England’s future Queen Elizabeth defied authorities to christen a B-17 Flying Fortress in her name

In June and July of 1944, an American bomber crew dubbed their B-17 Flying Fortress “Princess Elizabeth” to honor King George VI’s eldest daughter, Elizabeth of York, the future Queen of England. It seemed like a good idea until someone asked, “What if it gets shot down?”

A month after D-Day, Allied forces were still finding it difficult to push forward and free Paris. In England, the Royal Family visited airbases to show their support for the war. The King, Queen, and Princess met American pilots and ground personnel, shook hands with them, and expressed gratitude for the help the United States was giving to Great Britain.

When they learned that the 306th Bombardment Group at Thurleigh (Station 111) would soon receive a royal visit, Capt. Perry Raster’s B-17 Flying Fortress crew from the 407th Bombardment Squadron (H) chose to prepare a special tribute. They painted the name “Princess Elizabeth” on the nose of their B-17 bomber as an honor to the future Queen of England.

The idea came from the aircraft’s crew chief, M/SGT Edward S. Gregory, who also sent Princess Elizabeth a letter asking her to come christen the plane. He believed his bomber deserved to have a bottle of champagne smashed across its nose for luck, just like a battleship. When the Princess received his letter, she understood how important the gesture was to the airmen. Even so, the rest of the Royal Family, along with Bomber Command and the 8th Air Force, strongly opposed the idea. They were also taken aback to learn that the aircraft was already flying with her name painted on it.

Their objections were well-founded. The chances that a bomber and its crew would survive a full tour of twenty-five missions were extremely slim. By the summer of 1944, the typical loss rate per mission was still around 3% to 5%. In practical terms, more than half of all B-17s in combat were lost before completing about twenty-four missions. The greatest concern was that if the Germans recovered even a single charred scrap of wreckage bearing the name “Princess Elizabeth,” it would hand them a powerful propaganda tool.

However, Princess Elizabeth’s own logic was just as strong, and she refused to back down. If these men were prepared to risk their lives for the Allied cause, she believed the least she could do was permit them to use her name on their aircraft. Resolute, she replied that she would christen the plane during her upcoming visit to Thurleigh on July 6, 1944.

After considerable debate, her father, King George VI, put forward a compromise. The bomber would be given a new name, the “Rose of York,” a title that belonged exclusively to her. This way, even if the aircraft was destroyed, the Nazis would be denied a major propaganda success. The crew eagerly accepted the change and hoped that the christening would bring them better luck than the usual rabbit’s foot, since their lives were at stake and superstitions were strong.

On July 6, the King, Queen, and Princess Elizabeth drove to Thurleigh. Lt. Gen. Jimmy Doolittle personally headed the American reception party. Overhead, a formation of 54 B-17 Flying Fortresses roared past in an impressive aerial tribute. To commemorate the event, M/SGT Gregory presented the Princess with a bouquet of 24 white roses. She then spoke with the aircrew, shaking their hands, before smiling and waving to the hundreds of American personnel gathered behind a rope line around the aircraft, all eager for a glimpse of Britain’s Royal Family.

There was one small snag with the plan: no one could locate any champagne. As a last-minute solution, they bought a bottle of hard cider from a nearby pub, which actually suited the Americans rather well. The bottle was hung in a cloth bag by a rope from the aircraft’s nose. To prevent it from damaging the chin turret, a metal plate was installed between the two .50 caliber machine guns and decorated with the name “Rose of York” and a white rose. This design was repeated on both sides of the bomber’s gleaming aluminum nose, which M/Sgt Gregory and two members of his ground crew had polished to perfection.

While photographers took pictures, Princess Elizabeth pulled the bottle back and swung it forward. Her throw was accurate, and the cider spilled over the chin turret. Later, a photographer’s Kodachrome film produced a color photograph of the Princess wearing a striking lavender dress with a matching hat.

The Royal Family then shared a meal in the Officers’ Mess. Although senior commanders were all around her, the Princess—knowing it was an enlisted man who had bestowed the honor—chose to spend most of her time speaking with M/SGT Edward Gregory instead. When they departed, the kitchen staff presented her with a thermos of ice cream, a rare luxury in Britain during the war.

In the following days and weeks, the “Rose of York” continued to fly additional missions. Defying expectations, the bomber lasted far longer than anyone had anticipated. Capt. Perry Raster’s crew, its original team, was already close to finishing their tour, having flown most of their sorties in that aircraft — including several when it still bore the name “Princess Elizabeth.” After they returned home, a second crew took over the plane and also completed their full tour. The aircraft was then assigned to Lt. Vernor F. Daley, Jr., and his crew, who flew 23 missions and came close to finishing their own tour. But on the bomber’s 63rd mission, the “Rose of York” finally ran out of luck.

On February 3, 1945, the target was Berlin in a major bombing raid. Heavy resistance over the Nazi capital was expected, and the 407th Bomb Squadron sent out nine aircraft. Every one of them reached the objective and released its bombs. But as they turned back toward England, a tight, accurate burst of flak struck three of the squadron’s planes. One bomber lost a wing and spiraled down—only four parachutes were seen. Another aircraft, with two engines knocked out, diverted to neutral Sweden and managed to land at Rinkaby, where both plane and crew were held for the remainder of the war. The “Rose of York” was also hit, losing an engine and leaking fuel as its crew tried to make it back to England. Falling behind the formation, the aircraft eventually vanished from view.

Three and a half hours later, the crew radioed that they were flying over the English Channel and expected to make it back to England. But the “Rose of York” never appeared. No wreckage was ever recovered, nor were any members of the nine-man crew found. A tenth person, the well-known BBC photographer Guy Byam, was also on board that day. All were officially listed as “Missing in Action, presumed deceased.”

By vanishing without a trace, the “Rose of York” performed one last service for the Allies — its loss left the Germans with no opportunity for a propaganda triumph. The bomber had supported the Allied effort far longer than anyone had imagined it would, just as Elizabeth herself would one day reign far longer than expected as Britain’s beloved Queen. In their own ways, both fulfilled their duty to the very end.