P-51 pilot refuses orders and Spares the Enemy

A Test Flight Turned Into a Moral Battle

On August 24, 1944, First Lieutenant William R. Preddy of the 503rd Fighter Squadron took off from Cambridge in his P-51D Mustang, Rusty. The aircraft earned its name because it was built from salvaged parts of other Mustangs — and its engine had always been troublesome.

After a new engine was installed, Preddy decided to take a short test flight to check its performance before his next mission. As he climbed through 10,000 feet, the Mustang performed flawlessly. Then, a message crackled through his radio: an unidentified aircraft had been detected nearby. With no other fighters in the air, Preddy volunteered to investigate.

The Lone Heinkel

Climbing to 15,000 feet, he soon spotted the intruder — a Heinkel He 111 bomber trailing thick smoke and flying in wide, struggling circles. The sight was strange. The Heinkel was never meant to fly alone; its weak defensive armament made it easy prey for Allied fighters.

Over the radio, Preddy confirmed the contact and was immediately ordered to shoot it down. But as he closed in, he saw the aircraft’s tail burning fiercely and the crew clearly fighting to stay airborne. One burst from his guns would finish them — yet Preddy hesitated.

A Pilot’s Dilemma

Bound by orders but guided by conscience, Preddy couldn’t bring himself to fire on an already doomed crew. Flying alongside, he signaled the German pilot to turn back toward France. The Heinkel wobbled in response, struggling to obey. Slowly, it began turning away from the English coast.

As the two planes leveled side by side, the young German pilot and the American ace exchanged a salute — a fleeting moment of respect amid a brutal war. Preddy moved ahead of the bomber, using his Mustang’s slipstream to help keep it airborne. Minutes later, the Heinkel lost control and crashed into the cold waters of the North Sea. Preddy circled the wreck, dropping his emergency rations and lifejacket before returning to base.

Over the radio, he simply reported: “Enemy aircraft destroyed.”

Remembering Lieutenant Preddy

The story of that encounter would not surface until months later. On April 17, 1945, Preddy was shot down during a mission over Czechoslovakia. Though he survived the crash, he died shortly after, despite the efforts of a young Czech woman named Jan, who tried to save him.

Among his belongings, Jan found his diary — and within it, the story of the Heinkel and the act of mercy that defined his character. She later built a small memorial where his Mustang fell, honoring the pilot who showed compassion when war demanded otherwise.

Even today, that marker stands as a quiet reminder that chivalry, even in the fiercest skies of World War II, was not lost.