The Ghost Fortress: The B-17 That Landed Itself in Belgium

On November 21, 1944, a B-17G Flying Fortress touched down in a plowed field near the village of Huldenberg, Belgium, bounced once, dug a wheel into the soft earth, and spun 45 degrees to a stop. Two engines were still running. The landing gear was down. No one was on board.

The Mission

The aircraft, serial number 43-35845, belonged to the 91st Bomb Group’s 324th Squadron but was flying that day with the 401st Squadron on a mission against the synthetic oil refineries at Merseburg-Leuna. First Lieutenant Harold R. DeBolt was at the controls on his 33rd mission with a seasoned crew of ten. The 8th Air Force had launched 1,291 heavy bombers that day. DeBolt’s aircraft would not make it back with them.

Over the target, flak hit the bomber and jammed the bomb release mechanism. As the formation dropped its ordnance and accelerated away, DeBolt fell behind. A second flak burst eventually shook the bombs loose, but the damage was done. Engines two and three were knocked out, with number three windmilling uncontrollably and shaking the airframe. The crew jettisoned guns, ammunition, and anything else that could be thrown out to keep the aircraft flying. Without their .50 calibers, a German fighter intercept would mean total destruction.

The Bailout

DeBolt and his co-pilot set a westward course toward Brussels and engaged the autopilot. As the bomber descended over Belgian territory they waited as long as possible to clear German-held ground. At 2,000 feet DeBolt gave the order. All ten men jumped. All ten parachutes opened. A British ground unit picked them up after landing.

The B-17 kept flying.

What Crisp Found

British Major John V. Crisp was watching with his anti-aircraft unit at Cortonburg when the bomber appeared overhead with its landing gear already down. The soldiers scattered expecting impact. Instead the aircraft settled into the field beyond the village, bounced, and came to rest with engines still turning and propellers still spinning.

No flares had been fired indicating wounded aboard. No radio transmission had announced the arrival. After twenty minutes with no crew emerging, Crisp climbed inside alone.

He found abandoned flying gear, flak jackets, helmets, and half-eaten chocolate bars. He found the navigator’s flight log with the entry “bad flak.” He found no blood, no dead crewmen, and no sign of what had become of the ten men who had flown it. He also reported finding a dozen unused parachutes still on board, a detail that deepened the mystery considerably.

Resolving the Contradictions

The crew’s accounts and the soldiers’ observations didn’t fully align. Ground witnesses reported all four engines running on approach, which contradicted DeBolt’s account of two engines lost to flak. The most likely explanation is that soldiers unfamiliar with aircraft damage saw the two functioning engines and interpreted the windmilling third as operational.

The parachute question is more easily resolved. Parachutes were stored in marked pack sleeves, and empty containers were routinely stuffed with spare gear, food, and ammunition. Crisp, not an airman and not familiar with the equipment, almost certainly mistook those containers for unused chutes. The crew had clearly bailed out. There is no other explanation for ten men landing safely in Belgium.

DeBolt’s debriefing added one final detail. The bomber had taken a direct flak hit in the bomb bay while bombs were still on board. “I’ll be darned if I know why the bombs didn’t explode,” he said. That question, like the parachute discrepancy, was never officially resolved.