The Forgotten 500

The Forgotten 500 Plot Summary

Introduction

In the rugged mountains of Yugoslavia during World War II, one of history's most remarkable rescue operations unfolded in near-complete secrecy. As Allied bombers targeted Nazi oil refineries in Romania, hundreds of American airmen found themselves shot down over enemy territory. Their salvation would come from an unexpected source - a Serbian resistance leader who had been officially abandoned by the Allies, yet who risked everything to save these stranded Americans. This extraordinary tale encompasses heroism, betrayal, Cold War politics, and the decades-long struggle to uncover a deliberately suppressed chapter of World War II history. The story of Operation Halyard reveals the complex moral compromises that often lurk behind strategic military decisions. It illuminates how Soviet intelligence manipulation influenced Allied policy, how political expediency trumped loyalty to wartime allies, and how ordinary people - from Serbian peasants to OSS agents - demonstrated extraordinary courage when official channels failed. For anyone interested in the hidden currents of World War II, the early Cold War, or the ethical dimensions of international relations, this forgotten rescue operation offers profound insights into how history is shaped not just by those who write it, but by those who refuse to let truth remain buried.

Chapter 1: Stranded Behind Enemy Lines: American Airmen in Yugoslavia (1944)

By early 1944, the skies over Eastern Europe had become a deadly gauntlet for American bomber crews. Their primary target was Ploesti, Romania - the source of nearly 40% of Nazi Germany's oil supply and therefore critical to Hitler's war machine. Flying from bases in Italy, American B-24 Liberators and B-17 Flying Fortresses faced a perilous journey across the Adriatic Sea and the mountains of Yugoslavia before even reaching their target. When they arrived, they encountered what airmen called "flak alley" - a corridor of anti-aircraft fire so intense that the sky seemed to turn black with exploding shells. The human cost of these missions was staggering. On a single day in April 1944, thirty-four American bombers were shot down over Romania and Yugoslavia. For crews whose aircraft were damaged, the options were grim: attempt to limp back to Italy across hundreds of miles of enemy territory, or bail out and take their chances on the ground. Those who parachuted into Yugoslavia found themselves in a land torn not only by Nazi occupation but also by a brutal civil war between competing resistance groups. Disoriented, often injured, and unable to speak the local language, these young Americans - most barely in their twenties - were completely dependent on the mercy of strangers. To their surprise, the airmen discovered extraordinary compassion among the Serbian villagers and the resistance fighters loyal to General Draza Mihailovich. Despite severe poverty and the constant threat of German reprisals, local families shared their meager food supplies, created hiding places in their homes, and moved the Americans through a clandestine network to safer areas. Clare Musgrove, a ball turret gunner who had bailed out of his crippled B-24, later recalled: "These people had nothing, yet they gave us everything they had. They were willing to die for us, and we were complete strangers to them." As more bombers were shot down during the relentless campaign against Ploesti, the number of stranded airmen grew steadily. By mid-1944, over 500 Allied airmen, primarily Americans, had gathered in the area around Pranjane, a small mountain village in central Serbia. Their presence created an increasingly dangerous situation for everyone involved. German patrols regularly swept through villages, executing anyone found helping Allied personnel. The penalty for sheltering an American was death - not just for the individual responsible, but often for their entire family or village. Each day brought the risk of discovery, yet not a single Serbian betrayed the Americans despite substantial German rewards offered for information. For the airmen themselves, the uncertainty was perhaps the greatest torment. Had they been forgotten? Would they ever make it home? As weeks stretched into months, they established a makeshift camp, organized themselves into military units, and tried to maintain discipline and morale. Some learned rudimentary Serbian, others helped with farm work, and a few even fell in love with local women. But all wondered the same thing: was anyone coming to rescue them, or would they remain trapped behind enemy lines until the war's end - if they survived that long? The answer would come in the form of a daring rescue operation that would require extraordinary courage, ingenuity, and the willingness to defy not only the Germans but also, in some ways, the official policies of the Allied governments themselves. Operation Halyard would become one of the most remarkable rescue missions of World War II, yet it would remain largely unknown for decades due to the political complications surrounding it.

Chapter 2: Mihailovich's Dilemma: Fighting Nazis While Abandoned by Allies

When Nazi Germany invaded Yugoslavia in April 1941, Colonel Draza Mihailovich made a fateful decision that would define the rest of his life. While the Yugoslav government capitulated after just eleven days of fighting, Mihailovich refused to surrender. Instead, he retreated to the mountains with a small band of loyal officers to continue resistance against overwhelming odds. From his headquarters in the remote region of Ravna Gora, he organized the remnants of the Yugoslav army into a guerrilla force known as the Chetniks, becoming the first resistance leader in occupied Europe. Mihailovich's early exploits captured the imagination of the free world. By 1942, his bearded face had appeared on the cover of Time magazine as a symbol of defiance against Nazi tyranny. The BBC broadcast tales of his resistance to occupied Europe, boosting morale with stories of his daring raids against German supply lines. The Yugoslav government-in-exile appointed him Minister of War, and both British and American support flowed to his forces through special operations teams parachuted into his territory. In this early phase of the war, Mihailovich seemed destined to emerge as one of the great heroes of the Allied cause. Yet by 1943, Mihailovich faced a devastating reversal of fortune. The emergence of Josip Broz Tito's Communist Partisans created a rival resistance movement with fundamentally different goals. While Mihailovich fought to restore the pre-war Yugoslav monarchy and focused on protecting Serbian villages from German reprisals, Tito embraced revolutionary aims and a more aggressive strategy against the occupiers regardless of civilian casualties. This ideological split soon erupted into a civil war within the broader war against Nazi occupation, with Chetniks and Partisans fighting each other as bitterly as they fought the Germans. The strategic dilemma Mihailovich faced was agonizing. Having witnessed the Germans execute thousands of Serbian civilians in retaliation for resistance activities, he adopted a cautious approach, avoiding provocations that would trigger brutal reprisals without clear military benefit. As he explained to his officers: "I cannot expose the people to such risk unless the outcome is great enough to justify the inevitable deaths from reprisal." This restraint, combined with his staunch anti-Communist stance, made him vulnerable to accusations of passivity or even collaboration with the occupiers. By late 1943, Allied support had shifted dramatically toward Tito's Partisans. British intelligence, influenced by reports that Mihailovich was no longer actively fighting the Germans, redirected their aid to Tito. What Churchill and Roosevelt didn't know was that much of this intelligence had been systematically manipulated by Communist agents within British ranks, particularly James Klugmann, a Soviet mole working in the Yugoslav section of British intelligence. Through selective reporting and outright fabrication, Klugmann helped create the impression that Mihailovich was ineffective or even treasonous, while exaggerating Tito's accomplishments. The consequences of this betrayal were profound. At the Tehran Conference in December 1943, Churchill, Roosevelt, and Stalin agreed to support Tito exclusively. Mihailovich found himself officially abandoned by the very Allied powers he had supported from the war's earliest days. Yet when American airmen began parachuting into his territory, Mihailovich never hesitated. Despite the risk of German reprisals and despite having been abandoned by Allied governments, he ordered his forces to protect the Americans at all costs, creating one of the war's most poignant ironies: the man labeled a collaborator by Allied leaders was risking everything to save Allied lives.

Chapter 3: Operation Halyard: Constructing an Impossible Rescue

By mid-1944, the plight of hundreds of stranded airmen in Yugoslavia had reached a critical point. Their numbers continued to grow as more planes were shot down over Romania, yet official channels seemed paralyzed by political considerations. The rescue effort began not through military planning but through an unexpected personal connection. Mirjana Vujnovich, a Yugoslav woman working at the embassy in Washington D.C., heard rumors about the airmen through the Yugoslav expatriate community and mentioned it in a letter to her husband, George Vujnovich, an OSS officer stationed in Bari, Italy. Vujnovich, himself a Pittsburgh native of Serbian descent who had studied in Yugoslavia before the war, immediately recognized the significance of this information. When he investigated, he discovered that Mihailovich had been sending detailed reports about the airmen for months, but these messages had been largely ignored due to the political decision to abandon Mihailovich in favor of Tito. Vujnovich faced a bureaucratic maze of obstacles. The British SOE (Special Operations Executive), which controlled most Allied operations in the Balkans, vehemently opposed any mission into Mihailovich's territory. The State Department worried about diplomatic complications with both the British and the Soviets. Even within American intelligence, Communist sympathizers worked to block operations that might help Mihailovich. The breakthrough came when OSS Director William "Wild Bill" Donovan personally appealed to President Roosevelt. When Roosevelt expressed concern about British objections, Donovan reportedly responded with characteristic bluntness: "Screw the British! Let's get our boys out!" This direct approach worked. On July 14, 1944, the Air Crew Rescue Unit (ACRU) was officially established, and Operation Halyard was born. The mission would be led by OSS agent George Musulin, a former football player of Serbian descent who had previously spent time with Mihailovich's forces before being withdrawn at British insistence. The audacious rescue plan faced a fundamental challenge: how to extract hundreds of airmen from mountainous terrain deep behind enemy lines. Conventional evacuation methods were impossible given the numbers involved. Vujnovich and his team determined that the only viable solution was to land C-47 cargo planes directly in Mihailovich's territory - an unprecedented and extremely dangerous proposition that would require building an airstrip from scratch in Nazi-occupied Yugoslavia. On August 2, 1944, after five failed attempts, Musulin and his team finally parachuted into Pranjane to prepare for the operation. What followed was an extraordinary feat of determination and ingenuity. With no construction equipment available, the work had to be done entirely by hand. Hundreds of local Serbian villagers volunteered, working alongside the airmen using primitive tools - shovels, picks, and bare hands. They identified a sloping meadow near Pranjane that could potentially serve as a runway, but it required extensive modification. They leveled the ground, removed rocks and stumps, and filled in holes and depressions. The operation faced constant threat of discovery. German reconnaissance planes frequently flew overhead, forcing everyone to scatter and hide until the danger passed. The airstrip had to be camouflaged when not in use, with local farmers grazing their livestock on it to maintain its appearance as an ordinary field. Perhaps most remarkably, the entire operation maintained perfect operational security despite involving hundreds of local civilians. Not a single person betrayed the Americans, despite the Germans' standing offer of substantial rewards for information about Allied personnel. The loyalty of the Serbian villagers, who risked execution to help the Americans, left a profound impression on the airmen. As Richard Felman, one of the downed pilots, later wrote: "We were in the hands of people who were willing to sacrifice their lives for us. They had so little, but they shared everything they had." By early August, the improvised airstrip was ready - a crude 700-foot runway carved into the side of a mountain, far shorter than the 2,000 feet normally required for C-47 operations. The stage was set for one of the most daring rescue operations of World War II, a mission that would test the limits of courage, skill, and trust between Americans and their Serbian protectors.

Chapter 4: Against All Odds: The Largest Airmen Rescue of WWII

On August 9, 1944, after weeks of preparation, Operation Halyard launched its first evacuation flight. The tension was palpable as the airmen and villagers waited for the arrival of the C-47 cargo planes. The operation required precise timing and coordination - the planes would need to land on the crude airstrip, load passengers quickly, and take off before German forces could respond. To minimize detection, the planes would fly without fighter escort and land in darkness, guided only by bonfires lit along the runway at the last possible moment. The first C-47 appeared in the night sky right on schedule. As it approached, Serbian villagers lit the fires marking the landing strip, creating a surreal scene in the moonlit mountains. The pilot later described it as "landing on a postage stamp" - the improvised runway was barely 700 feet long, far shorter than the 2,000 feet normally required for a C-47. The plane touched down successfully, its engines still running as the first group of airmen scrambled aboard. Within minutes, it was airborne again, carrying the first evacuees to freedom in Bari, Italy. That night, four planes successfully landed and departed, evacuating 48 airmen. The jubilation among those rescued was matched by the determination of those who remained behind. Over the following days and weeks, the operation continued in phases, with planes returning whenever weather and operational security permitted. Each evacuation flight brought its own challenges and close calls. On one occasion, a C-47 became stuck in mud at the end of the runway. Dozens of Serbians rushed to push it free before German patrols could investigate the noise of its engines. The operation's success soon created an unexpected problem - its own popularity. As word spread among Allied bomber crews that there was a safe haven in Mihailovich's territory, pilots in distress began deliberately steering toward Serbia before bailing out. The number of airmen actually increased during the early phases of the rescue. OSS agent Nick Lalich, who took over leadership of the mission in its later stages, reported back to headquarters: "The evacuation of Allied airmen from this territory has been the finest example I have ever witnessed of unity and cooperation between American personnel and the local population." By December 27, 1944, when the last evacuation flight departed, Operation Halyard had successfully rescued 512 Allied airmen, including 343 Americans, 142 British, and others from France, Italy, Russia, and other nations. Not a single man was lost during the evacuation, and not a single plane was shot down - an astonishing achievement given the risks involved. The success of Operation Halyard represented a triumph of courage, ingenuity, and cross-cultural cooperation. It demonstrated what could be accomplished when ordinary people - American airmen, OSS agents, and Serbian villagers - united against extraordinary odds. For the rescued airmen, the experience left an indelible impression. Many had lived with Serbian families for months, sharing their homes, their food, and their dangers. They had witnessed firsthand the brutal realities of occupation and civil war. They had also experienced extraordinary kindness from people who had every reason to turn them away. As airman Tony Orsini later reflected: "They had nothing, but they gave us everything. How do you repay something like that?" This question would haunt many of the rescued airmen for decades to come, especially as they learned the fate that awaited the man who had saved their lives. The success of Operation Halyard should have been celebrated as one of the great achievements of the war. Instead, it was classified, buried in government archives, and essentially written out of history. The reasons for this suppression lay in the complex politics of the emerging Cold War and the uncomfortable questions the operation raised about Allied decision-making in the Balkans - questions that would remain unanswered for decades to come.

Chapter 5: The Great Betrayal: Soviet Infiltration and Allied Politics

The story of Mihailovich's abandonment by the Allies represents one of the most consequential intelligence failures of World War II. What appeared to be simply a strategic military decision - the shift of support from Mihailovich to Tito - was in fact deeply influenced by Soviet espionage and political manipulation at the highest levels. The full extent of this deception would not be revealed until decades later, when declassified documents finally confirmed what many had long suspected. The key figure in this betrayal was James Klugmann, a Soviet agent working in the Yugoslav section of the British Special Operations Executive (SOE). A committed Communist since his days at Cambridge University, Klugmann was part of the infamous Cambridge spy ring that included Kim Philby, Guy Burgess, and Anthony Blunt. From his position in Cairo and later Bari, Klugmann systematically distorted intelligence about Mihailovich, exaggerating claims of collaboration with the Germans while minimizing reports of his accomplishments and glorifying Tito's actions. Klugmann's influence was profound. He served as the primary briefing officer for British agents being sent into Yugoslavia and controlled much of the intelligence flowing back to London. Through his relationship with Colonel Sir William Deakin, Churchill's former research assistant who became the senior British liaison with Tito, Klugmann was able to shape perceptions at the highest levels of British government. As historian David Martin later concluded: "Klugmann was a mole whose great accomplishment was to falsify information in a manner that resulted in handing over a nation of fifteen million people to Communist control." The Americans, with less experience in the Balkans, largely deferred to British judgment. When Churchill met with Roosevelt and Stalin at the Tehran Conference in December 1943, he pushed for a united Allied position supporting Tito. Roosevelt reluctantly agreed, and from that moment forward, Mihailovich was officially abandoned by the Allies. All support was redirected to Tito's Partisans, who received not only recognition but substantial military aid. Stalin, of course, was delighted with this outcome, which advanced Soviet interests in the Balkans without requiring direct Soviet intervention. The political betrayal created the strange paradox at the heart of Operation Halyard: the same Allied governments that had labeled Mihailovich a collaborator were now dependent on him to save their airmen. The OSS agents on the ground, like Musulin and Vujnovich, knew from firsthand experience that the accusations against Mihailovich were false, but they were powerless to change official policy. As George Musulin later testified: "I lived with the Chetniks for eight months. I never saw any evidence of collaboration with the Germans. On the contrary, I was with them when they fought the Germans." For the stranded airmen, the politics were irrelevant compared to their immediate survival. They experienced directly the loyalty and sacrifice of Mihailovich and the Serbian villagers who protected them at great risk. Many were shocked to learn upon their return that the man who had saved their lives was considered a traitor by their own governments. This disconnect between official policy and ground truth created a moral dilemma that would haunt many of the rescued airmen for decades. The consequences of this betrayal extended far beyond the war. With Allied support, Tito established a Communist government in Yugoslavia after the war, exactly as Stalin had intended. Mihailovich was captured by Tito's forces in March 1946, subjected to a show trial, and executed by firing squad on July 17, 1946. His last words were prophetic: "I strove for much, I undertook much, but the gales of the world have carried away both me and my work." The betrayal of Mihailovich represented more than just the abandonment of one man or one resistance movement. It signaled the beginning of Cold War realpolitik, where moral considerations would often be subordinated to strategic calculations. It also demonstrated the vulnerability of Western intelligence to Soviet penetration and manipulation - a problem that would continue to plague Allied governments throughout the Cold War. Perhaps most tragically, it showed how easily truth could become a casualty of political expediency, setting a pattern that would be repeated throughout the coming decades.

Chapter 6: Suppressed History: The Decades-Long Fight for Truth

When the rescued airmen returned to Allied territory, they were immediately ordered to remain silent about their experiences. General Nathan Twining, commanding general of the Fifteenth Air Force, personally instructed them: "Do not talk to anyone about this. Do not reveal even the most insignificant information about your experience and adventures to anyone except the officers of the intelligence service." While initially presented as necessary operational security, this gag order remained in effect long after the war ended, transforming a military rescue into a classified secret that would remain buried for decades. The reason for this enforced silence became clear: acknowledging Mihailovich's heroism in saving American lives would contradict the official narrative that had justified abandoning him in favor of Tito. The State Department, having invested in post-war relations with Tito's Yugoslavia as a potential buffer against Soviet expansion, had no interest in admitting they had supported the wrong side in Yugoslavia's civil war or that they had abandoned a loyal ally to Communist control. When Mihailovich was captured and put on trial in 1946, the rescued airmen mobilized to save the man who had saved them. Richard Felman emerged as their leader, forming the National Committee of American Airmen Rescued by General Mihailovich. More than 300 airmen joined the effort, writing letters, giving interviews, and traveling to Washington to plead their case. They asked for permission to testify at Mihailovich's trial, release of classified OSS records documenting his aid to Americans, and moving the trial to a neutral country where he could receive a fair hearing. Their efforts gained significant public support but met with resistance from the State Department. When Acting Secretary of State Dean Acheson finally agreed to request that Tito allow American airmen to testify, Tito's response was dismissive: "The crimes committed by Mihailovich are too great and terrible for any discussions to take place on whether or not he is guilty." The airmen organized their own commission to gather testimony, producing a 600-page report that Tito's government completely ignored. On July 17, 1946, Mihailovich was executed by firing squad. Perhaps the most shocking aspect of this suppression came in 1948, when President Truman, at the urging of the U.S. Army and General Eisenhower, posthumously awarded Mihailovich the Legion of Merit for his service to the Allied cause. The citation acknowledged that Mihailovich had "organized and led important resistance forces against the enemy" and that "through the undaunted efforts of his troops, many United States airmen were rescued and returned safely to friendly control." Yet at the State Department's insistence, this award was classified as secret - the only time in American history that the recipient of such an honor was not publicly acknowledged. The Legion of Merit remained hidden in a State Department drawer for nearly twenty years until Congressman Edward J. Derwinski of Illinois forced its disclosure in 1967. Even then, the full story of Operation Halyard remained largely unknown to the American public, buried in classified documents and overlooked by historians focused on more prominent aspects of World War II. For the airmen who had been rescued, this suppression of history was a personal affront. Many, like Felman, Arthur Jibilian, and George Musulin, spent the rest of their lives trying to set the record straight. They gave speeches, wrote articles, and lobbied Congress for official recognition of Mihailovich's contribution. Their persistence finally bore fruit in 2005, sixty years after their rescue, when they presented Mihailovich's Legion of Merit to his daughter Gordana in a ceremony that brought closure to many of the aging veterans. The declassification of wartime documents in the 1980s and 1990s gradually revealed the full extent of the deception that had led to Mihailovich's abandonment. The role of James Klugmann as a Soviet mole was confirmed, and many of the accusations against Mihailovich were proven false. In 2005, a street in Belgrade was named after Richard Felman in recognition of his decades-long campaign for truth. In 2010, the Serbian government posthumously rehabilitated Mihailovich, officially clearing him of all charges of collaboration with the enemy. The long struggle to uncover the truth about Operation Halyard demonstrates how difficult it can be to correct the historical record once it has been distorted by political considerations. It also shows the power of personal testimony to challenge official narratives. The rescued airmen never forgot the debt they owed to Mihailovich and the Serbian people, and their persistence eventually ensured that this remarkable story of courage and sacrifice would not be lost to history.

Summary

The saga of Operation Halyard reveals the profound tension between military necessity, political expediency, and moral obligation that defined much of World War II and its aftermath. At its core lies a central paradox: while Allied governments abandoned Mihailovich based on manipulated intelligence and Cold War calculations, he remained steadfastly loyal to their stranded airmen, risking everything to protect them. This disconnect between high-level policy decisions and ground-level reality created a moral debt that remained unpaid for decades, haunting the rescued airmen who knew the truth but were ordered to remain silent. The suppression of this history offers sobering lessons about how narratives of war are constructed and maintained. When geopolitical considerations demanded good relations with Tito's Communist Yugoslavia, the truth about Mihailovich's heroism became inconvenient and was systematically buried. The persistence of the rescued airmen in fighting for recognition of their savior demonstrates that historical truth often depends not on official records but on the determination of witnesses to speak against prevailing narratives. As we navigate today's complex geopolitical landscape, the Operation Halyard story reminds us to question official accounts, recognize the human cost of political decisions, and honor moral courage wherever it appears - even when acknowledging it might be politically inconvenient. Perhaps most importantly, it teaches us that loyalty and sacrifice transcend national boundaries and political systems, revealing the extraordinary capacity for heroism among ordinary people facing extraordinary circumstances.

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Gregory A. Freeman

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