Our WWII Fathers

Father's Days and Veteran's Days find most of us with only fond memories of our fathers. A touching thing began to develop recently on Facebook as first one then another of our classmates began to post pictures of their fathers. Several of them posted pictures of their dads in their WWII uniforms.

It happens that the WWII Army Air Force has been a topic I've delved deeply into over the past few years. Except in general terms, many people, including me, had little idea what our fathers did during the war. A lot of them were front line warriors, others were in support functions, still others served in stateside billets. All of them did their parts to preserve our country for us and our children.

I hope you will choose to participate in this ongoing project to add your father's picture to the collages that I hope grow from this small start.  Classes of 1960-65 welcome.

Send me a picture of your Dad in uniform and I will be pleased to add it to the collection posted here.

This modest blog has had over 138,000 views (402,000 as of 2023.Oct) and gets about 100-200 new views each day. Not bad for a bunch of computer illiterate old duffers, eh?  SEND 'EM IN.

July 2011 update: My father was one of those young men who flew in the bombers high in the skies over Europe during WWII. During the early months of the war the young airmen were shot out of the sky in such alarming numbers that the bombing missions were entirely halted for some weeks while the brass scrambled to figure out how to combat the deadly effectiveness of Hitler’s Luftwaffe. As the Air Force was strengthened, the Luftwaffe was effectively neutered by Spring 1944. After that, it could only mount vigorous defensive attacks on infrequent occasions. The danger to the airmen increasingly came from the deadly accurate anti-aircraft guns on the ground…flak.

Dad’s diary provides an interesting account of his experiences aloft during 1944-45. Wording in his diary was purposely frugal. He never showed it to me nor talked much about his war experiences. Only in recent years have I been able to learn quite a bit of what he saw, but never told…it was frightening. His diary, that of a 21-year old, showed a degree of youthful excitement during his first tour, Spring 1944; but, his second tour, which ended in early March 1945, was clearly less eventful. The war was winding down.

Recently, a pair of pictures were posted to an account of a late March 1945, mid-air collision over Germany, near Koblenz. The pictures were far more detailed than any I had ever seen before. One of the difficult things for an airman to tell and a layman to understand is the stark terror and grinding fear that accompanied most of our young WWII Army Air Force aviators flying in the ETO. The picture posted below shows the 2 bombers plunging to earth a few moments after their collision. Pictures like this are very rare and this one tells the story my father and so many of his fellows couldn't.

Ten young men are still in each of the planes. Two will survive, eighteen will die. One man got out in time to open his parachute about 400-feet above the ground. The other, a ball-turret gunner, fell to earth unable to get out of his turret…and he survived! When this collision occurred, Dad was en-route home, his second-tour missions completed, his part in the war, done….

June 2014 Update:  Added new photos.

Nov 2023 Update:  Added Holman photo.


Bail out, Jimmy.  Are there any chutes?

Lucky Bastards

Shared 55-years on earth with Dad. A certified Lucky Bastard, he made it without a scratch and had no stirring stories; just a few humorous musings. So, for all those 55-years I had only modest regard for his exploits and remained captivated by the on-screen derring-do of Gregory, Steve, and others in the movies.
 
Then, after Dad passed away I undertook a study to learn what had become of the planes he flew...he had kept a list of the tail numbers. 

In his 30-missions, 6 of the 9 planes on his list, ended up like this one, or worse. Gregory still entertains me but, Dad was the one who wrote the story for Greg...Greg just read the lines !

Nov. 27 update:  The hulk of "9 Little Yanks and a Jerk" pictured above was associated most closely with the Bloody Hundredth Hughes crew.  Bob Hughes, a well-known 100th pilot entered combat in mid-1943, participating in the notorious October 1943 Schweinfurt-Regensburg raid that became synonymous with the danger and carnage endured by Eighth Air Force airmen early in the air war.

His story merited a fairly complete telling in Martin Bowman's 1984 book, "Castles in the Sky."  He and his crew was one of the few to survive a full tour of 25-missions.  The crew photo below came from his personal collection.  Col. Hughes stayed in the Air Force after the war, was awarded the Bronze Star in Vietnam and lived to the age of 85, passing away in 2003. 

 Keep 'em Flying !

Bud's Crew

Found this photo quite by chance last night.  The details written along the bottom tell that it was taken from a plane flying with the 94th Bomb Group (H) based at Bury St. Edmunds in Suffolk.  Noted also is the date: 25 August 1944; the altitude: 21,500-ft.; and the target: Rechlin.

The date and target caught my eye.  This was the same day that Otis and the rest of Bud's crew were shot down over Rechlin.  That story was written up by Otis and Bob, the co-pilot on that mission and I have them both.  Some years ago, I combined them and found some relevant photos to illustrate the story, then sent the story to what descendents I could find.

However, this picture may be the icing on the cake for this story.  The silver specks left of center and a little high is another group of planes that could be 447th B-17s; the two Groups often flew their missions together.  Back home in England, their bases were about 5-miles apart.  Otis, flying in Bud's crew, may be in one of those planes, plowing their way to the target and to their date with destiny, ditched in the North Sea....68-years ago.

For a crew that had to ditch in WWII, if they survived, the story became the one they told all their lives.  It was fairly rare to survive a ditching.  Another story and amazing picture can be found here. 

To illustrate my earlier story, I used a satellite image to draw the course and note the point of ditching.  Matches pretty close to the picture, doesn't it?  (Note: Their briefed target that day was the missile base at Peenemünde but, good results reported from the first Groups over that target led to the decision to turn off to Rechlin).

Wow! 

The Torch Has Passed to a New Generation

I've given thought as to when the WWII generation stepped back and handed the keys to us. Judging from my father's behavior, I think it was about the time Wavy Gravy came forward as one of our generation's spokesmen.

As old men, there still appears to be quite a gap between them. The old airman sports a bombardier's wing, 2 Distinguished Flying Crosses, a Purple Heart, several Air Medals, a WWII Victory Medal, and a very proud grandson who will undoubtedly grow even more in awe of his PaPaw as time passes. Wavy....well, Wavy has a red nose.

Adios

Fathers' Day - 2012

This Father's Day finds most of us with only fond memories of our fathers. A touching thing began to develop last year on Facebook as first one then another of our classmates began to post pictures of their fathers. Several of them posted pictures of their dads in their WWII uniforms.

It happens that the WWII Army Air Force has been a topic I've delved deeply into over the past few years. Except in general terms, many people, including me, had little idea what our fathers did during the war. A lot of them were front line warriors, others were in support functions, still others served in stateside billets. All of them did their parts to preserve our country for us and our children.

I hope you will choose to participate in this ongoing project to add your father's picture to the collages that I hope grow from this small start.

Send me a picture of your Dad in uniform and I will be pleased to add it to the collection posted here.

This modest blog has had over 65,000 page reads and gets about 100-200 new page views each day. Not bad for a bunch of computer illiterate old duffers. SEND 'EM IN.

July 2011 update: My father was one of those young men who flew in the bombers high in the skies over Europe during WWII. During the early months of the war the young airmen were shot out of the sky in such alarming numbers that the bombing missions were entirely halted for some weeks while the brass scrambled to figure out how to combat the deadly effectiveness of Hitler’s Luftwaffe. As the Air Force was strengthened, the Luftwaffe was effectively neutered by Spring 1944. After that, it could only mount vigorous defensive attacks on infrequent occasions. The danger to the airmen increasingly came from the deadly accurate anti-aircraft guns on the ground…flak.

Dad’s diary provides an interesting account of his experiences aloft during 1944-45. Wording in his diary was purposely frugal. He never showed it to me nor talked much about his war experiences. Only in recent years have I been able to learn quite a bit of what he saw, but never told…it was frightening. His diary showed a degree of youthful (he was 21) excitement during his first tour, Spring 1944; but, his second tour, which ended in early March 1945, was clearly less eventful. The war was winding down.

Recently, a pair of pictures were posted to an account of a late March 1945, mid-air collision over Germany, near Koblenz. The pictures were far more detailed than any I had ever seen before. One of the difficult things for an airman to tell and a layman to understand is the stark terror and grinding fear that accompanied most of our young WWII Army Air Force aviators flying in the ETO. The picture posted below shows the 2 bombers tumbling to earth a few moments after the collision. Pictures like this are very rare and this one tells the story my father and so many of his fellows could not tell.

Ten young men are still in each of the planes. Two will survive, eighteen will die. One man got out in time to open his parachute about 400-feet above the ground. The other, the ball-turret gunner, fell to earth unable to get out of his turret…and he survived! Dad was on his way home when the collision occurred, his missions completed, his war was done….

Adios

Ditched

Twenty years ago Roy wrote a few words in a letter to my father describing his WWII experience of escaping from a ditched B-17. Dad didn’t use Roy’s piece in an Air Force newsletter he edited for many years. I found it in Dad’s things a few years ago, read it and found Roy’s story was very sketchy—no wonder Dad hadn’t used it.

However, Roy’s story contained enough intriguing details that I decided to dig into it to see what I could learn. Dad never had benefit of the Internet…it came on strong just after he passed away. Details catching my attention involved two dead crewmen, burials at sea, enemy fire from the shore, British rescue planes landing and taking off under fire, and one crewman taken prisoner. This was much more dramatic than most downed aircraft stories I’ve encountered.

After a few days I had learned quite a bit about the plane crash so I posted a brief inquiry to a forum to see if I could locate a family member. Four years passed without result, until a couple of weeks ago when I got my first inquiry, then a second. After exchanging several emails, both the family members and I have been able to share our information…each of us have learned quite a bit from one another. For them, I have been able to clarify some of the facts that were never clearly told by their fathers, something that was quite common with those WWII veterans. Most of them were so affected by their experience over Europe, they rarely told their stories, especially to their families.

This Highlander blog is in no way as substantial as some other blogs I write. However, it too, holds out the promise of learning some things about our shared experiences that could help settle some of those old curiosities about our time at EHHS. If nothing else, it is serving as something of an historical document for those who follow behind us who might be curious about how it once was there.

Adios

1950 – 1960 Family Vacations

Dad came back from WWII to a new wife, a new baby, and with a driving desire to earn a college degree. He earned that degree in just 3-years and started working for a power company in south Texas. Within a couple of years, he was recalled to the Air Force for Korean War service, served an additional 18-months, and settled in Ft. Worth about 1952. He and mom were raised in Dallas.

As a child of the Depression, until WWII, dad had never ventured any further than SW Arkansas where his ancestors had settled about 1836. At age 31 he was finally free of military service and wars, and had accumulated both an opportunity and money to take his first real vacation, so we drove from Ft. Worth to Mexico City…in August 1953. It’s about 1200-miles to Mexico City, it’s very hot in August, and the car was NOT air-conditioned because dad was frugal and air conditioners were expensive then. That was 57-years ago and I have never forgotten that trip. I have never been hotter in my life!

We took turns soaking a hand towel in an ice chest, then draping the wet towel over our faces and letting the hot air blow on it, the theory being...evaporation cooling. It was better than nothing, but not much better. For the driver there was no relief. Besides being HOT, I don’t recall much about the trip other than narrow rough roads, widely separated gas stations, small villages, and no road food until we got to Mexico City. I think we had some lunch meat in the ice chest.

In working on the past few entries about early DFW roads and their fairly primitive state in the early 1950s, I thought about how miserable those Mexican roads must have been. Once in Mexico City, we turned the driving over to cabs and tour guides and enjoyed our stay. With the current conditions in Mexico, I wouldn’t want to give that trip a try today.

Dad was part of that generation who wanted to see as much as they could and for some of them, it was an opportunity to brag to their neighbors…remember all those travel stickers folks used to attach to their rear windows and bumpers? Dad wasn’t in to that, but he was a full-bore, long-range vacation driver. During my childhood, I recall us taking 2 other driving vacations, one to Colorado in 1955, and another to the Northeast as far up as Quebec in 1958. That last one was something like 6,500 driving miles which provided no time to see or do anything but drive. When we got home from that 2-week vacation, we were exhausted.

Since it was an early-life obligatory holiday in-law visit, I won’t describe the trip home from Ohio to Dallas to spend Christmas 1951 with the grandparents. That one was in dad’s first car, a 1950 model with NO heater—he had bought it in south Texas just after college and didn’t want to pay the extra money for the heater...he didn't see the need for it in south Texas. He hadn't anticipated being recalled to the service and sent to Ohio. I’ve never been colder in my life than on that trip.

After I hit the teen years, I declined any further travel opportunities with dad and when I started my own family we did things differently. We found places we liked to be, got there by the best practical means, and stayed put to enjoy the places we liked.

As I studied some of the old roadways, I marveled that so many people charged out on those early roads and drove such long distances. For the WWII generation, I think it was some kind of endurance contest. About 25-years later, I think it was this same bunch of people who fueled the motor home fad, that for a time clogged the roads with big slow-moving vehicles.

In the early 1970s I drove coast to coast several times and have made other long driving trips for various reasons, but I’ve never really enjoyed them much…I get bored. Nowadays a lot of our roads are in bad repair and many of them cut through dangerous neighborhoods. Most of the Interstate highways are about 50-years old, so the neighborhoods they cut through are no longer new—you have to choose your stops with more care. Too bad…it was much better in the late 1960s as the Interstates were completed and into the 1970s when there still wasn’t much traffic on them compared to now. Take a look at the 1977 film, Smoky and the Bandit, for a pretty good illustration of 1970s road conditions on the Interstates and secondary highways. Ah, those Targa tops.





HAMF