Korean War B-29 bombardier Robert J. Grenz of Bergenfield, N.J., in a familiar seat in the nose of a Superfortress on display at Reading Regional Airport for World War II Weekend.
The
instant Robert J. Grenz crawled into the
glass-paneled nose of a B-29 Superfortress
on Thursday at Reading Regional Airport, 59
years vanished and he was again on a bombing
raid over North Korea.
"I'm home," sighed Grenz, 86, a B-29
bombardier during the Korean War.
Grenz of Bergenfield, N.J., is attending
World War II Weekend, which opens a
three-day run today at the airport, with a
delegation from the Army Air Forces
Historical Association.
On the tarmac near the Mid-Atlantic Air
Museum, Grenz slipped behind the B-29's
Norden bombsight as if his last mission had
been only yesterday.
Overcome with a sense of deja vu, he
calibrated the instrument's lens and relived
a painful, near tragic bombing mission in
1952.
Once more, in his mind's eye, he was
28-year-old 1st Lt. Grenz, and the big
bomber's belly was filled with 39 bombs
destined to wipe out a North Korean ammo
dump.
A high-altitude, long-range bomber that flew
at 350 mph, the B-29 carried 20,000 pounds
of bombs and a crew of 12.
As Grenz recalls it, the bomber's radar
operator gave the order to open the bomb bay
in preparation for releasing its lethal
weapons.
Grenz refused, saying his calculations with
the Norden bombsight indicated it was 31/2
minutes too early to drop the bombs.
Refusing a direct order is grounds for
court-martial, a fact that the plane's
captain reminded Grenz of in no uncertain
terms.
Still, Grenz refused several other commands
from the radar operator and the captain.
His reason wasn't just technical.
Below, in the bomber's direct path, was a
North Korean encampment that housed 1,500
American prisoners of war. The crew had been
warned of the camp's existence during a
preflight briefing.
No way was Grenz going to drop bombs on
American POWs, even under the threat of
court-martial.
Grenz was able to ignore the orders because
the bombardier has the final responsibility
for dropping the bombs. Indeed, using the
Norden bombsight, the bombardier briefly
steers the plane to ensure the bombs hit
their target.
"You're in control of the plane for 35 to 45
seconds," said Grenz, a retired New Jersey
machinist.
Grenz's calculations turned out to be right.
The POW camp was spared, and the ammo dump
obliterated.
Given that his decision proved right - and
possibly saved the lives of 1,500 American
POWs - Grenz did not face court-martial.
The incident, however, has remained with him
nearly six decades later.
He's still haunted by images of American
soldiers who would have perished had he
obeyed the orders to drop the bombs. "I've
been thinking about it a lot lately," he
confessed.
Grenz's trip back in time was courtesy of
the Commemorative Air Force, the Texas-based
wartime preservationist group that owns the
B-29.
Dubbed Fifi, the four-engine, Boeing bomber
is the only remaining B-29 that's able to be
flown. It's on display this weekend.
The Army Air Forces Historical Association
is also displaying a Norden bombsight, the
only working instrument of its kind on the
East Coast. Normally, it's on display at the
association's living history museum at New
Jersey.
Albert J. Parisi, the association's
operations officer, accompanied Grenz on his
brief encounter with the bombsight in the
B-29's nose.
Though six decades have passed, Grenz knew
the location of every lever, button or dial
in a form-fitting space about the size of an
easy chair. Time had not erased his
familiarity with, or fondness for, the time
he spent as bombardier on the most advanced
bomber of its day.
"It was," observed Parisi, "as if he never
left."
Article by Ron Devlin Photos by Bill Uhrich
