August 6th, 1944, 0600 hours, RAF Bodney, England. Major George Preddy was gripping the edge of a briefing table, trying not to vomit on the mission map, while his group commander looked him over and concluded this pilot had no business leading 36 fighters into combat today. 25 years old, 19.
83 aerial victories, leading the entire 352nd Fighter Group into combat over Hamburg in 2 hours. The Luftwaffe had sent more than 30 Messerschmitt Bf 109 fighters to intercept the morning bomber formation. By early August 1944, the Eighth Air Force had lost 206 P-51 Mustang pilots in 4 months. 17 had died in July alone.
The average P-51 pilot survived 93 combat hours before being shot down or killed. Preddy had logged 487 hours. Most fighter aces never made it past their 20th victory. German pilots were getting better at targeting American squadron leaders. Three majors had been killed in the past 6 weeks. George Preddy should never have been in that briefing room.
The United States Navy had rejected him three times in 1940. Too short, spinal curvature, high blood pressure. 5 feet 9 inches tall, 125 pounds. The Navy called him physically unqualified for flight training and sent him home to Greensboro, North Carolina three separate times. He worked at a cotton mill.
He attended Guilford College for 2 years. He watched other men become naval aviators while recruiters told him his body wasn’t good enough. The Army Air Corps accepted him in September 1940. He received his pilot wings at Craig Field, Alabama, on December 12th, 1941, 5 days after Pearl Harbor. The Navy’s rejection had given the Army Air Forces its future top Mustang ace.
His first combat posting sent him to Darwin, Australia, with the 49th Pursuit Group flying P-40 Warhawks. He named his first aircraft Tarheel. On July 12th, 1942, during a training flight, Second Lieutenant John Sobers’ P-40 collided with Preddy’s aircraft at 2,000 ft. Sober died in the crash.
Preddy spent 3 months in a hospital with severe leg and hip injuries. The collision nearly ended his flying career before it began. In July 1943, Preddy arrived in England with the 352nd Fighter Group. He flew Republic P-47 Thunderbolts out of Bodney Airfield. He was a habitual gambler. Craps was his game.
When he rolled the dice, he shouted, “Cripes almighty!” for luck. He painted those words on every aircraft he flew. His first European kill came on December 1st, 1943, a Bf 109 over Solingen. In April 1944, the 352nd converted to P-51 Mustangs. Preddy fell in love with the aircraft immediately. Better range, better speed at altitude, better cockpit visibility.
He scored his fifth victory on May 13th and became an official ace. By early August, he had 19.83 confirmed kills. He was approaching the end of his 200-hour combat tour. He had requested four successive 50-hour extensions to stay in combat. He wanted more kills. The night of August 5th, 1944, was supposed to be a free evening.
The morning mission had been scrubbed due to forecast bad weather. War bond rally money was burning holes in pockets. Someone organized a party. The drinking started at 2100 hours. Preddy joined in. Bourbon, beer, more bourbon. Fighter pilots celebrating another day alive.
At 0100 on August 6th, the mission was back on. Weather forecast had changed. Bombers needed escort over Hamburg. Someone shook Preddy awake. He stumbled to the briefing room still drunk. His group commander took one look at him and made a decision. Preddy was not leading the group. He was not fit to fly.
Lieutenant Colonel John Meyer, Preddy’s former squadron commander, stepped forward. Meyer was already an ace himself. He vouched for Preddy. He promised Preddy would be ready by takeoff time. The group commander relented, but warned Meyer this was on him. Six kills, one hangover, and you haven’t seen any of it yet. Hit that like button so more people can find this story.
Please subscribe if you’re new here. Now, back to Preddy. At 09:30, Preddy climbed into the cockpit of his P-51D Mustang Crypes A Mighty the Third. His head was pounding. His hands were shaking slightly. In 90 minutes, he would be at 30,000 ft over Hamburg with more than 30 Bf 109s attacking the bomber formation.
And he would have to prove Meyer’s faith in him wasn’t a fatal mistake. The Mustang’s Packard Merlin engine roared to life at 09:45. Preddy ran through his preflight checks twice. His vision was slightly blurred. His mouth tasted like metal and stale alcohol. The instrument panel seemed to vibrate more than usual.
He blinked hard and focused on the airspeed indicator. 70 mph for takeoff. Simple. He had done this 142 times before. 36 P-51 Mustangs from the 352nd Fighter Group lifted off from Bodney in three-ship elements. Preddy led the formation. His wingmen stayed tight on his wings. They climbed to 28,000 ft over the English Channel.
The flight to Hamburg would take 90 minutes. Preddy used the time to force his body back into combat readiness. Deep breaths, eyes scanning the horizon, hands checking the gun switches. Eight .50-caliber machine guns, 1,800 rounds of ammunition. He needed every bullet to count today.
The bomber stream appeared at 10:43. 96 Boeing B-17 Flying Fortresses in staggered boxes. Each fortress carried 10 men and 6,000 lb of bombs. The target was Hamburg’s industrial district, oil refineries, U-boat construction facilities. The Luftwaffe would defend Hamburg with everything available. German fighter pilots knew that losing Hamburg meant losing the war.
B-17 gunners had already shot down 341 Luftwaffe fighters in the past month, but the bombers had also lost 112 aircraft, 1,120 crewmen. The mathematics were brutal. Every bombing mission over Germany was a calculated massacre for both sides. The side that could sustain losses longer would win. America had more pilots. Germany had more experience.
At 11:07, 31,000 ft above the German coast, Pretty spotted the contrails. High and southwest. Multiple aircraft in formation. The contrails were too organized to be friendly. He keyed his radio and called out the sighting. His flight leaders acknowledged. Every P-51 pilot in the formation saw them now. Messerschmitt Bf 109 fighters.
More than 30 of them at altitude. They were positioning for a diving attack on the third bomber box. The tactical situation favored the Germans. They had altitude advantage. They had numerical superiority against Pretty’s immediate section. They had the sun at their backs. Standard Luftwaffe doctrine. Climb above the bombers.
Wait for the escort fighters to burn fuel chasing you. Then dive through the escorts and hit the bombers in a single, devastating pass. The Bf 109s could dive at 450 mph. A P-51 could only dive at 420. The Germans would be through the formation and gone before the Mustangs could react.
But the Bf 109 pilots had made one critical mistake. They had not seen Pretty’s formation climbing behind them. The German pilots were focused on the bombers below. They were scanning for American fighters coming from below or from the flanks. They were not checking their 6:00 position. Preddy had 30 seconds before the Germans would spot the Mustangs and scatter.
His hangover had disappeared. The nausea was gone. The blurred vision had cleared. Combat did that. The body knew the difference between a training flight and a fight for survival. Adrenaline overrode alcohol. Training overrode fear. Preddy’s hands were steady on the control stick. His breathing was calm. His eyes were tracking the lead Bf 109 in the enemy formation.
He had two choices. He could call for his entire formation to attack as a group. 36 P-51s hitting 30 Bf 109s. A massive dogfight that would scatter both formations across 50 miles of sky. Some Germans would escape. Some would reach the bombers. Or he could take his immediate flight of four Mustangs and hit the Germans now.
Fast and violent before they knew the Americans were there. Four against 30. Terrible odds. But surprise was worth 20 fighters. Preddy made his decision in 3 seconds. He pushed his throttle forward. His wingman followed. The four Mustangs accelerated to 340 mph. Preddy armed his guns. The Bf 109 formation was 1,000 yd ahead. 900 yd.
800 yd. The German pilot still had not seen them. The lead Bf 109 started to roll into his dive toward the bombers. Preddy’s gunsight settled on the German’s fuselage. 600 yd. 500. His finger moved to the trigger. This was the moment when 19.83 victories became something extraordinary. Or where a hungover major made the worst decision of his life and got four American pilots killed. Preddy opened fire at 400 yd.
Eight .50 caliber machine guns converged on the lead Bf 109. Tracer rounds walked up the German fighter’s fuselage. The Messerschmitt’s canopy shattered. Pieces of aluminum skin tore away from the wings. Black smoke erupted from the engine cowling. The BF 109 rolled inverted and fell away trailing fire.
First kill. Time elapsed since opening fire, 4 seconds. The German formation exploded into chaos. 30 BF 109 pilots simultaneously realized they were being attacked from behind. Radio discipline collapsed. Fighters broke in every direction. Some tried to dive away. Some tried to climb. Some rolled left.
Some rolled right. Training said, “Stay in formation.” Survival instinct said, “Scatter.” Survival instinct won. The neat attack formation became a swarm of individual fighters trying not to die. Preddy had already acquired his second target, a BF 109 breaking hard right. The German pilot pulled 4 Gs trying to turn inside the Mustang’s turning radius. Preddy pulled 5 Gs.
The P-51 turned tighter. Blood drained from Preddy’s head. His vision narrowed. He ignored it. The gunsight tracked across the BF 109’s wing root. He fired a 2-second burst. Armor-piercing incendiary rounds punched through the German fighter’s fuel tank. The BF 109 detonated in midair. Pieces of wreckage tumbled through 30,000 ft of empty sky.
Second kill. Time elapsed, 11 seconds. Other American fighters were engaging now. Preddy’s three wingmen had each selected targets. .50 caliber machine gun fire crisscrossed the sky. Two more BF 109s were burning. The German advantage had evaporated in 15 seconds. Altitude advantage meant nothing when you were being shot in the back.
Numerical superiority meant nothing when your formation was shattered. The Luftwaffe pilots who survived the next 60 seconds would be the ones who ran immediately. Preddy spotted a pair of BF 109s diving away together. They were staying in formation, disciplined pilots, dangerous pilots. He rolled inverted and pulled through into a vertical dive.
The Mustang accelerated past 400 mph. The airframe shuddered. Wind noise screamed through the cockpit. The two Bf 109s were diving at maximum speed trying to escape. They were pulling away. Preddy pushed his throttle past the red line. The Merlin engine howled. 430 mph. 440. He was gaining. At 22,000 ft, Preddy pulled level behind the trailing Bf 109. 300 yd. 250.
The German pilot saw him and broke hard left. Preddy anticipated the break and fired as the Messerschmitt turned. His bullets caught the fighter broadside. The Bf 109’s left wing disintegrated. The aircraft snapped into an uncontrollable spin. Third kill. Time elapsed, 31 seconds. The lead Bf 109 pilot was running.
Preddy chased him down through 20,000 ft. 18,000. 15,000. The German was diving at 50° angle straight toward the ground. Preddy followed. The Mustang was faster in a dive. At 12,000 ft, he closed to firing range. He triggered a long burst. The Bf 109’s tail section separated from the fuselage.
The fighter tumbled end over end toward the German countryside below. Fourth kill. Time elapsed, 49 seconds. Four other P-51 Mustangs had joined the fight. The sky was full of burning aircraft and parachutes. German pilots who had been hunting bombers 60 seconds ago were now fighting for their lives or already dead.
The Luftwaffe formation had lost at least eight fighters. The survivors were scattering in every direction. Some headed east toward German airfields. Some dove for the deck. Some kept fighting. Preddy spotted a group of five Bf 109s descending in formation toward lower altitude. They were staying together. That made them dangerous. Preddy followed them down.
15,000 ft. 10,000 ft. 7,000. The German fighters were heading home. They thought they had escaped. Preddy closed to within 800 yards. The BF 109s continued descending. 5,000 ft. The Americans continued pursuing. At 5,000 ft, the German formation leveled off and accelerated to maximum speed.
One of the BF 109 pilots finally looked back and saw the lone Mustang closing from behind. The German broke hard left. His four wingmen scattered. Preddy was alone with five German fighters at 5,000 ft over hostile territory. His ammunition counter showed 400 rounds remaining. Enough for maybe 30 seconds of sustained fire. He had to make every bullet count.
The nearest BF 109 was 600 yards ahead and pulling into a climbing turn. The BF 109 climbing ahead of Preddy was trying to gain altitude advantage. Standard German defensive tactic. Climb and turn. Force the American pilot to follow. Bleed his energy. Then reverse and attack when he stalls.
Preddy had seen this maneuver dozens of times. He did not follow the climb. He pulled lead on the German’s flight path and fired a deflection shot. His bullets intersected the BF 109’s climb trajectory. The German flew directly into the stream of 50 caliber rounds. The fighter’s engine exploded.
The Messerschmitt nosed over and plunged toward the ground trailing black smoke. Fifth kill. Time elapsed from start of engagement. 1 minute, 19 seconds. One BF 109 remained within range. The other three had scattered and were racing east at maximum speed. This pilot was different. He was not running. He was turning to fight.
The German rolled his fighter into a hard left turn at 5,000 ft. Preddy rolled left and pulled. Both fighters entered a turning fight. The P-51 had better high altitude performance. The BF 109 had better low altitude maneuverability. At 5,000 ft, the German had the advantage. The two fighters spiraled around each other.
Turn, counter turn, roll, reverse. Each pilot was trying to get behind the other. Preddy pulled 4 Gs, 5 Gs, 6 Gs. His vision grayed at the edges. The G suit squeezed his legs. Blood forced back toward his brain. The BF109 stayed in front of him, barely. The German pilot was good, probably a veteran, probably an ace himself.
Preddy stopped trying to outturn him. He pulled up into a climbing roll. The BF109 followed. Preddy reversed at the top of the climb and dove back toward the German. The two fighters passed canopy to canopy at a combined speed of 600 mph. Preddy caught a glimpse of the German pilot’s face. Young, maybe 20 years old, probably terrified, probably as determined to survive as Preddy was.
The BF109 pilot made his mistake at 4,000 ft. He broke left when he should have broken right. Preddy anticipated the break. He had been waiting for it. He rolled hard and pulled lead. The gun sight tracked across the BF109’s flight path. He fired, three second burst, the last of his ammunition.
Every remaining bullet converged on the German fighter. The BF109’s left wing sheared off at the root. The fighter snap rolled and disintegrated. Sixth kill. Total time for entire engagement, 6 minutes 43 seconds. Preddy’s Mustang was alone in German airspace at 4,000 ft. Fuel gauge showed 280 gallons remaining, enough to reach England, barely.
His ammunition counter read zero. If another German fighter appeared, he could only run. He turned west and climbed back to 20,000 ft. The bomber formation was already heading home. The mission was complete. Hamburg was burning. The flight back to England took 97 minutes. Preddy flew the entire time on autopilot.
His hands were shaking. The adrenaline was wearing off. The hangover was returning. His head pounded. His vision blurred. He forced himself to stay conscious. 19 pilots had fallen asleep during return flights this year. 17 had crashed into the English Channel. Preddy kept his eyes open and focused on the horizon.
RAF Bodney appeared at 14:32. Preddy entered the landing pattern with 11 other Mustangs from his group. He touched down at 115 mph. The landing was rough. He did not care. He taxied to his hardstand and shut down the engine. The sudden silence was overwhelming. His ears were ringing. His entire body ached.
Ground crew swarmed the aircraft. They were counting bullet holes. The Mustang had taken three hits. Minor damage. One round had punched through the left wing. Two had clipped the tail. Cripes. I Mighty the Third would fly again tomorrow. The crew chief was examining the gun barrels. All eight barrels were fouled with carbon.
Preddy had fired every bullet he carried. 1,800 rounds expended. Six German fighters destroyed. Lieutenant Colonel Meyer was waiting when Preddy climbed out of the cockpit. Meyer did not smile. He studied Preddy’s face. Preddy looked worse than he had at the morning briefing. Pale, exhausted, sweat-soaked, but alive.
Six kills in one mission. That changed everything. The group commander would have to acknowledge what happened today. So would Eighth Air Force Headquarters. So would the War Department. The question was whether they would give Preddy a medal or a court-martial for flying drunk. Or both. The intelligence officers arrived at Preddy’s hardstand within 20 minutes.
They carried clipboards and cameras. They needed confirmation of every kill. Pilot testimony. Wingman corroboration. Gun camera footage. The kills had to be verified before they became official. Preddy walked them through the entire engagement. First BF 109 at 31,000 ft. Canopy shattered. Aircraft fell trailing fire. Second BF 109 exploded in midair.
Third lost its left wing. Fourth lost its tail section. Fifth took deflection shot climbing. Sixth disintegrated at 4,000 ft after turning fight. His wingman confirmed four of the kills. Gun camera footage confirmed five. The sixth kill had occurred below the clouds where no other American pilots could see it.
Intelligence officers reviewed the footage three times. They examined the bullet holes in Preddy’s Mustang. They checked his ammunition expenditure. 1,800 rounds fired. Zero rounds remaining. They conferred with senior officers. At 1,700 hours, all six kills were officially confirmed. Major George Preddy had become an ace in a day.
One of only 38 United States Army Air Forces pilots to achieve six or more victories in a single mission. Lieutenant Colonel John Myers submitted paperwork that evening. He was nominating Preddy for the Medal of Honor. The nation’s highest military decoration. The justification was clear.
Preddy had led four fighters against 30 enemy aircraft. He had personally destroyed six. He had broken up the German attack on the bomber formation. He had saved American lives. He had demonstrated extraordinary heroism in combat. Myers believed the mission qualified for the Medal of Honor. He wrote the recommendation himself and sent it up the chain of command.
The recommendation traveled through Eighth Air Force headquarters. It reached the desk of the commanding general. The general reviewed the mission reports. He consulted with his staff. The decision came back on August 12th. The Medal of Honor nomination was declined. The mission did not meet the specific criteria required for the nation’s highest award.
Instead, Preddy would receive the Distinguished Service Cross, the second highest decoration for valor in combat, still an extraordinary honor, still recognition of exceptional heroism, but not the Medal of Honor. Preddy received the Distinguished Service Cross at a ceremony on August 12th, 1944. The citation praised his extraordinary heroism in attacking a numerically superior enemy force.
It noted his disregard for personal safety. It acknowledged his determined will to destroy the enemy. The citation did not mention the hangover. That detail remained unofficial, known to his squadron, not recorded in official reports. The award came with mandatory leave, 30 days in the United States. Preddy returned to Greensboro, North Carolina on August 20th.
The town gave him a hero’s welcome. Newspapers ran front-page stories. The headline read, “Local pilot downs six German fighters.” Radio stations interviewed him. War bond rallies featured him as a guest speaker. He visited his parents. He saw friends he had not seen in 3 years. He attended parties where people treated him like a celebrity. He hated the attention.
He wanted to be back in England flying combat missions. On October 28th, 1944, Preddy returned to England. He expected to rejoin the 487th Fighter Squadron. Instead, he received new orders. He was being given command of the 328th Fighter Squadron within the 350 second Fighter Group.
The assignment came with a promotion to squadron commander. It also came with a problem. The 328th Fighter Squadron had the worst kill record in the entire group. Morale was terrible. Pilots felt like failures. They were flying the same P-51 Mustangs as the other squadrons. They had the same training, the same equipment, the same opportunities, but they had the fewest confirmed kills.
Other squadrons called them the weakest link. Group headquarters wanted Preddy to fix the problem. Preddy arrived at the 328th operations building on November 1st. He gathered the squadron pilots for a brief meeting. He did not give a long speech. He did not try to inspire them with empty words. He told them exactly why they were there, to shoot down the enemy. Nothing else mattered.
They would start tomorrow. He dismissed them after 3 minutes. The squadron flew its first mission under Preddy’s command on November 2nd, 1944. Target, Merseburg, Germany. Bomber escort. Heavy Luftwaffe presence expected. The 328th Fighter Squadron was about to find out if their new commander could turn them into killers.
November 2nd, 1944. The 328th Fighter Squadron lifted off from RAF Bodney at 0800. 24 P-51 Mustangs in formation. Preddy led from the front in his new aircraft, a P-51D 15N/A, brand new from the factory. He had refused to fly it until the ground crew painted Krypes A’Mighty III on the fuselage.
The name was his good luck charm. He would not fly without it. The bomber formation appeared over Belgium at 0930. 142 B-17 Flying Fortresses heading toward Merseburg. The target was the Leuna Synthetic Oil Plant, the most heavily defended industrial facility in Germany. Flak batteries surrounded the complex. Luftwaffe fighters defended it aggressively.
Every mission to Merseburg cost American lives. This mission would be no different. At 10:15, Preddy spotted contrails at 33,000 ft, multiple aircraft high above the bombers. The Luftwaffe was positioning for an attack. Messerschmitt Bf 109s, at least 25 of them. They were at their operational ceiling, waiting to dive on the bombers from above. Standard German tactics.
The interceptors thought they were safe at maximum altitude. American fighters usually could not climb that high and maintain combat performance. The P-51 Mustang could reach 33,000 ft. Preddy led his squadron into a climbing turn. The Mustangs clawed for altitude. 30,000 ft, 31,000, 32,000, 33,000.
The German fighters were directly ahead. They had not seen the Americans climbing behind them. Preddy armed his guns and activated his K-14 gyroscopic gun sight. New technology installed in the latest P-51D models. The sight automatically calculated lead angle and deflection. It made hitting a maneuvering target significantly easier.
Preddy opened fire at 400 yards. The K-14 gun sight tracked the lead Bf 109 perfectly. His bullets converged on the German fighter’s engine. The Messerschmitt rolled over and fell away smoking. The other squadron pilots followed Preddy into the attack. 24 Mustangs hit 25 Bf 109s from behind and above.
The German formation disintegrated. Fighters scattered in every direction. Some tried to dive away. Some tried to fight. Most died. The 328th Fighter Squadron destroyed 25 German aircraft in 40 minutes. 25 confirmed kills. Eight pilots scored multiple victories. Three pilots became aces on that single mission. The squadron set an Eighth Air Force record for aerial victories by a single squadron in one engagement.
The worst performing squadron in the group had just become the best. Preddy had proven his point. Leadership mattered. Aggressive tactics mattered. Confidence mattered. Squadron morale transformed overnight. Pilots who had felt like failures now walked with their heads high. The other squadrons stopped mocking them.
Group headquarters praised them. Preddy had taken broken men and turned them into killers in one mission. He did it by leading from the front. By demonstrating that victory was possible, by refusing to accept mediocrity, the 328th flew 17 more missions in November. They destroyed 43 additional German aircraft.
Preddy personally shot down three more fighters. His total victory count reached 26.83. He was the leading active American ace in the European theater. Other aces had higher totals, but they were dead or prisoners of war or had completed their tours and gone home. Preddy was still flying, still fighting, still adding to his score.
December 16th, 1944, the Battle of the Bulge began. Germany launched a massive offensive through the Ardennes Forest. Three German armies, 250,000 soldiers, 1,500 tanks. The goal was to split the Allied armies and capture the port of Antwerp. The offensive caught American forces by surprise. Weather conditions grounded most Allied aircraft.
German forces advanced 30 miles in 3 days. The 9th Air Force was overwhelmed. They needed reinforcements. On December 23rd, 8th Air Force headquarters ordered the 352nd Fighter Group to deploy forward. The group would operate from Y-29, a forward airfield near Ash, Belgium. Y-29 was a rough strip carved out of farmland.
No hangars, no permanent buildings. Pilots would live in tents. The airfield was so close to German lines that aircraft in the landing pattern took occasional anti-aircraft fire. Preddy led his squadron to Y-29 on December 23rd. The conditions were brutal. Freezing temperatures, snow, mud, tents that barely kept out the wind.
Most pilots thought they would freeze to death the first night. They were used to heated Nissen huts at Bodney. This was survival camping in a combat zone. Christmas Eve arrived, then Christmas Day. The weather finally cleared. German fighters were active over the front lines. The 328th prepared for combat operations on Christmas morning, Christmas Eve 1944.
The pilots of the 328th Fighter Squadron gathered in the largest tent at Y29. Someone had organized a craps game. Money and cigarettes changed hands. Preddy joined in. He was a habitual gambler. Dice were his game. He rolled well that night. His lucky phrase worked, “Cripes almighty.” He won $1,200 by midnight, war bonds.
He planned to invest every dollar in war bonds when he got back to England. The game broke up at 0100. Most pilots went to sleep. Christmas Day would bring combat missions. Rest was essential. At 0700 on December 25th, Preddy attended the morning briefing. The mission was straightforward, combat air patrol over the front lines.
The German offensive was continuing. Luftwaffe fighters were supporting ground operations. American pilots needed to maintain air superiority. Shoot down anything German. Protect allied ground forces. Standard fighter operations. Preddy would lead 10 P-51 Mustangs from the 328th. Expected duration, 3 hours. Expected enemy contact, high probability.
The 10 Mustangs lifted off from Y29 at 0830. Preddy flew “Cripes almighty III”. His wingman was Lieutenant James Carty. They climbed to 15,000 ft and began their patrol pattern. The weather was clear. Visibility was excellent. Perfect conditions for air combat. The pilots scanned the sky continuously.
German fighters could appear from any direction. At 10:45, ground control vectored Preddy’s formation toward enemy aircraft. Multiple bogies heading west. Preddy turned his formation toward the intercept point. The bogies appeared at 11,000 ft, Messerschmitt Bf 109 fighters, at least six of them. They were heading toward American bomber formations operating over the Rhine.
Preddy led his Mustangs into attack position. The P-51s had altitude advantage. The Germans did not see them coming. Preddy shot down two Bf 109s in rapid succession. The first took a long burst and exploded. The second lost control and spun toward the ground. Two more confirmed kills.
His total was now 26.83 aerial victories. The other German fighters scattered. The threat to the bombers was eliminated. Preddy’s squadron had done its job. They reformed and continued their patrol. At 11:20, ground control transmitted another vector. Unknown aircraft strafing Allied ground forces southeast of Liege, Belgium.
Single aircraft flying at extremely low altitude. Probably a Focke-Wulf Fw 190. The Germans were using Fw 190s as ground attack fighters. They would strafe American positions with cannons and machine guns, then escape at treetop height before fighters could intercept them. This pilot was aggressive. He was making multiple passes over American positions.
Preddy turned his formation toward Liege. He descended to 5,000 ft searching for the Fw 190. At 11:32, he spotted it. A single German fighter at less than 100 ft altitude racing east across open farmland. The pilot was trying to escape. Preddy rolled into a diving turn and followed.
Lieutenant Cardy stayed on his wing. The other eight Mustangs climbed to provide top cover. The chase developed at treetop height. The Fw 190 was flying at maximum speed, barely 50 ft above the ground. Preddy followed at the same altitude, 350 mph. Trees and buildings flashed past on both sides. One mistake would be fatal.
The German pilot was skilled. He was using terrain to block Preddy’s line of fire, flying through small valleys, staying below ridgelines, making himself a difficult target. The FW 190 crossed the front lines heading east. Preddy and Carty followed. They were now over Allied controlled territory.
American ground forces were dug in below. Anti-aircraft batteries were positioned throughout the area. The 430th Anti-aircraft Battalion, 19th Corps. They were equipped with quad 50-caliber machine guns, four barrels per mount, designed to shoot down low-flying aircraft. The gun crews were watching the sky.
Three aircraft appeared at treetop height, racing east at 350 mph. One German, two American. The German aircraft was in front. The anti-aircraft crews saw an enemy fighter. They opened fire. Quad 50-caliber machine guns erupted. Tracer rounds filled the sky. Hundreds of bullets per second. The gun crews were trying to hit the German fighter.
They were firing at point-blank range, less than 500 yards. The FW 190 flew through the fire. So did the two Mustangs following it. 50-caliber bullets hit Preddy’s Mustang at 11:36 a.m. Multiple rounds punched through the fuselage. The P-51’s engine began trailing smoke. Oil pressure dropped.
Coolant temperature spiked. The aircraft was dying. Preddy pulled back on the control stick and climbed. He needed altitude to bail out. The Mustang responded sluggishly. Damaged control surfaces. Hydraulic failures. The aircraft was barely controllable. At 200 ft, Preddy released his canopy. It flew off cleanly. He prepared to bail out, but the Mustang was still climbing too slowly.
300 ft, 400 ft. Not enough altitude for the parachute to deploy safely. The aircraft needed to reach at least 1,000 ft. Preddy kept climbing. The engine was failing. Black smoke poured from the cowling. 500 ft, 600 ft. The Mustang shuddered. The engine seized. The aircraft nosed over. Preddy unbuckled and tried to jump.
He pushed away from the cockpit, but the altitude was too low. The parachute had no time to deploy. Some witnesses reported seeing him fall free. Others reported the parachute starting to open. Everyone agreed the altitude was insufficient. Major George Preddy hit the ground at high speed near the village of Ash, Belgium. The impact was violent.
The shallow angle of the crash made survival theoretically possible, but Preddy’s wounds from the 50-calibre machine gun fire were already mortal. He died on impact or within moments afterward. Christmas Day, 1944, 11:37 a.m., 25 years old. Lieutenant Cardy returned to Y-29 and filed his report.
Preddy had been shot down by American anti-aircraft fire, friendly fire. The 430th anti-aircraft battalion had killed the leading American ace in the European theater. The gun crews had been trying to hit the German fighter. They had hit Preddy instead. The Fw 190 escaped unharmed. George Preddy’s final official score was 26.
83 aerial victories, 23.83 in the P-51 Mustang, three in the P-47 Thunderbolt. He also had five ground kills from strafing enemy airfields. He flew 143 combat missions, 532 total combat hours. He was the top scoring P-51 Mustang ace of World War II, the third highest scoring American ace in the European theater, the seventh highest scoring American ace overall.
His decorations included the Distinguished Service Cross, Silver Star with oak leaf cluster, Distinguished Flying Cross with eight oak leaf clusters, Air Medal with seven oak leaf clusters, Purple Heart, and the Belgian Croix de Guerre. He was nominated for the Medal of Honor. He received the Distinguished Service Cross instead.
He never complained about the downgrade. He just wanted to fly and fight. Preddy was buried at Lorraine American Cemetery in Saint-Avold, France. Plot A, row 21, grave 43. 4 months later, his younger brother arrived to join him. First Lieutenant William Preddy, also a P-51 pilot, 503rd Fighter Squadron, 339th Fighter Group. William was shot down by enemy anti-aircraft fire on April 17th, 1945, while strafing České Budějovice airfield in Czechoslovakia.
He died from his wounds. He was 20 years old. The Army buried him next to his brother. Two P-51 pilots, two brothers, both killed in the same war, both in the same cemetery, both flying the same aircraft type. The tragic irony defined George Preddy’s death. He survived 143 combat missions.
He survived six kills in one mission while hungover. He survived being shot down over the English Channel. He survived a mid-air collision in Australia. He survived countless engagements with German fighters. The Luftwaffe never killed him. His own country did, on Christmas Day, while he was protecting American ground forces, while he was doing his job. George Preddy flew 143 missions.
The Luftwaffe threw everything they had at him for over a year. They never got him. His own country did. That is a story worth sharing. Hit the like button. Not for us, for Preddy, for his brother. Every single like pushes this video to someone who has never heard their names. Subscribe and turn on notifications.
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Just let us know you showed up today. Thank you for staying until the end. George and William Pretty are buried side by side in France. They’ve been there for 80 years. You just made sure another day passes where their names get spoken out loud. That is not nothing. That is everything.
