The Story of the Creepiest Bomber That Landed in WWII With No One Inside

An Empty Arrival

On a cold November morning in 1944, soldiers at an airfield in Belgium looked up to see a damaged B-17 Flying Fortress emerge from the clouds. Its frame was scarred by flak and its engines sputtered, yet the great bomber descended smoothly and rolled to a stop on the runway. Major John V. Crisp led a team to the aircraft, fearing the worst for the ten-man crew.

Inside they found no one. Parachutes were neatly packed, jackets hung where the crew had left them, and half-eaten chocolate bars lay on the floor. A single note in the codebook read “bad flak.” Somehow the plane had landed itself. Allied investigators could only guess that the autopilot had stayed engaged after the crew bailed out. This “Phantom Fortress,” as newspapers later called it, became one of the strangest stories of the air war.

Building a Flying Fortress

The B-17 had begun life a decade earlier, when the United States Army Air Corps asked for a bomber with long range, heavy firepower, and high speed. Boeing answered with the Model 299, a four-engine prototype that first flew in 1935. Powered by Pratt & Whitney radial engines and bristling with defensive guns, it was faster and could carry more bombs than competing designs from Douglas and Martin.

Early promise nearly ended in disaster when the prototype crashed during a test flight, killing its pilot. Investigators found the crew had forgotten to release control locks, prompting the creation of the aviation checklist still used today. Despite the setback, the Army recognized the design’s value and ordered more aircraft. The renamed B-17 soon became the backbone of America’s heavy bomber force.

From Pacific Raids to Europe’s Skies

The B-17 first saw combat in the Pacific, striking Japanese targets and proving it could survive heavy damage. Its real impact came in Europe, where the U.S. Eighth Air Force used it for daylight raids against German industry. Flying in tight formations and protected by multiple .50-caliber guns, B-17 crews faced fierce opposition from fighters and anti-aircraft fire.

Between 1942 and 1945 these bombers dropped more than 640,000 tons of explosives, about two-fifths of all Allied bombs used against Germany and occupied territories. Stories spread of planes limping home with gaping holes, shredded tails, or engines aflame, earning the nickname “Flying Fortress.” Pilot Wally Hoffman summed it up: “The plane can be cut and slashed almost to pieces by enemy fire and bring its crew home.”

The Phantom Fortress Flight

Among these thousands of missions, none matched the eerie events of November 23, 1944. That day a B-17, serial number 43-38545, joined a raid on the heavily defended Leuna oil refinery at Merseburg. Enemy fire struck repeatedly, damaging engines and controls. Believing the bomber doomed, the nine-man crew bailed out over Allied-held territory. All survived.

Hours later, to the amazement of troops on the ground, the abandoned aircraft approached the British airfield at Cortonburg. Witnesses watched as it descended, bounced once, and came to rest. When Major Crisp boarded, he found parachutes still packed, the bombsight in place, and personal items undisturbed. Despite careful inspection, no one could explain how the plane had flown dozens of miles and landed without a pilot.

Other Legends of the Fortress

The Phantom Fortress was not the only B-17 to earn a place in wartime lore. “Old 666,” originally viewed as a cursed aircraft, became one of the most heavily armed bombers of the war after a crew led by Captain Jay Zeamer modified it with extra guns. In June 1943 the plane survived a brutal photo-reconnaissance mission over Bougainville despite repeated attacks by Japanese fighters. Zeamer and bombardier Joe Sarnoski each received the Medal of Honor, while the rest of the crew earned high decorations.

Such stories highlighted the rugged design that allowed B-17s to keep flying when logic said they should fall. From the famed Memphis Belle, which completed 25 missions, to airframes that later served in rescue operations and atomic test flights, the bomber’s record stretched beyond combat. Some were even used after the war for air-sea rescues, dropping lifeboats to downed pilots, a far different role from their wartime bombing runs.

A Lasting Presence

Today only a handful of B-17s remain airworthy, maintained by museums and historical groups. Their continued flights keep the memory of the crews alive and allow new generations to witness the sound and sight of a four-engine Flying Fortress in the sky. Aviation historian John Lundstrom has said, “Every time a B-17 takes off, it’s like opening a window to the past.”

Among all these memories, the image of the Phantom Fortress rolling to a stop on a Belgian airstrip without a single crewman aboard still stands apart. It reflects both the remarkable engineering of the B-17 and the strange, unpredictable events of a world at war—an empty aircraft that refused to fall until it was safely home.