Charley W. Brown's daughter, Cynthia Brown Hallsted, transcribed this account. He left 2 sons, l daughter and his wife, PattyHe was a resident of Palos Verdes California for 16 years. A graduate of the University of Southern California, Charley held memberships in the Palos Verdes Breakfast Club, Air Fore Association of Long Beach, Quiet Birdman and Administrative Management Society of Long Beach. At the time of his death, he was a division manager of Sta-Lube, Inc. in Compton. He died at age 50 on March 16, 1971.from Lymphoma Cancer. Comments can be sent to cindyh@san.rr.com

The following account of his experiences as a Prisoner of War in Sicily was written by 1st Lt. CHARLEY W. BROWN, 0-728967, 421 East Street, Reno Nevada. Lt. BROWN parachuted from his burning P-38 Lightning on 11 July 1943 near Gerbini Sicily. He returned to his Squadron on 2 September 1943.

On the 11th of July, I was leading White Flight of Pet Dog Squadron on a mission to the Gerbini Airdrome area. Lt. Sweet was leading the Squadron, and Major Kirtley was leading Blue Flight. Our objective was a building, supposedly the Fighter Operations Board for the Luftwaffe and we were told that it was very important that we destroy our objective with our 1000-pound bomb, which each plane was carrying. Our takeoff was at 1745 hours and target time was to be 1915 hours. We planned to go in on the deck until about 7 miles from our target, where we were to climb to 6000 feet and begin our bomb run from East to West and continue going West across Central Sicily shooting up all military targets, such as trucks and tanks that we happened to run across.

But upon passing Malta and taking a northerly heading up toward Augusta, we discovered that smoke from artillery fire and burning oil and gasoline tanks was so thick that it was impossible to pick out landmarks from our altitude at 200 feet which we were flying. So we climbed to 7000 feet and flew up the coast of Southeastern Sicily.

We spotted our initial point and turned inland peering through the thick haze into the setting sun trying to find our target. Suddenly I spotted two spots off to my left wing at 0900 o'clock and called them in over the R.T. Lt. Sweet told me to keep my eyes on them that we would be near our target soon. So I watched these spots grow larger and identified them as FW190's.

As the two FW190's passed out of sight behind my flight Major Kirtley called a break to the right and we turned into them. They pulled up and away so we continued in a 360° turn to take up our original heading. Lt. Sweet had called, "drop bombs", when they attacked, but I kept mine believing that they would scare off and we could find the target and maybe drop one bomb on it anyway. But as we resumed our original heading I looked up into the sun and saw 2 ME109's attacking my flight head-on. I dropped my bomb immediately and tried to get my guns on the first one. I thought of slipping or skidding to either side to avoid their fire but realized if I did that, one of the planes behind me would probably get the bullets aimed at me, so I decided to try and outshoot them.

Evidently the first ME109 had me in his sights because before I could see my machine gun and cannon fire doing him any harm by right gas tank burst into flames and my right window shattered. I turned off my right gas tank and engine before I realized that it was my gas tank and not my right engine, which was blazing.

The smoke and flames in the cockpit were annoying so I pulled my emergency hatch release and unbuckled my safety belt. I was instantly sucked out of the seat but was brought up by a sudden jerk and I realized that my radio cord was caught on something and holding me in the cockpit. I could feel the fire on the left side of my face and left arm then, as I had spun around in a half circle. After much pulling, which seemed to last for minutes I felt myself falling.

It was a great relief to be free and I never thought to pull my ripcord until I had fallen quite a few seconds. When I did, I was brought to my full senses with a sudden and terrific jerk. There I was though, hanging head down and floating directly toward the wreckage of my faithful "V" which was blazing away on the side of a hill. Just as I got upright in the parachute harness I hit the ground just feet from my plane and was drug 50 feet by the wind before I got the chute collapsed.

My first thought was to dispose of my chute and get away from that immediate vicinity, so I threw my chute and Mae West into the blazing fire which had now spread to the dry grass and was burning quite rapidly toward some scrub trees. Up to this time I figured that maybe no one had seen me but then I heard bullets whizzing by my head and realized that some one was firing at me from the top of the hill on which I had landed. Looking up I saw two P-38's circling and gave them a wave. Ducking down into the short grain I stumbled down the hill toward a small wood, but as I got closer to it I saw a farmhouse next to it and decided to go a different way.

Finding a gully about 4 feet deep and 3 feet wide that was carved out of solid rock I thought it would give me good protection so I started to climb up this ravine. I had covered about 500 yards when my arm started bothering me so I stopped. I then regretted my hasty action of throwing my chute into the fire, without removing my medical kit. I took off my shorts and wrapped up the lower part of my left arm and hand. This enabled me to climb over the rocks better. I also soaked some of the blood off of my head and neck. I then made a reconnaissance of the land and decided to branch off there to the right as the gully I was following appeared to end.

I had traveled this new route for about another 500 yards when I came to a large solid bridge. I spied a culvert and decided to crawl through it. Arriving at the other side I found that the hill was nearly perpendicular and impossible to climb at that point. So going back to the culvert I decided to stay there until it got dark and then try to get south to Siracusa.

I was lucky as a large pile of straw was in the culvert, so I lay down in a corner and covered myself saying a prayer of thanks. I rested there and smoked until about 2300 hours when I climbed out onto the road. I could just barely move my legs as they had stiffened up while I was resting. The fire on the other hill where I had landed had now taken on all the proportions of a major forest fire and was blazing away quite merrily. This, coupled with the moonlight, made it quite bright out, but since I couldn't climb the hill, I decided I would be safe enough on this old country road. I was unmolested for almost a mile and a half but upon rounding a corner, two blockhouses suddenly appeared 20 yards in front of me. I could see a sentry standing there and I knew he had heard me, but decided if he was alone I could handle him. So I kept hobbling toward the blockhouses.

Raising my hand in a Nazi salute I "heiled Hitler" and mumbled a few other German words at him. He never even raised his gun. I was just breathing a sigh of relief when 3 soldiers from the left and 4 from the right jumped out and confronted me with an odd assortment of rifles and pistols. Deciding they wanted my arms up, I wasted no time putting them there.

They then started arguing, which I later found was the Italians favorite pastime. When I said, "cigarette" and they realized they hadn't searched me. Doing so they found a package of Chesterfields, 2 books of matches, and a comb. They handed it all back to me and I offered them a cigarette, which they all declined.

We then started walking in a Southerly direction. It was a slow process for me and they were quite willing to let me rest whenever I wished and to go as slowly as possible. I was trying to think of some way to get rid of them but they never stood near enough to me to allow me to jump them.

After walking nearly 10 miles over all kinds of roads and hills, a truck pulled along side and stopped. Another argument followed. The truckers finally convinced the walkers and into the front seat I went. This suited me fine as I was quite exhausted by this time. After traveling about half a mile we turned into a courtyard that resembled a military post.

Taking me out of the truck they led me up 3 flights of stairs to an office. There were 5 officers there, a Major, a Captain, 2 1st Lts. and 1 2nd Lt. They had all evidently seen all the best Hollywood movies as they fingered their guns fondly and the Major even laid his out on the desk and used it quite frequently as a persuader. But I was tired enough then not to care so I made up my mind not to tell them a damn thing that would aid them.

I kept wondering why they didn't want to know what kind of an airplane I was flying but then I decided that they didn't know I was a pilot so let it ride at that. Of course they wanted to know my outfit, where I was from and various other information that I didn't give them. However they started harping on Malta so told them I was from Africa and America. They finally decided to let me sleep so they took me to the guardhouse about 5 O'clock in the morning. I was put in a large guardroom with nothing but some boards sloping down from the wall for a bed and one small barred window. Being too tired to argue for something better I laid down to sleep after asking for a doctor to dress my arm and head. When he came with an aid man they washed my arm and head off with water then applied some lard and bandaged it all up. It cooled me off a little and I was able to sleep.

By the next day I was quite hungry and thirsty but when I would ask for some water they would smile as if they didn't understand. Evidently they thought by not giving me water they could get information from me as they brought in many people who knew a few words of English to question me. Most of their questions were concerned with my home in America so as they all knew of New York City, I told them I was from there. That was their main concern.

That night I didn't get much rest but one of the friendlier guards did tell me I was to be taken to Catania the next day, although he still wouldn't bring me any water.

The next morning at 10:20 I received my first taste of an American Flying Fortress Raid. Two guards had taken me out of my cell (after I had written my name and date above the bed) and put me in a small Fiat car driven by two civilians. I was quite crowded with 5 men in it but they proceeded to 'honk' our way to Catania. The highway happened to cross Garbini Airdrome No. 5 just outside of Catania. We were right on the runway when I heard some motors. The Italians heard them too and stopping the car they drug me to the edge of the runway and we took shelter in a gully. By this time bombs were dropping and the Ak-Ak guns were going full blast. I tried to see the bombers but they were evidently too high. When it was all over I looked at the damage and observed many groups of Uscchi 200's burning and much smoke and dust coming from some administration buildings. It had evidently been a complete surprise, as the guards would not have let us cross the field if they had known bombers were coming. One bomb had hit a farmer's cart and killed his horse, cows and pigs.

When we got to Catania, the Civil Police told them to take me to the Air Force Headquarters. So we went there. I was very glad to get back into military hands, especially the Air Force, as they gave me some water and some food. There was another air raid so I was taken into a deep underground shelter.

I learned that they were getting ready to evacuate to Italy so about 1600 hours we started for Messina. A general put me in the front of a large truck with some Italian pilots. They were very polite and gave me a couple of packages of cigarettes and matches. They would not tell me what type of airplane they flew, though and they never asked me what I flew.

When we got to Messina they started looking for the docks as they were going to go right on to Italy. I knew that if I ever got to Italy that my chances of getting back would be quite slim, so I told them that my arm was bothering me very much and asked to be taken to a hospital. They did this, sending two MP's with me to the Hospital Regina Margarita, a Naval Hospital on the North edge of town.

I was admitted there and taken to the Surgery. There they peeled off the burnt skin from my arm and face and sprayed a solution of tannic acid on it. I was put to bed in a private room and given a drink of cognac, which tasted very good. It didn't take me long to fall asleep after that.

The next morning I met the kindest women I have ever had the pleasure to meet. She was an Italian Baroness and evidently was working for the International Red Cross. She could speak English as her son (who had been killed in the war) had had an English boy for his best friend who spent the pre-war summers at their home in Italy. I asked the Baroness if it was possible for me to remain at the hospital until the Americans arrived. That night she talked it over with the Commandant of the hospital and told me that it was their wish that I stay there.

From then on I was treated very kindly and with much respect. I was given one of the aid-men to be my orderly and many people gave me cigarettes. The food was plentiful but tiresome, consisting mostly of macaroni.

I hadn't counted on the bombing, however. The first two weeks weren't so bad as most of targets were around the dock area, which was a couple of miles away. But as the days wore on and more barges and boats began plying the Straits and beaching right in front of the Hospital, which was but a 100 yards from the beach, to unload gasoline and other supplies. I realized this put the hospital in a very dangerous spot. I told the Baroness that with all the miles of beach, the Navy could surely find another place for their landings. Up to this time bombs had not hit the hospital. But one day 26 Forts came over and bombed the congested beach and highway, which was loaded with German barges, tanks, trucks and troops. Four of the bombs landed in the hospital area, one in a wing of one of the wards, another on a roadway. Much litter was flung around but only one person was injured slightly.

The Baroness and Commandant not being able to move the Army and Navy decided to move the patients and most of the Staff to another hospital back in the hills which previous to the war had been called Campo English but had been changed my Mussolini to Campo Italy.

One morning I was awakened as usual by arguing and shouting in the hall. But this day it had a different sound to it. I didn't have to wait long for soon the whole staff was crowding into my room with shouts of "Victory" "Victory". I didn't know what they meant until one of the Surgeons who could speak English explained that "Mussolini had been taken prisoner so the Fascist regime was over and that the war was over for Italy". They were all happy and thought how they could go home and live in peace. I couldn't quite follow their point of view that far, but was glad too that the Italians had finally got rid of Musso.

After a frightful ride in an ambulance up hill after hill I arrived at the Campo Italy Hospital. There I was put in a ward with 3 British officers who had been taken prisoner at Catania by the Germans. It was sure swell to hear some English again and we had a good long talk that afternoon.

This was on the 7th of August that I had moved, and from all the evacuating the Germans were doing it appeared to be very near the end. This hospital suited everyone better as it was plainly marked and being on a hilltop was quite visible. At night however, the English seemed to use it for a bomb run initial point or something as the planes always flew right over it all night long. This was quite nerve wracking as one never knew when a bomb would fall. One night they did drop 5 small frag bombs about 50 feet from the hospital in the woods. Five men who were sleeping there were killed. One nun was injured by shrapnel, which came bursting into the hospital wards. But even with all this it was quite a relief to be out of Messina. The English Captain had a pair of binoculars that they let us use. We had given our promise not to escape at the Commandants request, as he needed the six guards which it took to guard us day and night to help carry water and to help around the hospital. There were many patients at this time. Therefore we were free to go onto the roof, which afforded us a very good view of Calabria and the Straits and also all the roads, which led down to the beaches. It was disheartening though to see so many barges getting across to Italy. However the dive-bombing stopped a few of them.

On the 16th of August we noticed much firing and smoke coming from the vicinity of Milazzo and figured that the next day would be the end.

The night of the 16th of August we changed from being bombed to being shelled. Our artillery was evidently trying to shell Messina and some of the shells landed short and around the hospital. All the hospital personnel fled to the lower floor but we stayed upstairs and gathered up all the officers pistols we could find. Then we went to sleep with the shells still screaming over us.

The next morning we all raced to the roof to see whether we could see any of our troops. We were rewarded but not satisfied. Two half-tracks went down the road to Messina at 0615 hours passing within a hundred yards of the hospital. They did not even look at it. I don't know who were the most disappointed, the Italians or us.

The English Captain as leader, and the two other English officers and myself approached the hospital Commandant and requested him to surrender the hospital to us suggesting that it would simplify matters for him when our troops arrived, which would surely be in a couple of minutes.

He decided to do this and gave orders to all his officers to turn their pistols and weapons over to us. There were many puzzled expressions on some of their faces as they looked for the pistols that we had previously purloined.

Then we waited for some Americans to come. We waited and waited though. It wasn't until 1430 hours the afternoon of August 17th that an American Medical Corps Captain came walking into the hospital, with his Sergeant.

The Commandant brought out a bottle of his very best Cognac and we sat around and got the news of the war from the Captain. We arranged to get an ambulance for us and the six Englishmen, two officers and 4 enlisted men and myself, started our long awaited journey back to our friends and companions, very much relieved and in a much happier frame of mind.

We traveled all night, changing ambulances and getting coffee at all the hospitals. This was a pleasant treat after eating macaroni for nearly a month and a half.

I finally arrived at the 56th Air Evacuation Hospital at Terminal West. There I was told that the transports were landing at the "P-38 field near Mateur" and immediately I tried to visualize the scene as I walked in on my old buddies at the 27th.

But this happy thought backfired as the transport landed at "P-40 Field" and I was shoved into an ambulance and taken to the 74th Station Hospital. It didn't take me long to contact the old outfit though and soon the boys were out to see me and bring me up to date on the news.