"On Feb. 28, 1945, there was a breakdown of equipment on the homeward leg. Two of the 250-pound bombs failed to drop. One was hanging by a single shackle. The second by two shackles. Everyone on the plane was in panic mode. Someone called out, "Get the Greek! Get the Greek! He went to armament school!" they shouted. I didn’t know anything about bombs, I crawled forward and saw the guy in the bomb bay, wind screaming throughout the plane. One bomb was hanging on a shackle, the nose swung down but the tail stayed in place. My God, it was a sickening sight."
 
Stamatakos took off his parachute, for better leverage, and lowered himself cautiously into the bomb bay. He straddled the bay, which was open, the two bombs at his feet. He had a hatchet handle in one hand and was clinging to a leather grip with the other. He said some of the crew members were praying.
 
"I had to walk on a catwalk, one foot in front of the other, grab hold of a strap hanging from the ceiling, swing my right leg out the side of the plane, so I could pin my foot in one of the rims of the plane to give me stability so I wouldn’t slide off. I looked down and knew that if the bombs were accidentally struck or detonated in any way it would most likely take out our plane right there. I was so cold and the blast was coming in on us. As I looked down all I could see were two big old bombs and 20,000 feet of German sky. It was intimidating, but at times like that, you don’t think about what to do. You just do it."
 
He used the hatchet handle and nudged the first live bomb from its shackle. He swung at the shackle trying to free the swinging bomb, which had been defused by rushing air spinning a propeller on the bomb’s nose that armed the device. The first bomb fell and he worked about 10 minutes before freeing the second, saving the plane and the men on it.
 
"I walked around with a bottle filled with oxygen. At that altitude, you’d be dead within two minutes without it. I took a leap, a prayer in my mind, and beat the hell out of the shackle with the axe. Guys were staring at me, paralyzed in fear. I climbed back up and into the tail section of the plane, and I was, well, I was shaking all over. I couldn’t stop, the adrenaline was pumping. I was facing death all that time and it all comes to reality once you survive. I can’t explain the feeling. But it was like being at death’s door, and turning around and walking away. Oh, what a time that was. When we got back to their base everyone got out of the plane and kissed the ground. I removed the guns and took them to the gun room."
 
The Silver Star citation reads
 
"The President of the United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress July 9, 1918, takes pleasure in presenting the Silver Star to Staff Sergeant Louis C. Stamatakos, United States Army Air Forces, for gallantry in action on 28 February 1945, while serving as a crew member of a B-17 Heavy Bomber, 332d Bombardment Squadron, 94th Bombardment Group (Heavy), EIGHTH Air Force, in support of combat operations in Kassel, Germany. While participating in an aerial mission, Staff Sergeant Stamatakos risked his life by attempting to free an armed bomb caught in the bomb bay doors. Unable to land without detonating the bomb, he struck the unexploded munitions repeatedly with a fire axe to dislodge it. After several attempts, Staff Sergeant Stamatakos was able to free the bomb, allowing his crewmembers to return safely to England. Staff Sergeant Stamatakos' bravery in action is in keeping with the finest traditions of military service and reflects great credit upon himself, his unit, and the United States Army."
 
In 1992, radio operator Saul Minkoff, of Port Orange, Fla., asked Stamatakos at a reunion if he ever got the Silver Star. "Say, Greek, ever get the Silver Star?" he asked. "For what?" Minkoff told him. Stamatakos replied, "Forget it. It’s 50 years later, we’re home, we’re alive, and that’s all that counts." After Stamatakos wrote his memoirs about World War II, his sons Philip, Timothy, and Ted campaigned to get him the Silver Star — once again, unbeknown to him. On Christmas Eve 2009, Stamatakos received a letter from the U.S. Army. "I looked at it. The Army? What the hell do they want? I’m 84", he said. "It was an official notification that I was awarded the Silver Star. You can’t imagine how I felt. I was in a state of shock, a state of awe, I couldn’t cope with it. How could this happen? I called Tim, (who) burst out laughing. The secret was out. We talked for a while. I was beside myself.” When asked why he pulled such a brave yet foolhardy stunt, Stamatakos has no easy answer. "The only answer one can give is: because you had to. I think that characterizes that generation; they had what they had to do, they sacrificed during the Great Depression, (during World War II) ... but they did it without crying and whining and looking to the government for a handout."
 
After the war, Lou attended the University of Dayton (where he played football) and transferred to Indiana University (where he threw javelin, discus, and shot put). He thrived in the classroom and earned bachelor's, master's, and EdD degrees from IU. At IU, Lou met his wife of 58 years, Bess Makris, a bright, vivacious, and attractive "coed" from South Bend. They married in 1952. She was the love of his life and his indefatigable partner. Together, they raised three sons in a joyful and loving household marked by unity, music, deep intellectual curiosity, and often dynamic, lively, and loud discourse on any topic worthy of discussion or argument. Lou served as Dean of Students and Dean of Men at four universities. In 1967, Lou accepted a position as Associate Professor in the School of Education at Michigan State University. He became Professor in 1970 and retired as Professor Emeritus in 1992. During his 42 years in the profession, Lou received more than 20 awards for leadership, scholarship, and service in higher education, but his students will remember him most for his friendship and lifelong guidance as a mentor. He passed away on January 25, 2011. His legacy passed to his sons Philip, Theodore, and Timothy, and their families. His actions and bravery will never fade, a true Spartan after all.