Mt. Moosilauke (1942) - The Night the Bomber Crashed
". . . North Woodstock, N.H. - On Wednesday, January 14, 1942, three tremendous explosions on Mt. Waternomee shook houses, rattled windows, and set cups and saucers dancing on kitchen shelves. The shock waves from the blasts were so powerful they were felt twenty-two miles to the south in the small college town of Plymouth.
This frightening experience was set in motion eight hours earlier when a B-18 twin-engined bomber took off from Westover Field in Chicopee Falls, Massachusetts. With a flying range of 2100 miles, the bomb-laden aircraft headed out over the Atlantic Ocean on an anti-submarine patrol that would bring it just off the coast of Newfoundland. German submarines were known to frequent the shipping lanes there in order to torpedo Allied convoys carrying badly-needed war materials to the British Isles and Russia.
It was while on the return flight that the aircraft first encountered the blinding snow squalls and drastic wind changes just off the New Jersey coast that were to throw it so far off course. Part of the dilemma was also caused by the navigator's inability to compute the drift factor. The fact that the officers aboard the plane were inexperienced in handling a B-18 didn't help. All of them were part of a 'borrowed' crew thrown together for this one particular assignment. They were actually trained B-24 personnel. . . .
. . . As McInnis' group progressed up the mountain, each of the men took turns breaking trail. During the ascent, blowdowns caused by the 1938 hurricane proved to be a chronic problem. At one point, a member of the party found himself chest deep in snow when he dropped between two fallen trees. With the ascent growing steeper, and the snow depth increasing, exhaustion began to affect the older men. Rest stops became more frequent. Going into the third mile, the group began shouting 'Hello! Hello!' hoping for a return response. Periodically they stopped and listened for any replies that might be heard over the roaring mountain winds. Finally, a mile from the crash site their efforts unexpectedly produced a distant shout. The plaintive cry of 'Help! Help!' drifted down to them. . . ."
From "The Night The Bomber Crashed" by Floyd W. Ramsey, pp. 580-610, The Moosilaukee Reader (Vol.2). ©1999.
