THE FINAL ATTACKS

When the camera shutters closed, Zeamer pushed the control column forward.
Old 666 dove from 25,000 feet toward breathable air.

But eight Japanese fighters were still in the sky, circling like sharks.

At 15,000 feet, fresh oxygen rushed into the crew’s lungs — just as another coordinated attack began.

Four fighters from ahead.
Four from behind.

Tail gunner William Vaughan fired first. His tracers ripped into the lead Zero’s engine, sending it into a stall, spiraling downward.

On the left waist gun, Peugh hit another fighter as it crossed his line of sight.

On the right waist gun, Kendrick crippled two more.

Old 666 shuddered under the strain — hit by more than 180 bullets and five 20mm cannon shells — but still flying.

Finally, low on fuel and ammunition, the last Japanese fighters disengaged.

TRYING TO MAKE IT HOME

But the bomber was in terrible shape:

Plexiglass nose gone

Oxygen system destroyed

Radio destroyed

Hydraulics nearly gone

#2 engine shut down

Left wing spar cracked

Eight crewmen wounded

Bombardier dead

Zeamer was barely conscious.
His leg was shattered above and below the knee.
Blood loss was massive.

Yet Old 666 still had to cross the Solomon Sea, then climb the Owen Stanley Mountains — 7,000 feet high.

And they were already descending.

At 10,000 feet, the bomber entered storm clouds.
Rain hammered the fuselage.
Visibility dropped to zero.

Britton flew solely on instruments, praying no mountain peak loomed ahead.

When they broke through the clouds, they were inside a valley — walls of jungle-covered mountains rising on both sides.

Old 666 struggled upward.

8,500 feet…
9,000…
9,500…

The pass ahead was 7,200 feet.

They cleared it by barely 300 feet.

THE LANDING AT PORT MORESBY

At last, the jungles opened into the long brown strip of Port Moresby Airfield.

Britton dropped the landing gear — hydraulics groaning.
Flaps half-extended.

He landed too fast — 140 mph — bouncing twice before the wheels caught pavement.
The crippled bomber screeched down the runway and stopped with just 200 feet remaining.

Ground crew ran toward the aircraft in disbelief.
They’d never seen a B-17 so torn apart, yet still airborne.

Inside, they found:

blood pooled across the cockpit

shrapnel embedded in the walls

empty oxygen bottles

thousands of spent .50 cal casings rolling underfoot

They saw a covered body in the nose — Sarnoski.

And a pilot who looked dead.

The chief yelled, “Get the pilot last, he’s gone.”

Britton climbed down after the stretcher and said:

“He’s not dead. Check again.”

Zeamer had a pulse.
Barely.

Paramedics sprinted him to surgery.

Doctors gave him one chance in ten.

He took it.

THE AFTERMATH

The photographs from the mission were developed within hours.

They showed:

Every reef

Every sandbar

Every landing beach

Every Japanese position

Those images saved hundreds of Marines during the November landings at Empress Augusta Bay.

THE HONORS

The crew of Old 666 became the most decorated aircrew in American history:

🟦 MEDAL OF HONOR — Captain Jay Zeamer

For flying with shattered legs, massive wounds, and refusing to abandon the mission.

🟦 MEDAL OF HONOR — 2nd Lt. Joseph R. Sarnoski (Posthumous)

For returning to his guns while mortally wounded and shooting down two fighters.

🟩 Distinguished Service Cross — 7 Crewmen

Britton
Johnston
Able
Kendrick
Peugh
Vaughan
Dillman

No other mission in U.S. air history has earned two Medals of Honor for one aircraft crew.

EPILOGUE

Old 666, riddled with 187 bullet holes, was repaired and flew 18 more missions before retiring to the United States.

Captain Jay Zeamer recovered after 15 months of surgeries.
He walked with a limp for the rest of his life, earned his master’s degree, worked in aerospace, built boats, raised a family, and died peacefully at 88.

He was buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

Sarnoski went home to Pennsylvania — in a flag-draped casket.

But he went home a hero.