What became the B-25 Mitchell medium bomber originated in a 1938 Army Air Corps proposal for a twin-engine medium bomber. The February 1938 proposal from North American aviation was accepted and followed by the production of the NA-40 prototype, which barely resembled what became the B-25.

The B-25 is generally considered the best all-around light-medium bomber of the Second World War. An efficient yet docile-handling aircraft with good handling characteristics, it was one of the most popular aircraft among the aircrews of the several Allied nations that operated the type. 9,816 B-25s were produced, making the Mitchell the most-produced American twin-engine bomber. While the USAAF never had more than 2,656 B-25s in service due to the fact the aircraft was operated by the RAF, the Soviet Air Force, and several other Allied air forces, it made its mark on every front of the war world-wide.

With the loss of the NA-40 prototype during tests in 1939, North American suggested that the meager test reports and the suggestions of the Air Corps as a result indicated a better aircraft could result from a redesign. The resulting NA-62, appearing in 1940, became the B-25.

The first unit to operate the B-25 was the 17th Bombardment Group, which re-equipped with the combat-capable B-25B in 1941. On December 24, 1941, a B-25 from the 17th BG became the first American twin-engine bomber to sink a Japanese submarine.

The most widely-produced sub-type was the B-25J, with 4,318 being produced at the North American Kansas City plant. Appearing in the summer of 1943, the B-25J remained in production for the rest of the war.

The 310th Bomb Group’s Bad Day:

June 22, 1944 was the longest day of the year. It was cloudy that morning, with a hint of rain, and it seemed at first that flying for the day might be canceled. However, shortly after lunch, the 310th’s crews were told to stand by for a mission that afternoon. The weather continued “iffy,” and the men spent the afternoon in card games, reading books, and attempts at sleep.

Finally, the crews were called for a briefing at 1600 hours. There they learned that they were going back to the Vernio rail bridges with two 18-plane formations from all three squadrons - the 379th, 380th and 381st. The target was known for “beaucoup” flak. Takeoff was set for 1700 hours, which would give them time to fly 90 minutes to Florence, make the attack and get back before dark. S/Sgt George Underwood who was set to fly that day in the 380th’s “Little King” despite being in the 381st, was happy when it turned out they didn’t “make the cut” for inclusion in the mission.

Just as the B-25s were lining up for takeoff, word came that the Germans in the port of Leghorn had been spotted by aerial reconnaissance preparing to tow four gutted hulks out to the southern harbor entrance, where they would be sunk to block Allied use of the harbor when it fell. The Germans had already sunk several hulks in the northern entrance, and it was necessary to prevent this since the fall of Leghorn was expected in a few weeks. A “quickie” mission was laid on, with three B-25s of the 380th, three from the 381st, and twelve from the 428th squadron, charged with sinking the hulks before the Germans could pull them out to a position where they could block the entrance. Underwood’s crew was among those assigned the mission.

Veteran pilot First Lieutenant Glenn T. Black of the 381st led the mission. As he later recalled, “On this special mission, I was to lead three from our squadron, three from the 380th and twelve from the 428th. I didn’t like the arrangement, for we had our best missions when the whole mission was made up of crews from one squadron. I expect the second element lead crew liked it much less.” That second element lead crew - Pilot First Lieutenant Peterson, Co-pilot First Lieutenant Lightsey, bombardier Staff Sergeant Hunt, gunner Sergeant Ptach, and tail gunner Sergeant Pizzimenti,- had just completed their tour of 70 missions. The men had already been given their orders to return to the states the next day, and their B-4 bags were packed in their tents in anticipation of the event. When Peterson’s crew was detailed for the mission, all the other 380th crews said quietly to each other that they shouldn’t be put on such a mission. However, no one made any direct complaint and all went out to man their aircraft. Twenty minutes after the last of the previous flights had disappeared over the horizon, the B-25s began taking off. After circling the field for join-up, the eighteen planes set off over the Tyrrhenian Sea toward Leghorn.

As the bombers neared Leghorn, the formation was scattered by clouds. Glenn Black’s formation of six, which included George Underwood’s “Little King,” was to bomb from 12,500 feet and to the left of the other two flights that were bombing at 8,500 and 10,000 feet. Black elected to turn wider over the Initial Point (IP), which placed his flight well behind the others. He was aiming for a three-minute bomb run, long enough for his bombardier to line up on the hulks below, while hopefully not enough time for the German gunners to get their range, though from the black puffs of 88mm shell explosions around the formations ahead it was certain the Germans were ready and waiting. Black lowered his seat so he could concentrate on the PDI (Pilot Direction Indicator) as the bombardier lined up on the target. He wasn’t aware that his wide turn had added about 90 crucial seconds to their run.

In the distance ahead, flak burst all around the second formation. Suddenly the lead B-25 erupted in flame when the right wing caught fire! The Mitchell fell away in a step dive toward the harbor as the fire spread to the engine nacelle and then to the fuselage. Black silently cried out “Jump! Jump!” The bomber was now headed straight down. At the last moment, a body came out of the rear escape hatch and the parachute began to stream. It was too late and whoever it was fell all the way to the harbor below with a half-deployed parachute. The Mitchell exploded on impact with the water’s surface. Lieutenant Peterson and his crew wouldn’t be catching that flight home in the morning.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the second plane in the formation also took a hit in the bomb bay that set the oil system for the right engine afire and caused other heavy damage. The pilot nosed over in a dive to try and put out the flames and headed out to sea away from the exploding sky over the harbor.

In Underwood’s Mitchell, Sergeant Smith crouched in the nose, his attention on Black’s airplane ahead and his hand on the panel to toggle the release of his bombs. Underwood impatiently glanced over his shoulder in time to see the lead ship’s bomb bay doors come open and heard Smith’s call on the intercom, “Bomb doors open.” A moment later he saw the bombs began falling from the lead plane and felt the bumps as their own bombs fell clear. “Bombs Away! Bomb doors closing,” Smith announced. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

Black now realized his formation was too far from the other twelve to join up for evasion. As the other five airplanes maneuvered to follow Black, the Germans got the range in a series of lucky shots. “We took a close burst just ahead of the right wing outboard of the engine, and it was very quickly apparent the engine had taken the worst of the hit when smoke poured out of the cooling flaps,” Underwood later remembered.

In the lead ship, Black felt his whole plane seem to stand still and shudder in midair as several shells exploded close by. “I looked down at my right hand, which had been on the throttles - it lay limp in my lap. I looked down at my right arm and could see the jagged end of the lower part of my bone in my upper arm and the jagged ends of the bones in the lower part of my arm. My elbow was no more. My lower arm reminded me of the drumstick of a freshly-butchered chicken. The only connecting flesh I could see holding my lower arm looked like raw meat. I turned the controls over to my co-pilot, but he pulled up straight and level so I took over again and did evasive action one-handed that was probably more violent than was necessary.” Once clear of the flak, he gave control back to the co-pilot and called the bombardier to give him first aid.

“The Little King” broke left out of the formation when it was hit in the right engine and dove for the open sea. A second “88" burst near the left wing. The pilot feathered the right engine and took up a heading for Corsica. Underwood kept his eyes on the left “good” engine as white smoke from burning oil appeared out of the cowling flaps.

Over the Tyrrhenian Sea in the fading light, Underwood thought they might make it when Sergeant Smith’s voice came over the intercom, “Corsica dead ahead.” Soon they were over Ghisonaccia, with a green flare for landing.

Those waiting on the ground heard the approaching roar of the B-25s returning from the mission. Sunset light glinted off canopies and bombardier greenhouses and turrets as the Mitchells came overhead and broke for landing. Red flares shot out from several, indicating wounded aboard. The ambulance drivers started their engines. Shaken crews emerged from the planes with reports of heavy, accurate, “beaucoup-beaucoup” flak in the target area, with continuous flak bursts among the formations. Everyone marveled at the seemingly-miraculous fact that no one had been killed other than the one crew lost over the target. When “The Little King” landed, 380th maintenance sergeant Frank Dean examined the airplane for new flak holes. “A small hole was found right beneath the bombardier’s compartment, where it had been stopped by an extra piece of armor plate we had installed for just such purpose. Had it not been in place, there could have been a fatality. Most of the other aircraft bore mute evidence of the accuracy of the German gunners.”

The 380th squadron had lost one B-25, with all aboard killed, while the 381st lost two B-25s of three with no fatalities and all crew rescued. The hulks were sunk away from the harbor entrance.

The Vernio bridge mission knocked out the approaches to the southern bridge and took out a span of the northern bridge. Crews reported the flak was worse than they had expected, and nearly every airplane that returned had flak damage. Three were lost over the targets.