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.