The Biography of a Rabbit Part 5

We received a base pay each month and a flying pay for each month when we flew at least four hours. During the first two months we received no flying pay as we had no planes. Just before I left the States, I arranged to have $100 a mouth from my pay go to Lettei in California.

Finally our new planes arrived and this was the first time we were sure we were really getting P-51s. A lot of the other squadrons were getting P-47s and P-38s so we considered ourselves lucky to be getting the planes we wanted most. It was near the end of February and everyone was anxious to begin flying after two months. These were the best fighter planes in the war and thousands of them had been built.

Until this time there had been no fighters with long enough range to escort the bombers deep into Germany and our effort was taking a real beating from the German fighters. On February third I flew the P-51 for the first time and it was a thrill. It had so much more power than anything we had flown before and was a pleasure to fly. In it you truly felt part of the plane. That was what they called a "Pilot's Plane". For several days we just took the planes up to get their feel.

On clear days you could see France and Belgium across the Channel but in general we flew near the base. Some pilots wore crazy and one even slipped across the Channel and shot all his ammunition at a train.

This aggressive type of pilot usually proved to be the best in combat, so he was only reprimanded and grounded for three days. Due to the English weather, we were probably al1 grounded anyway.

We had a softball diamond for use when we were not flying. You had to watch it all the time because some one would fly across the field just above the ground when they could. They were so low that you would be forced down into the dirt. All fighter pilots were a little crazy, but mostly the nicest guys you'd ever meet. Several times I went up to 33,000 feet which was the highest the plane would go before the controls got sluggish due to the thin air. When you started the plane you could not take too much time getting into the air the air. You needed to taxi out and take off as soon as possible as it was a liquid cooled engine and the liquid would overheat and boil out al1 over the plane. That would make your maintenance crew real unhappy as they would have to clean the sticky material off the whole plane. This happened to me just once as I was getting ready to take off and it was the only mission when my flight had to go without me. The P-51 landed at about 90 mph and took off at 100 to 110 mph.

One day Bruce, Tilson and I were flying together and landed at another field where they had P-47s and we had the opportunity to look them over closely. We didn't think much of them as they were big and clumsy next to our sleek planes. The fog started to close in and we headed home in a hurry. By the time we got back to the field we were on instruments only as we couldn't see a thing. The base put us at different alt.i.tudes 500 feet apart and brought us down one at a time by radar. It was a good thing we had all the instrument training and by following the radio instructions we were brought right to the end of the runway before we even saw the ground.

We were in the Ninth Air Force, the 363 Fighter Group, and the 380 th squadron. Each field had three squadrons at different locations around the field. We had the 380th 381 and 382 squadrons. Our squadrons consisted of 25 pilots and a lot of the guys I flew with in the States were in the other squadrons, but we didn't get together much. We were all second Lieutenants except for one first lieutenant, Martin DoLong from Dansville, N.Y. and our commanding officer, Captain McCall. Our commander was a very poor leader and was scared to death to fly a mission. Most of the other groups in England were led by majors or colonels and sometimes even by a general. Good leaders made all the difference, and the squadrons had much better combat records than we did because of this. Those squadrons with good records were sent to the areas where most of the fighting was taking place. Most of our missions were led by the first Lieutenant Martin DeLong. Years after the War I heard that he was a colleqe professor down in Dansville But never got down there to see him.

When we flew missions, our squadron flew four flights of four planes in each flight and the other two squadrons the same. On occasions we were down a few planes due to damage. Our flight was usually Tilsen leading with his wingman and I with my wingman. 0n one mission I led our flight. Most often Bruce flew as my wingman. When you were flying, your wingman was supposed to protect you from an attack from behind.

It was good to have a friend there.

We had our own doctor at the field and he was a nice fellow a Michael DeMaio MD. He was always checking us as he certified us for flying duty and could ground anyone for sickness or flying fatigue. We also had a dentist, Dr. Axelrod, to whom I went a couple of times. The office was a tent with a dirt floor and the drill was run by a foot pedal. He had an enlisted man who sat in front of you and pumped the pedal when the doctor told him. The faster he pumped, the faster the drill went. I did not notice the equipment was from Ritter in Rochester, so I felt right at home. Dr. Axelrod was big man, 6 foot tall and over 200 pounds.

Mr. Woods was a baldheaded man of at least 60 years who taught us map reading and aircraft identification. We now had to be able to recognize all the English, American and enemy planes which made a large number to identify quickly. In one cla.s.s this gentle man was showing us the location of different cities in Germany and we asked him where Blutengluten was. We sat there giggling for 15 minutes while he tried to find it. We had Just made up the name and after a while he caught on.

Mr. f.a.gan was also an older man who gave us the weather conditions and other information. I think it was remarkable how those older men were serving their country doing whatever they were qualified for. They were necessary for each outfit and at their time of life it must have been even harder for them to be away from home and living under such hard conditions. At age twenty six I was older than most of the other pilots myself.

After six hours of flying in England to get used to the planes and practice landings, we were about ready to fly missions. Now we were to get our own planes. I understood that each plane cost about $45,000 which seemed like a lot then, but is nothing compared to the price of a plane today. We had our own crew which consisted of a crew chief armorer and mechanics. They were proud of their plane and kept it in excellent condition. They would wash the plane with gasoline and then wax and polish it so there would be less air resistance and it could go a couple of miles an hour faster. My crew chief was Alvin Wolfe from Buffalo New York. Each squadron had their own identification number and mine was A9-R which was on the side of the plane in large letters. This was the only way we could identify the squadrons that we might get mixed up with over Germany.

I should mention here that Ullo was always playing cribbage, and he and Snyder would often be playing on the wing of a plane right up to takeoff time. Neill Ullo and I had been to London and decided to take piano lessons. What a time and situation to start something like that!

We walked all around the little back streets of London until we found an old man who gave lessons. We made a down payment and set a date for our first lesson, but due to what was to happen to us, we never made it back again.

Our first mission was on February 25, 1944. After breakfast (if you were not too nervous to eat) we would report to the Ready Room which was similar to a school cla.s.sroom with chairs, a platform up front, and a large map showing England and Germany was covered with a drape and we would sit there buzzing with talk and nervous about where we might be going. When they pulled back the drape there was a red ribbon from our base to the target and back. If it was a short ribbon everyone would cheer and a long ribbon would fill the room with groans. Our first mission was across the Channel to France to see if any German planes would come up. We ran into no opposition and it was an easy time. It is not too clear after all these years, but I remember that first mission we were short of equipment and I flew without either a parachute or a life raft. I believe it was a parachute I was missing because that usually fit into the bucket seat to raise you up and I filled mine with a jacket and rags. It was on my mind the whole mission that if anything happened I would have to land the plane and not bail out. We were ordered to fly ... and we had to go, but that never happened again.

I will not be able to describe the missions in order, so I will simply describe experiences as I recall them. We had a nice concrete runway at this base but Captain McCall only flew a couple of missions as our squadron leader. lieutenant DeLong led most of the early missions and McCalls record was so bad he was soon replaced. We got a West Point grad who wasn't much better, but he was big on discipline. This was completely lost on a bunch of fighter pilots. When you go through long missions and lose a lot of your best friends, you are not about to spend time worrying about West Point rules and regulations. He even tried to give bed and equipment inspection and had us line up for full uniform inspection on the runway. I can't remember what finally happened to him, but on one mission were led by a Colonel who came from another base and was an experienced combat pilot. I think he was sent to check out what kind of an outfit we were.

Of the 23 missions I flew, most were bomber escorts and a few were bombing runs to targets in France and not too deep into Germany. The P-51 had two tanks that hung one from each wing and they hold 150 gallons of gasoline each. On bombing runs these two racks held a 500 pound bomb each. If we were called back from a mission due to a change in the weather, we would drop them in the Channel as it was too dangerous to land with them still attached as they might Jar loose on the runway. We thought about all the gas Rationing at home while we were dumping all that fuel. These tanks and the 50 gallon tank that was located right behind the pilot plus the tanks in the wings were the reason the P-51 could stay in the air about six hours and was able to escort the bombers all the way to Berlin and back. The English Spitfires could only go as far as Belgium and France with the bombers and the bombers suffered heavy losses until we were there to intercept them. We would also be there to guard the bombers coming home slowly after being damaged and losing engines. The Spitfire planes would escort them as far as Belgium where we would pick them up, then the Spitfires would meet them there again coming home. The other American fighters like the P-47 and the P-38 could go a ways into Germany, but not all the way to Berlin until their range was increased later in the war. During flight the wing tanks had to be used first as they were dropped at the first sighting of enemy aircraft. They created drag and affected the maneuverability of the plane. You had to remember, even in combat, to keep switching the tanks to keep the plane's weight distributed equally and also to keep the tank From running dry, causing the engine to quit. You could start it again by switching tanks and putting the nose down, but you couldn't afford to have that happen in combat.

You can see why our training was so extensive as the fighter pilot was his own, pilot, gunner, bombardier, and navigator. He had to be trained in all areas. on our second mission, which was the first one for Ullo, he failed to return. Even though no one actually saw what happened, we figured he had gone down. Remember that he was the one who had gone to Texas to advanced gunnery school and came back to California to teach us all he had learned He went down on his first mission and probably never got to fire his guns. His bad luck spelled the end of our piano lessons in London. His story is interesting and you will Learn of it 1ater, After we got together again.

We had another pilot, James Barlow from Klamath Falls, Oregon, who during training was always on the radio singing on the radio "here I sit, fat, dumb and happy". He was shot down on one of our early missions and we heard him call on his radio "So long guys here goes fat, dumb, and happy bailing out. We were beginning to lose pilots now and were getting replacements from the States. I'm glad I never had to Join a group like that, not knowing anyone. We had been together so long by then that we knew each other and were good friends. We did not dwell much on the friends we had begun losing.

Each of us had accepted the probability that it could happen to us any day, so had conditioned ourselves to the situation. Some of the missions made us nervous but I wouldn't say that we were inordinately bothered by fear. We were so occupied and it was a thrilling experience to actually be a part of combat over enemy territory.

However we did look forward to the days that the weather was bad and no missions were flown. We would sit around the "Ready Room" playing cards and discussing past missions. I should mention that my Flight Leader T.J. Tilson or Bruce had given me the nickname of "Buck"

Benson when we were in training in California and that is what I was called from then on. I don't remember anyone ever calling me Bunny.

One of our missions was a dive bombing run on some factories in France. We flew in formation to the target and peeled off one at a time diving down at a large building and releasing our bombs. I saw some of them go right into a large door at one end of the building.

We were down to about 500 feet and when we pulled up I saw the plane in front of me blow up and I flew right through the pieces. I don't remember the pilots name, but recall seeing something yellow go by me and thinking it was the yellow "Mae West" life vast we all wore.

Anti-aircraft fire must have hit his tanks. I was flying with Bruce and when we got back to the field he found several bullet holes in his plane. Several times when we flew together he got bullet holes, but I never did get hit. When going on a mission we would start our planes and taxi out onto the runway. You taxied by zigzagging because the nose of the plane was up while on the ground and you couldn't see directly in front of you. We took off by twos with the second plane at the side and slightly behind the other. The second plane watched the lead plane only and kept the same distance from him. You didn't look at the instruments on the runway, just the other plane. Sounds hard now, but it was easy once you got used to it. We would then climb by twos until reaching a specific alt.i.tude, circle until everyone was in formation, then we would head for Europe. Sometimes when it was cloudy you were forced to climb on instruments only until getting above the clouds, anywhere up to 30,000 feet. The sun would be shining there and the clouds as white as new snow. It gave one the feeling that you were just above the earth and could step out and walk on top of the clouds. The other planes would pop up out of the clouds. It was quite a sight.

One time we had a Lieutenant Colonel leading our squadron and when he got up on the runway the pilot who was taking off with him either misjudged or didn't use his brakes and he ran into the back of the Colonels plane, chewing off the entire tail section. The pilot probably wished he could have died right there, but n.o.body was hurt.

Another time a boy by the name of Snyder came back from a mission with a damaged plane and he ran off the end of the runway and crashed. The emergency trucks went out and covered the plane with foam to prevent a fire and he got out okay. He was not injured but during the next few weeks his hair turned completely white. I wouldn't have believed that could happen if I hadn't seen it myself.

The weather at this time of year was not very good in England, with fog and a lot of cloudy days. If the weather was good over the target we would usually fly anyway. Coming back from missions we were usually at about 15OOO feet and when we got to where we thought the field was, we would dive down and pull out just above the ground. We could get up to 550 mph in those dives and the the wings would start to vibrate and the plane would shake, but that didn't stop us from doing it. At times we would come down through a thick overcast sky and wouldn't see the ground until we came out from beneath the clouds... sometimes pretty close to the ground.

After we took off and headed for Europe across the Channel there would usually be someone who would abort the mission. This was the term for dropping out and going back to the field. Usually this was due to engine trouble or knowing that something didn't feel Just right with the plane, but we had a few pilots who were "chicken" and just made up an excuse, particularly if the mission was to be a long one. They didn't stand very high on the popularity list with the other pilots. I had my ground crew to thank for keeping my plane in excellent condition so I never had to "abort".

There are a few facts about the P-51 which I will mention here. There was a lever that controlled openings that kept the coolant from boiling over while waiting to take off and it closed as soon as you were in the air. The wheels were pulled up as soon as you left the ground so you had to remember to put them down again before landing.

The four bladed propeller was a variable pitch and had to be set so it would bite more air, getting you into the air faster, climbing steep, then set back to the right angle. A small tube at the and of the wing ran the wind indicator so you know how fast you're going.

The plane had a c.o.c.kpit heater that didn't always work too well and that was a primary complaint of the pilots. At 30,000 feet the temperature could be anywhere from zero to minus 60 degrees so you needed all the heat you could get. The guns were fired by pressing a b.u.t.ton on the top of the stick and we would test them on the way across the Channel to be sure they were working. There was a camera mounted on the wing which worked from the same b.u.t.ton and it took pictures every time the gun fired. This verified the enemy planes the pilots claimed to have destroyed.

One pilot in our squadron had the cutest little puppy. It was a little brown fat thing with fur soft as cotton. It would sleep on'

the back of his neck and he took it everywhere but on the missions.

Another incident I remember took place when I was walking in London.

There were so many Americans around, I started looking for someone I might have known in the States. I finally saw someone who looked familiar standing across the street, so I dashed over and asked his name. You can imagine my embarra.s.sment when he said: "Yes, sir, I am the armorer on your plane."

On the days that we were to fly escort for the bombers we would get up about 6:00 am as we heard the bombers taking off. We went to breakfast and then the Ready Room for briefing. When the curtain was pulled back and the ribbon went all the way to Berlin you knew you would have a tough mission. The weather man would give us the weather over the target and what to expect when we returned to England. All of our compa.s.s headings depended on the weather, our point of rendezvous with the bombers, heading to the target, and the compa.s.s heading home. The map man would describe the coast of Europe at the entry point and additional points of identification along the way so we would be certain of our location. He explained where we would be likely to encounter flak (the big German guns) and where we could antic.i.p.ate the most enemy fighters. We wrote down all of this information on a pad fastened just above our knee so we could refer to it in a hurry.

All this time you could hear the steady roar of the bombers taking off. When there were about a 1,000 four engine bombers taking off you could hear it all over southeastern England. It took a good hour for all the bombers in a squadron to get into the air and another half hour for them to get to the right alt.i.tude where they would circle until in formation and ready to head for the target in Europe. They used a lot of gasoline and time just getting ready to go. After our briefing we would all make our trip to the bathroom and then to the equipment room to get our parachutes and other equipment. We didn't have to leave the field until about two hours after the bombers because we were so much faster. We would catch up with them soon after they crossed the coastline of Europe and it was a very pretty sight to see the formations of B-17s in the sky for miles ahead, especially on a sunny day. Some days there would be big white clouds and the B-17s would create their own clouds from vapor trails. The bomber vapor trails would be straight and the fighter trails would be above them back and forth across the blue sky.

When escorting the bombers we had to fly as slowly as we could and weave back and forth so as to not outdistance them. The closer to the target the heavier the flak and we would see the black bursts all around the bombers and once in a while one would go down. The bombers had to fly straight and level with no chance of taking evasive action and we would think how brave they were all the time never considering changing places with them. We were above them and when we saw the flak bursts could go up or down 500 feet, flying safely there for several minutes until the German guns could correct for our alt.i.tude.

We never worried about the flak much because we could normally avoid it. Once in awhile we lost a fighter plane to flak, but usually it was to enemy fighters. After the bombers had dropped their loads they could take some evasive action.

On one of the Berlin raids it was a clear day and we watched the bombers drop their load and could see the bombs fall and the big explosions go up right down the middle of a wide main street in Berlin. After the bombs were dropped we would fly with the B-17s until they reached the Channel. I went on several Berlin raids and on other occasions we would be diverted to closer targets as the weather had turned bad before we got to Berlin. The P-51 could stay in the air about six hours which was the amount of time it took to go to Berlin and back. Our missions took anywhere from one to six hours.

After being tightly strapped in and unable to move around in that small c.o.c.kpit for six hours, it was difficult to even stand up when getting out of the plane. Some guys would step out of the c.o.c.kpit onto the wing and fall off onto the ground. We used to tease one fellow because he opened his parachute when he fell off the wing.

Being so tired (and the strain of combat really was exhausting) the shot of whiskey we got at the debriefing after a mission was welcome.

On each mission we had one pilot who flew up and down the coast of England at 30,000 feet. This was the "relay plane" used to relay any ma.s.sages to the planes over Germany. Due to the curvature of the earth and communication equipment at that time, radio messages could not be sent directly. If the wind direction changed while the planes were over Germany it would affect the compa.s.s heading we were given to return to England and if it was overcast we could have blown off course, missed England entirely and gone out to sea. If your home field was fogged in you were directed to another field. I flew the relay plane just once and it was very monotonous sitting up there for hours. You could throttle the engine down so it would Just keep you from stalling out and save gas that way. One pilot stayed up seven hours and we thought he'd gone down as six hours was the limit. He had just seen how long he could possibly stay aloft by using the technique and came happily back to base long after the mission was over.

They were very strict about talking on the radio from the time you took off until you were over Germany and even then it was used only for necessary messages and warning each other when in combat. Any unnecessary talk might have given away information to the Germans (even though they had probably picked us up on their radar). The English bombers always bombed the enemy at night and they continued to do this throughout the War. They thought that the Americans were crazy to bomb in broad daylight. The B-17 bombers, however, were heavily armed and could defend themselves fairly well. The English bombers, on the other hand, had few guns. When the B-17s first began flying, the Germans had so many fighter planes that the losses were terrible. With ten men in each bomber, sometimes five or six hundred men would be lost in a single mission. The situation reversed itself when the fighter planes had range enough to escort the bombers all the way to the target. At the time I was flying, the American fighters were beginning to outnumber the enemy. Their losses were so heavy that on some of, our missions we did not see a single enemy plane.

One time, before we started flying missions we had the opportunity to visit an English radar station in southern England. It was a large curved gla.s.s about six feet across at table top level with a map of England and Europe on the gla.s.s. The room in which it was placed was dark and there was a light under the gla.s.s. The planes returning from a mission were little blips on the gla.s.s. A couple of the blips were over the ocean way south of England and they were trying to contact them by radio to reorient them. they were far off course and expected to run out of fuel over the Atlantic. I imagine there were more than a few who ended up missing England due to wind changes or bad weather during the war.

When we did use our radio we had a code for each mission and the four flights of each squadron were: red, blue, green, etc. We used these codes when talking to each other so we knew who we were talking to without using any given names. We looked forward to short missions to France or Belgium and these were called "milk runs". The long missions with flak and enemy fighters were the ones we dreaded. I should mention that we had a certain amount of fear on these missions. It has been said that anyone who doesn't experience fear in combat is lying. It affected some more than others, however, and we were constantly being observed by our doctor for any signs of battle fatigue. The strain would begin to tell after you had flown a lot of missions.

When we began to lose friends, I guess one just developed an att.i.tude that it wasn't going to happen to you. If you were shot down there was still a good chance of surviving if you bailed out safely. The only instruction we ever had about parachutes took about five minutes. "You put the chute on this way and this is what you pull", and that was about it. One time I visited a building on the base where they were packing parachutes and I learned how they folded them, but I would never have had the nerve to do my own. When talking to some of the bomber crews that were in prison camp with us, we learned-much about their experiences having to bail out. They did not wear their parachutes and had to put them on before Jumping. They told about some airmen who were wounded or unconscious and they would put parachutes on them and push them out. Even the unconscious ones turned up In prison camp so it seems a fact that oven the unconscious mind reacts, telling the body what to do. They must have pulled their own rip cords to open their chutes.

One of the missions most memorable to me was to a target in northern Germany where we were providing escort for bombers. When we got over Denmark the weather turned very bad and we couldn't avoid the overcast so were forced to fly on instruments. We never did find the bombers. If it had been clear weather we could have seen Norway and Sweden as we were close enough. The relay plane broadcast the message to return to England and by this time we were all separated and lost in the storm. I headed for home alone and decided to try to get under the clouds as I couldn't get above them. When I came down out of the clouds I was about twenty feet above the waves of the North Sea. The waves appeared to be about fifty feet high and I was flying Just above them. Suddenly a big bomber went across in front of me in the mist and clouds. I don't know if it was enemy or friendly but I couldn't have found it again anyway. I was having enough trouble just flying my own plane. I was tense, my heart was in my throat and really pounding I flew across water all the way to England so it didn't much matter that I wasn't crossing the Channel at the narrowest point (my usual effort). I gained alt.i.tude when I thought England was near, went back on instruments in the overcast and called the base for a heading. The base would give you a heading to fly for couple of minutes then change to another heading so they could pick you out of the other planes on the radar screen. They could then determine your position and give you a heading home. When you are headed properly you pick up a steady beep on your radio. You try to keep the beep increasing in loudness as it gets fainter if you are turning to either side. You could fly a straight line to the base and when you approached you would be given an alt.i.tude to fly in at. They even gave instructions as to when to let the wheals down. The radio truck was parked at the end of the runway and when I came down out of the overcast I was about ten feet above the truck lined up with the runway And able to make a perfect landing. I was tired and relieved to be on the ground. The guys on the radar truck did a great Job!

The rest of the squadron gradually returned until we were all down and each pilot could go through debriefing, where he told what had happened on the mission. We found out then that from the three squadrons from our field there were eight pilots missing. Our squadron lost no one on that mission. Usually when a pilot goes down he calls an his radio or there is a lot of chatter if they engage enemy fighters. This time there was only silence on the radio. With forty eight planes in our three squadrons, if someone went down they should have been seen by one of us. We suspected the missing pilots might have flown to Norway or Sweden ( neutral countries ) for some reason. Some of those missing were friends of mine, but not as close as the fellows in our own squadron. High Command in England thought the Germans might have come up with a new weapon as no flak or enemy fighters were seen. All flights from England were grounded for three days while an investigation took place. None of those pilots ever turned up in prison camps and I don't think anyone ever knew what really happened to them. On another mission we escorted the bombers to Regansburg in southeast Germany, which was about as far as to Berlin, to bomb the ball bearing factories in that area. It was a tough mission because the flak was so heavy and the other defenses were greater because the factories were important. There were about 1500 planes from England and another 1100 came up from Africa. Someone erred in the planning of this mission as we crossed at right angles at the same alt.i.tude and we had trouble keeping from flying into each other. I never saw so many planes in the air at one time and guess the Germans hadn't either as they didn't send up any fighters! it was reaching the point where we had more planes than they did and so they only came up when they had a chance of success. We observed something unusual on that mission. Some white smoky objects came up from the ground in a spiral track to about 15,000 feet before they disappeared. They couldn't reach our alt.i.tude and seemed to move slowly. We reported them upon our return, but no one knew what they were. On other missions where the Germans didn't send up fighters, our fellows would be allowed to go down to ground level and shoot anything they could see.

On this raid our squadron went down and we dove shooting at some large boats on the Danube River. Every tenth bullet was a tracer that made a white trail in the sky allowing you to track them. It seemed strange to set your bullets going down and those from the ships coming up. I watched my bullets. .h.i.tting the decks. We flew all the way back to England Just above the tree tops but never saw a train or airfield to shoot at. There were flak towers, but they were too dangerous and we all flew around them. They were concrete towers with many guns that could shoot in all directions. It did no good to shoot at them.

By now I had flown ten missions and was ent.i.tled to receive the Air Medal. At a ceremony at the base, we were presented with the medal by General Whelan. For each additional five missions we got an Oak Leaf cl.u.s.ter which we fastened to our theatre ribbon. I received two of these before being shot down.

On occasion we had the job of censoring outgoing mail from the enlisted personnel. No one liked doing this as it was a tedious Job.

We had to read all their letters and cross out any military info that the enemy might pick up. Our mail was censored by the squadron commander then sealed and sent out. After reading letters for a couple of hours, I don't believe we bothered to cross out much.

Some of the English women living near the air base were selling chances on a fruit cake for a shilling a ticket. I had the winning ticket and when they delivered the fruit cake we could hardly believe it. It was in a washtub three feet across and over a foot high. We Put it on the table in our Ready Room where we spent our time relaxing. We had to cut it with one of our Jungle knives, a machete (another one of the Army's questionable issues: a Jungle kit for each of us in England). The bottom six inches of the fruit cake was solid fruit so you know it was rich. We cut off two sections for the other two squadrons and some for the enlisted men and still had enough to last a week. I don't know how they baked anything that big, but it tasted very good.

One other of our missions somewhere over Germany we lost several more of our pilots. We ran into a lot of German fighter planes and were soon scattered all over the sky. I was so busy trying to keep from being shot down that I didn't get an opportunity to shoot an enemy plane. When things calmed down I found myself alone so headed back to England. When I gained enough alt.i.tude I heard the relay plane calling a new compa.s.s heading as the wind had changed to about 50 mph from the north. I corrected to the new heading but there was no way of knowing if everyone had picked up the message. It was uncanny, the sense of direction I had. I believe I could have crossed at the narrowest part of the Channel even without a compa.s.s heading! It must have been a sense of direction I was born with because it made no difference what my location was over Germany, I knew exactly where England was all the time.

As it turned out, I was the only one from our squadron of 16 planes that made it back to our airfield. Most of the others were low an gas by the time they got over land and were scattered all over England upon landing. One of our flights of four planes was unaware of the wind changes, were blown off course and were way south of England.

They were still over land, luckily, when they ran out of gas and had to bail out. Al Johnson the big Swede was one of them and it was the only time in the year that he didn't owe me any money! They were along the coast of France and were captured by the Germans. He was not in our prison camp so I did not see him until we were in Atlantic City for discharge. He told me that all four had landed safely and that when he came down in his parachute, he went through an old barn roof and landed in a pile of manure.