Michael: Most people think the goal of war is to win. But what if the story of the greatest rescue in World War II teaches us that sometimes, even when you win, you can betray the very people who helped you succeed? And then bury the story for 50 years. Kevin: Whoa, that's a heavy start. Betrayal and buried stories? I'm in. That sounds like there's a massive story hiding there. Michael: There is. And it’s all laid out in the book we’re diving into today: The Forgotten 500: The Untold Story of the Men Who Risked All for the Greatest Rescue Mission of World War II by Gregory A. Freeman. Kevin: The Forgotten 500. The title alone tells you this isn't a story that made it into the mainstream history textbooks. Michael: Not at all. And that’s Freeman’s specialty. He's a journalist known for digging up these incredible, overlooked stories. This one in particular was deliberately suppressed by the U.S., British, and Yugoslav governments for decades, which is precisely why most people have never heard of it. Kevin: Deliberately suppressed? Okay, now you've really got my attention. So where does this all begin? Who are these 500 forgotten men? Michael: They were American airmen. And their story starts not on the ground, but thousands of feet in the air, flying into what was essentially a death trap.

Kevin: A death trap? What were they doing? Michael: They were part of the Allied bombing campaign against the Ploesti oil fields in Romania. This was Hitler's gas station. It supplied a huge portion of the fuel for the entire Nazi war machine. The Allies knew that if they could knock out Ploesti, they could cripple Germany. Kevin: That sounds strategically critical. But why a death trap? Michael: Because the Germans knew it too. They fortified Ploesti with some of the heaviest anti-aircraft defenses in all of Europe. They had hundreds of flak cannons and stationed their best fighter pilots there. Flying a bomber over Ploesti was, for many, a suicide mission. The book opens with these harrowing accounts of planes getting ripped to shreds by flak. Kevin: I can only imagine. It's one thing to read about it, but what was it like for the guys inside those planes? Michael: The book gives us this incredibly visceral perspective through a gunner named Clare Musgrove. He was a ball turret gunner, which was arguably the worst job on a B-24 bomber. You're crammed into a tiny, plexiglass bubble hanging from the belly of the plane, completely isolated, with two .50-caliber machine guns. Kevin: That sounds claustrophobic and terrifyingly exposed. Michael: It was. On his final mission, Musgrove's plane gets hit hard after dropping its bombs. Two engines are out, and they're losing altitude fast. The pilot yells, "Bail out! Bail out!" But when Musgrove tries to get out of the turret, the electrical system is dead. The turret is stuck. He's trapped. Kevin: Oh man. So the rest of the crew is jumping out, and he's just stuck in this bubble, plummeting towards the earth? Michael: Exactly. He's frantically working a manual hand crank, trying to rotate the turret back into the plane so he can escape. He finally gets it open and scrambles out just moments before the plane goes down. He grabs his parachute, jumps, and finds himself floating down into the mountains of Nazi-occupied Yugoslavia. Kevin: That's a Hollywood movie scene right there. But it brings up the real question: you survive the crash, you survive the fall... and then what? You're alone, in enemy territory. Michael: And that’s the impossible situation. You land in a country you know nothing about, a place torn apart by war. You don't know if the first person you meet will hide you or hand you over to the Germans for a reward. Your life literally depends on the kindness of a complete stranger. Kevin: And what did they find on the ground? Michael: Miracles, in many cases. Musgrove, and hundreds of others like him, were found by Serbian villagers. These were poor, simple farmers who, despite the immense risk, took these American boys in. They hid them in their homes, in their barns, under their beds. They shared what little food they had—goat cheese, hay bread, whatever they could spare. Kevin: That’s an incredible risk. What would have happened if the Germans found out? Michael: The Germans had a standing order: for every German soldier killed, one hundred Serbian civilians would be executed. If a village was found harboring Allied airmen, the entire village could be burned to the ground and its people massacred. And this happened. The book details one horrific incident where a village was wiped out as an example. Kevin: So these villagers were literally risking the lives of their entire community to save a stranger from another country. That's a level of bravery that's hard to comprehend. Michael: It's profound. And here’s the first major political twist of the story. The official briefing the airmen received before their missions was explicit: "If you get shot down over Yugoslavia, avoid the Chetniks. They're Nazi collaborators. Seek out the Partisans, led by Tito. They're our allies." Kevin: Let me guess, that wasn't the reality on the ground? Michael: The exact opposite. The men were being rescued, sheltered, and protected almost exclusively by the Chetniks, the royalist guerrilla fighters led by General Draža Mihailović. They were the ones gathering the scattered airmen, organizing them, and keeping them safe, all while fighting the Germans. The Partisans, meanwhile, were often hostile. Kevin: Wait, so Allied intelligence had it completely backward? How does a mistake that fundamental even happen? That's not just an error, that's life-or-death misinformation. Michael: That question, "how did that happen?", is the key to the whole second half of this story. But for now, the OSS, America's new spy agency, has a growing problem. They have hundreds of their men stranded behind enemy lines, being protected by a man their own government is about to publicly disavow as a traitor.

Kevin: Okay, so you have over 500 guys scattered across the mountains, protected by an ally nobody in London or Washington wants to acknowledge. How do you even begin to solve that? Michael: That's the puzzle that fell to a few determined OSS agents, particularly a Serbian-American named George Vujnovich. He was running operations out of Bari, Italy, and he understood the situation on the ground. He knew Mihailović was pro-American and that these airmen were in his care. He felt a personal duty to get them out. Kevin: So this becomes a personal mission for him. But you can't just send a bus. How do you extract 500 people from deep within enemy territory? Michael: You don't. You have to fly them out. And to do that, you need an airfield. Which, of course, doesn't exist. So the plan, codenamed Operation Halyard, was audacious to the point of insanity. They decided to build one. Kevin: Build an airfield? In secret? Under the noses of the German army? Michael: Precisely. The OSS sent in a small team, led by another tough-as-nails agent named George Musulin. They parachuted in and coordinated with the airmen and the local villagers. For weeks, hundreds of them worked, mostly at night, with shovels, pickaxes, and oxcarts. They leveled a mountain plateau, clearing rocks, filling in holes, creating a runway long enough for a C-47 cargo plane. Kevin: That sounds like a monumental task. It’s a real-life 'Great Escape' level of ingenuity. How did they not get caught? Michael: They almost did, multiple times. German reconnaissance planes flew over constantly. The book has this incredible story where a German spy plane is flying low, directly over the field while everyone is working. They all dive for cover, but they know the cleared field is a dead giveaway. And just then, a local boy herds a flock of cows onto the runway. From the air, the German pilot just sees a pasture with some cattle. The cows literally provided camouflage and saved the mission. Kevin: You can't make this stuff up! Cows saving a secret WWII mission is the kind of detail that proves reality is stranger than fiction. But even with an airstrip, the risks are astronomical. Michael: Absolutely. The plan was for C-47s to fly in from Italy, at night, with no lights, navigate through treacherous mountain passes, and land on a short, bumpy, makeshift runway lit only by hand-held flares and bonfires. One mistake and the whole plane goes up in a fireball. Kevin: And these pilots agreed to this? Michael: They volunteered. The book really highlights their courage. The first night of the rescue, August 9th, 1944, is pure tension. The airmen are gathered in the dark, waiting. They hear the drone of engines. The first C-47 comes in for a landing... and overshoots the runway, disappearing back into the night. Kevin: Oh, the heartbreak. After all that work, to have it fail at the last second. Michael: The morale just plummeted. The men thought, "It's impossible. It can't be done." But then, another plane comes in. The pilot, understanding the challenge, lands it perfectly. Then another, and another. The field erupts in cheers. They start loading the sick and wounded first. And as the men are boarding the planes, there's this incredibly moving moment. Kevin: What happens? Michael: The American airmen, many of whom are wearing sturdy military boots, look at the Serbian villagers who saved them. These villagers are wearing primitive, worn-out sandals or are even barefoot. Spontaneously, the airmen start taking off their boots and giving them to the villagers. They're literally walking onto the rescue planes in their socks, leaving their most valuable possession as a thank you. Kevin: Wow. That says everything. Going home shoeless. It’s a perfect symbol of their gratitude. Michael: It is. Over several nights, and eventually a few daring daylight runs with fighter escorts, they did the impossible. They evacuated 512 Allied personnel—mostly Americans—without a single life lost during the evacuation. It was, and remains, the largest air rescue of American servicemen in history.

Kevin: A perfect success. 512 men saved. That should have been front-page news around the world. Parades, medals for Mihailović, the works. But the title of the book is The Forgotten 500, so I'm guessing that's not what happened. Michael: Not even close. The story was immediately classified. The rescued airmen were debriefed and then given a strict gag order. They were forbidden from talking about where they were or who had saved them. Kevin: Why? Why would you silence the story of your greatest rescue? It makes no sense. Michael: Because of politics. While Operation Halyard was happening, the "Big Three"—Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin—had made a strategic decision. The Allies were throwing their full support behind the other resistance leader in Yugoslavia: the communist Josip Broz Tito. Kevin: The very guy the airmen were told to find, but who wasn't actually helping them. Why him? Michael: This is where the book gets into the murky world of espionage and propaganda, and it's a point of some controversy. Freeman argues, based on declassified documents and other historical work, that British intelligence, particularly the Special Operations Executive or SOE, had been infiltrated by communist sympathizers and at least one confirmed Soviet mole, a man named James Klugmann. Kevin: Hold on. A Soviet mole inside British intelligence was shaping Allied policy in the Balkans? That's a massive claim. Michael: It is, and it's what makes this story so explosive. The argument is that these agents deliberately falsified reports. They downplayed Mihailović's successes against the Nazis and amplified Tito's, while simultaneously painting Mihailović as a collaborator. Churchill, wanting a more aggressive fighter, was convinced. The Allies officially cut ties with Mihailović and declared him persona non grata. Kevin: So at the exact moment he's saving hundreds of American lives, the Allies are publicly branding him a traitor based on manipulated intelligence. Michael: That is the devastating irony. The rescue was a success, but it was a political embarrassment. The U.S. couldn't celebrate a mission that owed its success entirely to a man they had just thrown under the bus in favor of a communist dictator-in-waiting. Kevin: What happened to Mihailović after the war? Michael: It's a tragic end. With Allied support, Tito took control of Yugoslavia. One of his first acts was to hunt down his political rivals. Mihailović was captured, put on a show trial in 1946, and accused of treason and collaboration with the Nazis. Kevin: But the 500 American airmen he saved knew the truth. They could testify. Michael: They tried. A group of them, led by an airman named Richard Felman, formed a committee to defend him. They flew to Washington, they pleaded with the State Department to let them travel to Belgrade to testify at his trial. The U.S. government refused. They wouldn't even release the classified records of Operation Halyard that would have proven his innocence. Kevin: That is just gut-wrenching. The very men he saved were forbidden by their own government from saving him. Michael: Exactly. Draža Mihailović was convicted and executed by a firing squad. The man who orchestrated the greatest rescue of American airmen in history died branded as a Nazi collaborator, a lie perpetuated by his enemies and enabled by the political expediency of his allies.

Michael: And that's the deep, tragic core of this story. The rescue itself was a miracle of courage, ingenuity, and human decency. But the aftermath was a masterclass in political betrayal and the cold, hard reality of how history gets written. Kevin: It really forces you to question the official narratives. The heroes aren't always the ones we're told about, and the villains aren't always so clear-cut. It's a story about how easily truth can be sacrificed for political gain. Did the truth ever come out? Michael: It took decades of fighting by the veterans. They never gave up. Finally, in 1948, President Truman, pushed by General Eisenhower who knew the truth, secretly awarded Mihailović the Legion of Merit, one of America's highest military honors. Kevin: Secretly? Michael: Yes. The State Department classified the award immediately. They were terrified of offending Tito, who was now a key figure in the Cold War. The existence of that medal remained a state secret for almost twenty years. It wasn't until the late 1960s that it was made public, and the medal itself wasn't formally presented to Mihailović's daughter until a ceremony in 2005. Kevin: Wow. Sixty years later. That's a long time for a truth to stay buried. It's a powerful reminder that fighting for what's right, for the real story, no matter how long it takes, is a battle worth waging. Michael: It truly is. The story of Operation Halyard is a testament not just to the courage of the soldiers and villagers, but to the persistence of the men who refused to let the truth be forgotten. It’s a complex, inspiring, and ultimately heartbreaking piece of history. Kevin: For our listeners who want to dive into this incredible story of heroism and betrayal, we can't recommend it enough. The book is The Forgotten 500 by Gregory A. Freeman. It will stick with you. Michael: This is Aibrary, signing off.