Why a Gunner Walked Into an Inferno

The Mission to Cambrai

In the midnight hours of June 12–13, 1944, Lancaster Mk. X KB726 of the Royal Canadian Air Force’s 419 Squadron thundered toward its target—the rail yards at Cambrai, France. On board were two close friends: gunner Andrew Mynarski and tail gunner Pat Brophy.

They weren’t alone. More than 600 Allied bombers filled the skies, striking northern France to cripple German supply lines. In the cockpit, 22-year-old pilot Arthur De Breyne pushed KB726 through violent corkscrew maneuvers as flak exploded around them. For a moment, it seemed they had shaken the searchlights and escaped.

But the Germans were waiting. A Junkers Ju 88 swooped in, and within seconds the Lancaster was ripped apart by fire and chaos.

A Desperate Rescue

With the bomber mortally wounded, De Breyne ordered the crew to bail out. Mynarski turned to go—then realized his closest friend was trapped. Brophy’s turret was jammed solid, the hydraulics destroyed by enemy fire.

Without hesitation, Mynarski plunged back into the burning fuselage. Flames licked at his uniform as he hacked at the turret doors with an axe, then with his bare hands. His flight suit and parachute caught fire, yet he refused to give up. Only when Brophy, knowing it was hopeless, begged him to save himself did Mynarski step back.

Before leaving, he turned to his friend. Standing amid the inferno, he gave one final salute and whispered the words he always said at the end of their days together: “Good night, sir.” Then he leapt into the dark.

The Fall and the Survival

Mynarski’s parachute, burned through by the flames, failed to slow his fall. He hit the ground hard, still alive but horribly burned. Local farmers carried him to a German field hospital, but his injuries were too severe. He died shortly after.

Against all odds, Pat Brophy survived. When KB726 broke apart on impact, the explosion tore his turret open and flung him clear. Though knocked unconscious, he lived. Rescued by the French Resistance, he evaded capture until Allied troops arrived months later.

A Legacy of Brotherhood

Haunted by the memory, Brophy made it his mission to tell the world about Mynarski’s sacrifice. His best friend had given everything in an attempt to save him.

For that act of unmatched courage and devotion, Andrew Mynarski was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross—the highest honor for valor. His story remains one of the most powerful testaments of friendship and bravery to emerge from the skies of World War II.