When This German Fighter Flew Into His B-17 — He Landed With It Still Inside

The Airman No One Wanted—and the 90 Minutes That Saved a Burning B-17

Brest, France — May 1, 1943.
At a time when American bomber crews were dying faster than they could be replaced, a single B-17 limped out of occupied France trailing smoke, fire damage, and nearly impossible odds. It should never have made it home. And according to nearly everyone in its squadron, neither should have the man who saved it.

His name was Staff Sergeant Maynard Harrison Smith, a 31-year-old ball turret gunner with no combat experience, a thick disciplinary record, and a reputation as the most difficult enlisted man in the 306th Bomb Group. For six weeks, pilots had specifically requested that he not be assigned to their aircraft. On May 1, 1943, he flew anyway.

That morning, 78 B-17 Flying Fortresses lifted off from England on a mission to strike German submarine pens at Saint-Nazaire. It was the spring of 1943, the most dangerous period of the American daylight bombing campaign. Fighter escort was limited. German air defenses were lethal. Statistically, a bomber crew had roughly a 50 percent chance of surviving a full 25-mission tour. Some units lost that many aircraft in a single month.

On the return flight, disaster struck.

A navigation error caused Smith’s aircraft—piloted by Captain Lewis Johnson, flying his 25th and final mission—to descend through cloud cover believing it was over England. Instead, the bomber emerged at low altitude directly over Brest, one of the most heavily defended cities in German-occupied France.

Anti-aircraft guns opened fire immediately. Moments later, 15 to 20 Focke-Wulf 190 fighters attacked. Cannon shells ripped through the fuselage. A fuel tank ruptured, flooding the radio compartment with aviation gasoline. The fuel ignited. The oxygen system exploded.

The aircraft was on fire.

Three crewmen bailed out. None survived. In the rear of the plane, the tail gunner lay wounded and trapped, unable to move forward through the flames. Ammunition began cooking off in the waist section, bullets firing randomly inside the aircraft. Structural failure seemed inevitable.

Standard procedure in such a situation was clear: get out.

Smith did not.

A One-Man Fight Against Fire and Fighters

Climbing out of the ball turret into a fuselage already burning, Smith moved toward the fire while others had moved away from it. With no effective firefighting equipment and temperatures exceeding 1,000 degrees Fahrenheit, he improvised.

He beat flames with blankets and canvas until they caught fire themselves. He disconnected the relief tube and used its contents to douse burning fuel. When ammunition boxes began exploding, he grabbed them with his bare hands—hot enough to blister skin—and threw them out of the waist gun windows, one by one.

Between attempts to contain the fire, Smith manned the machine guns, firing at attacking German fighters diving past at more than 300 miles per hour. He had never fired at a moving enemy aircraft before. He fought fires. He fought fighters. Then he went back to the fire again.

This continued for 90 minutes.

Captain Johnson struggled to keep the aircraft airborne. Control cables had been severed. The bomber wanted to roll and dive. Fuel was nearly gone. The English Channel stretched ahead—cold, unforgiving, and fatal to crews forced to ditch.

Against every expectation, the fire finally died.

Smith crawled to the tail section and found the wounded gunner alive. He administered first aid, then returned to man the guns as the aircraft limped toward England alone. German fighters broke off at the coast, unwilling to follow into British airspace.

A Landing—and a Break in Two

With fuel nearly exhausted, Johnson diverted to RAF Predannack, a small grass airfield in Cornwall. The runway was short, the aircraft barely controllable, but there was no other option.

The landing was smooth—briefly.

As the bomber settled onto its wheels, the weakened fuselage failed. The aircraft broke in half just behind the wings. Rescue crews ran toward the wreckage expecting bodies.

Instead, they saw Staff Sergeant Maynard Smith climb out, hands wrapped in bloody bandages, helping the wounded tail gunner to safety.

Later inspection revealed more than 3,500 bullet, cannon, and shrapnel holes in the aircraft. No B-17 with that level of damage should have flown—let alone landed.

Captain Johnson’s mission report was unequivocal: Smith’s actions alone had saved the aircraft and the lives of everyone aboard.

From Outcast to Medal of Honor

Smith was recommended for the Medal of Honor, becoming the first enlisted airman in the European Theater to receive it. His story was picked up by Stars and Stripes journalist Andy Rooney, then just 23 years old. Newspapers across the United States ran the story of the misfit gunner who became a hero.

But fame did not change Smith.

He remained argumentative. He continued clashing with officers. On the morning of his Medal of Honor ceremony, he missed it entirely—because he had been assigned kitchen police duty for a disciplinary infraction. He was rushed from the mess hall to receive the medal from Secretary of War Henry Stimson, grease stains still visible on his uniform.

Smith flew four more combat missions before being grounded for what was then called operational exhaustion—now recognized as post-traumatic stress disorder. His disciplinary problems continued. In 1944, the Army took the unprecedented step of reducing a Medal of Honor recipient in rank.

A Complicated Legacy

After the war, Smith struggled in civilian life. Jobs did not last. Marriages failed. Over the years, his retellings of May 1 grew increasingly exaggerated. Veterans who knew the truth said nothing. The core facts did not need embellishment.

Smith died in 1984 and was buried at Arlington National Cemetery, as all Medal of Honor recipients are entitled to be.

His headstone records only what mattered most:
He served. He was honored.

Maynard Smith was not an easy hero. He was not a perfect one. But for 90 minutes over Brest, when everything was burning and escape was easier than staying, he chose to fight.

And that was enough.

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