussen, who made sure the memory of their comrades did not fade away.
The story of the Bloody Hundredth is just another chapter in the history of the air war; it’s a mark of courage faced with fire. Their sacrifice is a reminder to all of us that real heroism comes from ordinary men who confront extraordinary danger, do it with their faith, humor, and unwavering resolve.
