| Original caption: “A scene from an Army airport.” The crew of the Boeing B-17E Flying Fortress serial number 41-9020 of the 340th Bomb Squadron, 97th Bomb Group, nicknamed “Phyllis,” receives coffee and doughnuts after a mission from an American Red Cross “clubmobile” bus. Clubmobile buses were often present across Europe, even outrunning the German Ardennes offensive, leaving Bastogne a few hours before it was encircled. B-17E 41-9020 was accepted by the United States Army Air Force at Boeing Field, Seattle, Washington, on March 12, 1942. Assigned to the 340th Bomb Squadron, 97th Bomb Group, she flew to McDill Field in Tampa, Florida, on March 13, and then Sarasota Field, Florida, on March 29, 1942, for training. She flew to the San Antonio Air Depot at Duncan Field, San Antonio, Texas, on May 15; 10 days later, she flew to the Air Service Command at Patterson Field in Dayton, Ohio. On May 31, she flew shuttle missions to Maine, landing at Presque Isle Field and Dow Field, now Bangor International Airport. On June 2, 1942, 41-9020 and the 97th Bomb Group became part of the 4th Air Force. The same day, 41-9020 was ferried from Dow Field to Westover Field in Chicopee Falls, Massachusetts. 41-9020 flew across the United States, from Westover to Scott Field, Belleville, Illinois, on June 4; Albuquerque Air Force Base, New Mexico, on June 5; and Hammer Field in Fresno on June 6, 1942. It returned to Dow Field in the same manner, departing on June 11 and arriving by June 15. These flights were training the crew in long-distance navigation and aircraft operation. Operation Bolero moved the 97th Bomb Group to the United Kingdom. Using Call Sign F7XMJ, 41-9020 left from Presque Isle Field, Maine, on June 28, and arrived in Goose Bay, Labrador; Patterson Field, Reykjavik, Iceland; and finally arrived at Station 500 in Prestwick, Scotland, on July 8, 1942. Assigned to VIII Bomber Command, the 97th Bomb Group operated out of Station 110 in Polebrook in July 1942. Collided with 41-9051, losing much of her rudder, but was repaired. Transferred to the 92nd Bomb Group at Station 112 in Bovingdon on August 25, 1942. The photo was taken sometime during this period, when 41-9020 landed in Alconbury after a mission. 41-9020 flew in Operation Wildflower on October 24, 1942. On April 18, 1943, 41-9020 was transferred to the 303rd Bomb Group. Now war weary, she was stripped of her guns and used as a “hack” – a plane for getting around to different bases – and a target tug. She was renamed “Tugboat Annie.” Assigned to Station 107 at Molesworth, Huntingtonshire, she was the only B-17E model there. On May 2, 1943, she was painted in bright striped colors so she could be easily seen. Other 303rd Bomb Group aircraft would form up on her to create the formation that the unit would use for mutual protection from fighters, so that their 50 caliber (12.7 millimeter) M2 Browning machine guns could provide mutual defense. Once the formation was in place, 41-9020 would land. On July 19, 1944, 41-9020 was temporarily transferred to the 2nd Strategic Air Depot at Station 107 at Abbots Lipton. She returned to the 303rd Bomb Group on July 21. 2 days later, she was piloted by Major Louis M. Shulstad Jr. (March 9, 1918 – January 6, 2012) and co-piloted by Captain Harry M. McDaniel (October 2, 1917 – December 8, 1967) for a cross-country sortie to Kings Cliffe and back, where P-51 fighters were based. “Tugboat Annie” crashed and was seriously damaged during landing at Molesworth. Shulstad, known for his safety protocol, had unscrewed the “gear down” warning light because it was too bright during the overnight flight. He hadn’t properly locked the gear during the landing. Officially, only the 2 pilots were aboard; both walked away. “WE BOMBER PILOTS decided to throw a party for our fighter pilot friends [20th Fighter Group] who were at a base [Kingscliffe] about twenty miles away,” said Mel Schulstad. “It was a hilarious evening of mostly drinking a lot of whiskey. As the party was winding down at about two in the morning on July 24, 1944, the fighter guys were ready to go home, but the truck drivers who brought them over had left. So we were stuck with about twelve fighter pilots who wanted to go home.” Schulstad — who had partied through the evening – decided to fly them home in Tugboat Annie. There were few, if any, American aircraft still in service that had been in England longer. Originally named Phyllis, it was an old B-17E that entered service with the 97th Bomb Group in March 1942, months before the 8th Air Force flew its 1st mission. It was subsequently passed from the 97th to the 92nd Bomb Group in August 1942 and was eventually transferred to the 303rd during May 1943. During its relatively long life, it was repaired and modified several times and suffered significant damage in a midair collision. The 303rd used it as a target tug for gunnery practice and as a formation assembly ship before missions. “So I took my friends, the fighter pilots, out there,” said Schulstad, “and we poured them into the back of the airplane. Then we flew them back to their base and told them to get out.” Once his friends were clear of the hard-used bomber, Schulstad got airborne again in short order and turned south for Molesworth. His copilot was actually not a pilot but rather the group’s administrative officer, Harry McDaniel, who had gone along simply for the ride. They arrived over Molesworth only a few minutes after taking off. “It was a beautiful moonlit night,” Schulstad said. “It was calm and quiet, and I flew the downwind leg and made a lovely turn onto base leg and put the landing gear down; I could hear it go ‘round-round-round-round’ and then chunk into place. And then I put the flaps down.” “I was sitting on final approach with everything just beautiful, and my copilot was sound asleep. And I thought I’d better check the gear and the flaps one more time.” For whatever reason, Schulstad activated the switches rather than simply checking that they were in the proper position. The landing gear and flaps — which were already down and ready for landing – obeyed his errant command and pulled themselves back into the aircraft. Schulstad didn’t notice. An actual copilot — and 1 who was awake — would likely have caught the mistake, but Schulstad’s ad hoc crewman was no help. “I flared out for this magnificent landing,” he said, “and heard all four props hit the cement. We spread that ancient B-17 from one end of the runway to the other. At five o’clock in the morning. With no copilot.” Schulstad knew he was in trouble. No 1 was hurt, and the B-17 and the pieces it shed were scraped clear of the runway. “It was an incident that had to be reported,” said Schulstad. “And it made its way up to the wing commander’s [Brigadier General Robert F. Travis (December 26, 1904 – August 5, 1950)] office, and he said something about a court-martial.” Schulstad agonized for more than a week as he waited for the powers-that-be to determine what sort of action might be taken against him. “About ten days elapsed,” said Schulstad, “and I had chewed off all my fingernails worrying about what was going to happen.” Schulstad’s roommate, Mel McCoy, was the chief engineering officer for the 444th Sub Depot, which was responsible for performing major repairs to the 303rd’s damaged aircraft. “He came in one day and told me that the airplane I crashed was built from other old airplanes. ‘We never technically received that airplane, he said. And I asked him if he meant that the airplane never actually existed. And he said, “That’s exactly right.” At Schulstad’s urging, McCoy spoke with the proper people and ensured that the information reached the top of the chain of command, to Brigadier General Travis. “They brought it up to the wing commander, who was a very wise gentleman, and he said, ‘Obviously, if the airplane never existed, it could never have been in an accident, and so then that’s the end of that.’” Schulstad was likely also given a pass because he was 1 of the group’s original “old hands.” Aside from having led and survived some of the 303rd’s most hazardous missions, he was invaluable in planning operations and lent his expertise wherever and whenever possible. And unlike the vast majority of aircrews, he stayed at Molesworth until the end of the war. In fact, he wrote home about his views on staying in England: “All in all, with my experiences, travels, meeting people, [and] opportunities, I wouldn’t miss this, the greatest show on earth, for love or money. As a matter of fact, I find it increasingly hard to understand these fellows who want to get home. Maybe it’s because they have a wife and children, or maybe they are just too small-minded to appreciate their opportunities.” Schulstad was correct in noting that there were opportunities aplenty to learn, gain experience, and advance in rank. However, among those opportunities were many different ways to be killed. “Tugboat Annie” was assigned to SOXO (Code name for Zone I, North Britain) for transportation purposes. Written off and condemned on July 26, 1944. Salvaged by the 2nd Strategic Air Depot and taken to the scrap metal yard behind Marshall’s Garage at Cambridge Airport. The yard was cleared in March 1946. | |
| Image Filename | wwii0984.jpg |
| Image Size | 540.17 KB |
| Image Dimensions | 2167 x 2940 |
| Photographer | |
| Photographer Title | Franklin D. Roosevelt Library |
| Caption Author | Written or Adapted by Jason McDonald |
| Date Photographed | August 1, 1942 |
| Location | |
| City | Alconbury |
| State or Province | Cambridgeshire |
| Country | United Kingdom |
| Archive | National Archives and Records Administration |
| Record Number | NLR-PHOCO-A-48494(13) |
| Status | Caption ©2026 MFA Productions LLC Please Do Not Duplicate or Distribute Without Permission; Image in the Public Domain |
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