A writer takes stock of his father-in-law's service in the Mighty Eighth during World War II

Germany declared war on the United States a few days after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Dec. 7, 1941.

The American response was immediate: creation of an air force to carry the war to Germany. That force, the Eighth Air Force, was formed in Savannah in early 1942.

It was an immense organizational task aimed at supporting England, then fighting Germany alone after France had fallen. It took a year before operations against Germany could begin. The greatest air armada ever assembled, it started from scratch and grew to comprise 200,000 men trained all over the United States, ferrying thousands of B-17s with their thin aluminum skins across the Atlantic to scores of airfields in southeast England, and training and then lodging the crews and support members. Eventually it would send 2,000 four-engine bombers and 1,000 fighters on a single mission, winning its sobriquet “The Mighty Eighth Air Force.”

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German fighters and anti-aircraft guns throwing up flak were not the only dangers, although they were bad enough. Flying from 17,000- to 30,000-feet high in unpressurized planes presented a whole new dimension of horror. Crews wore heavy sheep skin flight suits to combat the cold ― only the cockpits were heated ― but under attack with open sides from which to fire the guns in the fuselage, wind whipped through the plane’s fuselage as they struggled to reach their targets on the European continent, sometimes hundreds of miles into Germany. Blood from wounds would freeze in a few seconds. Wounded men died frozen to death. Hands and feet became frostbitten and eventually amputated to save a man’s life.

German fighter tactics changed with the course of the war. Initially pilots would fly singly at the American bombers, which were packed tight together so each could benefit from the .50-caliber machine guns of others nearby. Messerschmitts and Focke-Wulfs would come at them head-on in a 500-mile-an-hour closure rate, veering off at the last moment, all the while firing explosive shells from their nose-mounted 20 MM cannon and wing-mounted machineguns. A single cannon shell could tear a man apart, and did. One cut off both legs of a radio operator in a B-17’s nose. He soon bled to death in the freezing cold.

Later, as many as 300 fighters would attack in groups of five or more to avoid individually the deadly return fire from the bombers, whose 10 .50-caliber machine guns could shred a fighter in seconds. A lucky hit in the gas tank just behind the pilot would incinerate him before he had a chance to bail out.

There was mutual respect between the combatants. The Americans were impressed with German courage and persistence. And once, when an American gunner shot down a German fighter he inadvertently continued firing when the German bailed out, but was horrified when his shots struck the parachuting German, cutting him virtually in half. He reported his act to his superiors, believing he deserved a court martial for violating the rules of war.

The Germans would attack the B-17s as they crossed the English Channel cruising at 160 mph, harass them until they reached their targets and then break off while they were beset by flak, land and re-arm to pounce once again when the Americans struggled home to England.

Fatalities for the Eighth Air Force were unprecedented. Its crews, usually in their late teens or early 20s, suffered nearly half of all the U. S. Army Air Force’s casualties – 47,483 of the total 115,332, including 26,000 men killed. The chances of completing the required 25 combat missions unscathed seemed slim indeed. Men would crack under the strain, some becoming so fearful they wouldn’t come near a plane. One crewman became famous for wetting his lambs’ wool suit prior to every take-off, but he continued to fly.

When a plane was hit, crews in nearby bombers would count the white parachutes (German parachutes were yellow) hoping to see ten. A successful bail out was no guarantee of freedom or safety. Americans landing in Germany were not always treated as prisoners of war. The fortunate who landed in Belgium or Holland might be hidden by members of the underground until they could be smuggled back to England.

Editor’s Note: The writer’s father-in-law, Lt. Robert L. Mytinger, 23, was a navigator on a B-17 in the Eighth Air Force. His plane was shot down over the English Channel, but he and his fellow crew members were rescued to fight again. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

This article originally appeared on Savannah Morning News: Savannah writer looks at what it took to mount the Mighty Eighth Air Force