Veteran’s B-17 Radio Still Transmits a Poignant Message

Herbert and Millicent Brill display an old, drab yellow radio in the study of their lovely Corona del Mar home. I doubt they’d trade it for the Hope diamond.

It was an emergency radio aboard Herbert Brill’s B-17 Flying Fortress bomber during World War II. Brill was the navigator on a 10-man crew.

The morning of New Year’s Eve 1943, the exhausted crew was scheduled for a three-day pass when a new mission came up: to bomb a German-controlled air strip in the south of France. Just “a quick milk run,” they were told.

Some milk run. They lost an engine from German firepower, then had to dispose of their bombs in the ocean in time to make a forced farm field landing. They burned up their own plane to keep it out of German hands, then split up in twos to escape.

Four made it to safety in Spain. Four were captured and made prisoners of war. Brill and the engineer, Bill Webber, hiked 55 miles through the countryside for several days before finally being befriended by the French Underground.

Some villagers in German-occupied France feared for their own safety in aiding Americans; others were scared the two fliers were Germans in disguise. But Brill and Webber eventually found many brave French eager to help.

They were turned over to a local postman, who finally overcame his strong conviction they were German spies and led them to the French Underground. Brill worked in the Underground for nine months before he could be rescued.

He spent part of one morning telling me fascinating and deeply moving vignettes of those difficult months--sleeping in a hole in the ground for weeks, being moved from town to town to stay ahead of the enemy, the violent deaths of some who had helped them.

But also compelling is what happened to the Brills after the war. His career with Pepsi-Cola International took them all over the world. But he never forgot that close bond with France. Millicent had her own French bond: A brother had been killed during the invasion of Normandy on D-day. The Brills spent years locating the many villagers who had helped him after his plane went down.

“We found everybody but the postman,” Herbert Brill says. “When we tracked him down, we learned that he had died the year before.”

It took him 44 years to trace Webber, who was living in Florida. They talked like old friends.

The French ties are so strong for the Brills that they now own a house in France, in a small town called Nontron. It’s just 85 miles from where Brill’s plane went down. They spend part of each year living there.

“I was frequently asked by the French if I knew what happened to the men they had hidden in their homes, or their barns,” Herbert Brill says.

This yearning for reunification led the Brills to get deeply involved in a movement called the Air Force Escape and Evasion Society. It tries to reunite airmen shot down during World War II (and later wars) with the civilians who had aided them. Many of its efforts have been successful. The reunions, the Brills say, always bring tears to everyone’s eyes.

If you know of an airman who survived getting shot down, you might let the Brills know. They’re bound to find someone who wants to see him again.

A Wife Remembers: Barbara J. Elkouri of Newport Beach recently wrote us a reminder that “the number of World War II veterans is quickly diminishing.” Which is why she wishes more people knew about her husband, William, who was the first commander to fly 25 combat missions for the 8th U.S. Air Force. He later served in Korea.

His most vivid recollection is of the day his plane, alone on a mission, was surrounded by eight German fighter planes. Elkouri was shot in the face before he managed to shoot down three of those planes and escape into the clouds.

“I was just 20,” he says. “When you’re young like that it really doesn’t hit you until later what’s really going on.”

Besides his combat missions, Elkouri also parachuted food and supplies to the French Underground. That certainly grabbed my attention. Herbert Brill had spoken movingly about sneaking out at night with the French, eagerly awaiting those same kinds of supplies. It was a delight for me to tell these two heroes about each other, and get them together.

Where Eagles Soar: The Marine brass at the El Toro base have a pretty good handle on who some of the country’s future leaders might be. The base hosts an annual recognition dinner for young men who have made Eagle Scout the previous year. This year’s dinner is Wednesday at the Officers Club, where 257 Orange County boys will be honored. I was fortunate to attend last year’s dinner. It’s a nice bonus for Scouts who have worked hard to rise above the crowd.

Wrap-Up: In 1985, the Brills returned for a commemoration ceremony to the very spot where his plane had crash-landed. What a welcome the Brills received: The French had re-created the airplane’s outline with French and American flags.

It was at this ceremony that one family approached Herbert Brill with the yellow radio.

A villager who had watched the plane on fire that day had run to the scene. Miraculously, he grabbed the radio before the fire reached it. He told his family that someday he wanted to give the radio back to one of the heroic Americans who had crashed. The old man had died a year before the 1985 ceremony, but his family didn’t forget his promise.

Jerry Hicks’ column appears Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Readers may reach Hicks by calling the Times Orange County Edition at (714) 966-7823 or sending a fax to (714) 966-7711.