Chapter 28 – The Pressure Rises, The Going Gets Tough

When we’d finally been transferred to the Ninth Army and relocated to Andrews Field in March of 44 it had been the result of the changing winds of war. Although we didn’t know it at the time, our transfer was probably due to three big changes in the strategies of the war.

One was the appointment of Lt. General Jimmy Doolittle to command the Eighth Army in January of ‘44. Until he took over, the fighters were our escorts and protectors.  Their job was to bring us back alive. When Doolittle took over that changed. He was all about offense. He said it was time we took over air superiority if we were going to win the war. He changed the job of the fighter pilots from protecting bombers to destroying the German fighter planes. They were to seek out the Luftwaffe and attack. The RAF had been doing that all along. Now, the bomber squadrons were on their own! Our job hadn’t changed: Go in, drop your bombs, get out.   1944 -  Lt. General Jimmy Doolittle & Major General Curtis LeMay 

The second change had been what they called: Big Week – February 20-25, 1944.  The Eighth, Ninth & Fiftheenth US Army Air Forces and the RAF launched a six day attack on Germany’s aircraft industry – the goal was to achieve air superiority over Germany. That meant breaking German morale as well as their industrial machines, marshalling yards and supply chains by destroying everything related to the aircraft industry.

There were different targets everyday. They focused on Hitler’s fighter manufacturing and assembly plants, Berlin (where most of the Luftwaffe was based) and other cities building aircraft. Almost 3,000 bomber missions had flown from England and 1500 from Italy.  There was significant damage to Germany but there were also heavy losses for all four Air Forces that week. Moral was low on both sides. After that, pilots and crews were needed, so we’d been transferred into the 9^th and sent to England as reinforcements.

It was also in early February that we learned Eisenhower had been “officially” named Supreme Allied Commander in Europe. He would take command of Operation Overlord, what we now call the D-Day invasion - when he took over supreme command of all Allied Forces. He agreed with Doolittle, air superiority was required to win the war but he had a bigger vision of the roll of all the military.

Our B-26 Bomber missions during April and May had been successful. We were really good at flying in formation and staying tight. It must have been menacing to the enemy to hear and see all that firepower aimed at them. It was impressive from our end and made you proud to be part of the 322^nd. The other side of that is that the Germans were good at getting their anti-aircraft guns back in action and were also usually ready for us. Seeing the flack exploding all around you was as nerve racking as it gets. It was heart stopping to see one of your fellow planes burst into fire after a hit and spin to the ground. It took a lot of concentration to steel yourself to keep on going and keep your thoughts on the job. Luckily it didn't happen on every mission.

One of the big problems of carrying out the missions from Southern England was weather. England, the English Channel, Northern France were constantly being battered by thick fog and spring gales blowing in from the Atlantic, making visibility bad at low altitudes and completely obliterated at higher altitudes. Most of our targets that spring were on the Western front or over Germany itself.  We were hitting our targets with accuracy. We were holding our own without Fighter protection. The Fighters were also having a lot of success because Germans had lost a lot of planes and crews in the Big Week – and it would take the Gerries over two months to get back into production of much needed planes.

Chapter 27 A WWII Thanksgiving in Britain

Thanksgiving Story

An upper class British widow scrimped and saved ration coupons all year long to buy a Turkey and all the trimmings. It was to give the American G. I.s, who helped her maintain her proud but decrepit estate, a proper Thanksgiving dinner.

She spent days cleaning and decorating her house. She brought her fine china, crystal and silver out of the bomb shelter, wanting everything to be perfect for the Americans. She did all the cooking and her friends acted as servants for the day.

Everyone was seated in the formal dining room, Mrs. Bridgewater at the head of the table. The tantalizing aroma of roasting turkey filled the air. The soldiers were in their dress uniforms, anxiously anticipating their home cooked traditional American dinner. Toasts had been made. Discussions of the many blessings the group had to be thankful for, even though they were fighting a war far from home and loved ones, were complete.

The time came for the beautiful 20 pound turkey to be served. Cedric, acting as butler, came through the swinging door behind Mrs. Bridgewater’s chair with a flourish - and the turkey slid off the platter and landed on the floor!  Everyone was aghast!  The much anticipated dinner was ruined! There was complete silence.  No one knew what to say or do – except Mrs. Bridgewater! 

She calmly instructed Cedric: “Please pick up the turkey, put it on the platter, take it back into the kitchen and bring out the other turkey!” 

Wishing you as happy a Thanksgiving as those G. I.s had all those many years ago!

Chapter 26 - Escaping the War

Chapter 26 – Escaping the War

To relieve the alternating stress and boredom, we were given furlough passes every two to three weeks, usually for two days. The closest train station was in Braintree about 5 miles away. If you wanted to head for London, which was about 45 miles southwest by train, you needed a bike get to the station. You could usually find one somewhere on the base. There was even a guy on base who repaired bikes and he always had a couple ready to go if you couldn’t borrow one from another GI.

If you rode a bike into the station, the next person who arrived at the station might borrow it to get home. You always had to worry about finding a bike there when you got back. It wasn’t much fun to get back from leave and have to walk back to the base. There wasn’t much hitch hiking in those days, people just didn’t have cars. Occasionally you could bum a ride from one of the businesses that had a “lorry” (truck) but you might have to help him make a delivery or two.

People in the neighboring villages were pretty friendly about sharing their bikes. No one ever locked their bike but they did have their names on them. We’d try to avoid taking the bikes with names on them whenever possible.  Every once in awhile the train station manager would send a truck out to the base to collect the bikes that belonged to the villagers.

It was safe to go into London now that the blitz was over. There was always something to do there during the day – and if you could find a place in the blackout - at night.  The German attacks to demoralize London, “the Blitz” had started in September 1940 and continued until May of 1941 when Hitler needed his Luftwaffe to invade Russia. However, London was still under a “blackout” three years later. There were absolutely no lights allowed on outside at night. All windows had to have blackout curtains blocking any light. So, you liked to know where you were when it got dark. It was best to plan to be inside at one of the GI clubs where there was usually a dance, music, food and lot of people. 

There were more than a dozen Red Cross Clubs in London some of them were for Officers only. Sooner or later we checked them all out and sometimes we even stayed in hotels just to get away from other soldiers for a day. Mostly we headed for the biggest and best club, which welcomed both officers and enlisted men, The Rainbow Corner. It was located in the West End, a few blocks from Piccadilly Circus – where all the theaters and shops were – so there was always something to do.

Sheet Music of a song about the Rainbow Corner

You could get a room at the Rainbow Corner for about 50 cents and they had real sheets. They had just about anything else you needed from a laundry to a barbershop. You could take a hot shower or a bath. The Red Cross was famous for supplying doughnuts and coffee to servicemen (even if they had to deliver them by mobile units) and you could usually get a sandwich and piece of cake or a bottle of Coca Cola at the donut canteen downstairs. They also served hot meals there, usually fish or rabbit and vegetables or something with beans. London had been under rationing so long you took whatever food you could get. There was usually a live band and dancing at least 3 nights a week and there were plenty of records for dancing if there was no live music. There were movies, magazines, newspapers, drinks, cigarettes and you could play cards, ping pong, games or do jigsaw puzzels. There were lots of friendly ladies that volunteered at the club and they were always ready to dance or play table games, write letters for guys that needed help with them, or sew something for you. There were even counselors for guys that were messed up.

Time passed too quickly when you were off base on a pass and it seemed like you’d just left when it was time to go back. 

VETERANS DAY 2010

Today we take time to remember, honor and thank all the brave veterans of all the wars who fought to protect our freedoms.

On this 11th day of the 11th month at 11:11 stop for just a minute and imagine you can hear the 21 gun salute and the playing of TAPS to honor and keep the faith with all our soldiers.

We can never thank them enough.

Chapter 25 - Off We Go Into the Wild Blue Yonder!

 We flew our first mission on March 5, 1944. We were told never to talk about our missions, everything was very secret. We never knew where we’d be going until we went to our briefing sessions before each mission and got our assignments. Although, mostly we knew we’d be going over Holland, Belgium, France (all occupied by Germans at that time) or to Germany itself. The B-26s were assigned both primary and secondary targets. Our mission was to get in, drop the bombs and get out.  

The targets included marshalling yards, roads, bridges, ammunition dumps, power stations and shipyards. We flew in formation in what they called boxes. The mission leader flew in the middle of the first row with #2 plane on his right and #3 plane on his left.  Directly behind the leader was #4 with #6 on his right side and #5 on his left side.  

Usually the leader was the only plane with what they called the Nordin Bomb Site. That was a special navigation instrument for locating your exact target. They weren’t very plentiful at the time and every plane in the formation was to watch the leader – when he dropped his bombs you dropped yours. If no one had a Nordin, everything was done by sight navigation.

B-26 In Flight                                

B-26s in Formation, Flak Exploding

We flew seven missions in March and twelve missions in April. On non-mission days we were doing a lot of training now that we understood what combat was. The crew always wore parachutes in case we were hit and had to abandon the ship. Medium level (altitude) bombing meant we were flying in the range of 8,000 to 10,000 ft. At 10,000 feet you had to wear your oxygen mask. It got pretty cold at those altitudes. We were dressed in uniforms with electric wires that we could plug in to get warm. 

The biggest hazard was the anti-aircraft (ack-ack) guns being shot at us from the ground. We were doing daylight bombing and you could see it exploding all around you plus it created wind bumps every time it was close. Eventually there were diversionary tactics that we took at higher altitudes. The whole formation had to follow the same orders. Trying to divert to avoid ack-ack on our own would put the formation at risk of colliding with each other so there was no dodging bursts on your own. It made for raw nerves most of the time. The second hazard was actual attack by the Luftwaffe. That’s when our fighter planes (mostly RAF Spitfires) were supposed to protect us. So far we’d managed to escape both the ack-ack and the attacks with very little damage. We were also doing a fairly good job of hitting our targets.

One of our missions was called a “Grudge Raid.” You remember that the original B-26 low-level flying over Holland targets had been a disaster. They were flying right down on treetop level when they flew those first missions. One of the targets had been a power station, the other a U-boat base – both in the Netherlands. It was just across the border from France. Holland was occupied by Germany but the people of Holland were our friends. On that mission, the Command had decided to warn the people of Holland they were coming, so they broadcast the raid on the radio. Of course the Germans heard it too and were prepared for them. Nazis were even up in the tops of the Church steeples shooting at them. The Germans managed to knock out all but one or two of the B-26s and only a few men got back. I think about 60 were lost or missing. I heard that 24 ended up in German POW camps.

The Grudge Raid was targeting the same installations but this time we would be flying at 12,000 feet. That was our best altitude because by then they had found out it took the Germans seventeen seconds to track us and get a shell up to us at that altitude. Therefore, we never flew in a straight line for more than 15 seconds. Many times we could see big black clouds of exploding shells right where we would have been had we flown straight for another two seconds. I called that cutting it close. There were 300 B-26s on this Grudge Raid on the U-Boat installation.

The first week in May the 322nd threw quite a celebration when one of the B-26 planes, named the “Mild and Bitter” became the first bomber of the Allies to complete100 missions. Not only that, it had never lost an engine or sustained major damage and no crewman had ever been hurt on those missions. We weren’t assigned the same plane every time we flew, so over 166 men on the base had flown a mission on the Mild and Bitter at one time or other. It was the pride of the 9^th Army and it was a big celebration. By the end of July there were a total of 10 B-26s in the 322^nd that made it to 100 missions, a real tribute to their dependability. (After the disastrous start in Holland in ‘43 the B-26s ended the war with under 1% combat losses.)

About that time Command decided that we would do some night time training in formation flying. Our crew Captain, Lt. Davison decided that it was too dangerous to fly formation at night. He went to the Squadron Commander and told him he wouldn’t do it. The Commanding Officer called me in and told me what Davison said. He asked me what I thought about night flying. I said I thought it couldn’t be much more dangerous than flying over enemy territory in broad daylight and having anti-aircraft shells exploding all around us. He demoted Lt. Davison to co-pilot and made me crew commander. He assigned the same crew to me and gave me a new co-pilot by the name of Jimmie Deloach.  Lt. Davison would be flying co-pilot with the C.O. from then on. It turned out we practiced some night flying but we never did actually fly any night time missions while I was there.

We flew another twelve missions in May. Most of them were on railroad yards and fuel dumps near cities along the coast of France that were occupied by the Germans. Our missions were not much over four hours long because even though we carried about the same bomb load as the B-17s (which had 4 engines to our 2) we only had about four and a half or five hours of fuel. Even though flight time averaged about 4 hours, there was about 3 1/2 hours prep time before leaving and some check out time after so there was a lot of tension and adrenaline flowing on mission days and it was always a relief to get back.

Chapter 24 - We Finally Join the War!

 Finally, on March 3, 1944 we got our orders to go to England. We were transferred to the Ninth Army and assigned to the 450^th Squadron of the 322^nd Bomb Group. The 322^nd was the B-26 Bomb Group that had the disasters in Holland when doing the low level bombing back in the summer of ’43. However, it had not been the 450^th Squadron and we were now Medium level bombers.

                     Andrews Air Field, (Great Saling) Britain 1944

We were sent to Andrews Field which was located near Braintree, England in an area called Great Saling. It was called Station AAF-48. It was about 40 miles northeast of London in the County of Essex. Not too far away in a place called Bury St. Edmonds, there was an RAF field. (Royal Air Force) There were also a number of RAF Fighter Squadrons stationed at Andrews as support Fighters. The 322^nd had been based at Bury St. Edmonds when they flew the low level attacks on Holland but had been transferred to Andrews in June of ‘43. Also, in December of ‘43, about four months before we got there, Andrews had been attacked by the Luftwaffe (Germans) but there was no apparent damage to be seen by the time we got there.

        

Andrews was what they called a Class A airfield and was built by Americans about 18 months before we got there. Class A meant there were 3 runways, roughly located in a triangle shape. The main runway was 6,300 feet long, 300’ longer than usual. The other two runways were shorter. Andrews was the only British field named after an American: General Frank Maxwell Andrews, who had been killed in an airplane crash. Before that it was called Great Saling.

This base was the squadron headquarters and was a full operating base, not a training base. In addition to the headquarters, there was an iron hut building for mission briefings and debriefings, a mess hall, hospital, a chapel, store, supply warehouses, a motor pool and living quarters. The officer’s living quarters were on the east side and were mostly the corrugated iron huts with brick ends that had a door and 2 windows covered with black out curtains. The floors were concrete and there was a small stove in the middle for heat. They were cold, damp and musty. There was a bath hut with tubs, showers and hot water but little heat. Since our quarters were about a mile away from the runways we would mostly march from place to place. Bombs and ammunition were stored outside the perimeter in what they called munition “dumps.” They were a combination of concrete and dirt mounds to protect the ammunition from attack or crash landings. The fuel dump was on the north side of the base. There was a tower, two hangers and several maintenance shops for the constant repair of the planes coming back from combat. I think there were a couple thousand men on the base in one capacity or another.

On Mission days we were usually up at 5am and went to the mess hall for breakfast. Later, an Army truck would pick us up at quarters and deliver us to the briefing hut. Everyone was to be in the hut by a certain time and sometimes bring your equipment, other times get it afterward. That would include your full flight suit, flack jacket, warm helmet and hard helmet, gloves, parachute and combat gear. You didn’t want to put that on until you were ready to fly.

There was a stage at the front of the building (opposite the end with the door) and rows of chairs with an aisle down the middle. Behind the stage on the wall there was a map that was usually covered until the briefing started. Briefings started when the C.O. (Commanding Officer) walked into the building and someone yelled Attention! He would put us at ease and the Operations Officer would take over, reveal the map and give us the skivvy on the mission’s goals. It might be taking out an ammo dump, hitting a marshalling yard or whatever the target was. They would give us information about the target and tell us where we might encounter heavy anti-aircraft attack concentrations. We were given a lot of details, including things like the ships that we might pass over as we crossed the channel.

Crew pilots were given a Mission sheet which told them things like which plane their crew would be assigned to (by serial number) what place they’d be in the formation, what number they’d be in line for take off and what time they should start their taxi and take off. It told the Capt if there were other Groups on the Mission, what color the leader’s flares were, what the radio frequencies would be. They were given altitudes, wind speeds, call signs, locations for emergency landings and the list of the Fighters supporting us. There were code names and colors of the day which were only good for certain hours and prevented us from getting fake radio interference by the Germans. There were detailed instructions on how to communicate on the Mission day.

When I made Captain and got my first Mission sheet I was surprised to see the "Standard Operating Procedure to follow when landing on the Continent" clearly written out at the bottom. That would be equivalent to a crash landing – or at least a crippled emergency landing. The SOP said: 1. Whenever possible, land at a field at which 8^th AF Service Command Center facilities are located. 2. Have radio operator contact base giving necessary information. Pilot can contact ground station on VHF. 3. After landing, pilot will (s) arrange for medial assistance, if necessary, (b) fill out “Forced Landing Card” from rear of pilot’s or co-pilot’s seat, (c) safeguard all secret and confidential items on ship, (d) contact nearest 8^th AF Service Command Service Center representative if one isn’t on the field and (e) contact home base. (Use VHF or W/T in the air or on the ground.) 4. Crew members will be responsible for individual flying equipment.

After the main briefing, the Intelligence Officer filled us in and after that the weather reports. Then we’d set our watches so that everyone had the exact same time down to the second, so that we could follow the take off instructions exactly. Precision was extremely important. When the briefing was done and the C.O. marched out, we’d gather our gear or head back to get it and climb aboard the Army trucks that would take us all to our planes. Usually Officers went in one truck and enlisted men in another since we lived in separate huts.

Chapter 23 - Northern Ireland

 Chapter 23 -  Northern Ireland

Our assignment at Langford Lodge (the name of a Royal Air Force Base, not actually what we call a lodge) was what they called a replacement pool for the American groups in England. We didn’t do much flying or even pull much duty at all. We had a lot of time on our hands. We bought bicycles from the guys that were moving out to new assignments and rode all over the Irish countryside. We went into Belfast any chance we got. One night in late November Lt. Davison and I even went to the Grand Opera House in Belfast. It was quite a dramatic event with costumes and wonderful music.

One thing that broke the monotony was kind of funny. We all looked forward to mail call and like everyone else I was always anxious to hear from my fiancé or my family. One day an envelope showed up – from the Man on The Street reporter in Jacksonville, FL! He hadn’t run my story in the paper but he’d sent the picture he took of me to the address at the Avon Park base and it had finally caught up with me! We all had a big laugh over that! There were some amazing things that the Army managed to do during the war.

On the whole, time dragged on so much that some of the crews volunteered to transfer and get checked out in B-17s just to get out of Ireland. One of my best friends, Jack Scarlett and his crew, did just that. However, I stayed with the B-26. Had I known we were going to be there for a total of six months or anticipated another event like the one I am going to tell next, I may have made a different decision.

One day our crew was assigned a training flight. All B-26s were being retrained in medium altitude bombing. Lt. Davison, the Captain, was interested in reading a book, so he told me to take the flight up with the flight engineer in the co-pilot’s seat. He sat in the bomb bay and read his book. Just as we took off and were leaving the ground both props went into flat pitch! It was happening again! Only this time it was both engines at once and I was in the left seat! The engineer and I both pushed the manual overrides while I tried to keep the plane in the air. You had to be pretty strong to control these planes and again we were going down fast!  At the same time I was trying to slow down our descent I doing everything I could to keep us going in a straight direction and restart the engines. Just as we managed to get the props going again and start gaining some altitude we broke through a power line that was located just past the runway area!

The Tower said all they could see was a big flash and they thought we blew up. Somehow it didn’t spark the fuel or electrocute any of us and when the flash cleared they saw the “phoenix” rising into the blue. I made a large turn and got back in line for landing. It was good to have our feet on the ground! When we examined the plane we found a large hole burned into one of the props where we’d hit the power line. The locals weren’t too fond of us after that. I think it took a couple days for them to get their power back.

Chapter 22 – Assignment: Northern Ireland – Replacement Depot

After a week of getting to know each other’s families and getting to know each other better, it was time for me to get on a train back to camp. I sure hated to leave my family and my fiancé. When we got to Jacksonville, FL I had to change trains to get to the base. I had a couple hours to walk around Jacksonville and I was looking for a phone to call Lorraine. Back then almost every newspaper had what they called a “Man on the Street.”  He was a photographer who went around taking pictures of people all day and asking them a question. They picked a few to print in the next day’s newspaper. They would take your name and address and mail you a copy of the picture they took even if they didn’t use yours. Sure enough the Jacksonville Man on the Street snapped one of me. I gave him my address at Avon Park because I had no idea where I’d be the next week.

On August 25, 1943 we received our orders to proceed to Camp Kilmer, New Jersey for embarkation. We were put on a troop transport train that took a couple days to get to Brooklyn, New York. We were transferred to Camp Kilmer where, surprise!, we were to prepare to “set sail” for England. We’d trained for almost a year as pilots, engineers, navigators and bombardiers. We thought we would be flying to Europe! We were going to be the first group that wasn’t flying their own planes over. Apparently they had more planes than crews overseas. It would be another great experience: crossing the Atlantic by ship. Instead of getting into action in a couple days it was going to be a long trip.

Camp Kilmer seemed to be in mass confusion. Instead of leaving the next day, it was four days of waiting before we left. Luckily one night the officers got passes to go into New York City. Three of us headed for The Hurricane Club in Times Square (49^th & Broadway). The Hurricane was known for jazz and was the home of Duke Ellington at the time. This farm boy was living the high life. Once again, a photographer came along and took our pictures – for the princely sum of $1! This time I told the guy to send it to Lorraine.

After four days of hanging around Kilmer we were finally put on a train for a short trip to the Harbor where we boarded our ship – which turned out to be a converted cattle boat!  We were part of a huge convoy of ships and escorts. About one day out of port our “ship” had trouble with one of its boilers. We had to leave the convoy and return to Brooklyn for repairs. For two or three days they worked on the old tub and we had to stay on board the whole time. There were over 2,000 people on board. Once the trouble was repaired we joined another convoy heading to England. That was a relief. Our imaginations were running wild thinking we would be going it alone across the Atlantic, a sitting duck for German U-boats. Altogether we spent twenty-three days on the ship before we docked in Liverpool, England. From Liverpool we took a train to Prestwick AB, Scotland, then another boat to Belfast, Ireland. In Belfast our group boarded another train going to a base near the tip of Lock Ney (Lough Neagh), Langford Lodge.

    

          Tower at Langford Lodge 50 Years Later

Chapter 21 - Rumors, Leave & An Engagement!

 The base was a busy, busy place. Crews were in all stages of training and transitioning to leave the states. We were waiting on pins and needles for our assignments. We were in the 280th Bomb Squadron, part of the Mighty 8^th Army Air Force which was covering the European Theater. We knew there were bases in England, and Belgium – as well a support bases in Ireland, while the enemy had bases in occupied France, Belgium and Holland. Rumors abounded but we had no idea where we would end up. We already knew of the ill-fated disaster of the B-26 low level flying attacks on a power plant in Ijmiuden, Holland back in May (43). On May 14th “Eleven or twelve (sources differ) Marauders from the 322nd Bombardment Group took part in the attack, returning without loss.” The problem with that attack was that they didn’t hit any targets so it was rescheduled for May 17.  Eleven B-26s took off on the 17^th. One plane had electrical problems and turned back. It was the only plane that survived. This time the enemy was prepared and the low level flying made them almost sitting ducks. The Mighty Eighth quit flying until July 16 when it was decided to put the B-26 back to work as a medium level bomber. Knowing all this made everyone nervous and apprehensive on one hand and anxious to get over there and do our part on the other hand - and then there was that guy with the red flags waving around in the back of my head.

In mid-August the Army decided that we were definitely shipping out, so they gave us a 10 day leave to day good-bye to our families. Some of the guys in our group hadn’t had a leave in over a year. I’d been extremely lucky. I’d had 3 leaves in as many months. Lorraine and I had been writing and even talked on the phone a few times since I came back from my tonsillitis furlough.  I couldn’t wait to get back to my brother’s place to see her. I grabbed my bag and caught the Dixie Flagler train North.

My mom and dad, back in Nebraska, decided they would come out to see me before I shipped out and they got on a train headed for Chicago. As soon as I got off the train in Terre Haute my brother, his wife and Lorraine picked me up and we headed for Chicago to meet the folks. We got there the night before they arrived. My brother’s wife, who was a beautician, was up on all the best places to stay in Chicago. We decided to pool our money and enjoy probably the (first and) last luxury we could expect to have in the next few years.

We checked into the Palmer House which was in the middle of what they called the Loop. I was told it was the most famous hotel in the city. I was sure it was actually a palace. All of us were in awe of the beautiful, huge lobby and its extravagant furnishings. The Palmer House was famous for its night club, the Empire Room, but my sister-in-law had her heart set on going to the Trianon Ballroom to dance to the music of Lawrence Welk. The Trianon was said to be the largest and most beautiful ballroom in the Country. It was so huge there was no problem getting in on short notice. I’d never seen or imagined anything like it. There must have been a thousand couples there that night but there was plenty of room to dance and you could hear the music from any part of the large dance floor.

I have to hand it to my sister-in-law, she had set the most romantic evening I could ever have imagined. “The Champagne Music Makers” played for hours and their music set the stage for romance. I’d given it a lot of thought and I new I was going to ask Lorraine to marry me but I hadn’t really planned to do it that night. It was a magical night and I knew there wouldn’t be another one like it in the near future. While we were dancing I asked Lorraine to be my wife and she accepted. I don’t think our feet touched the floor the rest of the evening! Later we told my brother and his wife and the four of us celebrated. The next day sanity was restored and by the time we met my folks at their train we had decided to wait until I came home before we got married. The six of us headed back to South Western Illinois for the rest of my leave. 

Chapter 20 - We Ditch in the Swamp

When I got back to the Avon Park base, suddenly the tar paper shacks we bunked in were more uncomfortable than they had been before my leave. The quality of the food was hard to swallow and not because of my tonsillectomy. The August heat and humidity were oppressive. A week with family and the promise of a romance were hard to leave behind and had spoiled me a little.

The military has a way of yanking you back to attention. We went right back to calisthenics, marching to the mess hall, maintaining our quarters, attending classes and practicing flying techniques. Mostly that meant takeoffs and landings, which were never really monotonous for the pilots but the crew probably tired of them. There were also days when we did bombing target practice with no ammunition and eventually with live bombs.

We’d been assigned to flight crews of six. I was the co-pilot. One day when we were practicing take offs and landings we had a close call not too different from my first training flight with the Squadron Commander. Right after we were airborn and the landing gear was retracted, one engine went into flat pitch and quit! This was a 2-engine bomber! It was pretty hard to fly without one engine. We were past the end of the runway and over the swamp. All the power was coming from the other engine and it took everything we had to keep it from flipping over - at the same time we were going down fast. Things were happening very quickly.

Lt. Davidson, the Captain, alerted the tower we had an emergency landing and somehow managed to slide us into the swamp on the plane’s belly without doing much damage. Ambulances and fire trucks arrived. No one was hurt but we had to wade through the swamp to get back to the runway. I kept thinking of those water moccasins I’d seen and couldn’t get out of there fast enough for my comfort. We were lucky there was no live ammunition in the swamp.

The ambulance was waiting and took us back into camp to make sure we weren’t injured. They had to pull the plane out of the swamp, so later that day we got another plane and went on with training maneuvers - more take offs and landings. That was kind of ruff after the heart stopping event earlier. On the plus side, all the repetitive training, drills and memorization that the military drilled into us stood us in good stead in emergencies. You knew what to do.You reacted almost without thinking. I believe that belly whopper went on record as a crash landing even though they recouped the plane. It was another lesson that would pay off in my future. It gave us all something to write home about that night. And I was writing to "my gal" almost every night since I got back. 

Secretly there was something nagging me, a little guy waving a red flag in the back of my mind. He was pestering me. I'd tried my darndest not to be a medic when I joined the Army and had ended up being a medic because I knew how to type (see Chapter 6). It's true, I got lucky and got into the Cadet program but I still had the skills of a medic and knew I would have to use them whenever a crisis required them. Things went smoothly for awhile. Then I saw that water moccasin and swore I would never ditch in the swamp. A few weeks later we ditched in the swamp. Then there was the other incident where the Squadron Commander gave me my first lesson and told me about the tendency of the B-26 to flat pitch on take off. About half an hour later it happened. I was beginning to think that these things all added up to something - what I didn't know. All I knew was that little guy was back there waving those red flags and I was starting to think I'd better pay more attention to him.

Chapter 19 Surgery Brings Another Leave Before Shipping Out

 Along with learning to the fly the bombers, playing war games and basically getting us into “survival” mode, the Army was getting us physically ready to go overseas into combat. It was 1943 and Europe needed pilots, planes and crews. We were all going through extensive physicals prior to being shipped out. I was having a lot of sore throats and the doctors decided that I had to have my tonsils out before they would send me over. So, they operated and gave me a 10 day leave to recuperate. It was too far to head for home in Nebraska, so the logical place to recover was back to my brothers place near Terre Haute. I checked out and caught the next train going north. I admit I wanted to see how my niece was doing with her new bicycle. Maybe she’d need another lesson from the lady who sold it to them. Again it was nice to be with family and I enjoyed the home cooking.

Luckily for me I didn't have to drop any hints about my interest in the lady with the bike, my sister-in-law was already busy doing a  little matchmaking. She invited Lori, the lady who sold them the bicycle, to dinner a couple days after I got there. I was still having a little trouble swallowing but it didn’t seem to affect my ability to talk. They tell me the table was set with the best tablecloth and saved up ration stamps were used for a roast. I was just thankful there were mashed potatoes and homemade applesauce from the tree in the yard. I was hoping our guest wouldn’t notice I wasn’t eating anything that wouldn’t slide right down my throat. I passed on the apple pie and was glad to have honey and tea instead of coffee, which was hard to get then. (Rationing started in1942 and tires, sugar, coffee, meat and eventually almost everything you couldn't grow had to be purchased with ration coupons. People got two rations books a month. I remember one had red coupons and the other blue. There were lots of rules and regulations, it was a complicated program.)

I thought this lady was pretty special so we spent quite a bit of time together during my leave – at least when my niece would let us. My brother and sister-in-law insisted on teaching us how to play bridge and every night we were getting to know each other while playing cards. Before I left we agreed to correspond.

Chapter 18 Avon Park, FL - B-26 Transition - One A Day in Tampa Bay

Avon Park Army Air Field was located roughly in the middle of Florida, east of Tampa. It stretched over more than 350 square miles of mostly swamp land in a county with the strange name of Okeechobee. Orange trees grew all over the area and that was quite an exotic sight to a dry corn farmer like me. No one seemed to mind if you helped yourself to an orange now and then either and I enjoyed my share. Like the water towers at Pampa and Enid airfields, the Avon Park field had its memorable building, a band stand. It was actually used for band concerts to entertain us while we were there. There was a lake on the north end of the camp and my first sight of a water moccasin there made me determined not to have to ditch anywhere in Florida.

The base had multiple uses but mostly it was for live bomb training. There were some military there for survival training and some for learning chemical warfare which was a sobering thought when we learned about it. There were also a lot of guys there training in aircraft maintenance. Not too far away as the crow flew, just outside Tampa (about 100 miles west) there was another B-26 training field, McDill Field.

We were being prepared to go overseas to fight the war in Europe and we were sent to Avon Park not only to learn how to fly the two engine B-26 (or the 4-engine B-17s)but to be trained in combat flying, bombing and gunnery skills. In other words, war games. We would be learning how to hit targets, survive, as well as how to do things like navigate by the stars. Florida is not too wide and when you took off it was only a matter of minutes, whether you headed east or west, until you were over either the Atlantic on the east or Tampa Bay on the west. This was pretty intense training with a lot of flying.

There were thousands of people on the base and very little base housing. Many of the guys, mostly officers and their families, lived off base in motels around the area. We were in very basic accommodations on the base.

The B-26 was a twin-engine bomber made by Martin. It had very high wings and they were short wings. It had large Pratt-Whitney engines with Curtis electric propellers. Since it had such a high wing loading and only two engines, if one of the engines lost power it was hard to control. The electric props had a tendency to go into flat pitch, which would cause them to over-speed and loose thrust if the power was interrupted. There was a manual override that would put them back into the right pitch again.

The large engines produced a lot of speed for a medium size bomber so take offs and landings were at speeds of 125-130 mph. Lower speeds caused it to stall on landing. I explain this because the planes had a well deserved bad reputation and it took experience and some strength to fly them.

The first week I was in transition our base lost six planes and crews just off the end of the take-off runway. Thus the B-26 had developed several rather depressing nick names. Martin Marauder was the best of them. It was also known as the Widow Maker and The Flying Coffin. There were a couple more I don’t choose to mention. The guys over at McDill were having the same problems we were and had coined the slogan “One A Day in Tampa Bay” to describe the sad situation.

I was lucky because my first flight was with the Squadron Commander and he gave me a very good briefing before we took off. Sure enough, just after take off the right prop went into flat pitch. We got it under control and had a successful flight. This training came in handy later when I was training in Ireland. Many modifications were eventually made to the plane and when all was said and done, the B-26s had the lowest losses of any combat airplane in the war. The B-26 flew over 11,000 sorties during WWII and was one of the greatest planes flown in the war.

Chapter 17 -The Train Trip That Changed My Life

After about seven days of leave I caught the train heading east from North Platte to Chicago, the first leg of my journey to Florida. In Chicago, I transferred to a train called the Dixie Flagler that ran most every day down through the Midwest and South to Central Florida. The Flagler was a first class train that was then used mostly for moving troops. There were many soldiers and other military personnel on board, either on their way south for training or on their way overseas. The train had a club car that was open to any rank. It was a rolling party. Most of us couldn’t afford to pay for drinks but we had our own flask. I didn’t run into anyone I recognized, but it seemed like we all knew each other.

Along about dark that first night on the Dixie, I heard the conductor call out that the next stop was Terre Haute, Indiana. I remembered that’s where my older brother and his family lived now. On the spur of the moment, I grabbed my duffle bag and got off the train. I called my brother. He picked me up and took me out to their house where I enjoyed another home cooked meal and being with family. Their daughter, my niece, was all excited about getting a bicycle for her birthday. They’d bought her a used bicycle from a lady in town and the woman was to deliver the bike the next day. Luckily, she got there with the bike early in the day - before they had to take me back to the station late that afternoon.

I was smitten immediately. She was a cute, petite, outgoing gal with a great smile. She was friendly, spirited and had a sense of humor. She fit right in with the family and from then on she and my niece became great friends. We spent most of the day teaching my niece how to ride the bike. Everyone enjoyed Lori’s company so much my sister-in-law invited her to stay for an early picnic dinner before they took me back to catch that night’s train headed for Florida.  It was a short stop but one that changed my life.

Chapter 16 - We Find Out The Answer To Our Dreams

During all our flight training classes the army had been giving us tests: physical tests, mental tests, psychological tests, emotional tests, intelligence tests. You name it, we took it, most of time more than once. They were also constantly observing us and taking notes for our files. All this helped them decide the answer to the question we’d all been waiting for – would we be bomber pilots or fighter pilots? 

It was every guy’s dream to be a fighter pilot. They were the “glamour guys” of the war, the ones newspaper stories were written about and newsreels (movies) were made about. They flew lighter, faster planes and their mission was to attack the enemy and protect the bombers. They were what you call "Top Guns" today. You might say they had the ability to control destiny - theirs and that of the bomber crews.

Bomber pilots and crews were always in demand. They suffered more casualties than the fighter pilots who protected them from enemy attack while they were flying straight through all the anti-aircraft fire (ack ack). The bombers were not only bigger and heavier planes, they were loaded with tons of ammunition. Their mission was to follow orders - to hit specific targets.

So it's no surprise there were different qualities required for the fighter pilot and the bomber pilot. That's what all those tests had been sorting out. Fighter pilots were independent, bold, aggressive, cocky, fast moving, fast thinking and highly motivated. There was a certain recklessness and exhibitionism that was not only tolerated in a fighter pilot, it was necessary. They were risk takers and loners, they depended on no one but themselves. They flew alone and made their own split second decisions. Their job was to guard and look out for the bombers, anticipate attacks and protect bombers. If the enemy came after a bomber formation the fighters were to engage them before they reached the bombers.

Bomber pilots were picked for physical strength, solid dependable judgment, emotional stability, leadership skills and being able to develop a team that worked like clockwork and trusted each other. They had a crew they were responsible for as well as an airplane.

After we got our wings, we were given a 10 day leave before we had to report in to our next base. I went home to Nebraska with my family, which turned out to be enroute to my assignment to B-26 Transition School in Avon Park, Florida. 

I was going to be a bomber pilot.

Chapter 15 Graduation from Advanced Pilot Training May 42

Finally in late May of ’42 it was time to graduate and get those coveted Silver Wings.

The graduation was held in the base theater at ten in the morning. My folks and my oldest sister came down from Nebraska and my oldest brother, the one that I’d worked for on the ranch, and his wife came. My other brother and his family, that ones that I’d lived with when I was working on the cotton inspection team, had been transferred to a small community in southern Illinois where he was managing a pipeline station. The closest large town to them was Terre Haute, Indiana. Later, that had a big part to play in my life.

Our Graduation was as impressive as any ceremony I’ve ever attended since. The pomp and circumstance started and ended with marching of course. It’s hard to explain the thrill of being in uniform and marching in cadence while singing an inspiring song like the Army Air Corp anthem or the National anthem. It made your chest swell up with pride. I couldn’t carry a tune but luckily I was drowned out by a corps that could, and I felt like million as I sang at full volume and strode into the hall. We took an oath to our country and listened to a couple of speeches which congratulated us on surviving the most demanding training course in the military. The Brigadier General told us that so far over 40% of the cadets who entered flight training had washed out before graduating.

Next came the moment we anticipated, the presentation of the Silver Wings by the Lieutenant Colonel R. C. McBride. At the same time, we were promoted to 2nd Lieutenant, received our gold bars and a big dose of pride and excitement. In addition to the wings and the bars we also got a packet of “calling cards” with our name and rank: Lieutenant Air Corps, which we promptly exchanged with the other guys in our class and gave to our families. There was another benefit that we (and our families) appreciated and that was our new pay scale. We were now going to make $1,800 a year, plus we were entitled to a 50% bonus for flight pay!
It was a tradition when you received your Silver Wings that the first person that had to salute you, had to give you a dollar! That was a lot of money in 1942 when a bottle of cola was 5 cents and the daily newspaper cost 3 cents. Usually it was one of the lower classmen. I was so excited I have no memory of who had to give me my dollar.