First Lieutenant Harold Herr lay in his dingy, sunburnt, blistered, thirsty, and hungry. A film had developed over his eyes and he could only make out the outline of objects nearby. He had run out of water about four days ago. His one piece of protection from the Mediterranean sun was a piece of silk he had cut from his parachute. That, too, was gone. Thankfully, on this day in 1943, he would no longer need it. He was finally spotted by crews on an Australian ship and pulled to safety.

Herr’s adventure began twelve days prior to his rescue. He was a fighter pilot for the 97th Air Squadron, also known as the “Hat-in-the-Ring” squadron, on a mission to Sicily. Upon return to North Africa, Herr was followed by enemy fighters and had to go out of his way to avoid them. He “shook the Jerries,” but it cost him his fuel. He did not have enough to return to base.

Herr had two options. Either he could attempt to crash land on enemy territory and take his chances on being captured or escaping to friendly territory, or he could get as close to North Africa as possible and send a distress call to get air-sea rescue. “If I crash landed or bailed out where I was it would mean both pilot and plane lost,” wrote Herr in a letter to his wife. “If I could get air-sea rescue on an attempt for North Africa then it would mean only the plane lost. So I decided to try for Africa.” Herr prepared to bail out of the plane. He shed his heavy aviator boots, tied his canteen to his belt and rations to his pack, and was ready just as the gas ran out. He bailed the plane. “I passed well under the tail, pulled the ripcord and was jerked to a stop as the chute opened. Just then I saw the plane hit and go under into the drink. I hit the water with two chute straps still buckled and fumbled under water some time to unbuckle them. Swallowed some seawater before I came up–got my dinghy inflated and climbed in.”

Herr paddled to his parachute and cut a piece out in hopes of fashioning a sail. It would later only prove useful as protection from the hot sun.The next day, Herr tried to paddle southward, using his hands as paddles. His emergency rations had been ruined in the crash, so all he had left was a quart of water. The next five days, Herr was forced to paddle just to keep his raft pointed into the rough waves. On this sixth day, he spotted land and tried to paddle towards it, but the tide pulled him further away. The next two days, the same happened: he paddled near land, only to be pulled back out to sea by the tide and waves.

On the eighth day, a he caught and killed a sea turtle that was rubbing against his dingy. He cut a small piece from its shoulder and ate it raw, but became sick. He quickly ditched the turtle, when he spotted a ship and was certain he would be rescued. He was able to get close enough to see the hospital markings on the ship and men on board, but the ship did not see him. Without any signals or flares, Herr could only watch helplessly as they left.

The next two days were a blur for Herr. Again, he paddled south only to drift back out to sea. Frustration mounted the next two days as three ships and a few airplanes passed by, but did not see this hostage of the sea. “I was very thirsty, my joints didn’t fit together and my mouth was like cotton from the lack of moisture,” wrote Herr. “I was pretty well discouraged by this time but resolved to fight it out until the last. ... My arms were sunburned and blistered, which the sea water had infected. At night the sores would glow like luminous watches, from the phosphorescence of the sea. I had many other sores–all painful and infected.”

The last two nights, Herr was able to capture and kill two birds that alighted on his raft. He ate the meat raw, remarking that he “never tasted anything so good.” With desperation taking over, Herr tried to swim to shore pulling his dinghy, but only wasted energy, and could barely climb back into the dinghy. It was nearly sunset when he saw the smoke from the ship that had finally spotted and saved him. He stayed on board five days before being admitted to a British hospital, and then an American hospital in the Middle East. Herr spent several months healing and recovering from his adventure and a knee surgery. He was later awarded the Purple Heart for his service.

By Tessa Sandstrom

State Historical Society of North Dakota Veterans History Project. MSS 10873, File

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