Narrator: Imagine plummeting from a crippled B-24 bomber, your parachute malfunctioning, thousands of feet above the rugged, Nazi-occupied mountains of Yugoslavia. This was the terrifying reality for American airman Clare Musgrove in 1944. After manually ripping his chute open, he landed safely, only to face a new terror: would the first person he met be a friend or a foe who would turn him over to the Germans? His survival, and that of hundreds of other downed airmen, depended entirely on the kindness of strangers in a land torn apart by war. This incredible, and for decades hidden, story of rescue and betrayal is the subject of Gregory A. Freeman's book, The Forgotten 500: The Untold Story of the Men Who Risked All for the Greatest Rescue Mission of World War II. It uncovers a mission born of desperation, executed in defiance of political maneuvering, and nearly erased from history.

Narrator: The Allied bombing campaign against the Ploesti oil fields in Romania was strategically vital to crippling the Nazi war machine, but it came at an immense cost. The skies over Ploesti were among the most heavily defended in Europe, and American bomber crews faced a high probability of being shot down. For those who survived the flak and enemy fighters, bailing out over Yugoslavia meant trading one danger for another. Airmen like Clare Musgrove, a ball turret gunner, experienced this firsthand. On one mission, his plane was hit, and the electrical system failed, trapping him in the cramped, vulnerable turret. He frantically worked a manual crank to escape just moments before the plane would have become his tomb.

Once on the ground, these airmen were scattered, injured, and alone in hostile territory. Yet, against all odds, they found sanctuary. Serbian villagers, followers of the Chetnik resistance leader General Draža Mihailović, risked everything to help them. Despite the threat of brutal German reprisals—where entire villages could be executed for harboring Allied soldiers—these villagers shared their meager food, provided shelter, and guided the Americans to safety. The airmen, who had been briefed to trust the Communist Partisans led by Tito and avoid the Chetniks, quickly discovered the opposite was true. It was Mihailović’s people who greeted them with the hopeful word, "Americanski?", and treated them not as burdens, but as heroes and adopted sons.

Narrator: While hundreds of airmen were being sheltered in Yugoslavia, a complex political battle was raging within the Allied command. The British, influenced by Soviet moles like James Klugmann within their intelligence agencies, had shifted their support from Mihailović to Tito's Partisans. They actively spread propaganda portraying Mihailović as a collaborator, despite overwhelming evidence that his forces were fighting the Germans and saving American lives. This political decision effectively abandoned Mihailović and created a massive obstacle for any rescue attempt.

In Bari, Italy, OSS agent George Vujnovich, a Serbian-American with a deep personal connection to the region, became the driving force behind a rescue plan. Having been trapped behind enemy lines himself, he felt a profound duty to get the men out. He and his colleague George Musulin began formulating a plan, but they faced constant interference from the British, who controlled air operations in the area. On multiple occasions, the British seemed to intentionally sabotage the mission, providing incorrect coordinates that would have dropped the OSS team into Partisan territory or even an active battle. Frustrated and convinced of British treachery, Vujnovich and his superior, "Wild Bill" Donovan, decided to defy the political tide. Donovan famously told President Roosevelt, "Screw the British! Let's get our boys out!" This act of defiance led to the creation of the Air Crew Rescue Unit (ACRU) and set the stage for an all-American operation.

Narrator: The plan, codenamed Operation Halyard, was audacious. With over 500 airmen gathered near the village of Pranjane, the only viable option was to evacuate them with large C-47 transport planes. This required an airstrip, something that did not exist in the mountainous terrain. Under the leadership of the newly arrived OSS team, the American airmen and hundreds of Serbian villagers began the herculean task of building one. Working day and night with primitive tools, oxcarts, and their bare hands, they leveled a field, removed rocks, and created a runway long enough for the C-47s.

The work was done under the constant threat of German discovery. Reconnaissance planes flew overhead daily, forcing the workers to scatter and hide. In one tense moment, a German Stuka dive bomber flew directly over the field, but a herd of cows that had wandered onto the strip provided an unexpected, perfect camouflage. The first evacuation was set for the night of August 9, 1944. As the C-47s approached, the first pilot overshot the rough, unlit runway, nearly dashing the hopes of the waiting men. But the next three pilots landed successfully. In a powerful, spontaneous gesture, the rescued airmen took off their boots and gave them to the shoeless villagers who had saved them. The planes, dangerously overloaded, took off into the night, barely clearing the trees and proving the impossible could be done.

Narrator: Operation Halyard was a spectacular success, ultimately rescuing 512 men without a single life lost in the effort. However, upon their return to Italy, the rescued airmen were immediately placed under a gag order. They were forbidden from speaking about their rescue or the crucial role played by General Mihailović and the Serbian people. The official reason was to protect those still in Yugoslavia, but the underlying motive was political. The Allies had publicly backed Tito, and acknowledging that his rival, Mihailović, was a hero who had saved American lives would have been a major political embarrassment.

After the war, Tito established a communist dictatorship in Yugoslavia. He captured Mihailović, subjected him to a sham trial, and executed him as a traitor in 1946. The rescued airmen were outraged. Men like Richard Felman and Arthur Jibilian launched a campaign to clear Mihailović's name, writing letters and giving interviews to tell the true story. They formed the National Committee for Defense of Draza Mihailovich, but their efforts were stonewalled by a U.S. State Department unwilling to antagonize Tito's new regime. The story of the greatest rescue of World War II was deliberately buried, and its central hero was executed with the silent complicity of the very governments he had so bravely served.

Narrator: The airmen of Operation Halyard never forgot their debt to General Mihailović. For decades, they fought to have his name cleared and his sacrifice recognized. Their patriotism was tested by their own government's betrayal, but their commitment to the truth never wavered. Their persistence finally began to pay off, though it took many years. Unbeknownst to them, President Truman had posthumously awarded Mihailović the Legion of Merit in 1948, the highest honor the United States can bestow upon a foreign national. However, bowing to State Department pressure, the award was classified as secret and hidden away.

It was not until 1967 that the award was made public, and it took until 2005—more than sixty years after the rescue—for the medal to be formally presented. In a quiet ceremony in Washington, D.C., a group of surviving Halyard Mission veterans watched as the Legion of Merit was finally given to Mihailović's daughter, Gordana. It was a moment of profound, if belated, justice. The story of the Forgotten 500 is a testament to the bravery of the airmen, the selflessness of the Serbian villagers, and the unwavering loyalty of men who refused to let a hero be forgotten.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from The Forgotten 500 is that history is often shaped not by battlefield victories, but by political expediency and the power of narrative. The book reveals how a story of incredible heroism and sacrifice was deliberately suppressed to serve a political agenda, and how a true ally was betrayed by the very nations he fought to help.

This story challenges us to look beyond official accounts and question the narratives we are given. It serves as a powerful reminder that loyalty and honor are not abstract ideals, but principles that demand action, even at great personal cost. The ultimate question it leaves us with is this: What is our own responsibility to the truth, and how far are we willing to go to honor a debt, especially when the world asks us to forget?