The Full Story
As we endeavored to create an amazing property, we wanted, in some small way, to honor the heroes of the greatest generation who fought in the 305 Bombardment Group during WWII.  They were fighting for, and many died for, the freedom that we experience and enjoy today in the United States of America.  
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Everyone in the 305 Bombardment Group made an immense sacrifice. There is no telling how the world would be different today were it not for their courage and bravery.
More specifically, we thought that it was important to honor the greatest man I have ever known, my father, Loren Fink, alongside the other heroes that flew in the same B-17 that was shot down on the second Schweinfurt raid. The plane took a major hit and was unable to make it home.  It crashed at Waldenrath, near Geilenkirchen, 17 miles north of Aachen.  In addition to Waist Gunner: Loren Fink, the others onboard the plane that dark day were Pilot: Neal Fisher; Co-Pilot: Clinton Bush, Radio Operator: Harvey Bennett, Engineer and Top Turret Gunner: Clinton Bitton, Tail Gunner: George LeFebre (POW), Navigator: Carl Booth (body never recovered),  Bombardier: Don Hissom, Ball Turret Gunner: Harry Insdorf and Waist Gunner: Tom Therrien (KIA).  
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The fateful crash happened during the second Schweinfurt raid on October 14, 1943, a day that is now known as Black Thursday.  The leaders of the Allied air forces believed at the time that if they could severely damage the ball bearing plants in Schweinfurt Germany, they could debilitate the German war machine since the ball bearings were a critical component of everything that was needed to continue the war effort.  Germany had very little geo diversification for their ball bearing plants at the time and all their factories were in the same general area, making the raid a highly strategic effort.  
Lessons learned from the first mission were incorporated into the strategy for the second mission, but despite the changes, the plan was still flawed and the results showed it with a devastating net loss of more than 26% of the attacking force. 291 B-17 “Flying Fortresses” were dispatched toward the target that Black Thursday.  60 were lost, another 17 damaged so heavily that they had to be scrapped. Another 121 of the B17s had varying degrees of battle damage.  The losses in this single battle resulted in the Allied forces temporarily losing air superiority over Germany. They were so catastrophic that unescorted daylight bomber raids deep into Germany were suspended for nearly four months.
It is essential to remember all of these heroes and to tell of their stories – stories of immense sacrifice in the face of perilous danger.   In an effort to preserve these stories and my very own father’s legacy, what follows  is a word-for-word transcription of an audio file that Loren dictated and recorded on a cassette tape while he was still alive. Loren passed away on Feb 11th, 2015. May he rest in peace, and may he and his great sacrifice be remembered through these words. 
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Beginning of Military Service
I was living in Salem, Oregon when I was drafted at the service local board No.1, Polk County, Dallas, Oregon, on the twenty-ninth of September 1941. I was twenty-two at the time.  My induction center was Fort Lewis. Tacoma, Washington. After three days, preferring to go into the air force, I took a short discharge and enlisted for three years.  They sent me to Jefferson Barracks near St. Louis, Missouri for basic training for about six weeks.  After that, I was sent to Scott Field Bellville, Illinois. At that time I think it was called the Tenth Material Squadron, where we did service work on airplanes. I also completed a sub-depot training school on aero-repair, completing the school on Aug 27, 1942. 
During my time there, I also signed up for gunnery school, passing all tests for it. I used this schooling at a later date.  Our complete unit was moved to Kellogg Field, Battle Creek, Michigan to service B-17’s before they were sent overseas. The last of December, 1942 or first of January, 1943, I was told to be ready to leave the next day for gunnery school at Tyndall Field, Panama City, Florida where I completed the course of instructions prescribed on the ninth day of February, 1943. In mid-February, I went to Buckley Field  in Denver, Colorado, then Lowery Fields One and Two for aircraft armors bombardment school: training on machine guns, thirty and fifty millimeter guns plus twenty millimeter cannons. I graduated from this school on May 1, 1943. Going by train to Atlantic City, New Jersey, with the 720th Tng. Group Flight D, I trained more in the use and care of our guns to become very familiar with them and also did some skeet shooting. Then on leaving for England around May 20th on the Queen Elizabeth as a replacement gunner to the 8th Air Force 3O5th Bomb Group, 366th Bomb Squadron, we arrived approximately June 8, 1943, with a layover in Scotland.  I flew missions over Germany Norway and France.   
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First Bombing Missions
My first B-17 mission was to Hull Germany Rubber Plant. It may have been on the fifteenth of June. The next was to Remes, France, but do not remember what the actual target was and the date was probably about the 24th. Probable next mission was the Saint Nazaire, German U-Boat Base on July 4, 1943, in France. Our next mission was to Kassel, Germany Fochewulf factory. Our next take off was to a German aluminum plant at Heroya, Norway near Aslo on July 24th. A mission to Caen, France happened between the 24th and 29th, but I do not recall the exact target.
On the 29th we went to Keil, Germany, also a U-Boat base.   We were flying lead ship with two planes on each side.  We ran into some anti-aircraft fire and both planes on either side disappeared; no one came out of either plane. Those are my real hero’s. The planes behind filled in formation.  Shortly after that, I was wounded by anti-aircraft with fragments in the left eye, left side of head, and left shoulder.  I initially thought that the other waist gunner had hit me and I took a swing at him, but missed.  
It was very cold in a B-17.  There was no heat except what you had in your heated suit.  The temperature was anywhere between 30 – 60 degrees below zero when flying at the proper altitude.  I have been cold my entire life due to the lack of circulation in my extremities from frost bite which occurred on these raids.
After being hit, I was still able to stay with the gun until we were over the target and on the way home, presumably out of harm’s way.  I went down in the nose where they gave me morphine and I tried to keep warm.   
After landing at the base in England, I was taken to a hospital where they operated on my eye and left shoulder, and took metal out of my back around the spine.  

Hospital
I was sent from there to a hospital in London that specialized on eye surgery for 30 days, after which I was allowed to go back to the barracks with the rest of my crew. During the time that I was recuperating, the rest of my crew finished their 25 missions. The doctor that was treating me told me that I could go home with them, however I felt like there was unfinished business that I needed to complete. This decision had enormous consequences for me and would affect me the rest of my life, but it was a decision that I would make the same way again.
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Final Bombing Missions
The next mission that I went on was on October 10th, a mission to Munster, Germany, where the probable target was a fighter plane factory.  We lost thirty-seven B-17’s on that mission.  
My 9th mission was to a ball bearing factory in Schweinfurt, Germany on Oct. 14, 1943, and one that I and many others did not complete.  A true book length feature was published in True Magazine of April, 1957, called The World’s Greatest Air Battle, written by the late Col. Budd J. Peaslee, the leader of the Eighth Air Force Bomber Command during the mission.The target was so far inland that the fighters did not have enough range to provide cover, so we had very little escort to take us toward the target. Of three hundred plus B-17’s sent on this mission, sixty or sixty two did not return. Over six hundred men did not return that day, many were killed and others taken prisoners. 
I was wounded in the right shoulder, shattering my right shoulder blade which took nine months to heal, and has been a source of constant pain ever since. Our group was very hard hit on this mission, our squadron anyway, for we sent the maximum amount of planes we could, which was six B- 17’s. One aborted and five were shot down before reaching the target, due to heavy cloud cover. We could not stay up with the main group, so were easy targets for fighter planes. I was able to get and keep a prisoner of war log book, and will give some of the dates from it for confirmation.  I parachuted from the B-17 October 14, 1943, at Geilenkirchen, Germany and was picked up by the German Army.  I do not have any recollection of pulling the cord on the parachute.  Anyway, I was fortunate that the civilians did not see me first as they would have probably shot me on the spot.  
Six of our crew were able to parachute out and survived.  Four did not make it out alive.

POW
The first thing that I remember was lying in a plowed field with two Germans who had lugers pointed at my head.
The first place that they took me was a shed type building that I believe was connected to a house. They took all my personal belongings, cigarettes, escape equipment, etc.  While I was there, they brought a little blond headed girl into my room that was about 10-12 years old with a missing arm. They told me that I was the one that did it. This memory has affected me to this day, even though I knew it could not have been me since the wound had already healed. I could never knowingly hurt a little one like that.  The accusation that I could have been the one that cause this was one of the worst things that I experienced as POW.
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I lost a lot of blood before getting to the hospital. They put me on a white sheet that was completely red when I was moved. I was in a civilian hospital for fifteen days where I did not receive any treatments for my wounds which became very infected before leaving there on Oct. 30th.  I believe that the co-pilot (who had a broken pelvis) and the ball turret gunner were also in the same hospital.  
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It was here that I decided that I was going to go home and asked the co-pilot if he wanted to go with me.  The co-pilot told me that I would never make it, but I told him that I was going to give it a try.  I went down 3 flights of floors and was on the bottom floor when the nurses caught me and took me back.  I was severely reprimanded and told that if I had made it out the door, I would have been killed instantly.  
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They moved me to a French prison hospital near Dusseldorf, Germany, where I had a Polish prisoner for a doctor. He was very good, and did everything he could to ease my discomfort by treating me to get rid of the infection, although he did not have much to work with.  They did not have any pain killers, anesthetics or antibiotics to give me.
He told me that if I had been a day or two later in getting there that they would have had to take me home in a box due to the gangrene that had set in. The stench from the gangrene was so bad that I could hardly stand it myself. I cannot get around the smell of a dead animal to this day.Due to the lack of pain killers or anesthesia, they gave me a bed rail to hold on to and when they were done with the surgery, they had to pry my fingers loose.
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Disinfectant was running through the wound at all times. Every other day, they would pull the packing out, and replace it with new. They would go back in with forceps to remove anything that had broken loose and break off any bone that was ready to come out. All of this was done without any pain killers. 
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While I was there, there were two well-dressed Germans that came in.  I guess that they were officers. One of them told me that Fink was a German name and asked me why was I fighting on the American side.  I told him it was because I wanted to be on the winning side.  This was not the answer they were wanting…
There was a Jew that was in there with me.  He was obnoxious and they did not like that too much.  They told me one night that they would be taking care of him and I never saw him again.  
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I had two matchboxes that were filled with bone chips when I left there.  I didn’t get well enough to leave until Jan. 21, 1944. I went by train to Frankfurt, Germany, which was an interrogation center. I was not kept there long. Due to the time delay of my hospitalization, they knew that I would not have much relevant information. I was in solitary confinement there for 6 days. I was moved from there on Jan. 27th in a train boxcar to Heydikrug, which was about thirty miles south of Memo (what it was called then) on the North Sea, arriving Feb. 2 at Stalag Luft VI which was a British Camp, my first P.O.W. camp.  The camp that they wanted to send me to was not ready yet.
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While in this camp, they taught me about working with and managing the escape committee.  I was taking care of compasses and maps.  I was quite ill and they finally had to put in someone else that was not in as bad of shape.  The map man that made the maps for us was named “Walker”.  Several tried to escape and did not make it far.  Walker decided that he was going to give it a try.  He went to the English compound, stowed away with Red Cross parcels in the baggage truck.  That night when he tried to go, he was spotted and held up his hands, but Walker was shot anyway.Four got out by going through a drainage ditch and cutting the wire.   One of the guys father was a blacksmith and he was able to make wire cutters from some of the iron on the windows and they worked real well.  They got out and were gone for 3 days before they were recaptured and put into solitary confinement for 30 days with only bread and water to eat, which was not much different than what we ate.
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A short time later we had a couple Englishmen were able to go out through the gate with the proper passes and uniforms that they traded for with the Germans.  They looked German and talked German and had no difficulty getting out. I knew this because I hid the uniforms that they used in my bed for two days.  I was glad that we did not have a gestapo raid at the time.  If we did, I probably would not be here today.  It took them about two months to get back to England successfully.There was a lot of activity building tunnels.  Sometime you would have as many as five tunnels in the process at one time. This kept the Germans busy going around the compound punching a sharp iron peg into the ground trying to discover the tunnels.  When they did find them, it was a site to behold.  They would call us all out and count us and recount us.  Not sure how they thought anyone could get out when the discovered tunnel was not even completed yet. We had different activities such as sports and games, but with what we had to eat, we were not doing too well.  We had coffee in the morning made out of parched grain and 2 slices of bread and some watery soup at night.  If it were not for Red Cross parcels, no one would have made it home.  These packages from the Red Cross were a wonderful supplement, but sometimes you would not get them for as long as six weeks due to “transportation” problems.  The Germans said it was because of our bombing missions.  Anyway, we did not get them.  Maybe they did. Because of the advancing of Russian troops, we were moved by train to Memo, July 15th and were placed on an old boat on the North Sea to Sweinmunde, which took forty nine hours. This was not really a pleasure ride. We were in the hull of a Russian ship. There were probably around 1000 people on board this ship, much more than it was designed to carry. There were so many people in there that there was no room to lie down or sit down. Many of the prisoners were sick, which did not help the situation. 
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They only allowed one person to go to top side to relieve themselves at a time. One prisonerjumped overboard and was shot. From there to Gross Tychow by train. Next we were lined up and handcuffed to another prisoner, to be run for two miles with police dogs and bayonets by a German Marine group. We were told that there were Germans all over in the woods hoping that we would try to escape so that they would be able to do away with us.  
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Everyone lost all their personal belongings and some even lost their lives. However, I was able to keep my log book that I had started while in Germany and still have it to this day.  My shoulder was in the process of finally healing by this time. However, I was unfortunate enough to step out of line and a big red headed German soldier by the name of Big Stoop hit me with the butt of his gun in the shoulder. This opened the wound and the healing process had to start over again.  This was very painful indeed.  I had hopes of getting back there and retaliating.  Someone else did the honors, and Big Stoop was killed shortly after the war was over.  This camp that we arrived at was Stalag Luft IV. This was July 18, my second camp. We did the same things in this camp regarding escape planning, but I do not recall ever getting anyone out. 
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Long March (Death March)
Again due to front line condition, and the advancing Russian Army, we left by foot Feb. 6, 1945, the start of a very long march that has been called by historians, the Death March. This march lasted 86 days and we covered 600 hard miles. The difficult conditions and lack of adequate food and water made the trip even tougher. In order to get some food, we traded with civilians on the road. We traded anything that we have of value. A good watch might bring three loaves of bread. There were three of us that stuck together and was probably one of the reasons that I was one of the few that actually made it. If one of us was not doing well one day, the others helped by carrying what little we had or helped to pull the other one along.  Red Cross parcels were practically non-existent.  I think that we got one or two in the entire 86 days of the march.
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Before we ended the march, we were near a barnyard and we stole a chicken and carrots and potatoes and made a stew that was coming along real nicely.  However, the German guards caught us and took it away from us.  They made us watch as they ate it which was not easy to do, but there was nothing that we could do about it. 
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War Ends
‍We did not know at the time, but the next day would be our last day as a prisoner of the Germans.  On the 26th of April, we were marched to the American lines where the German guards gave themselves up at Halle, Germany, April 27, and I was sent to P.W.X. camp. 
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We had quite a good time. It was an additional 9 days before the war ended in the European theater and we had free run because we were under American hands.  We were allowed to go to many places.  One day, the three of us all stole bikes from the Germans and went for a bike ride.  I crashed mine into a tree, so I did not make it very far.
  
We also went to a warehouse that had American MP’s watching it.  They found out that we were POW’s and they said to help ourselves, which we did.  We got lots of food.  I got into a room that had only candy bars.  I made three trips and hauled nothing but candy bars.  Everyone that was with us got sick from that.  It was too rich for us to eat after having eaten very little for close to two years, and we paid the price for stealing it, I guess.
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We left there on May 10, traveling by C-47 to Reams, France.  We then left Reams by train on the 13th, arriving at Lucky Strike Camp St. Valerey, France the same day. When we got there, we were given all the food we could eat, which was not much.  
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We left Lucky Strike Camp May 30th by truck to La Harve, France where we boarded the boat Eugene Hale at 2:30 P.M. on May 31st bound for America with 300 or more P.O.W.’s on the boat, arriving around thirty days later in New York.  They fixed a big steak with all the trimmings to go with it.  I only ate about a 2 inch piece of steak and I was full.  It was a big waste, but it felt good knowing that there would be plenty of food and you would not have to fight for it, and it would be there for you whenever you wanted it. 
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I weighed in at 105 pounds at the end of journey, a testament to the kind of care we received. From there, we were sent home.  My home was in Washington where my dad had moved while I was in service. I was given quite a few days leave before going to Santa Monica, California and being transferred to Fort George Wright in Spokane, Washington for extended treatments and rehabilitation. My discharge came Nov. 15, 1945. 
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That was when I called the one to whom I was engaged, Nina Cox.  Her mother said that I could not talk to her because she was sick with a cold.  Of course I had a lot of thoughts in my mind.  I thought that she should be able to talk a little if all she had was a cold.  But anyway, I was able to talk to her a couple days later and learned that she did not have a cold but had yellow jaundice and was very sick.  I later learned the Nina had gotten the message that I was dead when I was shot down, but that she never believed that and had waited for me to return, for which I was thankful. We made plans to get back together in Dixon Illinois and then got married.  My discharge came Nov. 15, 1945 and we moved back to Illinois to begin our life together.  At this point before I became a follower of Christ, I was still very bitter for the treatment that I received by the Germans.  I really had plans for retaliation, and had I been left there, I would have done so.  I am glad now that I was not allowed to do it.  Anyway, I held that bitterness until 1965 when a missionary came to our church.  My wife did not go this night and I do not remember why.  He was preaching on revenge and talked about Ephesians 4:26 “do not let the sun go down on your anger” and Romans 12:19 “Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.”  I thought at one time that I was supposed to help Him, but He does not need my help.  Anyway, I accepted the Lord at my Savior that night.  Everything was not over, but it was a start to the healing process and I am glad that I went that night to that meeting.  It changed my life forever.Freedom is not cheap.  It was a terrible price to pay.  Many of my friends did not make it back and they paid the ultimate price for the freedoms that we enjoy today.
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The rest of the story
‍Loren  always said that he did not remember pulling the parachute, which we thought was strange.  How did he make it out alive?  Well, other pieces of the story came together in 2008.  Ken was living in Atlanta, Georgia at the time. He found out that the pilot of the B-17, Verl Fisher, was still alive and living in Gainesville, GA, only an hour’s drive from where Ken lived.  Ken made arrangements and drove down to Tallahassee, Florida to pick up Loren.  Just a few days later, Loren Fink and Verl Fisher saw each other for the first time since they were shot down on Oct 14th, 1943.  What a wonder to witness these two great men talking and sharing stories for hours on end.   One of the most interesting moments  was when Verl Fisher said that he was the one that reported Loren had died.  Verl said that the plane was hit and he knew it was going down.  Loren took a 50 caliber bullet through his shoulder,  lost a lot of blood, and was unconscious.  Verl started to crawl over to him to see if he could help, but before he got there, the plane banked and the unconscious Loren fell out of the plane.  So that is why he does not remember pulling the chute.  Someone must have pulled it, though…The only answer is that God was not yet done with  Loren Fink.  Keep in mind that Loren should not have even been on this mission since his original crew had completed their missions while he was in the hospital recovering from the previous injuries that earned him his first purple heart.  Loren said at that time he wanted get back on the B-17 because he had unfinished business.  In addition to falling out of the plane unconscious, there were a number of events that he should not have survived.  This was God’s way of saying, “Loren – you do still have unfinished business.”  Loren stated that he would not wish what he went through on anyone, that he lost some very dear friends, but if they were to call him again, he would be there in a heartbeat.  This is a testament to his courage, toughness, and lovingkindness.  He would not want anyone else to have to experience it, but he would do it again because he understands the huge impact the war had on the trajectory of the world. Loren understood and modeled that his life was not about him, but about the greater good and the impact that he could have on others.

‍Schweinfurt revisitedIn 2017, Ken did a driving tour through Germany.  One of the top places on Ken’s list that he wanted to see was not a typical tourist destination.  Yes, Ken wanted to visit Schweinfurt, the target of that fateful mission.  In researching the area, Ken was able to make contact with a local history professor that gave tours.  Bernd Wölfel met Ken and family in the Schweinfurt city center and proceeded to provide an excellent tour of the city, focused on the devastation experienced during the war and the restoration of the city to what it is today. Ken took with him a copy of the transcription of Loren’s war memories for the purpose of remembering dates and places while on the tour of Germany.  Bernd said that he wanted a copy to read after we left. Ken obliged. A few weeks later, Ken got an email back from Bernd.  He said that he was deeply moved about the ordeal that Loren underwent as POW, about his forgiveness - the fact that he didn´t harbor any feelings of revenge.  He said that he shares this story on all of his tours with the hope that he is making a small contribution to keeping these memories alive and thus leading to mutual understanding of the power of forgiveness in the face of peril and injustice.

‍Conclusion
‍Thank you  for giving us an opportunity to keep these memories alive one story at a time, memories of the heroes from the greatest generation in our American history.