After only one day of rest we found ourselves posted to fly and on Jan 3rd flew a mission to Zweibruken, our twenty fifth. Being this close to the end of our tour the entire crew was pretty much on a high pitch and we all sweated out each mission from take off until landing. This particular mission turned out to be an easy one and we were glad to have another one behind us.

For one reason or another, mostly weather over the continent, we only completed five missions during January, but that left only five more to fly. We were getting to be one of the senior crews in the squadron and I was given other duties like flying with new crews on practice missions and local orientation flights, flying in the assembly ship "Pete the POM Inspector" with the Group executive officer as well as an occasional test hop or slow time a plane with a new engine. It was during this time that our co-pilot slipped and broke his ankle and was taken off flight status for several weeks. As a result it fell my lot to take new pilots, as my co-pilot, on their first mission. During my last ten missions I must have flown with six different co- pilots. No serious problems resulted, but our original co- pilot fell behind the rest of the crew and did not complete his tour in time to come home with us some weeks later.

On February 21st we flew our final mission - number 35. It was a fairly long mission to Nurnberg, but the flak was light and no fighter interception. What a relief to get safely back on the ground after that mission and realize that for us the combat tour was over and we would soon be going home. As it turned out it was not quite a soon as I had hoped, but at least we weren't getting shot at any more and that was a pleasant experience.

This article has purposely avoided lengthy or detailed descriptions of individual missions with one or two exceptions which I felt warranted special attention. Although each mission had some differences, most were pretty much routine starting with briefing, take-off, assembly, flight to the target, bomb run, return flight to base and landing. For this reflection on my war experiences it seems more appropriate to use this more broad brush approach and leave detailed documentation to the historians - and that side has been adequately covered.

Earlier, I mentioned that our Navigator suffered a broken nose while on a two day pass to London. The details are both sketchy and hazy in my memory, but in essence involved a brief encounter with two ruffians only a block or so from the Red Cross club where we were staying. You may be sure that he was kidded to death about this event since it was completely out of character for such a thing to happen to this gentle, farm boy from Minnesota. His most serious concern while wearing a nose bandage was whether or not he would fall behind the rest of the crew in missions completed. He convinced the flight surgeon that he could wear an oxygen mask with no problem and continued flying with the crew. He did complete the tour, on schedule, and returned to the states along with other members of the crew.

The accident that happened to our co-pilot Buzz, was just a case of carelessness; while horsing around in the hut one rainy day he slipped on something and fell. In the process twisted his leg rather badly and broke a bone in his ankle. We had completed about 25 of our missions at that time. His break required a full cast for several weeks and he was not able to fly. It was during that period that we flew with several replacement co-pilots and finished our tour before Buzz was put back on flying status. In the end he became a first pilot, was assigned a crew and completed his tour some weeks after we did. This unfortunate occurrence resulted in our being separated, our assignments took us on different paths and it was some years after the war ended and I returned to civilian life that I was able to make contact again.

At the end of these memoirs is a list of the 35 operational missions that crew participated in between August 1944 and February 1945. The list includes the dates and the assigned targets.

My own circumstances, after completion of the combat tour, took a strange turn. I had been feeling quite poorly during the last few missions but would not give in because I did not want to fall behind my crew and have to complete the tour with bunch of strangers. It had taken about six briefings and take-offs to complete the last three missions due to recall for one reason or another. Finally, after completing number 35 and the interrogation and de-briefing session, I went straight to sick call and ended up staying about three days in the base hospital with a terrible chest cold. As soon as the medics would let me, I left the hospital and found the crew still waiting on orders relieving us from combat duty and returning us to the Zone of the Interior, the good old USA.

On February 24th our orders were issued, but the departure date was not until March 10th. During the intervening time, even though I still was not feeling completely back to normal, I flew a couple practice missions with new crews, had squadron watch officer duty and was lucky to get some time off, including a two day pass and my last visit to London. What an enjoyable trip that last one was - even did some tourist type sightseeing to the Tower of London, St Pauls, Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace (exterior viewing only). Also shopped around and found a couple of souvenirs to bring back home; Margaret and I still have one of these - a small sterling silver nut dish decorated with lions heads.

On March 10th, eight members of the original crew left Rackheath by train early one morning and arrived at Chorley about 1800. This was a processing center for returnees awaiting transportation to the states. We had no duties, but were able to pass the time at the movies, writing and chewing the fat with others who were also waiting. Unfortunately, for me, my brief stay in the hospital before leaving Rackheath did not fully cure whatever was ailing me and my condition began to deteriorate. After 24 hours I decided to report for sick call and before I know what was happening was en route to a station hospital in Manchester where I spent the next 10 days recovering from pneumonia. Most of that time I can't even remember, probably the result of medication.

On March 25, I returned to Chorley and found the crew still waiting for transportation orders. In a way, I got lucky, and was allowed to fly home rather than come back by boat. The bad part was being separated from the crew and as a result lost contact with them. It took lots of effort and time to get current addresses. For a number of years I exchanged Christmas cards with eight or nine of the original crew and corresponded more regularly with the Bombardier and one of the replacement co-pilots. Over time the number has dwindled, at least one has passed away and for the last couple of years feel lucky if I hear from two or three.

My orders for return to the ZI came on March 31st with departure scheduled on April 1st. In my excitement, I stopped making even brief entries in my diary on that date and as a result must depend entirely on my memory for the rest of this story.

The flight that brought me home left from Prestwick, Scotland, if I remember correctly; a cargo version of the C- 54 with no passenger conveniences. I slept on top of some packing cases wrapped in G.I. quilting normally used for protecting the cargo. It seems to me that I was the only passenger or perhaps the others were similarly dispersed elsewhere in the cabin. We made our first stop at Reykjavik, Iceland where I had some milk and lettuce, along with a steak, for the first time in about a year. From there to a base in Greenland, maybe Thule, but I am not sure and then flew directly to Washington International Airport (now Dulles). After reporting in was sent by train to Ft Bragg, NC for re-assignment. I believe that was on April 2nd.

Shortly after arriving at Ft Bragg and settled in the BOQ, I called Maggie to let her know that I was back safely in the states. Due to my illness, I had not written her for almost a month. I did send a telegram when our combat tour was completed, but after that she had no further contact and no way to get in touch with me.

My time a Ft Bragg was quite short and orders were issued on April 4th, assigning me to the Rehabilitation center in Miami Beach, but with a ten day delay en route. I called Maggie and we arranged to meet at the bus station in Charlotte, NC the following day, about noon.

Early the next morning, after clearing the base, several other returnees and I rode a military bus into Fayetteville and then boarded a Greyhound bus to Charlotte. Man alive, how nice it was to be back in the United States; I never wanted to leave again, and fortunately did not have to under similar circumstances.

Just about on schedule the bus reached Charlotte and my wife was waiting for me. We had been apart from June 12, 1944 until April 5, 1945; nine months and 23 days. Margaret and I had the most wonderful time there before driving back to our hometown of Greenville, SC. I won't go into details, but any who have been separated from their wives for that long must know how enjoyable it is to be re-united.

Our week at home was relaxing and restful; we visited families and friends were treated like royalty on a state visit. The days past swiftly and we soon found ourselves, in our trusty Studebaker, en route to Miami Beach. We allowed time for a leisurely drive and spent one night near Savannah and one in Ft Lauderdale. It was there that the first seed was planted in our minds to someday consider living in Florida, but for the most part we just enjoyed being together and looking forward to our stay in Miami.

The time in Miami was classified as Rest and Recuperation (or was it Rehabilitation?). The Army Air Corps had leased several beach front hotels in Miami Beach and ran them more or less like tourist accommodations. We stayed at the Shelbourne Hotel, a typical art deco design built in the late 30s. Our room was a standard double with bath on about the sixth or seventh floor. All meals were furnished and there were only minimal duty requirements. Maggie and I took advantage of the sun and surf, within the limits of my fair complexion. Some days we did some sightseeing around the town not realizing that in future years, after we became Florida residents, we would see the Miami area grow into quite a cosmopolitan community.

Toward the end of the assignment there we were required to attend a series of lectures, sort of an re-orientation to life in the United States - nothing earth shattering as I recall. On May 10th our R & R was concluded and orders were received to report to Tyndall Field, Panama City, Florida on May 12th. Once again we loaded up the car and struck out on another adventure.

We initially elected to take government quarters on the base at Tyndall, but for several reasons after only a few days decide to look for off-base housing. Quite fortunately, we found a small beach cottage west of town, just a block from the Gulf and were able to rent it on a month to month basis.

The Air Corps operated a aerial gunnery school at Tyndall and from the war news it was likely that it would be shutting down soon since the need was diminishing. My duty there was boring to say the least, flying four hour missions in older model B-24s out over the Gulf of Mexico, with fighter type aircraft making passes from all directions and firing at you with .30 cal machine guns loaded with "frangible" bullets, sounding like hail when it peppered the fuselage. This seemed a good training technique for fighter pilots and certainly more realistic than shooting at towed sleeves.

We were still at Tyndall on May 8th which was V-E Day, the end of the war in Europe. I don't remember anything more than a mild celebration of this day since the Pacific war was still going on and the possibility of being sent overseas again was still a very much on our minds. My assignment here was quite short and after about a month orders came sending me to Chanute Field, Illinois -reporting date 2 June 1945. We had about four or five days travel time so we motored rather casually up the Mississippi Valley enjoying the scenery and the weather.

We reached Champaign, IL, just a few miles south of Chanute Field, a day ahead of the scheduled reporting date decided to spend a night and have dinner at the Urbana- Lincoln hotel. The next morning we drove into Rantoul, were quite fortunate to find a really neat duplex apartment, just a couple of blocks from the main gate. We rented half and a full Colonel & his wife were living in the other. Quite a prestigious neighbor for a lowly First Lieutenant. I had no idea what my duties at Chanute would be since the only thing I knew about that base was that it offered a variety of technical training and also had a helicopter school; and I wasn't too keen on either of these programs.


My job, as it turned out, was an administrative officer - sort of like an assistant adjutant or training officer. Mostly a lot of paper work in connection with the students attending the tech schools. I remained on flying status and got my monthly time in an AT-11 or an AT-6. It was nice to still get the old flight pay on top of my regular pay and allowances. My main concern was whether or not the war in the Pacific would continue long enough to find myself on orders for B-29 training and another overseas assignment.

As you know Chanute Field is located just south of Chicago, maybe 100 miles or so, and since we had never been there decided to go up for a week-end during August. We made reservations at the Palmer House, and drove up on Friday after work. This trip turned out to be another one of those enjoyable experiences that Margaret & I had during our time in the military service and have such pleasant memories. In those days, and probably now, staying at the Palmer House was the "in" thing to do. The first night we had dinner in a small but very lovely dining room just off the lobby and listened to some delightful & romantic music by a string ensemble.

On Saturday we window shopped along State Street and wandered through Marshall-Fields. During the afternoon took one of the standard city tours, including a short boat ride on the Chicago River and out into Lake Michigan. That night we ate at a somewhat less expensive restaurant and went to a movie. Sunday morning we drove along Lake Shore Drive and took a final look at the City before checking out and heading back to Chanute.

On our way out of town we passed a pet store and on impulse stopped in just to look at the puppies, but fell in love with a beautiful little buff cocker spaniel. You can guess the rest, we bought the puppy, our first pet and drove on back to Rantoul. We named him Skipper and he afforded us much pleasure during the coming years.

On August 5th the war in the Pacific was officially ended and we were confident that very soon we would be returning to civilian life. Within a very short time after V-J Day, the early signs of demobilization began to appear. Chanute was set up as a separation center and the processing of discharges was begun.

Determining the priority of release from active duty for Reserve Officers was by a point system, calculated by some mystical formula involving total time in the service, overseas time, age, and family obligations. I met the criteria for discharge from the Air Corps, but personnel discovered in my 201 file that my original commission was in the infantry and had been temporarily assigned to air corps duty, after the completion of pilot training. Under these conditions, before approval of my discharge, my records had to be reviewed by the nearest army command for determination of eligibility for release. Fortunately, within about a week, the approval was granted and I was posted for release from active duty.

My discharge orders were dated 18 Sept, but with 56 days leave plus 4 days travel time, my final day of uniformed service was 17 Nov 1945. Total active duty time was 3 years, 5 months and 5 days.


Maggie and I enjoyed a leisurely three day drive home, stopping off in Indianapolis to buy me some civilian clothes. We did have an amusing experience with Skipper, our cocker spaniel puppy, while there, which deserves a few lines. The hotel did not allow pets, but since we had no place to leave him Margaret and I decided to sneak him up to our room on the third or fourth floor. I got the luggage from the car and Maggie carried Skipper under her coat through the lobby and up in the elevator and into our room. Our secret was exposed when the other passengers in the elevator caught sight of Skipper's tail wagging enthusiastically through an opening in Maggie's top coat, but no one commented. Skipper behaved remarkably well for a six month old puppy and the next morning we sneaked him back to the car and were on our way.

For the first few first weeks after returning to our hometown we stayed with family, but very soon found a small apartment. I went back to work as a draftsman for an Architect that I had worked for during the summers of my college years. We felt blessed to have survived the war, were back in our home town and could settle down, get on with our lives and start a family.

As a lot Veterans have said many times about military service during World War II ....

"An experience I would not take a million dollars for,
but would not give two cents for another just like it."

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Epilogue
More than ten years have elapsed since the completion of these memoirs which have been shared with a number of family members and a rather wide variety of friends & acquaintances, with mostly good remarks. Recently a young lady from England, who now works as the administrative assistant to the Rector of our church, read my memoirs and was quite complementary, but did make a couple of extremely appropriate suggestions.

First, she thought that some mention might be made about my faith in God during those perilous days and secondly the inclusion of some additional details regarding both the armor and armament of a Liberator bomber might be interesting to the younger generation. Those born in the 1960s and later probably have little, if any, knowledge about this aspect of the bombers we flew during World War II. I hope that the inclusion of the following bits of information will fill in at least some of the gaps that obviously exist in the foregoing pages.

Regarding religious faith and belief in God that I failed to include; this was truly a careless error of omission that I have difficulty in justifying. I was raised in a Southern Baptist family with strong faith in God and at all stages of my life, both prayer and regular church attendance have been an integral part of my up-bringing.

During my years of wartime active duty, both my wife and I attended church services whenever possible although there were often duty assignments that often made this impossible. While overseas our Chaplains were available and church services for most faiths were held regularly. On mission days prior to attending briefings Chaplains would offer prayers and an abbreviated communion services for all denominations. These services were not always the same as those held in stateside Churches and Synagogues, but they certainly did provide spiritual comfort for those of us who felt the need - and many aircrew members certainly did; for the most part there are no atheists in the cockpit or other crew positions.

[ As a sidelight, I thought it might be of interest to some readers to learn that in 1961 Maggie, our son Chris and I attended confirmation classes at All Saints Episcopal Church, Winter Park, Florida and the three of us were confirmed by Bishop Louttit in September of that year. Since that time we have been active Episcopalians and our son was consecrated as a bishop in 1986 ].

Other information missing from these memoirs is a description of the fighting capability of the B-24. In addition to its rather impressive bomb load, this instrument of destruction was equipped with mot less than eight.50 caliber machine guns as follows: two in each of the three turrets - nose, tail and top and one in each of the two waist windows. Aircraft with the ball turret had two more. Some B-24s also had a bottom turret with two .50 caliber machine guns Each of these gun positions was equipped with 800 to 1000 rounds of ammunition. These weapons were used defensively in attempting to avoid being shot down by enemy fighters and offensively trying to shoot down those same attacking fighters. The normal bomb load of the B-24 was 6000 pounds, but on many missions we carried 8000 pounds in a variety of types including general purpose, incendiary and fragmentation. The typical fuel load for a mission was between 2300 & 2700 gallons of 100 octane aviation gasoline, in self-sealing tanks built into the wings of the aircraft.

Acknowledgement

I would like to express my sincerest love and appreciation to Maggie, my wife of almost 60 years, for her patience, understanding and help in the preparation of these memoirs. It has been a vivid reminder of those days as well as the opportunity of realizing for fortunate I was to survive the ordeal when so many did not.

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With those brief closing remarks I believe that I can declare an end to these memoirs.

********************* GOD BLESS AMERICA ********************