At 06:30 on August 6th, 1944, Major George Prey climbed into the cockpit of his P-51 Mustang at Bodney Airfield, England, nursing a hangover that should have grounded any pilot. 25 years old, 112 combat missions, 18 confirmed kills. The Luftwaffa had scrambled over 30 Measurement BF 109s to intercept the American bomber stream heading for Hamburg.

 Most Eighth Air Force fighter pilots averaged one kill every 15 missions. Prey averaged one kill every six. By the end of this day, he would hold a record that no P-51 pilot would ever break. But George Prey was never supposed to be here. Four years earlier in 1940, a skinny 21-year-old from Greensboro, North Carolina had walked into a Navy recruiting office.

 He stood 5’9 in tall. He weighed 125 lb. The Navy doctor took one look at his chest X-ray and rejected him. Curvature of the spine. Prey came back two weeks later, rejected again. High blood pressure. He tried a third time. Rejected. Too small. The United States Navy had just turned away the man who had become the deadliest Mustang pilot in history.

 Prey refused to quit. In September 1940, he passed the Army Airore physical and reported for flight training. He earned his wings on December 12th, 1941, 5 days after Pearl Harbor. The Army sent him to Australia with the 49th Fighter Group, flying P40 Warhawks against the Japanese over Darwin.

 For 8 months, Prey flew combat missions in the Pacific. He engaged Japanese Zeros multiple times. He damaged two enemy aircraft, but he could not score a confirmed kill. The P40 was too slow, too heavy, and Prey was still learning the art of aerial combat. Then came July 12th, 1942. Prey was flying a routine patrol over Darwin when another P40 collided with his aircraft.

 The impact crushed his cockpit. Metal fragments tore into his legs and shoulders. His wingmen watched PR’s Warhawk spiral toward the ocean, trailing smoke and debris. Prey somehow survived. He spent 4 months in an Australian hospital. Doctors removed 17 pieces of shrapnel from his body. His flying career appeared finished. The army disagreed.

 After 8 months of recovery and rehabilitation, Prey received orders for England. In July 1943, he joined the 352nd Fighter Group at Bodney Airfield. The unit flew Republic P47 Thunderbolts, and Prey had to learn an entirely new aircraft. He named his plane Kripes Almighty, a phrase he shouted when rolling dice in poker games. The P47 frustrated him.

 The aircraft burned 200 gallons of fuel per hour, limiting escort range to areas near the German border. Luftwaffa fighters stayed deeper inside Reich territory where American escorts could not follow. Prey flew mission after mission without seeing a single enemy aircraft. December 1st, 1943 changed everything.

 Prey was escorting B7s returning from a raid on Solingan when he spotted a Messersmid BF 109 attacking a crippled bomber. He dove on the German fighter. His 850 caliber machine guns ripped the BF- 109 apart in 3 seconds. His first confirmed kill had taken 2 years and two months of combat flying. By April 1944, the 352nd converted to North American P-51 Mustangs.

 Prey fell in love with the aircraft immediately. The Mustang could fly deeper into Germany, stay longer, and outmaneuver anything the Luftwaffa sent against it. He became an ace on May 13th, shooting down two BF- 109s over New Brandenburgg. If you want to see how PR’s incredible run of kills unfolded, please hit that like button.

 It helps us share these forgotten stories with more viewers. Subscribe if you haven’t already. Back to Prey. By August 5th, 1944, Pretty had 18 confirmed victories. The 352nd was throwing a war bond party that night. Weather forecast predicted thunderstorms over Germany. No mission scheduled for August 6th.

 Pretty drank until nearly dawn. At 0400, the mission board changed. Weather had cleared. Full bomber escort to Hamburg. Pretty had 3 hours of sleep and enough alcohol in his system to fail any sobriety test. His squadron commander looked at him and made a decision that would rewrite the record books. Lieutenant Colonel John Meyer, PRY squadron commander, knew his pilot was in no condition to fly.

 Meyer also knew that Prey hung over was still more dangerous than most pilots sober. He cleared Prey for the mission and watched his Mustang taxi toward the runway. The P-51D that Prey flew that morning was a killing machine refined by 3 years of war. Its Packard-built Merlin engine produced over 1,400 horsepower. Four 50 caliber machine guns in each wing gave pilots 1,600 rounds of ammunition.

 The aircraft could reach speeds of 437 mph and climb to 30,000 ft in 13 minutes. But the Mustang’s true advantage was range. External drop tanks extended combat radius to over 750 mi. P-51 pilots could escort bombers to Berlin and back, staying with them through the most dangerous phases of the mission. Lustwafa pilots, who had grown accustomed to attacking unescorted bomber formations, suddenly found American fighters waiting for them deep inside Germany.

 Prey had developed his own approach to air combat during 17 months of flying over Europe. Most pilots waited for the enemy to make mistakes. Prey created mistakes. He flew aggressively, pushing his aircraft to its limits. attacking from angles that other pilots considered too risky. His gunnery was exceptional. The Mustang carried a new K14 gyroscopic gun site that calculated deflection automatically.

 A pilot simply placed the target inside the reticle, adjusted the wingspan dial, and fired. The site computed the lead angle based on turn rate and closure speed. In the hands of an average pilot, the K14 improved hit probability by 40%. In PR’s hands, it was devastating. At 30,000 ft over the North Sea, Prey led his flight of four Mustangs toward the rendevous point with the bomber stream.

 His headache pounded behind his eyes. His mouth tasted like copper and stale whiskey. None of it mattered once he crossed into hostile airspace. The B7 flying fortresses appeared below, silver specks crawling across the German countryside toward Hamburgg. three combat boxes, over 200 bombers. Each box flew in a tight defensive formation designed to maximize overlapping fields of fire from their gunners. It was not enough.

 German radar had tracked the bomber stream since it crossed the Dutch coast. Luftvafa controllers vetored interceptors from three different fighter groups toward the Americans. The pilots climbing to meet the bombers that morning were not green recruits. They were veterans of the Eastern Front, survivors of two years of combat against Soviet fighters.

They knew that destroying four engine bombers required getting close, absorbing defensive fire, and placing cannon shells into engines and fuel tanks. The BF 109 G6 fighters carried three 20mm cannons and two 13 mm machine guns. A single burst could saw a B7 wing off at the route. The German pilots had done it hundreds of times before.

 Prey spotted them at 11:00 high. The formation was larger than anything he had seen in months. 30 plus fighters in a shallow dive, positioned perfectly for a head-on attack against the lead bomber box. At their current closure rate, they would reach the B7s in less than 2 minutes. Standard doctrine called for American escorts to maintain altitude advantage and wait for the enemy to commit to their attack run.

 Diving into a superior force invited disaster. A pilot who found himself outnumbered and low on energy rarely survived. Prey ignored standard doctrine. He pushed his throttle forward and rolled his Mustang into a steep dive, aiming for the center of the German formation. His three wingmen followed. Four P-51s against more than 30 BF 109s.

 The math was suicidal. The German pilots saw the Americans coming. They had seconds to make a decision. continue toward the bombers and accept an attack from behind or break off and engage the Mustangs. They chose the bombers. Freddy’s Mustang screamed through the German formation at over 400 mph.

 His K14 sight tracked the BF 109, pulling up from its dive. He squeezed the trigger. Eight streams of 50 caliber rounds converged on the German fighter. The Messers exploded. Prey was already tracking his second target. The second BF- 109 never saw Prey coming. The German pilot was focused on a B7 with two engines smoking. An easy kill, limping toward the Dutch coast.

Prey dropped behind him at a range of 300 yd and fired a 2-cond burst. The Messor Schmidt’s canopy shattered. The aircraft rolled inverted and fell away. Two kills in less than 40 seconds. The German formation began to scatter. Pilots who had been diving toward the bombers now twisted and turned, trying to identify the threat behind them.

 The disciplined attack dissolved into chaos. Prey had broken their concentration at the critical moment. He pushed through the swirling dog fight, searching for his next target. A BF 109 crossed in front of him at a range of 400 yd. Turning hard to the right, Prey pulled his Mustang into the turn, bleeding air speed, but gaining angle.

 The K14 site tracked the German fighter through the turn. At 250 yards, Prey fired. The burst caught the BF- 109 in the engine cowling. Glycol coolant sprayed across the windscreen. The German pilot pulled up sharply, trying to gain altitude for a bailout. Prey followed him up, firing continuously.

 The Messormidt’s tail section separated from the fuselage at 8,000 ft. Three kills. By now, the other P-51 pilots from PR’s flight had joined the engagement. Four more Mustangs from another squadron arrived to help. The Germans found themselves outnumbered and outfought. Those who could disengage ran for the deck, diving toward the clouds at full throttle.

 Prey spotted a fourth BF- 109 attempting to escape. He rolled his Mustang inverted and pulled through, reversing direction in a split S maneuver that cost him 3,000 ft of altitude. The German pilot saw him coming and broke hard left. Pretty matched the turn, slowly, closing the distance. At 150 yd, he fired. The BF- 109’s wing route exploded.

 The aircraft tumbled end over end, shedding pieces of aluminum as it fell. Four kills. The engagement had lasted less than 5 minutes. Freddy’s ammunition counters showed he had fired fewer than 800 rounds. His fuel state was still adequate for the return flight. Most pilots would have reformed with the bomber stream and called it a successful mission.

 Prey climbed back to 25,000 ft and resumed his patrol. 30 minutes later, the escort reached the target area. Hamburg’s anti-aircraft defenses filled the sky with black flack bursts. The B17s dropped their bombs and turned for home. German fighters that had been waiting for the return flight began climbing from airfields to the south. Prey spotted a pair of BF- 109s positioning for an attack on a straggling bomber.

 He dove on them from the sun, closing to within 200 yards before opening fire. The lead German exploded on his first burst. Five kills. The second BF 109 pilot saw his wingman die and broke hard right, diving for a cloud layer at 12,000 ft. Pretty followed. The German pilot was good. Using every evasive maneuver in his training, he reversed direction twice, pulled into a vertical climb, then split est back toward the deck.

 Prey matched every move. At 5,000 ft, with both aircraft running out of air speed, the BF 109 pilot made his final mistake. He tried to extend away in level flight, betting his aircraft could outrun the Mustang. It could not. Prey closed to 100 yards and fired his remaining ammunition into the German fighter. The BF 109 caught fire and crashed into a farm field outside Hamburg.

 Six kills in a single mission. George Prey had just become one of only 38 American pilots to achieve ace in a day status. His total score now stood at 23.83 confirmed victories. He was the highest scoring active ace in the entire European theater of operations. The eighth air force nominated him for the Medal of Honor.

 The recommendation was downgraded to the Distinguished Service Cross, but the recognition confirmed what his fellow pilots already knew. Prey was untouchable. The Army rewarded him with a 30-day leave in the United States. He departed England in late August, leaving behind a squadron that worshiped him and a reputation that terrified Luftwaffa pilots.

 He had no idea that his greatest triumph would lead directly to his death. Prey spent September 1944 touring the United States, selling war bonds, and visiting his family in Greensboro. Newspapers called him the deadliest fighter pilot in Europe. Photographers followed him everywhere. General shook his hand at public events. He hated every minute of it.

 While Prey smiled for cameras, the air war over Germany was reaching its climax. The Lustwafa had lost over 2,000 pilots in the summer of 1944. Entire fighter groups had been wiped out and rebuilt with inadequately trained replacements. German fuel shortages meant new pilots received fewer than 80 hours of flight training before facing combat.

 American losses were also mounting. The Eighth Air Force lost over 600 heavy bombers between June and September. Each bomber carried a crew of 10. The mathematics of attrition were horrifying on both sides. The 352nd Fighter Group continued operations without their leading ace. Meyer had been promoted to group commander.

 The squadron Prey had helped build was winning victories, but a different unit within the group was struggling. The 328th Fighter Squadron had a morale problem. They were the lowest scoring squadron in the 352nd. Their pilots flew the same aircraft, received the same training, and faced the same enemy. Yet they consistently underperformed compared to their sister squadrons.

Leadership had tried everything. Nothing worked. On October 28th, 1944, Prey returned to England. Meyer was waiting for him with a new assignment. Instead of rejoining his old squadron, Prey would take command of the 328th. His mission was simple. Fix whatever was broken. Prey gathered his new pilots for a single briefing.

 He did not deliver an inspirational speech. He did not promise glory or medals. He explained their purpose in the simplest possible terms. They were there to destroy German aircraft. Everything else was secondary. The transformation began immediately. On November 2nd, Prey led the 328th on a bomber escort mission over Mersburg.

 The Luftvafa sent a large formation of fighters to intercept. Prey spotted the enemy first and led his squadron into the attack. What happened next stunned the entire Eighth Air Force. The 328th shot down 25 German aircraft in a single engagement. It was the highest single mission score for any squadron in the history of the Eighth Air Force.

 Prey himself accounted for one BF 109 using the K14 gun site to destroy the fighter at extreme range. The next day, November 3rd, he shot down a Fulk of Wolf FW190. The 328th had gone from the worst squadron in the group to the best in less than one week. Pilots who had doubted themselves now flew with confidence.

 Men who had hesitated in combat now pressed their attacks aggressively. PR’s leadership style was not complicated. He flew every mission at the front of the formation. He took the most dangerous positions. He demonstrated that aggressive tactics produced results. His pilots learned by watching him work. By early December, PR’s official score stood at 26.

83 confirmed aerial victories. He had also destroyed five German aircraft on the ground through strafing attacks. No P-51 pilot in history had achieved a higher total. The Luftwaffa knew his name. German intelligence had identified the blue-nosed Mustangs of the 352nd as one of the most dangerous American units.

Pilots were warned to avoid engagement when possible. Prey had become the hunter that German fighters feared most. Then the situation on the ground changed everything. On December 16th, 1944, three German army groups launched a massive offensive through the Arden forest. 200,000 troops supported by nearly a thousand tanks smashed into thinly held American lines.

 The attack achieved complete surprise. The Battle of the Bulge had begun. American ground commanders sent urgent requests for air support. The 9inth Air Force, responsible for tactical operations over the continent, was overwhelmed. They needed help immediately. On December 23rd, the 352nd received orders to relocate from Bodney to a forward airfield in Belgium.

 The base was designated Y29, located near the town of Ash. It sat less than 15 mi from German lines. Prey led his squadron across the channel. not knowing he had 48 hours to live. Airfield Y29 was nothing like Bodney. The Belgian base consisted of a single pierced steel plank runway, a few wooden buildings, and rows of canvas tents.

Pilots who had grown accustomed to heated quarters and hot meals found themselves sleeping in freezing conditions with sea rations for dinner. The runway sat in a shallow valley surrounded by low hills. On clear days, pilots in the landing pattern could see German artillery positions to the east. Enemy aircraft occasionally strafeed the field during takeoff and landing.

 The base received small arms fire at least twice during the 352nd first night. But the greatest danger at Y29 came from American guns. The Battle of the Bulge had created a defensive nightmare for Allied anti-aircraft units. German forces had captured American uniforms, vehicles, and equipment. English-speaking German commandos operated behind Allied lines, spreading confusion and misdirecting convoys.

Rumors of German paratroopers dressed as American soldiers caused panic at checkpoints throughout Belgium. Anti-aircraft battalions protecting forward airfields operated under constant tension. Gunners had standing orders to fire on any aircraft that approached without proper identification.

 The procedures for aircraft recognition were theoretically simple. Approaching pilots would radio ahead, firecolored flares, and rock their wings in a specific pattern. In practice, the system failed constantly. Combat aircraft returning from missions often had damaged radios. Pilots focused on emergencies forgot recognition procedures.

 Flare guns jammed in cold weather, and gunners on the ground, terrified of German aircraft, sometimes opened fire before pilots could complete identification sequences. Friendly fire incidents had killed American airmen throughout the war. In Sicily, transport aircraft carrying paratroopers had been shot down by Navy ships.

 In Normandy, medium bombers had accidentally killed hundreds of American ground troops. The chaos of combat made such tragedies inevitable. At Y29, the problem was particularly acute. The base sat directly beneath the flight paths that German aircraft used to attack Allied positions. Luftwaffa fighters approaching from the east looked identical to American P-51s until they were within visual range.

 Gunners had seconds to identify friend from foe. The 430th Anti-aircraft artillery battalion provided air defense for Y29 and the surrounding area. Their M45 quadmount gun carriages each mounted 450 caliber machine guns capable of firing over 2,000 rounds per minute. The weapons were devastatingly effective against low-flying aircraft.

 They made no distinction between German and American targets. December 24th brought a brief pause in operations. Low clouds and fog grounded aircraft on both sides. Pilots at Y29 celebrated Christmas Eve in their frozen tents, sharing whatever alcohol they had managed to bring from England. The mood was subdued.

 Everyone knew the weather would clear eventually. Prey spent the evening reviewing reconnaissance reports with his flight leaders. German activity east of Leazge had increased dramatically. Luftwafa units were flying ground attack missions against American supply convoys. The bombed and strafed roads were the only routes bringing ammunition and fuel to troops holding the bulge.

 American commanders needed fighters over those roads at first light. Any German aircraft caught attacking ground targets would be destroyed. The mission orders were clear. Find the enemy. Kill him. Christmas morning dawned cold and clear. Frost covered the Mustangs on the flight line.

 Ground crews had worked through the night warming engines and checking systems. By 0600, the aircraft were ready. Prey briefed his pilots in a tent warmed by a single kerosene heater. The patrol would cover the area between Leedge and the German lines. Intelligence reported multiple loose Waffle units operating in the sector. Contact was expected.

 10 P-51 Mustangs taxi to the runway at 0730. PR’s aircraft, the fourth Krysa mighty of his career, carried a full load of ammunition and external fuel tanks. His engine instruments showed normal readings. Weather conditions were perfect. The Mustangs took off into the frozen Belgian sky, climbing toward their patrol altitude.

 Below them, American anti-aircraft gunners tracked every aircraft with nervous fingers on their triggers. George Prey had less than 4 hours to live and the men who would kill him wore the same uniform he did. The patrol flew east toward Lege at 15,000 ft. 10 Mustangs in two flights of four and one flight of two.

 Prey led the formation from the front, scanning the horizon for enemy aircraft. The morning sun cast long shadows across the snow-covered Belgian countryside. For nearly 3 hours, they saw nothing. German aircraft that had been active the previous days remained on the ground. The Luftvafa was conserving fuel and pilots for maximum effort missions against the Allied Bulge.

 At approximately 10:30, PR’s flight received a radio call from ground control. A dog fight was in progress 15 mi to the southeast. American aircraft needed assistance. Prey acknowledged the transmission and turned his formation toward the reported position. They found chaos. A mixed group of American and German fighters swirled between 5,000 and 15,000 ft.

 BF 109s and FW190s tangled with P47 Thunderbolts from a 9inth Air Force unit. Smoke trails marked aircraft that had already fallen. Parachutes drifted in the cold air. Prey pushed his throttle to maximum power and dove into the fight. His pilots followed in pairs, each element selecting targets and engaging independently.

 The disciplined German formation disintegrated as the fresh Mustangs tore through their ranks. Prey spotted a BF 109 trying to disengage from a P-47. The German pilot dove toward the deck, hoping to escape in the confusion. Prey followed, closing the distance rapidly. At 300 yd, he opened fire. The burst struck the Messers Schmidt’s fuselage behind the cockpit.

 Pieces of aluminum skin peeled away in the slipstream. The German pilot attempted to turn, but his aircraft was already dying. Prey fired again at 200 yd. The BF 109 exploded and crashed into a snow-covered field. Kill number 27. Prey pulled up and scanned for additional targets. A second BF 109 crossed above him, heading west at high speed.

 He rolled his Mustang and gave chase. The German pilot saw him coming and dove for the clouds. Prey followed through a thin layer of stratus and emerged on the other side, still tracking his prey. The BF 109 was running for home, using every nod of speed his damaged engine could produce. Pretty close to 400 yd. 300 250. He fired a long burst that walked across the German fighter’s wing and engine cowling.

 The measures began streaming white glycol smoke. The pilot pulled up sharply, slowing his aircraft for a bailout. Prey held his fire as the German canopy flew off and a figure tumbled into the frozen air. A parachute blossomed. Kill number 28. His final confirmed aerial victory. Prey climbed back to 8,000 ft and rejoined with his wingman, Lieutenant James Cardi.

 The main engagement had ended. German survivors had scattered toward their own lines. American aircraft were reforming into flights and heading back to base. Then the radio crackled again. Ground control reported a lone German fighter strafing American troops southeast of Leazge. The aircraft was attacking a supply convoy on the main road to Baston. Troops were dying.

 They needed immediate assistance. Prey acknowledged and turned southeast. Cardi followed on his wing. They found the Faulwolf FW190 at treetop level, making repeated passes over a column of American trucks. Black smoke rose from burning vehicles. Soldiers scattered into the roadside ditches as the German pilot rad the convoy with cannon fire.

 Prey dove on the FW190 from behind and above. The German pilot saw him coming and broke off his attack, turning hard to the east. He stayed low, hugging the terrain, using hills and tree lines to mask his aircraft from the pursuing Mustang. The chase headed directly toward the front lines. Prey closed the distance steadily.

 The FW190 was fast at low altitude, but the Mustang was faster. At 300 yd, Prey began firing short bursts, trying to score hits on the weaving German fighter. Below them, American anti-aircraft positions tracked both aircraft through their sights. Gunners watched the chase unfold, fingers on triggers, waiting to see which aircraft would emerge as the target.

 They made their decision in less than 3 seconds. The gunners of the 430th Anti-aircraft Artillery Battalion saw two aircraft screaming toward them at treetop height. The lead plane was clearly German. The distinctive radial engine and square wing tips of the FW190 were unmistakable. Behind it, a second fighter was closing rapidly, firing tracers.

 The gunners had no way to identify the pursuing aircraft. At that speed and altitude, the silhouettes of a P-51 Mustang and a BF 109 looked nearly identical. Radio communication with approaching aircraft was impossible in the chaos. Recognition procedures required time that did not exist. They saw a German plane. They saw a plane chasing it. They opened fire on both.

The M45 quadmount position erupted with four streams of 50 caliber rounds. 2,000 bullets per minute tore through the air where both aircraft would pass. The FW190 pilot saw the tracers and broke hard left, diving into a ravine and escaping to the east. Prey flew directly into the stream of fire.

 Multiple 50 caliber rounds struck his Mustang’s engine and cockpit. The aircraft shuddered violently. Oil sprayed across the windscreen. Prety’s controls went dead in his hands. He reacted instantly, pulling back on the stick to gain altitude for a bailout. The Mustang responded sluggishly, climbing in a shallow chandel to the left.

 At approximately 200 ft, Prey released his canopy. The plexiglass cover flew away in the slipstream. Another burst of ground fire struck the aircraft as it climbed. Witnesses on the ground saw PR’s body slump in the cockpit. The Mustang rolled inverted and dove toward the frozen Belgian farmland. At the last moment, Preydy fell from the aircraft.

His parachute deployed, but had no time to open fully. Major George Prey struck the ground seconds after his aircraft. He was 25 years old. He had survived 143 combat missions, a mid-air collision, and hundreds of engagements with enemy fighters. He died less than 15 mi from the base where he had taken off 4 hours earlier.

 The men who killed him never knew his name. News of Py’s death reached Y29 within hours. Pilots who had flown with him that morning learned he had been shot down by American guns. The initial reports were confused. Some believed he had been killed by German flack. Others heard he had been hit during the dog fight. The truth emerged slowly over the following days.

 Army investigators determined that the 430th Anti-aircraft Artillery Battalion had fired on PR’s aircraft while he was pursuing an enemy fighter. The gunners had followed their training and standing orders. They had engaged an unidentified low-flying aircraft approaching their position from hostile territory.

 No charges were filed. No disciplinary action was taken. The incident was classified as a tragic accident of war. Lieutenant Colonel John Meyer wrote the official report on PR’s death. The man who had called Prey the greatest fighter pilot who ever squinted through a gun site now had to document how that pilot had died at the hands of his own countrymen.

 Meyer recommended Preydy for aostumous Medal of Honor. The recommendation was denied. The Eighth Air Force tallied PR’s final score at 26.83 confirmed aerial victories. The official count made him the highest scoring P-51 Mustang pilot of the entire war. No other Mustang ace would ever surpass his record. He had also destroyed five German aircraft on the ground. His combined total of 31.

83 victories ranked him as the third highest scoring American ace in the European theater. Only Francis Gabeski and Robert Johnson had more kills and both had achieved their scores primarily in P47 Thunderbolts. Among Mustang pilots, Prey stood alone. The Army awarded him the Distinguished Service Cross, Silver Star with oakleaf cluster, distinguished flying cross with eight oakleaf clusters, air metal with seven oakleaf clusters, and purple heart.

 The Belgian government added the Quadigare to his decorations. His body was buried at the Henry Chappelle American Cemetery in Belgium. He would not rest there long. 4 months after George Prey died, his younger brother William was flying a P-51 over Czechoslovakia. The date was April 17th, 1945. William Prey would not survive the day.

Lieutenant William Prey flew with the 5003rd Fighter Squadron of the 339th Fighter Group. He had followed his older brother into the Army Airore and earned his own wings as a Mustang pilot. By April 1945, William had one confirmed aerial victory. On the morning of April 17th, William squadron attacked a Luftwaffa airfield near Ches Burio Vitz in Czechoslovakia.

 The mission was a strafing run against parked aircraft. German anti-aircraft guns defended the field. William made his pass at low altitude, firing at aircraft lined up along the runway. German gunners tracked his Mustang through their sights. Tracer rounds converged on his aircraft. His P-51 took multiple hits and crashed before he could bail out.

 William Prey died four months after his brother killed in the same manner. Both brothers had survived countless engagements with enemy fighters. Both had been shot down by ground fire. George by American guns, William by German guns. The Prey family had given two sons to the war. Neither would come home.

 After the German surrender in May 1945, the army began consolidating American war dead into permanent cemeteries. George Py’s remains were moved from Henry Chappelle to the Lraine American Cemetery in Saint of Old, France. When Williams body was recovered from Czechoslovakia, the army buried him beside his brother. The two Prey brothers lie together under white marble crosses in section B, row 21, graves 11 and 12.

 Over 10,000 American servicemen rest in the same cemetery. Few visitors know that two of those graves hold the remains of brothers who flew Mustangs against the Third Reich. Greensboro, North Carolina did not forget its native sons. The city named a major boulevard after the Prey brothers. Business Interstate 85 runs through Greensboro as Prey Boulevard, a four-lane road that thousands of commuters drive every day.

 Most of them have no idea who George and William Prey were. In 1978, the United States Air Force convened a review board to examine fighter victory credits from the Second World War. Earlier boards had reduced PR’s official score to 25.83 victories. Joe Noah, PRY’s first cousin, discovered that one of the disallowed victories was a kill for which George had received the Silver Star.

 The 1978 board corrected the error. PR’s official score was restored to 26.83 aerial victories. The record stands today. In 1993, Joe Noah established the Prey Memorial Foundation to preserve his cousin’s legacy. The foundation collected photographs, documents, and artifacts related to both Prey brothers. Noah co-authored a biography titled George Prey, Top Mustang Ace with historian Samuel Socks.

The book remains the definitive account of PR’s life and combat career. The National Museum of the Mighty Eighth Air Force in Savannah, Georgia displays artifacts from PREY’s service. His decorations, flight gear, and photographs are preserved for future generations. The museum tells the story of the men who flew from England to destroy the Luftwaffa.

 Py’s record as the top P-51 ace has stood for 80 years. Thousands of pilots flew Mustangs in combat during the Second World War. None shot down more enemy aircraft than George Prey. None matched his six victories in a single mission. None demonstrated greater skill or courage in aerial combat, and none died in a more tragic manner.

 The friendly fire incident that killed Prey was never officially investigated. The gunners who fired on his aircraft were never identified publicly. They likely never knew that the Mustang they shot down carried the deadliest American fighter pilot in Europe. If this story moved you the way it moved us, do me a favor, hit that like button.

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