When Germans Cut His B-17 in Half at 24,000 Feet — He Kept Shooting All the Way Down

November 29, 1943, began as just another day in the skies over Nazi-occupied Europe. The sun hung over the horizon, casting a dim light on the action unfolding below. But for Staff Sergeant Eugene Moran, a 19-year-old farm boy from Soldiers Grove, Wisconsin, this was a day that would etch itself into the annals of history. He was assigned to a B-17 Flying Fortress named Ricky Tikitavi, a formidable bomber that was part of the U.S. Eighth Air Force’s mission to destroy the factories in Bremen, Germany, which were crucial to the Nazi war effort.

However, this mission would quickly turn from routine to the stuff of legend. Moran’s experience would redefine what it meant to fight, survive, and never give up, no matter the odds.

The Lonely Position of the Tail Gunner

Moran’s position on Ricky Tikitavi was arguably the most dangerous of all: the tail gunner. Sitting alone at the back of the bomber, separated from the rest of the crew by 40 feet of fuselage, Moran had one job: protect the bomber from attacks coming from the rear. His only company was the twin .50 caliber machine guns he manned and the constant threat of German fighters attacking from behind. As part of the Ricky Tikitavi crew, he was in a prime target zone for enemy aircraft.

The crew of the B-17 consisted of 10 men. Pilots in the cockpit, the bombardier and navigator in the nose, the flight engineer in the top turret, a radio operator, waist gunners, and the ball turret gunner hanging beneath the aircraft. But the tail gunner was isolated, often the first to be targeted by enemy planes. And as of November 29, 1943, the Eighth Air Force was suffering catastrophic losses. In just the first hour of their mission, six B-17s had already been shot down.

Yet Moran, a young farm boy, had prepared for this moment with intense training in gunnery, learning how to track fast-moving targets, compensate for wind and altitude, and react to enemy fire. But no amount of training could truly prepare him for the brutal reality of combat over the heavily defended skies of Germany.

The Attack on Bremen

That fateful morning, the Ricky Tikitavi was part of a massive bombing run over Bremen’s factories, a city lined with shipyards, aircraft factories, and submarine pens. The city was one of the most heavily defended in Germany, and as the bomber formations approached, the sky erupted in flak bursts, black explosions from the anti-aircraft guns filling the air. The bombers couldn’t maneuver. They had to stay in formation to maximize their firepower and protect each other.

As they approached Bremen, Moran could only watch in horror as a B-17 in front of them took a direct hit and folded in half, plummeting to the ground. His stomach dropped, and dread seeped into his bones. In just moments, they would have to endure the same fate unless they could survive the hellish gauntlet ahead.

The cold at 24,000 feet was nearly unbearable. The temperature plunged to 40° below zero, and frostbite threatened to claim fingers and toes. Despite wearing an electrically heated flight suit, Moran could still feel the sting of the cold seeping through his gloves. But he had no time to focus on the cold. The German fighters were coming.

A Damaged Bomber and Desperate Struggle

As the mission reached its end, Ricky Tikitavi began its turn back toward England, flying through 200 miles of hostile airspace. But then disaster struck. Flak hit the number two engine, and the propeller began to windmill uselessly. The bomber’s speed dropped, and the formation was forced to leave it behind. This was the most dangerous moment of the mission—every German fighter in the area would now zero in on the slow-moving, crippled bomber. And the tail gunner, Moran, was their first target.

Moran watched as a dozen Messerschmitt Bf 109s climbed from below, and Focke-Wulf 190s dove from above. He immediately grabbed his machine guns and opened fire. The recoil was immense, and the noise deafening as the guns roared to life. He could feel the tension building, knowing that each shot fired might be his last. The first German fighter broke off, but more came. It was a relentless wave, and Moran fought back with everything he had, his machine guns vomiting fire into the sky.

The tail section of the bomber shuddered as the enemy fighters made pass after pass, their 20mm cannon shells tearing through the aluminum of the plane. Moran felt the impacts before he even heard them—the deafening thud of the rounds ripping through the fuselage, followed by the agony as his arms were struck. Blood soaked his flight suit as the pain from the cannon rounds exploded in his limbs, but he didn’t stop. His hands still gripped the triggers, his body moving on instinct. He had one goal: to keep shooting until the very end.

The Impossible Fall

Then, the impossible happened. More cannon rounds tore through the tail section, and Moran felt the aircraft lurch violently. The B-17’s fuselage began to disintegrate, the body of the aircraft breaking apart around him. He watched in horror as the front section of Ricky Tikitavi separated and fell away, the wings, engines, and cockpit tumbling into the German countryside below. Eugene Moran was now alone, trapped in a severed tail section, falling toward the ground 24,000 feet below. His parachute had been destroyed by the cannon fire, and there was no way to survive the fall.

But Eugene Moran wasn’t done fighting. As the tail section spun out of control, he kept shooting. The G-forces pressed him against the walls of the compartment, then hurled him toward the ceiling, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The German fighters circled around, coming in to confirm the kill. But Moran fired back with all the strength he could muster, sending tracer rounds streaking into the sky, causing one of the enemy planes to dive away, smoking from the damage.

The fall continued. The tail section plummeted through the sky, twisting and turning in a violent dance. Moran’s body was battered by the impacts, but somehow, miraculously, the tail section began to glide. The aircraft’s stabilizers acted like wings, creating drag and slowing the descent. What should have been a certain death became a desperate fight for time, and Moran used every precious second to continue firing.

Finally, the tail section struck the top of a pine tree at nearly 100 miles per hour, snapping branches as thick as a man’s arm. The tail spun through the forest canopy, breaking apart with each impact, and Moran’s body was slammed against the metal framework. His vision blurred, and pain exploded through his broken limbs, but he was alive.

The Will to Live

When the tail section finally crashed into the frozen ground, Moran lay there, broken and near death. His arms were shattered, his ribs were cracked, and blood poured from a wound in his head. He could barely move, but he crawled from the wreckage, determined to survive. Surrounded by German soldiers who had witnessed American bombs destroy their factories, Moran was vulnerable and exposed, yet he had survived a fall from 24,000 feet without a parachute.

As the soldiers approached, they found a man with catastrophic injuries, an enemy combatant who had just bombed their city. They were unsure what to do with him. The German soldiers roughly searched him, finding his dog tags, rank insignia, and a shredded parachute. They left him lying there, unsure whether he would survive or not.

Moran’s fate now rested in the hands of the German soldiers, who transported him to a military facility where he was left to die. But, against all odds, Eugene Moran didn’t give up. He survived a brutal surgery performed by Serbian doctors in a German POW hospital. Despite the overwhelming pain and infection, Moran fought to live.

The Black March and Final Liberation

What followed was more suffering as Moran endured the horrors of being a prisoner of war. He was transferred from camp to camp, enduring a brutal forced march known as the “Black March.” But even then, Moran kept fighting. He survived the march, and by the time American forces liberated the camp in April 1945, he was alive, albeit broken.

Eugene Moran’s survival was a miracle. He had survived the impossible, and his story would become one of the most incredible acts of resilience in World War II. His injuries were extensive, but he kept going, refusing to succumb to the horrors of war.

After the war, Eugene Moran returned to Soldiers Grove, Wisconsin, a hero, but a man forever scarred by his experiences. His story would be largely forgotten until later generations uncovered his incredible survival and heroism. Eugene Moran died in 2008, but his story—of a farm boy who fell from the sky, fought to survive, and kept shooting all the way down—lives on as a testament to the power of human will and determination.