The 437th Troop Carrier Group 1942 - 1945

Left to Right Standing - Lt. David M. Robinson, Navigator; Lt. David E. D'Armond, Jr., Pilot; Lt. Arnold E. Shafer, Co-Pilot; and sitting - Staff Sgt. Joseph P.A. Breton, Crew Chief; Sgt. Lewis J. Shanks, Radio Operator.

Captain David E. D'Armond Jr. and Captain William M (Tommie) Thompson

Tommie(y)s crew..left to right..Sgt. Isadore Schwartz, Radio Operator; (?) Mitchell, Crew Cheif; Capt. W. M. Thompson (Tommie(y)), Pilot; Lt. Ben Campbell, Co-Pilot; Lt. Rollo E. Jacobs, Navigator

Work In progress 3/25/2001

I have the pleasure of hosting part of the 437th Troop Carrier Squadron story as prepared by one of the veterans sons, John D'Armond. The story of the troop carrier squadrons is little known or written about. Picture the slow, unarmed C-47's holding formation to drop their paratroops, gliders and supplies at low altitude where even light flak can easily reach them. Much like the Bombers of the 8th & 9th AAF, they had to stay in formation and take it until their drop was completed.

Captain David E. D’Armond, Jr. & Captain William M. (Tommie(y) Thompson... and the Rest of the 437th Troop Carrier Group during WWII, 1942 - 1945....

PREFACE

WILLAIM M "'TOMMIE" THOMPSON MEMOIRS Preface: Writing my memoirs on my participation in World War 11 1941 - 1945 is prompted by my giving a tape recorded interview to the Oral History Program of The Confederate Air Force and/or American Air Power Heritage Museum February 1991. This interview for the Museum was covering my activities during World War 11. Having three children, grand children and remembering the compassion I hold for my grandparents, parents, family members and the close friendships I acquired through my life time, I feet compelled to make some attempt to pass some of my memoirs on to my children and their children as their legacy. As I undertake this task, I only wish I had the ability, vocabulary, and patience to describe and record all the wonderfw memories I have experienced each year of my 79 years (March 23, 1998). 1 am deeply indebted to a wonderful wife and the three children she has provided me. Their love and support have sustained me in more ways than they will ever know plus made me proud and provided me a life of wonderful memories. I William Marvin Thompson, the first bom and son of Marvin and Sarah Delilah Seaton Thompson borm November 5, 1918 on a farm in rural Cass County Missouri six days prior to the end of World War I (the War to stop all Wars). My birth was attended in the home by a mid-wife Mrs. Ravenscraft (widow of Dr. Ravenscraft) a neighbor and mentor to my mother when she was growing up across the street in Strasburg, Missouri. I have one brother John Loring (J.L.) bom October 3, 1929. 1 remained on the farm attending a one-room schoolhouse through fifth grade. 1930 my family moved to the small town of Pleasant FEII, Missouri (population 1200 where I attended city schools graduating from Pleasant Hill High School Class of 1937(4lSeniors). Attended Baker University, Baldwin, Kansas two years, returned home to Pleasant FEII working at odd jobs.

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This particular document started out to be a chronological listing of letters my Father, David E. D’Armond, Jr. had written my Mother from approximately December 1943 through June of 1945 from overseas during WWII. His only true love (besides his wife) was flying airplanes. When WWII reared its ugly head he was one of the first in line to say “I wanna’ fly airplanes !!” ...and consequently wound up flying the Army Air Corps version of the DC-3, but militarily it was known as the C-47, or more popularly and with much respect the “Gooney Bird”. As I was sorting through a shoebox full of these letters I started to sort them by dated letter and/or postmark date until I was satisfied I had them in order, date and time-wise. As I started reading them I became aware that these were more than “just letters home”. These letters explained a lot to me about how and why I felt the way I did about him, kind of like reading a book and suddenly you realize “I was part of that book but never heard or read this chapter”. So, if you want to know my reasons for undertaking this “epistle”, it is somewhat selfish, but it is for me and hopefully one day my Grandson, John Michael Martin so he will know who his “Poppy” was and the part he played in sacrificing his life so that his children, grandchildren and many generations of family would be here, as we are today, enjoying all that was fought for.

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{As it happened, when we called his “bestest” buddy, Tommie(y) Thompson - Dad spelled it both ways and so did Tommie(y) - to tell him of “Dunko” being where he can now “reach out and touch the face of God”, I told him of the cache of letters and he said that a strange thing had happened several years earlier as his children had asked him for a version of his time over there so they could know of their heritage better. I asked Tommie(y) to send me a copy of his and I would try to combine the two and see what happened. Well, he did and I had to be true to my word, especially to someone my Dad thought so much of. This is my fourth or seventeenth revision as I have lost or given away the others during several moves we have made lately. It has given me other ideas to incorporate which will add credence to the story (not necessary for me, but who knows?).} The “Memoirs of Tommie(y) Thompson” will be all italics whereas “Dunko’s” letters home will be in text as you see. Anything taken out of context or as a sidebar from the author (myowndamnself) will be so noted, otherwise all will be verbatim.



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After reading Action of the Tiger...The Saga of the 437th Troop Carrier Group (1) I deemed it appropriate to use the introduction cited as written. The author, Frank Guild, Jr. was a member of the 437th and obviously was very astute and observant, as you will note throughout this “epistle”. “In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility; but when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger. Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.” William Shakespeare Everyone in the group wanted to come home. Some made it. Some didn’t. It was as simple as that. Life on the far shore was like a dice game. You made your point or you crapped out. So some were left behind and our final salute to them was a soldier’s farewell. The sound of Taps faded away over many a field in England, France, Belgium and Holland. The earth of northern Europe which cloaks our honored dead, private, corporal, sergeant, flight officer, lieutenant, captain, major and colonel alike, is hallowed soil. There rest, in untroubled peace, those friends with whom we flew the gliders and planes of the 437th. It is to the lasting memory of these boys that this story of the 437th is humbly dedicated. For, in truth, it is their story that is recorded on these pages.” {I am beginning with William M. Tommie(y) Thompson’s account as he has more “at the start” and recalls from many years after the fact whereas “Dunko’s” letters home give a “while I was there” view. I will attempt to bring both accounts together without losing either’s individuality but maintaining some continuity. But don’t be taken aback if I do indeed ramble a bit at times, and you know I am no writer}.

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During my sophomore year in High School I remember seeing a full page article in the Kansas City Star Sunday Paper all about Randolph Army Air Corps Base training cadets to become pilots. Headline was “West Point of the Air”. I was impressed and had a dream of becoming a pilot. One of the requirements was having at least two years of college and being able to pass a rigid physical examination. When I was in High School it was questionable if I would ever have the opportunity to see a college.

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{Although I do not know all the details of “Dunko’s” pre-sign-up motivations, etc., I do know that his main hero was a “barnstormer” named Bowser Frakes who flew a bi-wing vessel of some sort and took folks for rides for a fee. Dad apparently spent most of his earnings gettin’ kicks from the sky with Bowser doing most of the driving. I’m not sure of the newspapers from whence these two articles originated, but I assume (and we all know what “assume” means) one was a Clinton, Tennessee paper and the other was a Columbia, Tennessee paper.} “Bowser Frakes Plans Crash in Flames Sunday” was the headline, text as follows: “F. F. (Bowser) Frakes, Columbia’s daredevil aviator, who makes a specialty of deliberate plane crashes, is scheduled to perform a thrilling addition to his usual crashing stunt at Knoxville Sunday, while four news cameras grind out the sequence. Frakes plans to crash an old, wartime “Jenny” plane from 2,000 feet, coming down with a smoke pot putting out heavy smoke and sending the plane up in flames just as it crashes. Frakes is planning to show the same stunt at a number of his state fairs this summer and probably next, and a number of fair managers will attend the showing Sunday, while Fox News, Hearst Metrotone, Pathe, Paramount and Universal will take newsreels, some of them show slow motion and some sound.” The next article is from a different newspaper and it’s headline reads “Old Plane Burned After Stunt Flier Fails To Crash It” and it has a dateline Clinton, Tenn, May 20. “The carcass of an ancient “Jenny” plane lay in the Clinton Airport today, burned by an angry crowd, after F. F. (Bowser) Frakes , stunt flier of Columbia, Tenn., failed to “crash” it. Frakes had advertised that he would defy death Sunday by “crashing” the plane from a height of 2,000 feet, remaining with the ship. The old plane lumbered off and at 500 feet, Frakes nosed it downward. Nearing the ground he dipped a right wing, the plane skidded, and the right tire blew out. Five newsreel men present to record the stunt, ground their cameras. With the motor rattling, Frakes took to the air a second time and came down to a three-point landing. The crowd booed, and Frakes said “heck” and started a third time. Ten feet from the ground the wings of the plane burst into flames and the plane again came to earth safely. An ambulance cane tearing down the field, but Frakes hopped into a car and was driven away. Although Tennessee National Guardsmen tried to keep them back, several hundred people turned the old “jenny” on its back and gasoline from the tank soon turned it into a bonfire. ““I tried to get it high enough to crash, but it would backfire on me every time”” the stunt flier explained afterward.” {The one thing that truly amazes me is that “Dunko” spent ALL of his paper route money and whatever else he could earn so he could climb into this mans aeroplane.. and he loved every minute of it !! GOOD !! As best as I can figure, flying was his only passion, except for Helen, of course. It took me a day or so to “figger” that out, mostly because Butch and I didn’t hear many of his adventures and probably because he didn’t (or Mother didn’t) want us to hear them.}

The following is an excerpt from The Harriman Record dated August 20, 1942:

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“After waiting for more than four months, four Harriman young men will start their training as aviation cadets in Uncle Sam’s army air forces. Leaving Friday morning for San Antonio, Texas, are C.M. Sullivan {‘Sully‘ hereafter}, Claude Walker, Gordon Roberts and D.E. D’Armond, Jr. who enlisted several months ago and have been waiting here until called for training”.

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Early 1940 I applied for Aviation Cadet Training and was sent to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas for a Physical Examination requiring most of eight hours. Of the 39 young men there taking the exam by 11:00 AM there were only 10 left when I as turned down because they found a dead nerve in one of my teeth. Obviously our country was not in a great need for pilots at that time. I returned home rejected and went to work for the local Cass County Telephone Co. as a lineman and repairman. Later in the year I leased a gasoline service station and went into business for my self. Although there was news about Germany invading some of the countries in Europe, I was innocent enough to think the United States would never be involved. Then almost one year to the day that I had volunteered for the Cadet Pilot Training I received my notice of being drafted in to the Military Service.

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In fact I was the first one out of my hometown (Pleasant Hill, Missouri in March, 1941) drafted. I was operating my own service station. I thought I was cutting a pretty wide swath for a boy 22 years old. When I was drafted, I applied to the state for an exemption from the draft, as I felt having money invested in the service station should exempt me. But you know it came back saying “You have been selected by your friends and neighbors”.

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The draft board at Harrisonville, Missouri gave me a bus ticket to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas for induction into the Army. There were two heel marks all the way from Pleasant Hill, MO. to Kansas. I was sworn in March 25th, 1941. In those days there was a Selective Service Act (draft) requiring all young men ages 18 - 29 register for the draft which was mandatory military training for one year. Thus the song “Be back in a year, Dear”. Not knowing at the time this was going to be the beginning of a Military Career of 28 years. I was sent to Camp Robinson, Little Rock, Arkansas and learned how to march for the Army, not quite like Boy Scouts Camp. I ended up as a medical aid man in Rifle Company “E”, in the 140th Infantry Regiment, 35th Infantry Division. This was also President Truman’s old outfit during World War I. It was the old Quadrangle Division as they were called in those days.

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My duty as a medical aid man was to march at the end of the Rifle Company equipped with iodine swabs to doctor foot blisters and aspirin for aches and pains. I accompanied “E” Rifle Company through the famous Louisiana Maneuvers July, August, and September 1941, prior to the U.S. entering the War in December 7, 1941. I can truthfully say, the first time I ever saw the State of Louisiana in my life, I marched into it with a 40 pound pack on my back. During the Louisiana Maneuvers I never slept under a roof or ate out of a china plate for 54 days. Also during this time of simulated War, we used broomsticks for guns. I observed these planes (AT-6’s) flying over attacking us by dropping small paper bags of flour on us. I realized those pilots were returning to a hot meal and a bed to sleep in. This rekindled my interest in the Aviation Cadet Pilot Training Program, I made up my {mind} right then that I wanted to be a pilot.

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After the Louisiana Maneuvers, I received leave in October ‘41 and returned home to visit parents and my fiance’. I expressed interest in a special Flying Sergeant Pilot Program, but my mother and girlfriend were against my doing so. Considering the U.S. was not at war and I was foolish enough to think I would be out of the service upon completion of my one-year training. So, then the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor Dec. 7, 1941 and I realized we were at war. The 35th Infantry Division was loaded on trains at Little Rock, AR Dec. 7 - 8 ‘41 and we were shipped to San Francisco, CA. And were unloaded at the Live Stock Pavilion in San Francisco December 25, 1941. We were scheduled to be put on Ocean going vessels and proceed to Philippine Islands in the Pacific. However, it was determined that they were under attack and about to be overrun by the Japanese. We were then dispersed up and down the West Coast of California doing guard duty at the railway tunnels and bridges along the Coastal Highway to prevent sabotage. The general U.S. Public had a great fear of being invaded by the Japanese at any time.

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Along with “E” Rifle Company I was stationed on the Army Air Corps Base near Salinas, CA Jan-April 1942. Watching the airplanes flying stemmed my interest again, so I wanted to apply for the Aviation Cadet Pilot Training Program, but the rules were that I was suppose to be single and not married. I persuaded my wife in signing an affidavit that she was self-supporting and I was accepted for training.

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I was placed on furlough in April 1942 waiting for a space to be assigned to the Cadet Training Program. My wife and I enjoyed a three-month honeymoon in Los Angeles, CA. When I was called off of furlough to report for my pilot training, I was shipped to Gulf Coast Classification Center at San Antonio, Texas. I received a discharge from the U.S. Army and sworn into the U.S. Army Air Corps for Cadet Training Aug. 18, 1942 at the age of 23. I attended my Primary pilot training at Victory Field, Vernon, Texas flying Fairchild PT-19’s, attended Basic Pilot Training at Waco, Texas flying Vultee BT-13’s. Received my Commission and Wings at Aloe Army Airfield, Victoria, Texas. Was flying North American built AT-6’s when I graduated and having made Expert on the Aerial Gunnery Range while deployed to Matagorda Island, I assumed I was destined to be the World’s greatest fighter pilot? On graduation April 22, 1943 I also received orders for my next assignment. The order read Troop Carrier, Bergstrom Field, Austin, Texas. We had never heard of such type organization, I was convinced that what ever it was, I was going to be a fighter escort. So, my friend a fellow graduate and I when arriving at Bergstrom Field, went straight to the flight line looking for the fighters and all we saw were these big twin engine monsters, we then learned they were Douglas DC-3’s, military version became well known as the C-47. There were no fighters to be found.

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“The DC is Drafted” is a quote by Len Morgan, I came to admire this machine which could lift virtually any load strapped to its back and carry it anywhere in any weather, safely and dependably. The C-47 groaned, it protested, it rattled, it leaked oil, it ran hot, it ran cold, it ran rough, it staggered along on hot days and scared you half to death, its wings flexed and twisted in a horrifying manner, it sank back to earth with a great sigh of relief - but it flew and it flew, and it flew.” Glines, Carroll V. and Wendell F. Moseley. 1959. The Legendary DC-3. Van Nostrand Reinhold Company. This book is about the history of the Douglas Corporation and the beginning of the DC models that began in the 1930,s and where they are still operational today. [Referred to as (2) hereafter & preceding]


With fellow trainees in front of a Ford Trimotor

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At Bergstrom, I was assigned a Second Lieutenant instructor, who had graduated from pilot training only six months before me. I will always remember when we went out on the ramp to that C-47 for check-out. I looked in the door and through the cabin toward the cockpit, keep in mind I had never seen the inside of a commercial airline much less ever flown on a commercial flight, it appeared to be a mile long, a far cry from a single engine AT-6. I thought to myself, “Thompson, you will never {learn} to fly this thing”. Then the instructor put me in the cockpit and started explaining to me that you taxi this airplane with throttles. Again, relying on my AT-6 experience, I thought “Bullshit, you taxi with the rudder and that steerable tail wheel”. Well, needless to say I did learn to fly the C-47 and my World War II experience and approximately four-year career in Troop Carrier {began?}.

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After completing transition in the C-47 at Bergstrom Army Air Field at Austin, Texas in June 1943 I was assigned to the 85th Troop Carrier Sqd. of the newly formed 437th T. C. GP consisted of four Squadrons, 83rd, 84th, 85th, and 86th. The Sedalia Army Air Base was actually closer to Warrensburg, MO than Sedalia, MO., while there we received more training in formation, towing CG-4 Gliders and low level navigation. This being with in 35 miles of my hometown Pleasant Hill, MO. I had great sport buzzing my relatives from time to time, especially those living on farms. While stationed here I became the proud father of a son born August 12, 1943. Then in October ‘43 the group moved to Pope Field, North Carolina and we received further training with the 82nd Airborne. We staged several training exercises out of Fort Bragg with the 101st Airborne which we later dropped into combat during the initial invasion of Europe on “D” Day June 6, 1944.

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In December 1943, being declared combat ready, many of us received leaves to spend Xmas at home with our families. I now had a four-month-old son. When I reported back to Pope Field for duty, all aircrews of the 437th T. C. Group were transferred to Baer Field, Fort Wayne, Ind. December 31, 1943 in preparation for over seas some place, we did {not?} know where for sure, but assumed it would be England. Each aircrew was assigned a new C-47, which had been ferried there directly from Douglas Aircraft Factory. My crew consisted of my self, Co-pilot Ben Campbell (Detroit, Mich.), Crew Chief Doug Mitchell (Lincoln, Neb.), and radio operator Isadore Schwartz (Long Island, N.Y.). We were permitted to test fly our new assigned aircraft No. 42-100636 in preparation for our over seas flight some where. I was impressed along with being curious with each aircraft being assigned a conventional bicycle, later learned this was to be our ground transportation, to be shared by the aircrew at the bases we landed and at our ultimate designation in England. In England during wartime, 1939 - 1945, bicycles were the primary mode of transportation for majority of the population, especially out in the rural areas. <

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Feb. 1,1944 ...Well, well, cherrio old chap and all that sort of rot, you know of course you could never guess where I am by that. ...very much surprised on my first look at England. It’s a very nice place as far as I know now. English as a whole are very friendly and will help you out any way they can. Everybody rides bicycles over here. We brought two over with each ship. ...not as nice as British models, but it’s the only way to get around. You see everybody from 8 and 10 year old kids and up to old Granny all out riding on bicycles, and to top it all, they drive on the left hand side of the road.....almost got killed the first time I started out. I thought everybody was crazy but me. I’m about to get used to that though. ...haven’t run into Sully yet, will start trying to locate him the first chance I get. ...writing him tonight if I have time.

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While at Fort Wayne, though we were restricted to the base, my buddy David D’Armond and I were successful in being able to sneak in to town to see our wives each night until our Squadron Commander (Les Ferguson) waited up for us and caught us coming in at 4:00 A.M. Of course we were not suppose to have our wives there, etc. He could not figure out how we were getting off the base and we would not tell him. We had discovered that over night transit pilots landing at the base were able to get passes from the Operations dispatcher to go into town. D’Armond and I visiting Base Operations observed where the dispatcher was keeping the blank passes, while one of us distracted the dispatcher the other would reach over the counter and get a hand full of the blank passes. {We?} Would issue each other a pass and we would always come back on the base before the pass expired, there fore the guard would never pick up on our pass, then repeat the procedure the following night etc. As our punishment, the C.O. assigned us to fly his wing all the way over seas to our final destination. The Air Echelon of the 437th T. C. Group with their new aircraft departed Ft. Wayne for Morrison Field, West Palm Beach, Florida (1140 miles) January 11, 1944. Remained there two nights, were briefed for a flight to Borinquen AAF Field, Puerto Rico. At this briefing, I was handed an envelope marked “Secret” with instructions not to open until after I was 1 hour out over the ocean after departing the U.S. coastline. This raised some doubt that maybe we were not going to Europe as anticipated.

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England, Sunday April 23, 1944 10:00 P.M. ...I guess it’s o.k. to tell this now. When we left the jumping off place in the states, I busted an oil line on that new ship first thing and they left me there. Got it fixed and flew all the way to Puerto Rico by myself. I wouldn’t say that I was scared, but I’ll tell you for sure I gave that navigator a working over. He used pencils & pencils and bales & bales of paper that day. I made him shoot the sun every 5 minutes. When we got there you never saw such a surprised bunch in all your life. They never expected to see me for at least a month they said. They thought I’d wait and come over with the next bunch. I have to laugh now every time I think of how tense I sat there all day watching the water under me.

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During our stay at Borinquen Field, our second night there D’Armond and I were able to get into town one night to review the scenery. We found a real bargain on a case of Old Schenely’s Bourbon Whiskey. Carried this back to the field and took it out to the flight line where our airplanes were being guarded by armed natives. We convinced them that we needed to get to our airplanes. We divided the Case and proceeded to remove the inspection plates from our airplane wings and stored the Qt. Bottles in the wings, six in each of our own airplanes. We did not know but what some where we might get inspected for illegal contraband. We arrived in England with our booze and we kept one bottle to celebrate the birth of D’Armond’s first born.

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1-12-44 ...Can’t say where I am, where I’ve been or where I’m going. In fact I can think of but damn little I can say except that I’m okay and have been plenty busy. I looked for a January issue of Readers Digest to send you, but guess you can find over there. Time is short, Tommy is screaming for his stationery, and I am out of anything to say.

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Following is a log of our flights from the U.S. to England by the way of what we called the southern route across the Atlantic January 1944:

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DATE DEPART ARRIVE DISTANCE January 13 Morrison Field. FL Borinquen Fld. Puerto Rico 980 Miles 8:15 A.M. 6:30 P.M.
January 14 Borinquen Fld. Atkinson Fld. British Guiana 1130 Miles 5:00 A.M. 14:15 P.M.
January 15 Atkinson Fld. British Belem Fld. Brazil 900 Miles Guiana, 6:15 A.M. 13:30 P.M.
January 16 Belem Fld. Brazil Natal, Brazil 950 Miles


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1-16-44 ...quite a surprise when I saw a notice on the bulletin board at the dayroom saying that we could tell where we are now. We are in Brazil, can’t mention the name of the town. Flew across miles and miles of jungle so dense that it seems like the sun would never reach the ground. Crossed the Great Amazon too. Oh yes, I forgot to tell you, when you unpack the barracks bag, don’t pull on the red handle or you’ll spill silk all over the place. Keep it where it’s dry, I’ll have to turn it in someday. {“”It’s”” - original issue parachute - still here at Dad’s house and will be placed on the Wall of Fame one day soon and the red handle still hasn’t been pulled.} Mom, don’t worry about me, I’ll get along okay. I take my malaria pills every night just like a good little boy, wear my rubbers when it rains and will put on my long handles when it gets cold. Be sure to let me know when my boy gets there.

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January 17 Natal, Brazil Ascension Island 1450 Miles 22:00 P.M. 9:30 A.M.

(Note: this was an overnight flight arriving just at sunrise)
At Natal, my buddy D’Armond and I along with our Squadron Operations Officer (Joe Antrim could speak some Spanish and was able to talk the native bus driver into driving us through the gate while we lay down hidden in the back of the bus) got into the city of Natal, Brazil even though we were suppose to be restricted to the base. Visited the Hotels where the Hotel Lobby’s were full of gambling tables similar to Las Vegas. We had a good time and observed some new experiences {some of which I am sure that Marty & Helen never heard about}. When we were ready to return to the base we got a taxi and when entering the Base the Gate guard ask to see our passes, we flashed our regular ID’s. He says “No, I mean your special passes”, our reply was “we have no special passes”, Guard asks “How did you get off the base?” Our reply was “We just went out the gate”. Guard replied “Boy some one is off the ball tonight, you all get on in there”.

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January 19 Ascension Island Roberts Fld. Liberia, Africa 1020 Miles 6:15 A.M. 14:15 P.M.
January 20 Roberts Fld., Liberia Rufiscque, Dakar, Senegal 786 Miles 10:30 A.M. Africa 15:30 P.M.
January 21 Rufiscque, Dakar, Africa Marrakech Fld. French 1362 Miles 8:00 A.M. Morocco 15:30 P.M.

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1-22-44 ...come a long way since I last wrote you. Been to the Ascension, French West Africa, Liberia and French Morocco. You’d never believe some of the things I could tell you. And if the rest of this end of the world is as dirty, stinking, and filthy as some places I’ve seen, I’m ready to call the whole thing off. Wouldn’t take a million for what I’ve seen, but wouldn’t give a dime for ten more trips like it. I’ve been under the weather but feel some better now. My crew chief picked up a little monkey where I wrote you last and he’s become the pet of the squadron. Just about a foot high and smart as a whip. Friendly as can be. Climbs up on your shoulder and purrs like a cat. Think I’ll make a co-pilot out of him. I find the American Flyer is held with great respect every place I’ve been. Ran into a few of the boys I graduated with, they’re scattered to the four corners of this world.

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January 22 thru 28 we stayed at Marrakech Fld. Morocco, Africa going into town most every day, shopping, seeing snake charmers and sites of a foreign country most unusual to the average American.

January 29 Marrakech, Morocco St. Mawgan, England 00:45 A.M. 10:00 A.M.
Remained only long enough to refuel our aircraft and get a snack from the Red Cross departed being led by U.S. B-17 to Bolton Field, Newark England arriving at 15:30 P.M., having traveled a total of 1802 miles since leaving Marrakech. Remain at Bolton Field thru February 5, 1944.
February 6 Bolton Field, Newark, Eng. Ramsbury, England 10:30 A.M. 13:20 P.M.

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In all, we traveled approximately 10,550 miles and logged approximately 75 hours flying time from Ft. Wayne, Ind. to Ramsbury, England.

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England, Friday Feb. 17, 1944 ...Here’s the boys that you wanted to know about. You can look them up in the class book. Melvin L. Chitty, George R. Davis, William J. Garry, Joseph A. Lane, Richard E. Penning, and Paul J. Quilty. Captain Ferguson, our squadron commander, found out today that he’s the poppa of an 8# baby boy born two weeks ago, wasn’t expecting it till the last of March. We all had bets with him that it would be a girl. He’s about run us nuts today. One of the boys brought a movie camera over here and took colored pictures all the way over, turned out swell. He’s got pictures of the squadron formation in the clouds, of us, of the different places we’ve been, etc. ...all in color. Ten years from now that film will be priceless to anyone who was in this outfit. Well, I’ll know better next time. Only there isn’t going to be a next time.

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England Feb. 21, 1944 ...Movie film I was telling about - well the guy is sending it home to....have duplicates made. I’m buying one of them and having it sent to you. Most naturally, I’m one of the stars in the thing. It costs $25.00, but money is the cheapest thing around here. This is undoubtedly the craziest one bunch of guys that ever got together. We’ve just about run the C.O. nuts. We’ve jumped the fence when we’ve been restricted, we’ve come in late, we’ve kept everybody awake all night, two guys spent the night in the guard house in Brazil, one guy got caught with an Arab gal in Morocco and God knows what will happen next. Right now the idiots are sitting around comparing athletes foot... now the fools are smelling armpits !!

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Our flight to Ascension Island, out in the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean, we were to fly this route in single ships, could not afford the gas to fly formation. We were apprehensive about this flight as it was a night flight and we would have no extra gas in case we missed the island, it had only a radio beacon for a Navigation Aid. There was about two hours of flight where there was no reception of any navigational aides. Thus you had to fly a magnetic heading and hope you would not be too far off when and if you were able to receive the Ascension Island Radio Beacon. Well, we made it and that Island was a welcome sight to see, just as the sun was coming up, remained over night and departed on the leg to Africa, this time we were in Squadron Formation, three elements with three aircraft in each element (Flight) and Ferguson the Squadron Commander had D’Armond and I back on his wings so he could keep an eye on us. As we approached the coast of Africa we were flying only about 1000ft above the water and I saw some fishing boats and I had the urge to give them a buzz job. I took off my headset and departed from Ferguson’s wing and made a pass over several small fishing boats with two or three men in each boat and pulled back up into formation. D’Armond told me later that Ferguson was hollering on the radio for me to get back in formation. After landing at Roberts Field, Dakar, I claimed I never heard him. We proceeded on to Marrakech, where we staged out of there for our last flight into England by way of 10th Meridian out to sea by-passing Spain, entering Southwest England over Land‘s End landing at St. Mawgan. After re-fueling we flew to Bolton Field, Newark and for some reason remained there for six days prior to arriving at Ramsbury which was to be our permanent base until after the invasion of France.

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At Ramsbury we began flying training missions, participating in exercises with the Airborne for invasion of the European Continent some where. When we first arrived in England, we could hear the German Bombers flying over, bombing London and other targets. Frequently a German Reconnaissance would fly over dropping flares and light up the countryside, including our Base. One night we had over 90 C-47’s in the air flying a training mission, simulating an Airborne drop zone and the German Aircraft dropped flares over us lighting up the entire countryside. We assumed the Germans seeing all those aircraft in the air got scared and high tailed it back to Germany.

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Friday night Feb. 25, 1944 ...Tuesday night at the mess hall, somebody handed me a letter from Sully, gave me his phone number and said he had the day off on the 23rd. That was the next day. I had the same day off myself so I put in a call, talked to him and met him in London the next day. He had some of those other wild-eyed B-26 pilots with him and we proceeded to finish doing to London what Jerry started - taking it apart I mean. We finally wound up, woke up or something about 7:00 o’clock that night in some bar, some of us under the tables, on the tables and not a drop of scotch left in London. ...too late to catch the train {back to base} so I grabbed one to the nearest town to the field and by begging, borrowing rides and stealing jeeps, I finally wound up home about three o’clock in the morning. What a day! We really had some stories to swap. Tell Edna that I saw Sully and he’s looking good, in good shape, had money in his pocket (had) and is dying to come home (him and about 2,000,000 other guys).

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England Friday night March 10, 1944 ...We’ve had it pretty rough for the last two weeks. ...only had 24 hours off duty since I’ve been here, we’re all getting the jumping jitters. Glad to know the clothes are on the way, but all I need now is flying clothes and some sleep. Clark went out about the same way Barnett did. I wrote Deen. Tried to get in touch with Sully, try again later. Thankful for the British weather. Sometimes it’s so bad we can’t fly and then we might get the night off. We all pray for it to sock in. Sometimes we fly anyway. P.S. ..lost my crew chief, but the monkey is still kicking around, don’t know how long he can stand the climate.

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Guild, Frank Jr., The Action of the Tiger, The Saga of the 437th Troop Carrier Group, The Battery Press, Uptown Station, Nashville, TN 37219 U.S.A. Second in The Aviation Series, 1980. Copyright 1978 by the Author.

Frank Guild, Jr. was a navigator or radio operator in one of the C-47’s with the 86th Squadron and he seems to have certainly had a first hand look and feel for all that went on around him. (Referred to as (1) hereafter & preceding)

“On Saturday Night, March 4, 1944, the Group suffered one of it’s worst flying experiences, either in the States or overseas. The 437th took off on a simulated paratroop drop at about eleven o’clock in the evening. It was a cold night and while dark, the sky was fairly clear at takeoff time. The 50 ship formation had been out for about forty-five minutes, when the formation ran into scattered clouds and then suddenly - BLOTTO! All the ships went on instruments and the pilots turned and made their way back towards Ramsbury. A few ships landed before a sudden heavy flurry of snow closed the field. Those ships unable to get in at Ramsbury proceeded on to Membury or Welford Park where they managed to land safely. That is, forty-nine ships of the formation were safe. An 84th ship flown by Lieutenants’ Sloan and Clark crashed into the side of a hill only two miles away from the runway at Ramsbury and all aboard, five crew members in all, were instantly killed. This was the first tragedy of the Group while overseas although Major Bradley and his co-pilot were to be killed in a takeoff accident one week later.”

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England Monday, March 13, 1944 ...{little did he know, but his first male offspring was born the same day} ...I get those sickening sensations in the bottom of my stomach {too} when I think about home, warm fires and good things to eat and street lights burning, and just a thousand little things that never crossed my mind before, that seem so important now.

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England, Monday night, March 20, 1944 ...Had a pass to London “last week”. Saw all the major sights, got a real snappy salute from the Royal Guard at the Royal Palace. Queenie was visiting places that were bombed. She got the red carpet rolled out of the limo for her at every stop. When the Jerries come over, the British go to the shelters and the crazy Americans go out in the middle of the street to see the beautiful fireworks and watch them blast bombers out of the sky. {Dad got a kick out of the action of one of the guys that was with him picked up an object in the street} Ecklesblad picked up some odd-looking thing from the street, took it into a hotel and when he asked the clerk what it was, it looked like bargain day at Maceys. The clerk took one look at it and said “”I say old chap, get that thing out of here, it hasn’t gone off yet you know”” and down behind the desk he went. As it turned out the “thing” was a dud incendiary bomb, and good thing it was a dud.

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All of Troop Carrier missions during World War II in the European Theater had to be conducted visually as there was no such thing as traffic control or Navigational Aids to support Instrument Flight Rules (IFR) flying. At night there were light beacons with red light flashing an identification code, referred to as “pundits”. The radio operator carried a flimsy (code book) which would identify the location of the beacon, then also there was directional ground radar, you call “Darky” on the radio when not sure of your location and a person would come on the radio and ask where do you want to go and he in turn would give you a steer (Magnetic heading to fly) etc.

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I remember one incident during a night training mission, our 437th Group and another Group consisting of 45 C-47’s each, schedule to fly into a simulated drop zone and return out from the drop zone the same route as going in, but were to fly at a different altitude coming out. I was sitting there leading my element of three aircraft following my group in toward the drop zone, and all of a sudden, I saw navigation lights on the wings of other aircraft being turned on and coming straight at us at our altitude. The only vacant space I could see was directly underneath me (keep in mind, I had two wing men flying my wings in close formation). I just pushed the nose down, pulled the throttles back and just dove for the ground watching my altimeter unwind to about 500ft., what I thought would be a minimum altitude for clearing the terrain which I was flying over, and pulled out of the dive leveling off. Leo Clare, my right wing man was still with me, he had to be a damn good pilot to have stayed with me through that maneuver. After all this disorientation, I finally found our home base. (This incident of the two formations flying head-on is also documented in a book Action of the Tiger by Frank Guild, Jr. published 1950).

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(1) “Again, on Monday night, May 15, 1944 the Group ran into what was up until that last time probably its greatest “thrill” , if it can be properly called that. That night a Wing problem was involved, taking in all Groups of the Wing in a simulated paratroop mission. The flight ran into trouble at the IP, when the 437th, flying their proper course, ran head on into a seventy-two ship formation. This formation flown by a Group never identified, came right into the seventy-two ship 437th formation. At the briefing, all pilots had been told to use no lights other than formation lights. For the ships in the center and in the rear of the 437th formation, the first indication that things were not as they should be was when the startled pilots saw ships approaching them head on, swerving, diving and twisting, with their landing lights turned up to full strength. The wildest confusion broke out. For most, it was strictly a case of being on their own. Ships climbed and dived, pulled out to the right and left. Though the night was cold, all making the ride that night were soaked in their own perspiration. At the height of the excitement, as though this was not enough to break up the problem, the radio flashed out its sinister warning, “”Bandits!””. Of all nights, the Luftwaffe had chosen this night to come in on a “”scat”” raid. Of course no one can tell just what the pilots of the Luftwaffe thought if they happen to look down to see the sky beneath them filled with one hundred forty-four diving, dodging planes, some with landing lights on. If the Luftwaffe saw this show, then they undoubtedly must thought that the entire Allied Air Force was coming after them. It can be presumed that quite a few letters requesting transfers were turned in at Luftwaffe Headquarters back in France the next morning. While this event may seem comical at this late date, it was certainly far from amusing at the time. By a miracle, no ships collided head on though some were forced far off course. To add further to the confusion, English night fliers began to climb in the sky on the search for the Intruders and several of the ships of the 437th were challenged and asked to show the colors of the day. The Group made its way singly back to the haven of Ramsbury, except for some planes which managed to set down at fields closer to their situation. Ramsbury was under a red alert when the first ship asked for permission to land and the runway lights had been switched off. Colonel French was in the tower that night and he ordered the lights flashed on to enable the Group ships to land. The Germans had a favorite trick, later adapted by the British, of placing one of their own ships in an Allied formation, its presence protected by the very fact that it was flying in the very midst of Allied craft. When the English or American planes would come in on the final approach for a landing, the German would swing into position, and catching the planes in front of him completely unaware, open fire as the planes were landing. This trick had been pulled successfully a number of times over bases in East Anglia. As ship after ship came in to land at Ramsbury, it was soon apparent that while seventy-two ships had left Ramsbury two hours before, more than seventy-two were coming in to land. The immediate thought was “”was there an intruder in the flight?”” Luckily , no, for planes of other Groups were merely coming in to land and to seek the safety of the ground.”

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Unbelievable that no two aircraft collided or aircraft lost due to this incident. Many aircraft from our group did land at different bases over England because of being disoriented and lost. I entered a downwind leg at my home base (Ramsbury Air Field) turned on base leg, then on final approach, I noticed the runway appeared extremely short and I seemed to be too high. After landing, I discovered that I had taken off that night with my altimeter one thousand-foot error, causing me to fly 1000ft above my indicated altitude, i.e. if my altimeter read 500ft above the ground, I actually would be indicated altitude 1500ft above the ground. In checking back where the incident of the two formations coming head-on, took place, elevation evaluation of the highest terrain (ground) in that area was 1200 - 1400 ft., because I had let down in the dark and the entire country side being blacked-out due to the War, to 500 ft indicated altitude, no doubt this wrong altimeter setting probably saved two aircraft and lives of two aircrews. This is the only time in my flying career I have taken off in an aircraft with an inaccurate altimeter setting. When things like this happens, it restores one’s faith, somebody was looking out for me. I also knew and realized I had the prayers of a wonderful wife, mother and father back home.

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Coulemmiers , France May 27, 1944 ...No, I’m not running around in that “dang car”. It’s driven so little that we can’t keep the battery charged up on it. Now, will you not let your water boil? Well now I must tell you how thankful I am that the Good Lord has been so good to me through all this. It amazes me when I think of how I got out of some of the spots I’ve been in. I could name you dozens of them and I bet I’ve forgotten as many more. I know that I just unconsciously asked Him to get me out and seems like it was no time at all till the fireworks stopped, or they quit coming at me or I suddenly broke out in clear weather, or I spotted something to tell me I wasn’t lost anymore - things like that just don’t happen - not time after time after time - and for taking care of you & Butch too.

{As a sidebar to both above accounts, while rummaging through these old papers, I happened upon a page from a tabloid titled “3 Phantom Sailors Helped Save My Life”, subtitled “Lone Seaman Tells of His Ghostly Encounter in Mid-Atlantic”, “Dunko” has written across the article in red crayon or something similar, “RAF Spitfire pilots verify ALL TRUE. I spent nite with them, very gracious.” Across another part of the same page he wrote “”The Flying Dutchman, a WWI Biplane pilot did this for me on a dark nite in 1944. I could not see my props - for the fog - he came up alongside and guided me to a hole in the fog - and rite under me was this RAF field with all lites ON. Hallucination ? - Maybe. I saw him make a 180 (degree turn) when I turned on landing lites. How can this be?””

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We continued our training in preparation for the eventual invasion of the European Continent. Occasionally we would get passes to London, normally we would have a jeep drive us to the train station at near-by Hungerford, then fifty miles by train to London, sometimes upon our return from London to Hungerford, we would have to walk the three miles back to our Base. It was not the lights in London that we went to see, as you can’t imagine getting around in a completely blacked out city, no light could be seen shining even from a window or a crack under a door. Ever one carried flash lights to read street signs, address numbers on houses and places of businesses, especially in locating bars and night clubs. London had a system where the Bars and night clubs were designated certain hours in which they could operate. Patrons had to carry a membership card to be {admitted} omitted. It was an advantage to have many different membership cards if one wish to linger in the bars to wee hours of morning.

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D’Armond and I had looked forward to going to London on pass together, but Ferguson our Squadron Commander had instructed our Ops Officer Joe Antrim that Thompson and D’Armond were not to go on pass at the same time. They had a system where the passes were rotated with-in each flight. “Dunko” and I being in different flights, we noted in about two months we were going to be on pass at the same time, if the Ops Officer didn’t catch it. Sure enough he didn’t and when the time came, “Dunko” and I were off to London on a 48-hour pass. We had a great time covering as many bars as we were able with all the other “Yanks”. {not sure that this is the same time, but it seems to fit}

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England Monday night, March 20, 1944 ...had a pass to London last week and saw all the major sights. {repeat from earlier account but seems to fit here}. Got a real snappy salute from the Royal Guard at the Royal Palace. Queenie was visiting places that were bombed. She got the red carpet rolled out of the limo for her at every stop. When the Jerries come over, the British go to the shelters and the crazy Americans go out in the middle of the street to see the beautiful fireworks and watch them blast bombers out of the sky. Ecksblad picked up something in the street and took it in to a nearby hotel - when he asked the clerk what it was it looked like bargain day at Macey’s. The clerk took one look at it and said “”I say old chap, get that thing out of here, it hasn’t gone off yet you know”” and down behind the desk he went. Ecksblad took many raggings for days to come about that dud incendiary.

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Next morning I met “Dunko” in the lobby of the Red Cross Billets Lobby to have breakfast. I noted “Dunko” was sitting in a chair looking very business and professional like, reading a newspaper. As I became closer I noticed the newspaper was upside down. Then I knew he was really suffering a hangover. When we returned to base the Squadron Adjutant Tom Affleck told us, Ferguson had been practically walking the floor after discovering we had gone on pass together. Guess he was glad we made it back O.K. as he really didn’t say much. Really we all became very close friends over the years. We did have a good time and it was fun being together seeing London. We almost got educated once as we visited Oxford University on one of our culture tours.

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Latter part of March 1944 D’Armond received word he was the father of a son. Immediately he pulled out the bottle of Schenely’s bourbon he had been saving for this occasion and we proceeded to get drunk.

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England, Wednesday March 22, 1944 ...guess the time is drawing near for you to be in the hospital. I’m probably a papa right this minute and don’t know it. Kelly ran into Sully in London, Sully told Kelly that he {Sully} had made squadron operations officer in the last few days. That means he won’t have to fly any more missions and will probably be shoved right on up to Captain in the near future. That’s a good lick! I knew about Sully’s medals, I just forgot to mention them to you. Tommie(y) is over in the next bunk writing Marty. Said to tell you “”hello””.He bet me a pound that it would be a girl. When we get the news I’ll break out the old bourbon and throw a wing-ding. I’ll pour one for you and pretend you are here.

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England, Saturday night, March 25, 1944 ...I know for sure you must be a mother by now. These guys are raising so much hell here, I don’t know half of what I’m saying. One of the guys hooked up the radio to 220 volts. That was all brother! We’ve got another one lined up.

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V-mail March 26, 1944 ...Just got the good news about the boy an hour or so ago. Now, all the boys in the barracks are stinking from drinking, for I immediately unlocked the old trunk and broke out the hooch, which I gave them, except for one quart which I drank myself. I took the first drink with soda. The next drink took me with water. Grapefruit juice took me with the next drink. Then the bottle took a drink with me and now we’re all drunk! No kidding, I haven’t been slapped on the back so much in my life! The WHOLE GANG sends congratulations along with all my love.

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England March 27, 1944 Dearest, I woke up this morning, took one look around and figured I must be in Berlin. The place looked as though it had been bombed as many times as Berlin. The boy’s really hung one on to celebrate the arrival of the “Third”. It’s a good thing it wasn’t twins, they would have wrecked the whole base. One of the boys got so excited about the whole thing he started passing out cigars (his own) to everybody he saw “Here, have a cigar, D’Armond’s a papa, it’s a boy!” Then, he opened up his own whiskey and started passing that around. What a wing-ding. I think more hell was raised over the arrival of “him” than all the rest of the babies put together. They saw to it that everybody knew about it. These crazy guys! My new nickname is “Pappy”. That’s all I’ve heard all day. I think you remember Yeager don’t you? Every once in a while last night, he’d raise up in bed and say “Six pounds and four ounces? My God!”, lay back down and 15 or 20 minutes later, raise up and say the same thing. He was really looped. Our barracks are two layers of corrugated steel, but the sun was shining through the walls this morning. And a good time was had by all. My back is sore from being slapped and my hand is sore from shaking hands with some of these palookas with grips like a vise. They insisted I write you last night while the party was on. They all looked over my shoulder and told me what to say. You know haw a bunch of drunks are. They’re all good boys though. None better. Right now they’re sitting around telling lies. Every time somebody else comes in, the baby gets bigger to hear them tell it. Tommy paid off on the bet. Tell Grandpa he should have been with us if he wanted to celebrate - we don’t spare the horses!

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Some how a fire ax that is normally stored at the end of the Nissen Hut came into play. “Dunko” standing on his bunk bed proceeded to chop a few slices in the Nissen Hut roof above his bed. Later that night Leo “Gussy” Clary came in from being out on a pass. “Dunko” and I pretended to be asleep and were watching “”Gussy” get ready for bed. “Gussy” kept looking up at the ceiling and then look around and down as he pulled off his shoes. We finally ask him what was wrong? He pointed at the holes in the roof and asks, “What happened?” We told him “You are lucky that you were not here as a German Bomb landed close by and did that to the roof.”

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England, Tuesday night, March 28, 1944 {Says he got} his day off taken away from me along with the rest of the DEAD END KIDS as the C.O. calls us all for screwing off at ground school. Every one here “reminds me I should be jealous of Butch because here I am fighting a war and him laying in bed with a good-looking woman”.

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England, April 1, 1944 ...the boys want to know if “Dunko II” has been whistling at the girls as they pass the pool hall. Don’t want him to get started off on the wrong foot by wasting his time taking music or something like that when he could be shooting pool

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The 82nd Airborne and 101st Airborne had arrived in England about the same time we had. We continued to train with the 101st Airborne and we reached full strength of Glider Pilots and trained towing gliders including the British Horsa Glider.

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England, April 10, 1944 Forget about that income tax. Let me know if they write you about it, I’ll put a stop to that noise. And don’t fool with those two-bit insurance agents, Dad can tell you all about insurance. I’m getting fat as a pig. Flying, eating and sleeping - day in and day out - night and day. I had to have all my pants let out in the waist and had to buy new belts. Can you imagine? I can’t write with all this noise in this lean-to. They’ve got a Jerry propaganda program on the radio. It’s a riot. Dear John!

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England, Wednesday 4-17-44 {he or I one have the day or date confused, but it seems to fit here!} When they put me back to flying, I was scheduled for another ship and crew, and my old crew went to the C.O. and asked to be put back with me. Pretty darned nice compliment huh? I was surprised. We’re all back together again except for a new co-pilot.

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England, Tuesday 4-18-44 ...Yes, we’re having beautiful weather here too, now. Some days you can go out with just one suit of wool underwear on and some days you can see the sun for a whole hour at a time and it’s just foggy 22 hours a day. Spring has come to England! Things are kinda quiet in this opium den tonight. Everybody (except me) is worn out. Some of them ran into a little difficulty today. They don’t have much to say.

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England, Saturday night, 4-20-44 We’re having a picnic here tonight. Birds walking,{?} Schanks got a big package from Norrene, Tommy and I went out and cut down some of “The Kings” forest and built a nice fire and we’re sitting around eating popcorn, cookies and candy.

England, April 22, 1944 ...Guess Mrs. Watson knows by now what Don’s clothes and his APO numbers meant. ...Aw, just call him Sonny, as he grows up we’ll change it to Son, and by that time somebody will stick a nickname on him anyway. Half the people I know right now don’t know me by anything but “Dunk”. It’s grown into “Dunko” here. Even the C.O. calls me that. Well, after supper tonight, Tommie, Shine and I got our bikes and went riding through the countryside. It’s been a beautiful day. We saw some of the “King’s” deer. They didn’t act very wild. Everything that’s wild over here is the “Kings”. The “King’s” forest, the “King’s” deer, the “King’s” rabbits and the “King’s” everything. They throw your butt in the Royal Clink for shooting any of them. They’ve got some of the boys in now for shooting deer. They tell me it was really good steak.

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{Postmarked 4-26-44 on the envelope, one page or at least the top of the first page is missing - damn censors!} I started this letter some time ago, but these idiots slipped up behind me and poured a bottle of the stinkingest hair tonic on my head you ever smelled. Had to take time out to wash my head. I’ll have my hair cut off again tomorrow if I have time. Well, here’s the answer to your question about Sully’s medals. He got them because his first pilot got them. I was shocked too when I found out he is and always has been a co-pilot. I don’t think Edna knows it, so don’t tell her. Hoffman got the Air Medal for 5 missions over enemy territory. The Oak Leaf Cluster for 5 more. When the pilot gets a decoration, the co-pilot gets it too. Don’t ever tell Edna. I don’t know what he’s told Edna and what he hasn’t, but that’s the way it is. ...You shouldn’t worry, you know. These damn Heinies haven’t any bomb or flak with my name on it. Anyway they’re all cross-eyed from eating kraut and couldn’t hit me. Never touched me you know. BUT IT SHALL COME NIGH THEE. Tommie got some pictures of Marty and his little boy. He’s a funny little fellow. Cute as pie. Marty sent you and the baby something. She told Tommie it was a bag of some sort. ...P.S. The film hasn’t left England yet. I’ll let you know when it does. If I get knocked off you do not have to pay my income tax. I’ve got a paper in my pocket that says so.

May 29, 1944, 85th T.C. Sq. with 18 C-47s’ and crews moved to Memsbury Air Field and placed on attached duty with the 436th Troop Carrier Group for participation in “D” Day (Invasion of Normandy, France), Tuesday May 30, we went through dingy drill with our aircrews and the 101st Airborne troops. Wednesday May 31 Commanders, Operations Officers, Navigators were briefed on the route and the invasion in total secrecy. Their quarters were placed under guard. June 1, all crews were called to the 436th briefing room and briefed to fly a forty-five ship (Aircraft) V of V’s group formation including the 85th T.C. Sq. We took off and flew formation for 45 minutes. At 16:00 hours (4:00 PM) all crews were called to the briefing room and were briefed on the mission of invasion including the enemy strength and what we could expect, S-O-O-O the real thing was here, we were going into combat. They escorted us to our barracks and put guards on the barracks, we could go no where except being escorted to the mess hall. Friday, June 2 Maj/Gen Williams Commander of the IX Troop Carrier Command spoke to the troops and then off to other bases doing the same. Saturday June 3rd at 18:00 hours (6:00 PM) aircrews were briefed to put on fatigues and were marched down to the field where our aircraft were parked and painted black/White Zebra stripes around each wing of the aircraft and around the fuselage later called “Invasion Stripes” (So that our own US ground troops could recognize our planes as American Airplanes and not shoot us down). Sunday June 4, we were briefed for a take off time, but later canceled due to weather. So the invasion of “D” Day was postponed for 24 hours. Being restricted to the barracks and waiting, the crews time was spent doing a lot of letter writing and great amount of poker playing.

(1) “The 437th had arrived in England with three veteran combat pilots, Colonel Cedric Hudgens, Group Commander, Lt. Colonel Ralph Lear, Commanding Officer, 85th Squadron and Major Donald Bradley, Commanding Officer of the 83rd Squadron. In March 1944, Major Bradley had been killed in a plane crash near Ramsbury. Now only two of the veteran pilots were left to make the D-Day flight. Within ten days, this figure would be reduced to one as Colonel Hudgens died suddenly at Ramsbury just a few days after the invasion flights were flown. In September, Lt. Colonel Lear was to be killed in action over Holland while piloting his plane in the first flight of the Dutch Invasion. By one of those strange quirks of fate, all three of the North African veterans were to be killed within a period of four months. Now if your name was Rataiczak, Evans, Ittner, Uhlenbrock, Stone, Balon, Lindquist, Gates, Tisdale, Kelly, Litton, Campbell, McKinney, Appleman, Henderson, Fonda, Schaff, Elkins, May, Meyer, Alison, Hutchison, Stein, Powell, Lenburg, or any of the others that would appear on Missouri Order No. 1, then you stood on the windswept hill at Ramsbury as the men of the 82nd loaded into their gliders. And if your name was Ferguson, Kelly, Erbeck, Antrim, D’Armond or any others that would appear on the roster of the 85th Squadron then now you were already airborne and had flown the waters of the Channel and had dropped your paratroopers to the fields of Normandy.

To the 85th Squadron, goes the honor of being the first Squadron of the 437th to see the far shore.”

It would be interesting to know how much money exchanged hands in England during the 48 hours prior to “D” Day. Monday June 5, we received one final briefing, could expect heavy losses. We were to start engines at 22:35 hours (10:35 PM). Taxi and Take-off at 23:00 hours (11:00 PM) with full load of 101st Airborne Infantrymen (23 Men), this take-off time placed us flying over the English Channel at midnight. It was a beautiful clear night and almost a full moon. We also had been briefed that Allied Bombers and Fighters had bombed out a corridor across the Cherbourg Peninsula in which we could fly through. All German gun batteries had been knocked out, therefore we had nothing to worry about. We passed between the islands of Guernsey and Jersey making land fall on the western side of the Normandy Peninsula and to fly through that corridor to our designated drop zone on the Eastern Coast of Normandy. But as we approached the landfall, we entered a low deck of clouds at approximately 1200ft altitude and were on instruments. As a flight of three C-47’s and left flight element of the Squadron V of V’s, I executed our formation instrument procedure for circumstances such as this, by turning left 45 degrees and flying that heading for one minute then resume original heading of the formation thus providing separation from the rest of the flights. This placed me and my flight out of the bombed out corridor and up near the German Stronghold in the city of Cherbourg. I started letting down to try and break out of the clouds. I finally broke out at about 500ft above the ground and when I did there was ground search lights on my flight of three aircraft with a string of tracer bullets coming across my windshield. I assumed to be 50 caliber machine guns. They certainly had our altitude as the tracers were making a perfect cross right in front of my windshield. Apparently they were leading us too much, probably because the Germans were accustomed to shooting at faster aircraft. This only lasted a minute or so, even though it seemed much longer. I thought they really had us. As we were wearing flak vests, out of the corner of my eye I caught my co-pilot head’s retracting down into the flack vest. momentarily I thought of a turtle pulling his head back into his shell when being threatened. I saw water and the Eastern Coast line coming up, realizing I had to be north of designated drop zone, I started making a right turn toward the south to get our Paratroopers near their drop zone. During our mission briefing we were impressed DON’T DROP YOUR PARATROOPERS IN THE WATER! When I made my right turn, placed my right wing man in the position of looking across my aircraft and seeing the water. Not knowing what I was doing and of course we were not allowed to talk on the radio for the duration of the mission, he started jumping his troopers. Quickly realizing my three aircraft loads of paratroopers and equipment was organized to function as a unit, I signaled to drop all three aircraft loads, hoping they could form up on the ground together, knowing full well I had dropped them two - three miles north of their designated drop zone. I’ll never know how my decision effected the War effort or how it may {have} effected several lives. (Later after the Germans had surrendered, when flying some of the POW’s out of Germany, one of the POW’s was one of the men I had dropped on “D” Day).

Of course history tells us now that we scattered troops all up and down the Cherbourg Peninsula. I remember after dropping our troops that night, I stuck the nose down diving for the deck to get out over the water and head for home base, I detected a vibration on the aircraft, I hollered “”I think we have a hit””. The crew chief Doug Mitchell looked at all of the instruments very carefully and said “”Sir! Every thing is running OK”” . Then I realized we had released par-packs from the belly of the aircraft at the same time we dropped our troops, leaving 8 foot shroud lines slapping against the belly of the aircraft, thus the vibration, so we made it back that night and landed at home base approximately 03:00 (AM) in good shape. I learned later that approximately 1500 C-47’s had participated in this initial invasion parachuting in 18,000 airborne troops and approximately 10,000 Airborne Troops in CG-4A gliders were towed in with C-47’s.

(1) “The planes of the 437th had been flying across the Channel at an altitude of 100 - 150 feet but as the coastline became visible, they pulled up to an altitude of approximately 500 feet. Immediately the coast line was crossed, the light signals were flashed from the Astral Domes of the tugs and the Horsa gliders began to cut off. Once the gliders were off the tow, the planes made a sweeping turn to the left, just skimming the tree tops. Below them cows could have been seen grazing peacefully in the meadows which were to be landing zones for the gliders. The Germans, trapped between the American troops on UTAH and the Airborne troops at St. Mere Eglise kept up a persistent small arms fire. The ships piloted by Lt. Colonel Ralph Lear had a tire shot through and the ship flown by Lt. Dave D’Armond of the 85th suffered several bullet hits but fortunately, no one was injured.”

The next day after “D” Day, June 7 we towed CG-4A gliders into Normandy with Airborne Troops and our drop zone was Sainte-Mere Eglise, France on the Cherbourg Peninsula. This being a day light flight with good weather and great visibility crossing the channel was an everlasting impressive sight, to have such a view of the all powerful invasion, as far as I could see there was a continuous string of C-47’s going to France and one solid string returning. I observed three C-47’s crashing in the water trying to return to England as I was flying toward the drop zone. It was hard to imagine how the planning, logistics, ingenuity, leadership both governments and military and the support of the civilian population made this all happen, giving U.S. America one of it’s proudest moments. While making a turn over Sainte-Mere Eglise after releasing the glider, I observed a civilian leaning out of an upstairs window of a house firing his rifle at us, but no hits. The same mission, my buddy D’Armond upon examining his plane after returning to home base found a bullet hole in the bottom of his aircraft, began searching to see where the bullet was lodged. It was finally found lodged in D’Armond’s parachute under his cockpit seat. So we joked with him, “”Dunko you almost got shot in the butt””. {Dad put it another way by saying he almost had an extra asshole, of which he had no need}.

“...four other pieces of equipment that most senior officers came to regard as among the most vital to our success in Africa and Europe were the bulldozer, the jeep, the 2 1/2 ton truck, and the C-47 airplane. Curiously, none of these is designed for combat.” Dwight D. Eisenhower, “Crusade in Europe”

England, Sunday June 11, 1944 ...Just a line to let you know I’m still OK. ...guess you think I forgot your birthday, but I didn’t. Just couldn’t do anything about it. I’m sending you the Stars & Stripes. Everything that I could tell you is in there. I’ll tell you about it {D-Day} someday. I’ll never forget it.

(1) There were many better ways to make a living than to be a member of the 437th Group on the night of 5 - 6 June 1944. The actuarial tables of any insurance company in the world were completely useless if based upon C-47 glider basis on the eve of D-Day. To the 85th Squadron goes the honor of being the first squadron in the 437th to see the far shore. Joe Antrim was Operations Officer of the 85th Troop Carrier Squadron and this is what D-Day looked like to him as his ship headed out over the Channel: “”After crossing the English coast at Portland Bill at about 2400 hours, we turned off all our lights except formation and downward recognition lights. We descended to five hundred feet above the Channel. It wasn’t long until we picked up our first boat signal. We knew then that we were on course. At the next marker boat, we switched off the downward recognition lights and turned the formation lights to one-half intensity. It wasn’t going to be long now. The tricky overcast suddenly broke up and the full moon was so bright that we seemed to be flying in daylight. The moonbeams reflected off the mirror of the Channel and it almost took our breath away to see the naval armada, made up of thousands of sea craft, moving slowly but steadily towards OMAHA and UTAH. The Allies were getting ready to throw their Sunday punch. We flew on and soon we had the Jersey and Guernsey islands on our right and the Alderney islands on our left. We had been told at the briefing that these islands were loaded with anti- aircraft and we kept looking for the flak that would greet us. Off toward the Alderneys we could see a light in the sky, apparently from flak but nothing came up from Jersey and Guernsey. We got past the islands and I pulled back on the wheel and we began to climb to 1500 feet and we swung toward the left to make the run across the peninsula. It’s a long way from Sedalia, Missouri to Normandy but the Squadron was keeping their date with fate right on the minute. We crossed the coast and it was hard to believe that we were over France. We began to come down stairs now and at about 1200 feet, we hit an overcast and the Group began to break up and scatter. We got under the overcast, down to about 800 feet, flying contact and there were two wing ships, right along side in perfect formation. The training at Sedalia, Pope and Ramsbury was beginning to pay off now. The clouds broke again and the fields and trees loomed up in the moonlight. We kept watching for flak. In about five minutes we saw what we had been looking for and it was just like a Warner Bros. Super deluxe production. We gave our paratroopers the red light. They stood up and hooked on. Dead ahead of plane No. 806, two German searchlights came on and their brilliant rays intersected directly in our flight path. The beams of light were filled with Christmas tree finery of tracer bullets and we held our breath as we sought the meager protection of the armor plate. God must have had an angel riding along with us for just then the searchlights went off and the and the faucet like flow of tracers stopped. I hit the switch that turned on the green light and our stick ’hit the silk’. The tracers started up again as we salvoed our parapacks and above the roar of the engines, we could hear the bullets tearing through the guts of our plane. I hit the throttles and pushed them as far forward as they would go and then we were down on the deck at 200 MPH, going like a bat out of hell for Membury. Almost before we knew it we were making landfall on the English coast. It was raining when we flew over Membury and the field was closed. Our element of three ships, the two wing men were still in position, flew north to a British base called Harwell and we got permission to land. We went over to the tower and checked in and then we ate breakfast at the RAF mess. After awhile, the rain stopped so we left our RAF hosts and flew back to Membury. The critique was over. We checked old 806 from her nose to her tail and found out that what we thought were .50 calibers tearing through her insides was just a figment of our imagination. You can hear a lot of things when the stuff is coming up at you””.

So did the 85th Troop Carrier Squadron jump their sticks of ’troopers’ on the morning of 6 June 1944.

England, June 15, 1944 ...I guess we’re straightened out from the last blood-bath & ready for the next one. Personally, I’m ready to call it all off as a mistake. No, I guess I didn’t mean it. It gets in your system somehow after the first fright is over. I still can’t stop thinking about what I saw. I never dreamed of all that I saw. Everything up to & including the kitchen sink & old stove lids went sailing by the windshield. Looked like the Fourth of July, Christmas, the Mardi Gras, Circus Day and the hangover of about a three week drunk all in one big nightmare. As soon as things quiet down a little, we’re getting a week off. Tommie & I are going up in Scotland & look the place over, Loch Ness, Loch Lomand, Inverness, all the old castles and stuff. Maybe get a bagpipe or two.

England, Tuesday June 20, 1944 ...Dear Heddy, you can call him David if you like. I think I’ll call him Butch. ...Don’t think I ever heard of the song ‘Lilly Marlene’ you spoke about. ...Cokes? What the hell is that? I haven’t seen one since we left Florida. I hear you can get them in Scotland. Guess you’ve read about the glide bombs, pilotless planes, or what have you. Saw one of them. If I don’t seem to be telling you anything about what we’re doing, it’s because I can’t. Actually you can find more about it in the papers and over the radio than they’d let me tell. Don’t worry about me THEY NEVER TOUCHED ME!!

Our next combat mission was towing a British Horsa glider with British Airborne Troops. This was much larger and heavier than our US CG-4A glider. In towing the Horsa glider with a C-47 and especially loaded with troops, about all a pilot could do was use full power and roll to the end of our 5000 ft. runway, then pull the stick back and hope both the airplane and glider will lift off. After becoming airborne and in level flight, max speed would be about 90 MPH. Absolute max with full power would be about 110 MPH.

England, Wednesday June 28, 1944 ...Well, about the foot. When I wrote that letter, there was so much on my mind of so much more importance, I almost forgot about the foot. It’s OK now. Something out of the ordinary happened and I wound up sleeping (or trying to sleep) in a foxhole with the walking Army the other night. That’s another experience I’ll never forget. I got out of there and back home as quick as I could the next day. I got a worm’s eye view of some beautiful fireworks.

England, Sunday July 2, 1944 ...I find myself so irritable I can hardly stand myself, let alone other people. I catch myself (others have caught me too) stumbling around talking and mumbling to myself. Another thing, where in the hell did Butch get that RED (of all goddamed colors) hair? Come on now wench, fess up! For God’s sake! I’ll never write home about my petty ailments again as long as I live. A medical discharge ! - Mother of God! I never heard of such a thing! P.S. Try to forget the letter I wrote about the money. I was in one of my irritable moods. I’ll be OK when I get back from the Flak Farm.

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England, Sunday July 10, 1944 { Know there aren’t 8 days in the week, but I can relate to his math error on the dates - especially after where he had been} ...Look Honey, I’d better straighten you out on a few things. I’m in the Ninth Air Force Troop Carrier Command. This 82nd you’re talking about is the 82nd Airborne Division - the people we haul in there. The 1st Troop Carrier Command is what I was in before I left the states. See? ..That Sully sure is getting a lot of publicity and medals and stuff. The only thing we’ll ever get is a kick in the teeth if we don’t do our job. This outfit is the orphan of the Air Force. Some people say we’re in the Infantry. Could be. We do more marching than the Infantry. I’ve tried to transfer out - along with 400 other guys, but it doesn’t get further than the C.O.’s desk. Tommie and I aren’t going to get our leaves or rest either. They cancelled them. I don’t know whether you could read between the lines or not.

After the invasion and the beach heads were established our missions were primarily evacuation of wounded from the combat zones. By this time we had approximately 20 - 30 Medical Flight Nurses assigned to our Group, which were scheduled on our crew whenever we were scheduled for an evacuation mission. We also began flying re-supply missions, hauling supplies, ammunition, and even gasoline in 5 gallon (Jerry Cans) usually for Gen. Patton’s Army after he had begun advancing across France.

Early July 1944, rumors started that the 437th was going to be detached to some place unknown. Eventually we received a briefing that we were going to be deployed to Italy leaving our glider pilots behind and taking all of the aircraft except four aircraft and crews from each of the four Squadrons would remain at Ramsbury. The 437th departed July 16, 1944 for Marrakech, French Morocco, after an overnight there we proceeded to Italy at a field about 60 miles north of Rome near the Tyrannean Sea. This was a wheat field with steel planking for a runway. We lived in tents for the duration of our stay there, approximately six weeks. It being in the middle of summer with 80 and 90 degree temperatures, we had a nearby beach we could swim and we acquired suntans real quick. Far cry from the weather in England.

Italy, Sunday July 23, 1944 ..What a place this is. Dust and ticks and mosquitoes and fleas and more dust. Reminds me of Texas. Hot as blazes and dry as a powder house. We can go swimming in the ocean to get cooled off though. Tommie, Kelly, Patterson and a few more of us took the day off and went wandering around over the country. Traded a pack of cigarettes for a quart of good old Italian wine. That’s about all the people here have left is a little wine and they’re pretty generous with that. They are more like Americans than British I think. Saw some kids eating ice cream and saw where they came from so went in and finally made them understand what we wanted. It was made out of canned milk but tasted darn good as it was the first I’d had since leaving home. Also not long ago I got my hands on a real honest to God Coca-Cola. I hear we’ll get one a week from now on.

Italy, Sunday July 30, 1944 ...Spent the day down in Rome not long ago. Sure is nice place. We went around to the Vatican, St. Peters Church, the Colesium and all that old stuff. We had our pictures taken at the Colesium. Saw the old Pope blessing everybody in sight. Had a nice meal at an Italian restaurant. Flew over Naples and Mt. Vesuvius the other day. The old peak was throwing out a little smoke. Oh yes, had wine, white bread, fresh tomatoes, peaches, plums, pears and roasting ears here. How about that?

While in Italy w did get to see Rome and see many of the sites, the ancient Coliseum, St. Peters Church, Catacombs, even attended an audience with the Pope and had him to bless some prayer beads for my cousin Patricia Thompson.

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Italy, August 4, 1944 ..You would have died laughing if you could have seen me washing clothes yesterday. Boiled the water in an old oil can and washed out pants, shirts, underwear, socks, towels & handkerchiefs. Of course the white stuff had a touch of TATTLE-TALE GRAY - but clean anyway. You were asking about some of the fellows - and among them Jonas. Well, Jonas lost his mind & he’s home for good now. Some others have too. We went back up in the hills here to get some wine & this old Italian took us down to his wine cellar which is a series of tunnels & caves under the ground to this great big cave. It was full of big wooden casks that 100 or so gallons of wine. They were all empty except one or two. Said the Germans took all of it except what he buried. Tommie & I stick pretty near each other now days. I never saw anybody like that guy.

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D’Armond and I borrowed a 2 1/2 ton Army truck, took some five gallon water cans, got an Italian farmer who lived near the air field to take us up in the mountains to buy some wine, as this farmer told us that the Germans had destroyed all the wine in the valley where we were camped. This was a real experience. The wine cellar was down under a feed store. D’Armond and I almost got drunk sampling all those barrels of wine using our canteen cups. When we came out of that cool cellar and hit that August heat, we really felt no pain. The next challenge was to drive that Army truck back down the mountain 50 miles back to the field. But we got back with 15 gallons of wine for our fellow officers.

Italy, Sunday August 13, 1944 ...Got up this morning, took a bath out of my tin hat, shaved out of my tin hat, put on clean clothes and went to church. Held out in the open. The chaplain brought in a portable organ on a jeep. Very good sermon. Strictly G.I. of course. ...That sure was a good picture of Butch. Would have been a good one of you if the shadows of the leaves hadn’t been on your face. Tommy said he wished to hell you’d send a picture so he could see your face for a change. We flew in formation for this group that’s been down in the China-Burma-India theater and the S&S photographer took the picture - hence the clipping. No extra charge for the mud on the other side.

Italy, August 17, 1944 ...Well honey, this one was a pushover, much to everybody’s surprise. All our ships came back. There sure was a lot of peculiar things about this one. I’ll tell you sometime. We were sweating this one out more than Normandy. When we went in again that afternoon a B-25 flew alongside us all the way in to the drop making movies. If you ever see a C-47 with a big “90” on the nose just behind the pilot’s window, in the newsreels, let me know. Tell {Butch} he won’t grow up to be a fireball truck driver like his pappy if he don’t eat his spinach. No doubt there’s a lot more in the papers & over the radio that won’t be in these papers I’m sending, but here they are.

Italy, Saturday Aug. 19, 1944 ...C.O.‘s name is L. L. Ferguson recently made major. I know all about those Jerry booby traps. We play with them in our spare time. ...Sully won that money he sent Edna in a crap game and you know gambling was never one of my (few) vices. No, we were not in France very long. That wasn’t the reason we didn’t get our leave. The reason is we came to Italy to pull this other job. When we got back from France the other morning, we had fresh eggs for breakfast, watermelon for lunch and last night they gave us a barbecue with American beer. How do you like that! ..I’ll kind of hate to go back to England. Champagne is only $2.60 a quart here. Some of these characters stay crocked on the stuff day in & day out. ...Well, I guess the next place we go there’ll be lots of fish heads. I sure hate to think about that place.

(1) “The final briefing for Operation Dragoon was held on the afternoon of 14 August 1944. It was a hot afternoon and most of the men showed up in shorts and tee shirts. It was a casual briefing in a way. The course it was given: fly out from Italy to Corsica, then northeast to Le Muy and France. ...A total of between 900 and 1000 C-47’s were committed for the invasion of Southern France. All groups would converge on the northern tip of Corsica which would serve as the Command marshalling point and split second timing must be observed. As the let-down was begun and the French coast neared, all aboard the 437th ships could see that the weather officer had called the turn correctly. Fog wrapped the coast in its ghostly hands. In spots the fog was lit up with reddish, flickering glare, as fires started by naval craft burned fiercely. A sergeant, standing between the pilot and co-pilot of a C-47 shook his head slowly and muttered to himself, “”I’ll bet that’s what Hell looks like””. But something was lacking. Not a single tracer bullet cut the sky. Not a single burst of ominous flak could be seen exploding in the path of the unarmed C-47s. What in hell was going on down there? Had the Germans pulled out, lock, stock and barrel, or was this just another Kraut trick? Were they just sitting back waiting for the sky-train to hit the beach? Those Krauts think of everything, the men thought. Maybe they had learned something from Normandy. As each ship disgorged its stick and released its parapack bundles, the pilot pulled sharply to the right and then turned back on the outbound course, picking up altitude as he flew. Not a single anti-aircraft gun had been fired on this initial drop, to the amazement and obvious delight of the 437th crews. This time no 437th ships limped home on single engine. [after landing, re-fueling and re-loading they headed right back out to the same area]. Flying in and out of this great formation were the “little friends”, the fighters seeking out the enemy on the ground and in the air. Above the C-47s soared the “big friends”, the bombers on their way inland to lay their eggs on strategic German targets. The drop was made and the 437th made their turn to the right. As they climbed to the 3000’ altitude they were confronted with a column of inbound planes which had failed to let down to the proper altitude. A rat race of great proportions immediately began. Planes jerked to the right and left as pilots fought for position. Through some miracle, the entire situation was finally solved without a single mid-air collision. Life was anything but tedious in Troop Carrier Command. The 437th ships returned to the base in Italy and remained under an alert for the following week. However, no further flights into Le Muy were made as the sea-borne troops had linked with the airborne.”

The Group flew a practice day mission and one night mission with our paratroopers. August 14, 1944 we were briefed for our mission (Operation “Dragoon” August 15th Le Muy, France) Southern France. Our route was from our field in Italy by way of Corsica to Lemuy, France then to the drop zone. It was {a} beautiful sunny day with little or no ground fire from the Germans. We were carrying a normal stick of 18 paratroopers with six par-racks. I had one young paratrooper who had refused to jump with the rest of his troopers. As I did not see any evidence of any Germans or gun fire, I went back in the cabin and told him I would pull out of the formation and fly back over the drop zone and slow the airplane down real slow, making it real easy for him to jump out and join up with the rest of his troopers. I left the formation and flying back across a ridge of hills getting back to the drop zone, a German started shooting at us with a machine gun. We were not hit and the young man would still not jump, so I had to take him back to the field. As I knew the Airborne had a procedure, when a paratrooper refused to jump into combat, they pull their pant legs out of their jump boots, signifying they are no longer a paratrooper and they are sent to the front line of combat to fight with the infantry. This is what happened to this young man.

Troop Carrier’s in the invasion of Southern France was over and the 437th T.C. Group departed Italy August 23, 1944 with approximately 49 C-47’s and crews for return to our permanent station at Ramsbury, England by way of Gibraltar. We remained overnight on the “Rock of Gibraltar” airfield. I departed Gibraltar at 9:00 hours (AM) August 24, 1944 with my flight of 3 C-47’s with about 15 minute separation from the other flights in the 437th Group with destination Ramsbury. Our flight was to be out over the Atlantic because Spain was a neutral country and the coast of Southern France was still occupied by a pocket of Germans. It was our normal procedure to climb to assigned altitude (for this flight it was 8000 ft MSL) and check our fuel consumption for one hour and then switch to the cabin auxiliary tanks (400 gal) and check for proper feeding. These checks were normal, so we relaxed for a boring eight-hour flight to England. Our assigned altitude put us above an overcast of clouds, so there were no sights to enjoy other than the clouds. After about 3 1/2 hours of flight, my crew chief, Sgt. Mitchell advised me that the cabin auxiliary tanks were near empty and I could switch over to the main wing fuel tanks. This got my attention, normally the two cabin tanks would provide fuel over four hours at cruise altitude. I began checking my fuel consumption every thirty minutes. At the midway point of our flight plan off the coast of Spain, my fuel consumption was in excess of normal operation and I was either burning excess by the left engine or loosing fuel from the left fuel tank. Crew Chief and his assistants Sgt. Lusardi pulled up the cabin floor panels to see if they could detect any fuel leaking from the cross-feed valve, fuel lines, etc. I then asked my wingmen Lt. Norman Briggs and Lt. Melvin Fredette to pull in close and check me over for any fuel vapor trails. We were not able to resolve where or how we were losing fuel. At this point of our planned flight and based on our present fuel consumption, it appeared that we could probably make it to the known airfield St. Mawgan, England just beyond Lands End. Being interned in Spain for the duration of the War was out of the question and over flying France’s west coast line an uncertainty, so about the only choice I had as to go for England.

As our flight progressed it was obvious that our fuel consumption was progressively becoming greater. We had given some thought of shutting down the left engine, however, power setting required for single engine operation would utilize as much fuel as two engines throttled back to minimum cruise power setting.

When we approached the Isles of Sicily, we were still above a solid overcast. I decided there was a good chance we were going to have to ditch or crash land prior to reaching a surfaced airport and in either case I needed to establish visual contact with either the sea or land prior to engine failure. I had kept my wingmen appraised of my fuel situation and my intention of penetrating the overcast. I think I suggested that they continue on and not try to penetrate the clouds with me, not knowing what the ceiling would be. They elected to stay with me to about 500 ft MSL. I began my penetration shortly after passing over the Isles of Sicily. We had received a weather observation that Isles of Sicily had low ceiling and poor visibility. At 1900 ft we broke out in a beautiful large hole in the clouds with bright sunshine. I looked straight ahead and there was the most southwestern tip of England called Lands End and off to my left at 11:00 O’clock position were two British Mine sweepers, my fuel gauges were indicating less than 20 gallons. I felt the OLE Man above was really looking over my shoulder again, except he was not doing much for my fuel situation. I continued straight ahead towards Lands End and level off at 1500 MSL

About two miles from land fall, I turned left to parallel the coast line and hoped my fuel might last long enough to make St. Mawgan or a suitable landing strip. I had just completed my turn to parallel the rugged coastline when my fuel pressure started going down. When the engines quit, I remember Sgt. Mitchell who had been pumping the wobble pump trying to get the last drop of fuel to those engines saying “”That’s all Sir, there ain’t no more”” as he departed the cockpit for his ditching position. So ditching became a reality. I started recalling all our training and briefings on ditching procedures: 1- Land parallel to the waves and in the trough of the swell between the waves; 2- When crash-landing, pilot should feather the props (less resistance and increased glide).

I remember looking at those waves and they were definitely visible by the white caps, and I thought to myself, how in the h_ _ _ am I going to know where that swell is going to be when I touch down with dead engines. I then remember somewhere, either reading or was told when in doubt, land at 45 degrees into the wind. This I did, and it worked out that I was parallel with the waves and did touch down almost in the center of a swell between waves. Then I had thought about feathering the props, my rationale was that I am not accustomed to landing this aircraft with feathered props and I felt this could cause me to misjudge in flaring out or round out for landing and trying to stall (loss of flying speed) the aircraft at point of contact with the water. Rightfully or wrongfully, I made the decision not to feather the props. We had everyone put on Mae West (Life Vest) and take their ditching positions and we proceeded to ditch !

I had attempted to glide the aircraft at speed just slightly above stall speed all the way down to the water. As we were about to make contact with the sea, I remember Lt. Patterson, my co-pilot, also grabbed the controls and pulled, bringing the control yoke (stick) all the way back into our laps at which time the aircraft stalled and contacted the water simultaneously, resulting in a perfect touch down as far as ditching an aircraft. Normally you can expect at least one or two skips (bounces) if contact with the water is made at a speed above stall speed. Due to props windmilling and not feathered, the left engine was torn off from the wing engine mount and the right engine was just hanging.

The top escape hatch above the pilot and co-pilot had been jettisoned prior to ditching in accordance with ditching crash procedures. I remember that upon making contact with the sea, the water blocked our vision through the windscreen (Windshield) and it came up and spilled into the cockpit through the escape hatch above the cockpit. The co-pilot and I had chest type crash belts in addition to our normal safety seat belts fastened and cinched tight. I remember my head slightly bumping the windscreen on impact with the sea, knocking off my prized “50 Missions Crush Hat”, and I was unable to recover that hat. (Note; This hat was specially different from other officer’s and they used to hide it and I would get fighting mad.) Ha!

Evacuation of the ditched aircraft proceeded with pilot, co-pilot, and crew chief exiting through the top escape hatch. Remaining crew and passengers were to exit by rear cargo door. There were two 5-man life rafts (rubber dinghies aboard each aircraft and fastened to the inside of the (2) double cargo doors). These emergency rubber dinghies with emergency radios were designed to be jettisoned into the sea with a lanyard secured to the aircraft. When ready to inflate the rubber dinghie you yank/pull/jerk the lanyard and this would discharge the CO2 cylinder inflating the dinghie. When our crew attempted to inflate the first dinghy, the lanyard broke, permitting the un-inflated dinghy to start floating away from the aircraft. At this time co-pilot and crew were standing on the left wing of the aircraft, which was floating nicely above the surface of the sea. I instructed those in the rear of the aircraft to get the second 5-man raft/dinghy and it did inflate as designed. I had two men who couldn’t swim; one was my crew chief, Sgt. Mitchell with me on the wing. The other was Sgt. Lusardi and I asked that he be one of the first to get in the remaining dinghy. The co-pilot, Lt. Patterson, seeing the first dinghy floating away, and being a healthy robust athletically inclined young man, also a good swimmer went running out the wing, did a neat jack knife from the wingtip into the sea to save and retrieve the dinghy. While airborne in his dive very expertly he pulled the CO2’s cylinder’s lanyard inflating his life vest When he surfaced, he had a painful and desperate look on his face, was struggling, asking for help. My first thought, “”My God, must be sharks”” , then I could see his legs appear to be free, I then thought it must be cramps from the cold water which I had remembered from some previous survival training. I selfishly thought that if that cold water has over come him, as healthy and with the athletic abilities he has, I, with my 5ft 5in, 130 pound body, really have no business jumping in trying to save him. Note: We later discovered that Lt. Patterson had put his life vest on backwards with the strap that wraps around the torso on the out side of the vest instead of being inside next to his body. When he discharged the CO2 cylinders inflating the vest, the strap being on the outside caused the inflation to press inward, squeezing his chest and stomach and restricting his ability to breathe.

The personnel in the rear of the aircraft had launched the second 5-man raft and were in the process of trying to get the raft over to assist Lt. Patterson when I became aware that the mine sweepers had launched two row boats for our pick up.

While this charade was going on, wing men Lt. Briggs and Lt. Fredette the other 2 C-47’s were flying over the British Mine Sweepers to be sure they had seen our down{ed} aircraft.

As soon as Radio Operator Sgt. Schwartz who was still in the cargo door of the airplane saw the approaching sea boats jumped into the water and swam breaststroke style toward one of the boats. He was a young obese man weighing approximately 300 lbs. and I remember thinking he looked like a walrus going through that water. At the time, my crew chief and I were picked up from the aircraft wing we were standing in water up to our knees. I do remember I was facing a decision as to when I was going to have to depart the ditched aircraft with my crew chief that couldn’t swim. I was aware if and when the aircraft did sink there would be suction created, which would probably pull us down with it, if we were still on the aircraft. The rescue boats picking us up prevented us from this struggle. Rescue by the British Minesweeper HM Willow and British Minesweeper HM Sycamore of 8 Americans was completed.

England, August 29, 1944 ...We’ve been back several days, but we no sooner hit here than we started right out very busy. It’s been that way since. Weather or no weather. They need lots of stuff in France. Everybody’s kinda down in the mouth lately. We’ve lost some darn good boys. Seems like those things come in spurts. When one happens, there’s three or four more just as sure as the sun goes down. Almost lost Tommy & his crew. Coming up from Italy, he and Patterson ran out of gas in a storm over the ocean. They cracked up in the water but everybody managed to get out just before she sank. We called the British navy and they picked them up pretty quick. They lost everything they owned except what they had on their backs & in their pockets. Tommie is wearing my clothes & everybody else’s that fit until he can get some more. I forgot to tell you - we also got a citation by Roosevelt for the first D-Day, also an oak leaf cluster to the air medal for the last little job. If I live long enough I’ll look like a Christmas tree when I get home. Now, when my foot locker comes home, don’t get all excited and think that I’m coming home soon, for just the opposite will be true. I’m just as disappointed as you are. In fact I was counting on it after our last big job but looks like somebody had other ideas. Guess I won’t be there now until the last shot is fired. Everybody is pretty disappointed about it, but we’ll just have to make the best of it I guess. Gotta knock off for now, business is picking up.

The personnel from the British ships were very professional and extremely kind and courteous. I and Lt. Patterson and T/Sgt. Mitchell were taken aboard the ship HM Willow and given some dry clothes and a glass of Scotch. I remember an officer of the Willow coming down from the deck and asking me if I wished to sink my aircraft as it was still afloat. Sympathy for my personally assigned aircraft compelled me to respond foolishly by asking if it could be towed ashore. The officer very patiently explained the rules of the sea and their instructions to sink any floating object that might jeopardize the Sea’s shipping lanes. It was only a few minutes later an Officer of the ship came down and informed me that my aircraft “Terrier of the Ozarks” {methinks it should’ve been Terror of the Ozarks?} had sank., which was about 35 minutes after ditching. We were so fortunate to have been close to the HM Willow and Sycamore. No doubt there would have been life lost if it had not been for the timely rescue by the British ships.

We were put ashore at St. Ives and I remember there were children 10 - 15 years of age playing along the beach in swimming suits and their legs and arms were blue with goose pimples. I thought, it may be August, but that water was too cold for me to enjoy and I didn’t understand how those children were able to do it. I don’t remember how we got back to our home base Ramsbury; I presume some one from our Group picked us up. The following month I came down with Malaria Fever, contracted while in Italy - it put me in the hospital about thirty days. My stay in actual hospital was only about 7 days, but they sent me to recuperation hospital for about thirty days before I could talk the power-to-be into letting me go back to my own unit, the 437th T.C. GP as I was being assigned to a pilot pool. Eventually, I arrived back to my 85th TC Squadron about first of October 1944. By this time the 437th Group had participated in some more combat parachute drops in Holland during my stay in the hospital, also the Allied Army’s had broken out of the invasion pockets and had started moving across France and pushing the Germans back.

England, Sept. 6, 1944 ...Someday remind me to tell you how your ideal “Blood & Guts” - saved my neck. As far as I’m concerned from now on it’s “Patton for President”. Tommie didn’t go with us. He’s in the hospital with a dose of malaria he picked up in Italy. Guess he’ll be coming home a long time before I will now. Doubt very much they’ll send him to a malaria country and him with it already. This thing’s not over here by a long shot yet. People in the States make me sick. They think it’s over, or act like it anyway. They handed out our leave orders the 30th of August. That night Tommie got sick and I waited a couple of days to see if he would get to feeling good enough to go with me. When it developed that he had malaria the C.O. told me I’d better go ahead and take my leave anyway or I might not get it. I went to headquarters to sign out and they told me all leaves and passes had been cancelled 20 minutes before. Two hours later we were on our way to parts unknown. We’re not back yet.

{somewhere in between these 2 letters he got some time off}

England, September 16, 1944 ...Just got back from my leave. Been down on the south coast fishing and living like a civilian. Sure enjoyed it. It was beautiful most of the time. When I got back I found out Tommy is out of the hospital and has been sent to a convalescent camp for 30 days. I went to see him in the hospital at the first of my leave and he looked & felt a lot better than when they took him away. People in the States sure make me sick with all their optimism. This thing is not over here by a long shot. There’ll be one helluva lot of Yanks & Tommie boys killed before this is over. What America needs is a few cities bombed & rocket bombed & shelled. The more I see & hear the more I admire the British civilian population. ...Guess Sully & Edna are quite happy. But if the truth is known I bet he’s dying to get back in it by now. The more you get into it the more you want to go back. Just like liquor or drugs or something.

England, Friday Sept. 22, 1944 ...I’m not trying to scare you or anything, but I’ve been through the valley of the shadow more than once these few days that seem like weeks. We really caught hell. That’s about all I can tell you. The radio and papers are sure a bunch of big liars. I’m afraid this is only the beginning. Ole ’Massa just didn’t see fit for me to check out yet, that’s all.

(1)“The first daylight jump of the 101st Airborne Division took place on September 17, 1944, a little more than two months after the Normandy landing. We in the Division called it a “Parade Ground” jump because of it’s perfection. It was the best that the Division had ever made in combat or in training. Much of the credit for the success of the operation has to go to that old workhorse, the C-47. Only three of the 428 planes involved failed to reach the drop zones. Generally, the story was the same for the plane throughout all campaigns. The troopers liked it and the men who flew it.”

- General Maxwell D. Taylor

The invasion of Holland, Operation “Market Garden” Sept. 17th, 1944 was a black Sunday for Troop Carrier. Total of 450 C-47’s dropped paratroopers. The 437th towed gliders to Holland with elements of the 101st Airborne Division. Of the 70 gliders leaving Ramsbury on this flight, only 57 landed without an accident on the landing zone (LZ). The 437th lost more Aircrews and Aircraft than all the other combat missions combined. 5 airplanes and aircrews.

(1) “It is the morning of the 17th of September, 1944 and Edward R. Murrow, top newscaster of Columbia Broadcasting System is riding in a Troop Carrier plane which has just made landfall on the Belgium coast. It is a Sunday, and England lay under a soft autumnal sun when the Troop Carrier ship became airborne from its home field in Wiltshire County.” This is how the aerial invasion of Holland looked to Ed Murrow. These are excerpts of the words that he broadcast to the listening millions back in the States as the ship in which he rode steadily held course for Eindhoven and the drop. You’ll have heard that the Allies today made a great airborne landing in Holland. It was the greatest operation of its kind in the history of warfare. Early this morning, the paratroopers, laden down with equipment, walked out across a green field and climbed into the C-47s. After we took off we seemed to gather more ships as we passed over a series of airfields and the pilot said, “”We’re gathering in all the little chickens before we cross the big water””. The paratroopers sat relaxed, two of them were asleep. The doors of the rear of the plane had been removed, all the belts and hinges had been covered with tape to prevent the parachute harness from fouling. The big fellow near the door looked down and said, “”Look at them land girls down there, picking potatoes””. The men were completely relaxed. Now we are over Holland and I’m going to move forward, up to the pilot’s compartment, and I’ve got my parachute harness hung on the door. We’re flying over country that has been inundated....... The skipper is sitting there very calmly, flying with one hand. There is no traffic on this one way railroad, which stands well above the water. It seems to be built along the top of a dyke. This country-side below looks like the area around the Mississippi during the flood time except that all the houses seem to be covered with red tile - The spire of a magnificent old Dutch church rises clear above the little houses that surround it. One barge in a canal, but completely deserted - The country is desolate - It isn’t possible that people are living down there, because in most cases the water is right up to the eaves. I’m standing here, looking down the length of the ship now. The crew chief is on his knees in the very rear, talking into his intercom---- They’re looking out the window now rather curiously, almost as if they were passengers on a peacetime airliner. You occasionally see a man rub the palm of his hand over his trousers leg. There seems to be a sort of film over some of the faces, as though they were just on the verge of perspiring, but they aren’t----- The pilot of this plane has just said, “”Jerry musn’t live here anymore. He isn’t shooting at us””. We’ve been flying straight into Holland for about twenty minutes, so far without opposition. Our fighters are down, just about nosing the hedgerows, searching the little villages, and are up above us and on both sides. This is the real meaning of airpower. I look back at the door and the pilot gives me the clenched hand salute, like a boxer --- The ships ahead of us are still going on. There’s a burst of flak ! In France 1944..possibly the Officers Club...A2 Jackets went missing around this time.

By September the Germans were on the run across the whole of France and Belgium. Aachen lay within range of American artillery and the gates of Nancy, were soon open to American liberators. To the north of Nancy, the British Second Army had established one bridge-head on the Dutch frontier. The British had no doubts as to their ability to take Holland from the Germans, their fears were based upon the fact that Germans could put up a delay of attrition, while they prepared a permanent line of defense along the German frontier. The strategy put into use will be the matter of debate, pro and con, as long as the campaigns of the Second World War are discussed. The campaign did not succeed for the Rhine was not breached.

The reasons for the employment of an airborne attack were mainly these: Germany must be invaded from the north because the terrain in that section of the country was more suitable for an invasion than that which confronted the American Armies in the other battle areas. And from the north, the munitions centers, the mines and factories and all of the industrial wealth of the Ruhr could more quickly be reached.

The Allied Airborne Army had only recently been formed and a mission such as was now contemplated was exactly cut for an army of this nature. General Montgomery, Commander of all British troops in Europe, insisted that the airborne must be used at its full strength in the operation.

The plan for the airborne was this: seize the bridges and towns that lay along the road, hold them until ground reinforcements could be sent in to link with them and then continue on either with the British or remain as rear guards against possible enemy counter attacks. The holding of the corridor was the key to the operation, once the road was cut by Germans, the surprise element of the attack would be lost.

At the same time that the Airborne would be landing at Zon and Eindhoven, and the British at Arnhem, the British XXX Corps was to strike out from its bridge-head on the Dutch frontier and move northward along the corridor, the way being led by units of the Guards Armored Division. It was realized by all involved, that the British must reach Arnhem by D plus two. It would be impossible for airborne troops to hold out longer than that period of time.

...Back at Ramsbury, the planes were overhauled and gliders were checked as time for the mission grew near.

On the 12th of September, units of the 101st Airborne division moved from their base near Hungerford and established a bivouac at Ramsbury. Their presence dampened the hopes of even the most optimistic. True, three missions had been set up within the past three weeks and three missions had been scrubbed but luck of this kind could not be expected to last indefinitely.

The first briefing was held in the group briefing room on September 15 and the details of the mission were explained. This was to be a daylight mission and this time there would be no co-pilots in the gliders, only one glider pilot to the glider. Glider pilot replacements were being rushed from the States via air transport but it was feared that they would not arrive in time to participate in the mission.

This is the way that Troop Carrier fields were employed for Operation MARKET - GARDEN---the invasion of Holland.

For the D-Day, September 17th paratroop drops, ninety C-47s left Aldermaston, ninety C-47s left from Chilbolten of unhallowed memory, ninety aircraft each from Membury, Welford Park and Greenham Common, all carrying paratrooper personnel, a total of four hundred fifty C-47s being used for the parachute companies.

On D-Day, all glider flights left from Ramsbury, home of the 437th Group, and seventy C-47s and seventy CG-4As were flown away. In this lift, elements of the 101st Airborne division were carried to Holland. Of the seventy gliders that left Ramsbury on this first flight, fifty three landed without accident on the LZ. Three more crashed on or near the LZ. Two were dropped in England, one was lost in the Channel and nine came down in other places on the Continent, seven behind enemy lines and two in friendly territory.

This was said to be the blackest day in the life of the 437th. The Group rocked under the shock of its casualties. Lt. Colonel Ralph Lear, Commanding Officer of the 86th, Gifford of the 84th, Yeager of the 85th. Shuffelberger, one of the original glider pilots, Dedloff, Burke, Bill Williams, the list continued to mount. Captain Hutchinson of the 83rd was badly wounded and spent over a month in a hospital recovering. Hutchinson of the 83rd was badly wounded and spent over a month in a hospital recovering from a severe wound.

The planes that were returned were damaged and the engineering crews worked on the double to return them to flying shape. It was Sunday on the calendar but it was a day of hell in the air and on the ground of Holland. All the squadrons were in mourning for their dead but the next flights must go as scheduled. The war went on. All have memories of that black Sunday.

Frank Wagoner of the 83rd remembers Lt. Charles W. Gilmore, one of his original wingmen. Charley was a family man, he had a wife and children back in the States. He was one of those men who loved to collect souveniers for his wife and children for the day when he would return home. Now Charley was gone and the little souvenirs would be shipped back by the Quartermaster. It didn’t seem right.

Joe Antrim will never forget the flak over Eindhoven. On his return from the flight into Holland he wrote the following entry in his diary:

““Today we had another taste of combat. This time it was a mouthful instead of just a taste. We have lost today more ships than we have lost on all other combat flights we have flown put together. The 85th lost Yeager and Wegmen and maybe Blumberg. Some chutes were seen to open after the plane was struck by flak but not enough to account for the entire crew. The ship was seen on fire, Erbeck snapped several pictures of it from his wing position, after a heavy flak burst. Three chutes were seen to open, one failed to open and the ship hit the ground and exploded. It is presumed that Yeager rode it down and was killed in the crash. As yet no definite news though. We took off at 1100 hours this morning with single tow CG-4As. We had some difficulty in assembling on account of low clouds. Forty-five minutes out on course, the first bad luck hit us though we had already lost several gliders off tow over England. I was watching a glider when suddenly it lost its tail. I grabbed my binoculars and watched what followed. First the glider looped, then it flew upside upside down and then and then split S out and crashed into the ground. Of course, all the poor devils aboard were killed instantly. This seemed such a needless tragedy and what an awful last moment all of them must have gone through. The return trip was uneventful. Upon landing at Ramsbury, we heard that eight of our ships are missing, six being seen to crash and burn. Capt. Hutchinson, we just learned, is in a Belgium hospital after having crash landed his ship. Intelligence says that the 53rd Wing has lost a total of 29 ships today, practically two squadrons. This has been the worst day in the history of the group.””

England Sunday Oct. 1 ...I know you were kidding when you asked if I were in Holland. You know damn well I never miss an invasion. I was lucky to get through that one though. Not over yet. Sure gives you a funny feeling when some grown man wakes up in the middle of the night screaming “OH MY GOD, GET ME OUT”. It’s just bad dreams a lot of us have been having. Tommie sure was lucky to have malaria. He was in the hospital all during this last mess (and still is for that matter) and while laying up there on his fat little fanny, not even thinking about flak or fighters or tracers, he gets his Captaincy. How do you like that? I’m glad he got it. He’s a good boy. When I see him, I’m going to pop to attention, toss him a big highball salute and “sir” the hell out of him. He’ll beat me to death!

“HOW C-47s SUPPLY GIs CUT OFF IN BELGIUM” reads the headline in a Stars and Stripes article written by Richard Wilbur, Stars and Stripes Staff Writer:

WITH THE 437TH TROOP CARRIER GROUP, “”Over Drop Zone in Belgium,

Dec. 24th {delayed by censor} - Christmas bundles from scores of C-47 troop carrier planes have just plunged down by green, yellow and red parachutes and landed near a snow-covered field, marked by colored smudges from smoke pots to re-supply an American unit surrounded by German forces below in the Bastogne area. G.I.s are streaking across the snow, and from this plane, 500 feet above ground, we can see them collect the bundles - tons of ammunition, K-Rations and medical supplies - the kind of Christmas present the German-encircled G.I.s really wanted. (C-47s of Ninth Troop Carrier Command, taking off from England again yesterday, dropped more supplies to trapped American soldiers in the Bastogne area. In four days - Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday and yesterday - C-47s have flown many sorties to re-supply the encircled ground troops with tons of 105-mm shells, small arms ammunition, .30-cal. machine-guns, K-Rations and medical supplies.) This is the second consecutive day that the unarmed troop carriers have roared across from England, sped deep into France, and, with fighter support above, made the final run through flak concentrations in Belgium to drop parabundles for the ground men, cut off from the American lines by von Rundstedt’s breakthrough for more than a week. The C-47 I traveled in, piloted by Maj. Thomas Ricketts, Jr., of Richmond VA., was flying so smoothly that it was possible to typewrite in the long cabin where four door loads, each filled with 250 pounds of .30-cal. ammunition, were ready to be dropped. A gale of winter wind blew into the ship as Cpl. Kenneth Cade, of Kansas City, Kan., crew chief, opened the cargo door near the drop zone so that the door bundles could be shoved out, at the same time that six parapacks, each loaded with 300 pounds of 75-mm ammunition, slung under the ship in special racks, could be released. The aerial supply missions for the soldiers trapped in Belgium - first combat job given Troop Carrier Command since the airborne landings in Holland - were planned as soon the Germans broke through the First Army sector, but bad weather grounded the C-47s until yesterday. Lt. Colonel Joel L. Crouch, of Riverside, Cal., opened the aerial supply operation, without fighter escort, by landing paratroopers to direct other troop carrier planes to the drop zone.””

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England, Saturday Oct. 7, 1944 ...Captain Tommy is out of the hospital and back with us now, but can’t fly yet. You’re wrong if you think it was bad luck for him to have malaria. He was lucky to miss about a week of pure unadulterated hell. They’re not sending him home. They need him too bad. The only Dutch gals I saw were under me and I think every damn one of them were shooting at me. That’s all I know about Dutch girls. I’ll send you a few clippings that I found time to save about Holland. Every time I write that word I get the shakes. No doubt someday they will release the gruesome details to the papers. We stopped the war long enough yesterday for Gen. Williams to make a formal presentation of the air medal.

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England, Monday Nite Oct. 10, 1944 ...Signs of winter are beginning to show up here now. The leaves are falling, the grass is beginning to turn and it gets dark earlier now. Now is the time of year I need to be home. Fall, to me, is the most beautiful of the seasons {gives me some insight as I feel the same way...genes?? ..whatever, it’s true}. I wonder if I’ll get home. Things don’t look so good to me. Sometimes I think I am losing my mind. I’d like to be home to see you & Butch & Mom & Dad and Bob & Ann, eat decent meals again, go to church and listen to organ music on Sunday and sleep by the fire & listen to the New York Symphony Orchestra, read the funny papers, eat a cold snack standing up in the kitchen and a thousand other things that have nothing to do with airplanes or flying or flak or guns or dead people or sending guy’s clothes home or anything else I’d like never to think about again. I’m so sick of this mess I could cry. This thing might last a hundred years.

England, Thursday Night Oct.19, 1944 ...Been doing the same thing and lots of it, but right now I’m holding down a desk job for a while. Guess they thought I was getting flak happy or I was losing my mind or something - WELL?-

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England, Sunday Oct. 22, 1944 ...Sending some clippings home about Holland. It said it was the “roughest mission the Transport Command had ever flown” - can you beat that? The Transport Command !!! - why those 4-f so & you know what’s never saw or heard a shot in their life ! That burns me up. The roughest mission they ever flew was the champagne run from Paris to London on a clear day and I can beat hell out of any one of them that says it isn’t so ! The Transport Command...they must have it rough.

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{The next “items” are letters written to Stars and Stripes in response to articles written by their reporters concerning “Transport Command” versus “Troop Carrier Command, and the Troop Carrier boys were none too happy about the mistake}. “France.

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Horrible Mistake is the heading of the first letter that read: “”In the October 22 issue you have an article ‘Glider Trip to Holland’ by Pfc. George Groh. This able correspondent made the long glider ride into Holland with one of our Troop Carrier outfits in order to write the story of such a ride. His story was interesting and well written - up to one horrible, hair-raising point. He referred to Troop Carrier Command as Transport Command! If you want to see a Troop Carrier pilot go raving wild, just credit Air Transport Command or Air Transport Groups of Air Service Command with the work of Troop Carrier Command. Of the three, only one flies combat missions. Please get it straight, gentlemen, the outfit in this army that carries paratroopers and tows gliders into combat is Troop Carrier Command.

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Lt. J.H. McMillan, A.C. Britain Dear Yank, in your article ’Glider Trip to Holland’ (Oct. 22 issue) this sentence appears, “A glider pilot told me that all in all it was the roughest mission the Transport Command ever flew”. I don’t want to become a griper about my unit not receiving credit, but too often we of the Troop Carrier Command are called Air Transport. So may I raise my feeblest protest? If there were any units of ATC towing gliders into Holland, I, for one did not see them.”” Troop Carrier Pilot”

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England Oct. 31, 1944 ...Here’s a picture of Tommie and his crew and me and mine. As fast as I get a good co-pilot and he learns the ropes, they make him a first pilot & give me another greenhorn. They all become pretty good pilots in time. Don’t mention these pictures to Marty {Tommie’s wife}. Tommie hasn’t gotten his yet, and besides, I kinda swiped this one of him.

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October {1944} through January 1945 our missions became fairly routine evacuation and hauling all kinds of supplies, one time I remember hauling sacks of coal to Paris, France. As the winter months approached our greatest enemy was the weather. It seemed if the weather was clear or good in England, it would be bad on the continent visa versa. We carried K-Rations (food) and bed rolls on the aircraft with us, as we never knew when we would have to sleep on the aircraft, not being able to return to our home base or just have to land at some unknown base and wait for the weather to clear.

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One morning in November 1944 along with other pilots I was called out of our barracks to report to Squadron Operations. I put my flying clothes on over my pajamas, no breakfast and reported to Operations to find out I had been designated to take 9 C-47’s loaded with ammunition mostly .30 caliber to the Fighting Free French which were holding a pocket of land on the French West Coast occupied by a German Army. We arrived at the French Airfield about mid day. There was a lady Tower Controller giving us landing and taxi instructions. This was quite a novelty to have a lady Tower Operator and naturally we all thought she had a sexy voice. (Could be the French accent). The French personnel greeted us with open arms. They took us to a dining hall for a noon meal. The food was highly seasoned and delicious with a bottle of wine. Being hungry and thirsty this was a real treat. When my wine bottle was empty, it was immediately replaced with a full bottle. (I learned later that this is a custom of the French, never leave an empty bottle on the table). Knowing good and well I should not drink any more wine, but it was too good to give one of the non-pilot crew and I didn’t want to take a chance of offending our French hosts, so I drank the second bottle. Needless to say when I went back to the airplane to fly back to England, I was feeling no pain. We all returned to our aircraft and taxied out for take-off with some excess conversation with the lady Tower Operator. I took off leading 9 C-47’s, making a 180 degree turn, allowing all 9 aircraft to form up in a tight formation what we call a V of V’s (3 aircraft in each V) and led them back across the airfield doing a real good buzz job of the field. Pulled up climbing back to altitude heading back to England, I thought to myself ‘Thompson that was not very smart you could have been pushing some one beyond their pilot capabilities and got some one hurt’.

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England Nov. 9, 1944 ...looks like you’d give up on the idea of me being home for Christmas - I have. We know we’re not coming home till the last shot is fired. Yes, I could tell you all about what happened to Fritz and Yeager too, but they’d hang me to a high tree if I did. Jean and Ruth will find out when the War Dept. sees fit. I guess they know by now - at least they know the main facts. They won’t get the details. I saw the whole thing but I can’t tell it. Don’t you worry about it. Sully hasn’t written since he left here. I’m glad he’s got a deal like that. He’s done his share over here. Yes, I see Duhaime & Ecksblad every day. Ernie is in my flight and lives in the other end of my barracks. Their kids aren’t nearly as cute as Butch. The C.O.’s is about the ugliest and Tommie’s next. Joey is so ugly he’s cute. Everybody says Butch is a good looking baby. The first thing we heard when we landed today was that we still had the same President. That sure makes a helluva lot of difference to me now doesn’t it. I don’t give a damn who’s President, I just want to come home. The time before this we were in France the weather was too bad for flying so we borrowed some Kraut motorcycles and went touring. Saw the cathedral at Reims and some of the surrounding towns. Bought up a bunch of champagne. $2.00 a quart. Tastes like soda pop - but oh brother - just get up from the table and try to walk away. You’ve had it! I was afraid to take a drink of water for two days for fear of getting tight again.

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(1) Ed Erbeck was flying off Captain Yeager’s right wing on the flight into Holland. The planes droned along, holding formation until the sky became marked with the exploding puffs of flak. Then, before Erbeck’s horrified eyes, Yeager’s plane began to burn. A solid sheet of white flame formed under the right wing of the doomed craft. The glider being pulled by Captain Yeager immediately came off the tow and pulled off in a steep bank seeking the safety of the earth below. As Ed Erbeck and his crew watched, two figures were observed to come out through the pilot’s escape hatch, and then another dropped out the tail door. Erbeck picked up his camera which was laying in his lap and took four quick shots of the burning craft. And then it slowly peeled off and plunged toward the soil in Holland, Captain Yeager still at the controls. Lt. Blumberg, a replacement who had only been with the 85th since D-Day was one of the crew who escaped through the pilot’s hatch. As the wind blew him back, he was struck by the tail surface of the plane and the observers in Erbeck’s plane thought that surely he was a goner but fortunately Blumberg’s chute opened and he reached the ground safely, though badly battered and bruised. Eventually, he was returned to the States. So, passed one of the flight leaders of the 85th Squadron, Captain William Yeager.

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One remembers the humorous or unusual incidents. Flying re-supply was pretty interesting as they were generally behind our front lines of combat. Early summer 1944 the Germans were retreating, so some of the re-supply missions were fun. Probably part of the attitude could be contributed to having survived “D” Day and a few other combat missions. One day on our way into Germany, I noticed a farmer harrowing his field with a team of horses. I flew over pretty low, followed by several other planes from my Squadron. On the return trip, I decided I would give this farmer a real buzz job. As I approached him and his team of horses about thirty feet above the ground, I observed him reach down and pick up a clod of dirt and he threw it up in front of my airplane. I escaped unharmed, but I learned not to do that anymore. He showed me. One day my flight went into a field near Leige, a railroad center, frequently bombed by the German Buzz Bombs, to pick up wounded soldiers. One of my wingmen Lt. Fredette was on final approach to landing when one of these Buzz Bombs landed and exploded underneath him. The concussion from the bomb caused him and his aircraft to ascend about 50 - 100 feet in the air causing him to have to make a go-a-round and make another approach for landing. Of course he was pretty well shaken up and rather pale around the gills.

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Another time, I watched something that I never thought possible. On a re-supply mission we landed on a German wet sod (dirt) strip. After unloading our supplies, Lt. Floyd Kelly, one of our Sq. pilots started up his C-47, after having been parked with parking brakes on. This wet sod grass, black clay type dirt was as slick as the old proverbial saying “slick as Owl Shit”. Kelly, sometimes known to be kind of absent minded, started taxieing with the brakes on and his main wheels were just sliding. I called him on the radio, but no response. That wet sod was so slick, he took off with the tires sliding over the surface. I found out later from my crew chief, Kelly landed back at home base on a hard surface runway with the brake still on and darned near nosed the aircraft over. One way of making a short field landing.

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On another occasion I took a flight into Leige for evacuation of wounded. While waiting, we saw B-17 Bomber who was obviously returning from a mission over Germany, circling the field letting down with one main gear down and one main gear up. The B-17 was firing red flares, meaning it had wounded aboard, as it became closer we could see parts of the tail dangling. The B-17 came on in and made a great one wheel landing on the left main gear, held the right wing of as long as he could, wing finally touched the steel planking runway making a shower of sparks, then skidding off to the right into the mud and clearing the runway. Ambulance was right there almost as soon as the airplane stopped. We saw them pull two or three out and load them into the ambulance.

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After twelve months at Ramsbury Air Field, England had become pretty much home to us. We lived in Nissan Huts about 20ft X 40ft with 10 -12 pilots signed to each hut. Heated with a little pot-bellied stove, which burned coal when we could find some or steal it from the Head Quarters Coal pile. The Mess hall provided us pretty good food. Of course I was able to eat most anything. Frequently Spam, Goat Stew, great amount of dehydrated potatoes, powdered eggs, powdered milk, etc. Almost every four weeks we would have real fresh hen eggs. Those few that did go to early breakfast every morning would come back to the Huts and announce fresh eggs. All of the Huts would be empty in less than 10 minutes trying to get to the mess hall before they ran out of fresh eggs.

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England, Monday Night, Nov. 13, 1944 ...I’ve developed one helluva head cold in the last couple of days. Been wearing my longhandles too. Can’t understand it. Must have fanned the covers or something. I’ve been to the pill roller and had my nose & throat sprayed, and if you think Carter has lots of pills - you should see me. I’ve got bales of pills - everything from aspirin to sulfa drugs. Think I’ll drink about a quart of this hooch & forget the whole works. Don’t forget that special prayer. This next one will be the granddaddy of all gang bangs, blood baths and what have you.

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England Nov. 20, 1944 ...No, I didn’t take the time and trouble to vote. I don’t give a damn who’s President. So Butch is talking. I’ve told the C.O. about it. His kid can’t walk or talk yet, but he has nine teeth. That damn Thompson talks too much. I didn’t mean for you to know I had a flight until I got my promotion. Since you know it, I’ll tell you about it. I’ve had one since Italy. All the co-pilots I brought up are now first pilots in my flight. Duhaime flies my right wing, Duprey flies the left and Dean flies the diamond position. You may as well know too that I might be promoted any time now. Dammit, I wanted it to be a surprise for you. I’ll break Short Boy’s fanny for him. You know and I know that a year is long enough for a flyer to be overseas, but do Eisenhower and “Hap” Arnold know it? They’re the boys we have to convince. Tommy and I just got back from London where we spent a 48 hour pass. It’s the first time we’ve had that long off together. We surely painted the town red. Had a big time just doing nothing outside of a number of drinks and raising hell in the bars. No dear, we haven’t moved to France yet, but we’re over there or Holland every day the weather is halfway good or even when it isn’t.

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England, Nov. 22, 1944 ...Just came back from Tommie’s barracks. His mother sent him some sugar-cured ham which she put up in cans and some cranberry stuff just like mom fixes. We had a feast. Ate our Thanksgiving dinner there. Figure we’ll be eating K rations in some mud hole in France or Belgium about mealtime tomorrow

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England Sun. Nov. 26 ‘44 ...Have had a little business over in Belgium and surrounding countries the last few days. Yes, I’ve got a radio. It belonged to one of the other boys who doesn’t need it anymore. We don’t hear such programs as ‘We the People’ but I can give you first hand information about V1 and V2 without getting it from a radio. What I know about them “ain’t” good. I figure Sully is transferred to A. T .C. if he’s going to Memphis. That’s all there is there. What a deal! He deserves it. But I sure envy him.

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England, Dec. 13, 1944 ...I’m glad you got the air medal O.K. I guess I’m kinda proud of that. As for this old Army stuff, I guess I’m proudest of my wings first, the air medal and the two clusters next and third the captaincy, which came in today. I’ve been a captain since Dec. 1st. Guess that Tommie is about as proud of my bars as I am. He’s been running around telling everybody about it. I had to buy several drinks at the bar tonight for the boys, you know. I didn’t have any bars, so Tommie pinned two of his on me, and Pat pinned two of his. I’m covered from head to foot with them.

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England, Dec. 6, 1944 ...Yeah, I know all about the C-47 going in, in southern England but I didn’t know the guys. Looks like you get the news about as soon as we do. The office job was just temporary. Just to let my nerves stop jumping for a while or something. I kept that for about two weeks, that’s all brother. Here is a picture taken just before take-off for Holland. Censor put the white spots on to cover up numbers, missions and radar gadgets. Not very good but you can tell who it is anyway. I think the film had been wet or something. Just in case you wonder where the name came from, my Yankee crew chief & radio operator named it the “”A Train””. That’s a train that runs from Harlem to uptown N.Y., they say.

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England, Dec. 12, 1945{4?} ...If I were in Sully’s place I’d be in hog’s heaven. His job is right down my alley - nobody shooting at me. That’s for me ! Well, I can dream can’t I ? What I’m trying to say is that the average person you meet on the street here knows what you mean (for sure!) when you say bombs, Jerry’s, flak, fighters, etc. There, they actually don’t know a damn thing except what they hear over their radios and newsreels etc. And I’m not in love with the British, individually, collectively or in any other way. I just give credit where it is due. I know they’ll come out on the big end of the horn when it comes to setting things up after the war. So will France, so will Russia, so will Germany & Japan. You know why? We’re a bunch of goddamned chicken hearted kids when the shooting stops, that’s why. Just a bunch of suckers and you can’t get around it. By the way, we’ve got B-24’s as well as C-47’s now. Don’t know the score yet, but it won’t be good. I guess some of those characters back there will realize by now that Germany isn’t whipped yet. When I heard it over the radio it made me so sick I actually vomited my breakfast. The bastards are still going too. By the way, see if you can find any captains bars in Knoxville or have dad to look. You just can’t get them here. I’ve got some of Tommie’s, some of Pats, some of Kelly’s. Send about 4 or 6 sets. Now don’t get the whole damn end of the state looking for captains bars like they did knives etc.

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England, Dec. 29, 1944 ...So this morning I woke up on a foggy, wet, muddy field in France. Hadn’t had my clothes off in four days, no shave, no wash, damn little sleep - you can imagine what I looked like. Back in ye olde England by a warm fire, had a hot shower, clean clothes, a good meal - it’s good to be alive ! You can see by the clipping what kind of mess I had, but all I had to do was look straight down and see some guys who were having it a helluva lot rougher, and was very thankful. None of my crew was scratched, again, for which I thanked the Good Lord. I thought about you all the way in every time. Then, when the stuff started coming up I was too scared for a few minutes even to think of you. It was plenty rough every trip. You don’t get much idea of it from these clippings. Take my word for it.

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England, Jan. 9, 1945 ...See by the papers New York might get a touch of V2 or something. Seems far-fetched, but could be. {Enclosed an article about Lt. Col. Joel Crouch who took off thru the fog & crap to get supplies to Bastogne, and at the end of the clipping he says “P. S. it’s true, I know”}

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England, Jan. 12 ’45 ...I’m glad Sully is getting all those leaves and stuff. Just wish it were me. I know I won’t be home soon, for they’re already planning our 7 days leaves for this year over here. Yeah, Quigley was the little red headed navigator that flew me across. He’s the one with me by myself from Fla. to Puerto Rico. He’s in the 4th Ferrying Group now. He went right back after we got here. He’s a good kid. Yes, tell Sully I’m still at the same place, part of the time. You tell “D” {his Dad} that when Santa was 20 minutes away there - Hell was less than that away from here.

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England, Jan. 19, 1945 ...This whole mess stinks from top to bottom. I hope it all clears up. I’ve given up all hope of the war ending. Just decided it’ll last forever. So, you have heard of Bastogne! I didn’t think it’d be in the news over there. That whole thing stinks too. I hate to disappoint you about being home in January, but as you can see by the date on this letter that the month is almost gone, and I haven’t even packed my ditty bag yet. I just hope I get home - period!

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(1) At about noon on the 23rd {Dec. 23rd, 1944}, the first of the 437th planes were over the DZ at Bastogne. The air was filled with billowing parachutes as the door loads and parapacks drifted slowly to the snow-covered ground. The Germans not letting this re-enforcement come in unhindered. The air was filled with puffs of black exploding flak and small arms. An 85th plane was shot down on this initial mission into Bastogne and Elgan Davis was taken prisoner by the Germans. In April, while being transferred from a prison camp at Nuremburg, he ran into Stratton Appleton, who had been taken prisoner D-Day. Shortly after their meeting, both men were released by the Americans. General A.C. McAuliffe, in command of the 101st witnessed the drop on December 23rd. He has the following personal message to each man who served in the 437th:

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“”Greetings to the former members of the 437th Troop Carrier Group, who served us of the 101st Airborne Division so gallantly and efficiently in Normandy, Holland and Belgium. Of all your brilliant accomplishments, I naturally remember most vividly the re-supply of Bastogne. Surrounded and under attack from all sides, by the night of December 22nd {1944} the low ebb of supply was a matter of grave concern. We were down to fewer than 10 rounds per gun of artillery ammunition, were painfully short of small arms ammunition and gasoline and were practically out of food and medical supplies. And then, at about noon on December 23rd, we saw the first of hundreds of C-47s and gliders came winging over us and drop their loads accurately inside our little perimeter. And these gallant airmen, after seeing many of their comrades shot down in flames, returned again and again to bring us hundreds of tons of these sorely needed supplies. The defense of Bastogne has been widely applauded as an exceptional example of the courage, tenacity and intelligence of the American soldier. It would not have been, and Bastogne could not have held, without the air support. I am sure that every man who was there joins me in wishing you of the 437th good luck and God speed.”” A. C. McAuliffe, Major General, Chief Chemical Corps

By 1600 hours 241 planes of Troop Carrier Command had dropped 1,146 bundles in the drop zone. Lt. Colonel Carl W. Kohls, G-4, 101st Division, was waiting for the appearance of the supply-carrying C-47s. Colonel Kohls, now stationed in Washington D.C. has written the following account of his experiences at Bastogne:

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(1) ...Before I give you my reactions to the actual receipt of the supplies, I thought I’d say something on the status of our supply on the 23rd of December {1944}. One of our Field Artillery Battalions was down to 4 rounds per gun. In general, our ammunition and gasoline supply was very low. We were requisitioning cattle, chickens, vegetables and any form of food off the populace so we were not so badly off in this respect. I would not say we were in dire straits, but we did need supplies of all types if we were to continue fighting. Finally, on 23 December, your first deliveries were made. Words alone cannot describe the various reactions of everyone when they saw the supplies come plummeting down. We knew that now we no longer would have to sit waiting, but we would be able to again lash out at the enemy with renewed vigor. In a small way I was able to help get the supplies to our units. These units which actually picked up the supplies should get full credit for using them to fight back the Germans. I believe that I can say we could not have fought back the Germans much longer if we had not received these supplies. Now, we knew that we could lick the Germans and that they would never be able to get into Bastogne. It was a job of which every man in the 437th, from private to colonel, could feel proud to have played a part.

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Then in February 1945 the 437th T.C. Group moved over to the continent at Coulemmiers, France (A-58) about 35 kilometers east of Paris. There we lived in Squad Tents (4 men to a tent). A Squad tent normally had a wood floor with wood frame to hold the tent in place. Usually there were three or four foot walls. We had canvas-folding cots for beds with no mattresses. Believe me, they could get cold on your bottom side, so we would put newspapers under our bedroll and that made all the difference in the world. We had our own Squadron Field Mess and we ate out of mess kits. The food wasn’t as good as it was back in England, probably mostly due to the environment of having to wash the mess kit by going through a line of dipping it first in a hot soapy water, then two different hot water rinses, after a hundred or so have gone through the line, that water is pretty greasy.

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England, Feb. 4, 1945 ...I can’t see that the 101st is any more “famous” than the rest of them. I’ve hauled them all. They’re all the same. Guess they’ve just put out more bull s... than the rest of them. Now, now, I thought we had forgotten about the damned foot. The old horse doctor cut a hickey out of it about the size of a quarter. It grew back. He cut it out. It grew back. I got a razor blade & cut the damn thing out myself (deeper than he did) and it never has come back. Yeah, the second cluster was for Holland but I remember telling you about it once before. I hear we’re getting another one. Hope it doesn’t run them short to hand out those little pieces of tin. The C.O. was down a few minutes ago bragging about his six letters from home. I just hauled out my 9 letters & said “COUNT EM!” He just fooled around a few minutes and left. Tommie came steaming down to see how many I got. He had a fistful too. There’s big things in the wind. Have to hit the hay now for a little shuteye.

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England Feb.7, 1945 ...Well I’ll tell you who Pat is. If you’ll look on that picture I sent from Italy you’ll see what he looks like. He’s a captain, squadron liaison officer and lives in my quarters with me...he’s a good Joe, we fly the B-24 together sometimes. Mail wasn’t in before supper so we went out and ate & went to the show - the C.O., Tommie, Pat and I saw “TALL IN THE SADDLE” - John Wayne & Ella Raines. We whooped & hollered like a bunch of kids. Good show! SMASHING! Get that?

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England, Feb. 12, 1945 ...And that reminds me. Some of my letters home you may never get. Tommie’s wife and Pat’s girlfriend both wrote and said some of their letters were burned around the edges. A mail plane crashed & burned. Some of mine might have been on there. Holy Cow! I never realized ketchup was rationed - let alone cost 60 points. I’ll send the stuff right back as soon as I get it. Well, I don’t know what to tell you about you & Marty meeting somewhere yet. I’ll let you know later. I don’t like the idea of you traveling around the country alone anymore - especially when I’m not at one end of the line or the other. P. S. Watch the Life Magazine for a write up. “90” on the nose.

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England Feb. 18, 1945 ...Glad to hear Jezebel has started trying to walk around a little. He’ll be a year old before long. Wish I could see him. Been warm as toast all day. About had the spring fever. Wish I were home. Brother when I do get home I’ll never leave again. I’ve had enough of this crap. I’d like to go into the furniture business and live a nice quiet monotonous life, and go to church on Sunday and eat a big dinner and curl up and snooze and listen to the radio on Sunday afternoon & just be lazy as the devil and pester you to death and never get out of sight of the front porch and just do nothing. I’ve got to get home first. If ole ‘massa will just keep on looking out for me like he has done so far, I’ll get there too. If he doesn’t, I can’t make it.

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France Mar. 4, 1945 ...I can tell you now I’m in France (as any fool kin plainly see) and have been for quite a while, but couldn’t say so. We live in tents, but we have a stove, so it isn’t too bad. I guess we’re over here to tour Paris in the spring - I keep telling myself but not believing it. I’ll go nosing around some of these days & give you a complete report. I’ve been pretty busy lately and we haven’t got our “Chateau” straightened out yet - don’t know if we’ll even bother. Just live like moles or something. I’ve got some water heating on the stove, so I’d better stop and take a bath (in my tin hat!).

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France, March 8, 1945 ...Now dammit, Helen, will everybody please hush about my damn foot? I’m tired of hearing about it. NO, I didn’t cut a bone out of it. It was a growth like a great big wart or something. Now dammit, HUSH! ...No, I knew Jean wouldn’t have any news from Fritzie and she never will. I can’t stand many more of these “curtain raisers” myself. I jump out of my skin every time I think about another one. Everybody else is the same way - some worse than me. These Francs aren’t worth a damn. I sent out just a little wad of laundry & cost me 150 Francs to get it - $3.00. How do you like that? Guess I’ll have to get out the old tin “hat” again & wash my own. Muddy as hell. Mud everywhere - in my shoes, on my clothes, even in my bed. Whatta mess. The food has been pretty fair even though we eat out of mess gear standing around out in the woods. I guess I shouldn’t complain. I can think of guys who are having it quite a bit rougher than this.

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March 1945 brought about preparation for a double-tow glider mission to cross the Rhine River in Germany. About three days before the mission I made the mistake of mentioning to my buddy D’Armond that I was not feeling too well and I felt like I had a fever. Well! He went and told the Squadron Doctor and here they came. Doc sent me to a hospital in Paris with a relapse of Malaria Fever causing me to miss out on the upcoming combat mission. After seven days of medication I was back to the Squadron duty again. At first, I was pretty mad at my Buddy for turning me in, but I guess I would have done the same for him.

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France March 12, 1945 ...Been out in the countryside nosing around. Nothing I haven’t seen before. People here are old or crippled or something. They’re very proud & work hard but haven’t got anything left. No money, no clothes and little food. Old women out in the field working from daylight till dark as if they had to finish their work in the next ten minutes. I don’t see how they stand the pace. I can carry on a slow conversation as long as they speak slowly and confine their talk to single words and phrases. One old woman out in a field yesterday stopped hoeing long enough to talk about how glad she was when she first saw American bombers come over in ’39. They dropped a few on her house in the shuffle. Said she stood out in the field and cheered and clapped her hands. She said “thanks to boys like you, France will live again someday!”. How do you like that? Tommie and I spent all afternoon on some bicycles we’d scrounged, up one street and down another just seeing what we could see.

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France March 18, 1945 ...It’s been a beautiful day here. Tommy and I dug some worms, rounded up some hooks and line and tore out to the creek. We spent all afternoon down there. All we caught was two little bitty old minnows about an inch long. But we enjoyed it anyway. Oh yes!, we all got a real honest-to-God American coca-cola today. You would’ve thought it was Christmas around here or that the war was over or something. I’d sure like to have another one. I can still taste it. I could have drunk a gallon of the things.

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France March 25, 1945 ...Today is the most wonderful day I’ve heard of - first because I’m alive and unhurt, but still jumpy, second because I’ve got several letters from you. I guess you’ve heard all about it by now. I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know about it, except that one more like it and I’ll loose my mind completely, and I’m not kidding! Dear John! that was the granddaddy of all nightmares. I’ll dream about it for months. As usual, that “waddle-ass” Tommie had a recurrence of the good old malaria and spent the whole time looking out of the hospital window. Nothing ever happens to me like that. I can’t complain, but if God rode with all the guys that say he did, His logbook must look like a Sears-Roebuck catalog. If I’d had a movie camera and hadn’t been too scared to take pictures, Paramount would pay a pretty penny for the films. On February 14, I WAS over Germany. We dropped supplies to Patton. Sorry I can’t tell you anything about flying the bomber now. Maybe later. By now you know what I meant when you asked about “ain’t seen nothin’ yet”.

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France March 29, 1945 ...They took Tommie away from the field hospital and put him in a general hospital. I bet the little devil goes home, and there’s not anything wrong with him. He feels good and everything. He has lost weight though. I weigh more than he does now, and he always outweighed me by ten or twelve pounds. No, I didn’t fly the bomber in. Took the bullet-riddled “A-Train” in again. I don’t know who took in the bombers. You know, from the time the shooting started till I got out of there, all I could think of was that green dress of yours with the white blouse with the strawberries on it. I was humming “Lura-Lura Li” all the time. Don’t guess I’d ever thought of that dress before in my life till right then. Patton & Montgomery are going like hell, but this isn’t over yet as you’ll see.

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April 1945 flying supply missions into Germany our crews started coming back with all kinds of goodies that had been deserted by the Germans as they retreated, sail planes, motorcycles etc. D’Armond did one better; he brought back a Volkswagen Tudor Sedan. We began touring the local area around our base and visiting the French villages. We were having a great time seeing the countryside that most GI’s didn’t get to see. However this didn’t last long, as it became known what we were doing and obviously the gasoline was coming out of the Government Motor Pool. No gasoline was to be had on the open market. The Military hierarchy designated it a staff car to be used by the Commanders, so there went our play toy. Soon the pilots with motorcycles also had to give them up and they became part of the Motor Pool inventory.

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France April 4, 1945 ...First, I’ll tell you about my automobile. A few days ago I landed at a field that we had just captured and there was this very nice little tudor German sedan there. As I was coming out empty, we just loaded the little thing in my ship and carted it home. It’s a nice little car. I’ll send you a picture of it soon. I don’t know whether I can keep it or not. The C.O. and I both have worked on it fixing it up. He’s a bigger kid than I am about the thing. All that stuff you read about the lack of fighter opposition, lack of this, lack of that - it makes good reading to the folks at home - ask some of the boys who were there. Like you, I thought this last one would be all, but hang on to your hat with both hands & say your prayers.

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France April 15, 1945 ...Just a line to let you know I’m okay and that the reason I haven’t written in about two weeks is that I’ve been very, very busy. Another day, another mission - sometimes twice, before dawn till after dark. Sure tough about F.D.R. Republican that I am, I’m thinking it’ll be many a day before we’ll have another as good. Hold your hat awhile and say your prayers.

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France April 20, 1945 ...I’ve got such a cold and am so run down that I’m off flying for a few days. I had a forty-eight hour pass into Paris, but felt too bad to take it, so had to put it off until I felt better. We’ve really been busy. Oh yes - I’ve got a new job - squadron liaison officer - mostly office work, but I do almost as much flying as ever. Thought I’d better tell you before someone else did and you’d be p.o.’d with me. Been in Germany a lot lately. It is (or was) quite modern and a lot like the USA. The country itself looks a lot like the country around home there. I’ve picked up a couple of Kraut souvenirs besides the car. That’s a real nice little old car. I’d sure like to get home with it. You’d get a bang out of it. Since I’m more or less a paddle-foot now, they gave my flight and ship to somebody else, so I fly with just first one and the other - mostly Tommy naturally. If I hadn’t been sick I should have had about thirty combat missions by now. As it is I’ve got twenty-four. Too damn many.

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France April 23, 1945 ...Well, I can hold my head up again without the top of it blowing off, but I still feel woozy. I’ve been living off codine and sulfa for the last week. Had a cold and it settled in my sinuses and behind my eyes. Had a miserable time. Don’t know when I’ll fly again. I was leading the squadron on combat time and missions for a long time, but I’m way down the list now. Makes no difference though. I’m more or less a paddle-foot anyway now. Speaking of fighter escorts - the most wonderful, beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life was a couple of “Peter-51’s” screaming down through a formation over “der faderland” one day, I’ll never forget. Where the hell did you hear about Gottingen? I’ve never seen it in a paper or heard about it over the radio, ...but I know about it.

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France April 27, 1945 ...Been feeling quite a bit better these last few days, but still taking my medicine & can’t fly yet, but I’m very busy around the office anyway. Guess I was as sorry to hear of Ernie Pyle’s death as anybody - even if he didn’t like the Air Corps. I enjoyed his writing, just shows to go you. It can happen to anybody. Well, frankly, I did think I’d be home by now, but due to some things that came up that some people didn’t count on, I’m still here (as any fool kin plainly see). Looks like it will be some time now. Rotation for Troop Carrier pilots has been cancelled - for the time being anyway. Yes, I guess Tommie will have malaria all his life, but the attacks won’t be nearly so serious as the first one - they say. This last time there was only a day or two that he was actually sick, the rest of the time he just didn’t feel very good. I still think he might come home. The doc was trying to send him home this last time. Oh yes, I got to keep the car alright - staff car you know. Only thing is, I haven’t had a chance to drive it anywhere yet.

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French Riviera May 3, 1945 ...Well, I’ve heard a lot about this place, but had no idea I’d ever be vacationing here. I must say I got a little better reception that I did the last time I was in this neighborhood last August. The doc sent me down here for a week thinking my sinus troubles would be over. I guess it is better, but I’ve been here four days and still have to take 2 to 4 shots of codine a day to kill the pain. It’s a beautiful place and I’d enjoy it if you were here, but right now I’m so fed up with the joint I’d give a lot to be back flying with the squadron. But if it’ll get rid of this God-awful pain in my head, I’ll stay. About all I’ve done is walk along the beach in the sun, and have bought some junk which I’ll send along right away. I can’t remember when I’ve spent such a boring few days. Met a sailor from Tennessee down here in a bar the other night and spent the next day on his ship, a destroyer which was anchored right in front of my hotel. I’ll tell you for sure the navy doesn’t stand short on a darn thing. It’s a racket. Wound up the day by a big steak dinner and ice cream (standard chow) on the ship and came back to my lonely room very dissatisfied with the Army. Well, they say Hitler is dead, but you’ll never convince me of it. Just another cock & bull story of the goddamned lying Krauts. I’m not very far from where we dropped our paratroopers & gliders last year. We flew right over the DZ coming in here and saw the skeletons of the gliders still there. According to the propaganda mongers, the war is over, but I’m still impressed by the fact that a guy can still get his fanny shot off if flies over certain parts of the country. Can’t understand it. Sure hope I get home before going to tour the beautiful Pacific. I’m getting about fed up with this crap. They can run anything into the ground. I don’t know anything to do about that kid’s temper but to beat him nearly to death. He gets that from you, you know. I’m glad I haven’t got a temper. (I’d be a major now if it hadn’t been for my temper).

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Coulemmiers, France May 13, 1945 ...Well, even though the war is over, over here, we’ve been just as busy as ever. The only difference is that we haven’t been shot at lately. I started flying again just after I came back from the flak farm and no let up so far. I bet we’ve hauled out a million prisoners. This is where I’ve been stationed since we’ve been in France, small town about 30 miles east of Paris. Never been to Paris except for one night when the C. O. and a bunch of us went in to see a show. The people here really went wild when the news came over the radio. I heard it over the radio in the ship. We gave a feeble “hooray” for we knew damn well the war isn’t over for us. For nights afterward, the whole country looked like D-Day all over with all the fireworks going off. Hell, it was unsafe to fly around here at night. Some happy Frenchman would fire a flare up your fanny. Every American is a hero to them now. They sure appreciate what the Americans have done, whether anybody else does or not. Completely recovered from my sinus - no more cocaine, codine & no headaches. Never felt better.

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Coulemmiers, France, May 22, 1945 ...As for the points - I’ve got 115 and it could be 1,115 or 15 and the results would be the same. You can see “ESSENTIAL - KEY PERSONNEL” written all over my papers. You’ve had it Jackson! You keep saying, ‘the war’s over and you still don’t write’. Now you listen to me - last night I slept 6 hours. The night before, and the night before, and the hundred other nights before that, I left operations at 12, 1, 2 and was back at 4, 4:45, 5 or 6. You just don’t know what the hell goes on around here. If you did, you’d never say a word to me about not writing. Sunday I was sitting here making out schedules, signing reports & crap when some G. I. stuck his head in the door & said ‘hello mole-eye’. I started to rack him back when on second glance saw it was old Bill Milburn. He’s been on the same field with me for over a month and neither one of us knew it. He’s a staff-sergeant. Well, we had quite a talk and batted the breeze around for an hour or more. The next day I had to give one of the guys an instrument check, so I called Bill to ride along. After I got thru with the check, I called Bill up to the co-pilot’s seat and let him fly for awhile. Think he got a bang out of it. He sure looks fat and sassy. Weighs more than he ever did as a civilian. He sure wants to go home. He’s not doing very much anyway. Said I was the best blind pilot he’d ever seen. I haven’t seen him since. Guess he’s busy too.

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Coulemmiers, France June 1, 1945 ...You probably don’t realize what my present job demands, have less time to myself than ever before. Before, when the flying was over for the day, my work was done. Now, I get up lots of times at 4:45, brief the pilots, fly all day myself, come in and make the schedule and line everything up for the next days commitments, which usually takes from 11:00 PM to 12:30 AM and that’s no lie, and my C. O. will swear to it. Well, I just can’t say about coming home, some days it looks like maybe, and some days no, and some days can’t lay a red cent. Of course there are all kind of rumors floating around the place. I just don’t believe it until I see it anymore. Been flying all day today. Been over Czechoslovakia near the Austrian border hauling PW’s home. Sure a long haul. This time last year we had been told our little story about D-Day and were living inside a barbed wire enclosure, under armed guards every time we went to pee. I was just wondering if you’d get a War Dept. telegram for a birthday present. God, that seems like years ago now. {As Dad would’ve surely said “That’s All Brother!”}

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We continued to fly support and supply missions from A-58 (Coulemmiers, France). On May 9, 1945 I flew a mission landing at Rheims, France. As I was taxing to operations, I noticed an airplane with British General Montgomery’s Flag on it. And another plane that appeared to be General Eisenhower and several other US aircraft carrying VIP’s (Very Important People). I asked the Base Operations Officer “What is going on here?”. The Major replied, “Well, I understand the Germans have surrendered and they are over there (pointing) in that small red school building signing the treaty.” This was 10:00 A.M. I could hardly wait to get back to my home base and report to my Squadron Commander (Les Ferguson) on what I had heard, as we had nothing official, we could not really announce it to our troops, so we had to just sit and wait. Sure enough about 10:00 P.M. the British Broadcast Company (BBC) confirmed what I had heard that morning was true. It was hard for us to believe the War was over, however we had lots of missions to fly going to Germany and hauling POW’s out to different embarkation points to process them to their home countries; England, France and United States.

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One interesting aspect I observed was this one mission where we picked up some French soldiers who had been held in Germany approximately five years, ever since the overrun of France by the Germans in 1940. Prior to loading on our aircraft at this German air strip, many of the French soldiers had very emotional women hanging on to them and tearfully saying their good byes. Then when we landed the French soldiers at Le Bourge Municipal Airport in Paris to a grand welcoming home by the city with much fan fare, I noted many of the same soldiers who had just tearfully said god bye to a lady two hours previously in Germany was now being greeted by some nice young ladies with tears in their eyes. What does one say? {“Dunko” would’ve said “How can this be?”}. All is fair in love and war, or something like that.

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(1) The men of the 437th had not only participated in history --- they had written it for the future. No more would the cry --- ’Glider pilots --- go to your gliders’ ring out over the field at Ramsbury and A-58. No more would the planes of the 437th drop their sticks of paratroopers over enemy territory. Names and faces once familiar would gradually fade from the mind and the incidents would seem as if a dream. Some men remained with the group until its final break at Pope Field, N.C. Those men who had returned to Baer had been sent on to Marfa, Texas and from there to Pope. The old 437th Troop Carrier is now known as the 437th Troop Carrier Wing, a reserve Troop Carrier unit, based at O’Hare Field, Chicago, Illinois. May this organization carry on the tradition that was set and carried out by the wartime 437th.

Now it is all a memory. To all of you who served with the 437th --- remember this: Be proud that you served with the best Group in all Troop Carrier Command. Carry with you forever the memory of its greatness and its fabulous history, being always assured of respect when you say --- ‘I served with the 437th’.

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EPILOGUE

Storm’s End by Frank William Quinn

When the whirlwind dies to a whispering breeze

And the pale moon shines through the drowsy trees

And the roses gleam through the dusky shade -

Enticing the heart to escapade

We shall return from foreign lands - From the steaming swamps and the torrid sands - From wintry isles where blizzards roar

As palm trees sway on a tropic shore.

We shall return from a task well done

From a victory gained and a goal hard won..

We may be grim for a moment’s breath

As our memories stray to fields of death

As we live once more that eternity

When the devil laughed with fiendish glee,

And the smile of fortune seemed obscured

By the rack of pain that the world endured.

So give us a laugh and a tender smile

And let us rest for a little while

In the arms of those whose forms shall pass

Through the darkest hours on our consciousness.

Whose eyes are the only stars we’ll know

When the sky is veiled by the smoke below -

Whose voices brave the battle’s din

To whisper “Chin up! You have to win!”

Do not despair, we shall return

To the cozy hearth and the hearts that yearn

Though some shall leave the mortal clay

On a war torn field that is far away.

We’ll all march back in a solid file

With swinging step and a happy smile,

When the battles’ done and the birds ascend

To their blue domain - at the wild storm’s end.

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ODE TO A C-47
By Staff Sergeant Pilot Reo C. Trail.

You may talk of "Flying Forts", And the peashooters' deadly sports And of shooting down the Junkers by the score;

But when it comes to servin', The transports are deservin' Of a little praise and credit in this war.

Cause when the fightin's getting thicker, And men's hopes begin to flicker As when surrounded by a foe of twice their size;

It must be damned inspirin', To know they can keep on firin', Cause we're dropping ammunition from the skies.

As we can't hope to live forever, Some day our contacts we will sever, And we'll take off into that eternal blue,

And we'll see the other boys, Who have left behind the noise, And we'll try to be of service up there too.

Oh, they'll buzz the Pearly Gates, In their Lockheed "thirty eights,"
And they'll thrill the pretty angels with their stunts;

And Saint Peter'll come a runnin', When he hears the bombers comin',
And he'll spread the welcome mat with heavy grunts.

But when I land in heaven, With my Douglas "forty seven," And taxi up and swing the cargo door,

The chariots'll come a dashin', To take my load of rations, And they'll probably send me back to get some more.

Ode to a C-47 was written by then Staff Sergeant Pilot Reo C. Trail of the 16th Squadron, 64th Group in the spring of 1943. This is the official version which appeared in Stars and Stripes. Reo went on to a career in the Air Force and retired as a Colonel.

E-Mail Me @ worldwar2mem@yahoo.com


Copyright © Ken Arnold 1999. All rights reserved.

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