At the home of Hildegard Kattinger, we were joined by Mayor Halder, and we all left together for the short drive to the area known as the Tischneck. Mrs. Kattinger, another eyewitness to the air battle, was watching from the road as the cockpit from the Books plane slammed into the trees on the hillside. Her father wouldn’t let her go near the crash until the bodies of the crew were removed from the wreckage.

Hildegard Kattinger points to the place where the cockpit crashed down

Cockpit impact site, 30 Sept, 1996

We parked the car and walked down a narrow path through the Black Forest. It was noticeably dark because the tops of the trees blocked out the light. Several hundred yards into the forest, the path made a sharp bend to the right and led into a field. We could see the edge of the forest as it continued down the side of the slope. Mrs. Kattinger pointed to a spot that was still several hundred yards away, as Carsten translated, "You see the “V” in the trees; that is the place...that is where the cockpit came down. Come, Mrs. Kattinger will show us." Walking across the field towards the place where my uncle and his crew had perished, I found it hard to believe that I was actually there. If only my grandmother had been still alive to see this.

Cockpit Book crew, 18 March 1944 View from field looking into woods

Cockpit Book crew, 18 March 1944 View from inside woods looking towards field

Reaching the edge of the tree line, Mrs. Kattinger continued to talk as Carsten translated, “This is the spot. Do you see that the trees are gone?” Carsten continued. “Jim, Jim, come here! Do you see? This is the place-I am sure- this is where your uncle was killed." Kipp McCleary was filming the group and could be heard to say in an awed voice, “My God, look at that!" It took me a few seconds to focus on the spot; but finally it came together. A huge, wide hole had been gauged into the forest floor; there were no trees in a 50 foot circle except for small brush that was waist high and small scrub trees. Around the outside of the circle, the trees towered into the sky. Pushing back brush I made my way through the tree line towards the spot. Mrs. Kattinger went to the left to find an easier way in but stopped 10 yards short of the spot. Carsten called, “Jim, Jim, come here, please. Mrs. Kattinger says this is also a very emotional moment for her. She says in the past she has placed flowers at this place where the airmen were killed." We all stood in a semi-circle in silence looking around the area. My mind was spinning around trying to make sense of the moment. Except for the noise of the wind blowing through the pine needles, the Black Forest was silent, almost peaceful; then a sudden flash found me in the cockpit as it tumbled from the sky. I could here screams, then silence. It was over; my search had come to an end. I remember taking a deep breath. I don’t know how long we stood there as time seemed to stop. My mind also flashed back to Fawn Grove and my grandparents, knowing how long they had tried to find answers and never did. And here I stood, years later, at the place. This experience was emotional and draining. I turned to Mrs. Kattinger and said, “A very sad spot." Carsten translated her response, “Yes, and how many other spots like this are there all over Germany?”

The sun sank lower, and the Black Forest became darker as we headed back towards the path. I looked around and picked up 6 pine cones, one each for the boys who were killed at this place. I hoped that these cones would be important to the families when I returned home.

We spoke briefly to the Mayor and thanked him for all his help during our trip. He told us he would see if it would be possible to take photographs of the windshield from the Books plane that was now in a chickenhouse on a farm near the Tischneck. Back at the home of Mrs. Kattinger for discussions with tea and cookies, we said our goodbyes. This was the most special visit of my life. Someday I would like to return to this place and meet with Mrs. Kattinger again.

Dieter watches as Jim opens his birthday present

“Happy birthday from the Black Forrest”

That evening at the Kohlmanns we finally were able to relax. I was exhausted in body and mind when suddenly those familiar words rang out, “Happy birthday to you”! Yes, it was September 30, and I was 50 years old. What could possibly top a birthday like that day. Carsten's father Dieter came into the room with a wrapped present as Carsten made the presentation, “ Jim, please stand along side my father and open your present after I read your birthday card." Everyone was getting a kick out of this as they scrambled for cameras and video equipment. Jim, I will now read the presentation, 'In honor of your 50th birthday and 10 years of research on your uncle Everette Morris, we would like to present you with this gift. May it be in memory of all airman and those who lost their lives. During the war this thing that we want to give you showed pilots the way. May it now show you and your family and our family the right way for a life of peace.'" The bottom of the card was signed by the Kohlmanns: Dieter, Carsten’s father; Roamarie, Carsten’s mother; Petra, Carsten’s sister; and Aunt Elsie from Long Island, who was visiting for a few weeks. Carsten continued, “Please Jim, open your gift." Fumbling around I unwrapped my present. It was the compass from the cockpit of the Books plane. I looked at Dieter and asked, “Is this from the bomber?" Carsten said, “Yes, today while we were at the Tischneck, a man came to our home with the compass and gave it to my father with the words, 'Give this to Jim Marsteller; it belongs to him.' My father then wrapped it up, and we made this card; that’s it”! Everyone laughed, “That’s it!” We all gathered around as Dieter put the compass under the light. “It works, and it still has the fluid inside that makes the dial go around," he said in German. Words for the correct way to say "Thank you" were not in my vocabulary, but nothing needed to be said. Everyone knew my feelings. I just shook my head in disbelief and thought to myself," Perhaps this is just a dream or a movie script.

Looking back now and putting my experiences that day in the Black Forest into words is very difficult so I’m not going to try. I’ll let the people of Schramberg do it for me. They were watching us and actions speak louder than words. Here are the two (translated) articles that appeared in the Schramberg newspaper the day we left for home. The headline reads:

We packed up our bags and headed home with more memories and wreckage parts then one could imagine. We didn’t know at the time, but as we were leaving the Black Forest town of Hardt, one of the most important eyewitnesses to the crash of the Books crew was coming into town. Mr. Johannes Storz was a 12 year old boy on March 18, 1944 and was in the mayor's office when prisoner Chester Strickler was brought in. At the time Mr. Storz could speak English and was asked by the mayor to help translate Strickler’s interrogation. What a coincidence in 1996 on the same day we were leaving, Johannes (Hans) Storz was coming into town for a visit with his sister and happened to pick up a daily paper. On the front page was the story of our visit to the crash site in Hardt that included the story of the only survivor Chester Strickler. Of course Hans recognized Strickler’s name as the prisoner he helped interrogate some 54 years before. The article also mentioned Carsten Kohlmann as being one of the researchers. Hans quickly contacted Kohlmann and the wheels started turning for the following incredible story told in the words of Mr. Johnannes Storz. The details of the crash on 18 March 1944 that he has brought back in his memory are a testimony to the impressions left in his mind even after 54 years and the harsh realities of the war.