Gramps
Mayor
I have never told my bride of 56 years much about the war. She has never asked. This morning I took her to the heart specialist for some testing and while I was waiting I encountered a veteran of WWII who flew B-24s on many missions and we had a wonderful bull session. I told him this tale and he loved it because it had to have involved some men he flew with (although not him). When I got home I told the tale again to my bride. She was awestruck about what I had to say regarding the adventure when it was over.
They needed ground pounders on Okinawa. I was on Luzon. They decided to airlife troops (a rather new concept in warfare) using the only planes available in numbers to accomodate the transfer. They were the famed B-24's.
WE were trucked to Clark field and loaded onto B-24's. Top accomodate so many man and for weight purposes the bombay's racks were fitted with 2"x10" planks lashed with ropes to the bomb racks. Bu shuffling their cargo constantly (we were the cargo) the kept a single file of dogfaces rotation around the pereimeter of the planes cabin, into the bombay, work you way around the racks everytime we were told to shift and finally back into the cabin which was considerably warmer than the interior of the bombay. We did this mile after mile until things turned ugly. We lost an engine. Not to worry the crew chief told us. He said "this old crate can fly with three. And then a short time later another engine began to throw oil and had to be feathered rather than risk a fire. Now we're down to two engines both of which were on the same wing. And the crew chief while still trying to sound positive did prepare us for abandong the plane if need be. It was all so simple for him. A routine he'd been trained for. Not so for his guests. He explained using the chute and just stepping through the escape hatch on the rear deck of the cabin, and how to pull the tip cord as soon as the wind hit our faces and to NOT inflate our Mae West life belts until we felt out feet go into the water because if we inflated it before we hit the water the jolt would kill us. Gosh. How simple could things be, huh? Well, somehow our pilot kept the plane airborne, flying all by oursleves because the squadron we'd been with didn't wait for a crippled plane. And we flew into a terrible storm -- high winds heavy rain and all the good shit we didn't need. But, however bumpy the flight was we stayed afloat. It was dark when we flew over the island and came about to land on a recently captured airstrip called Motopu kind'a on the northwest tip of Okinawa. The first time we headed in we were off course and someone told the pilot to make a new approach and to come in on the signal of the blue beacon. It was all greek to me but not to him and we finally lined up with the strip and landed, taking an extra bump or two when we touched down. It was raining cats and dogs and the wind was fierce and the plane almost went on its nose when the pilot brought it to a stop. The crew chief shouted, "everyone out. Get under neath of the wing out of the rain." We bailed off. And stood under the wing. The pilot climbed off, walked underneath the wing, took a pack of smokes out of a pocket, put one in his mouth, took a Zippo lighter out, opened it, blew a breath into the fuel chamber, Held the lighter above his head, released a petcock that let fuel dribble out into the lighter, turned the fuel like off, closed his zippo, lit his smoke and not once __ I REPEAT, NOT ONCE_____ DID i SEE HIS HAND TREMBLE. He turned around, took a drag on the cigarette and said, "One hellova bumpy ride, huh?". He climbed on the first truck that came to pick us up.
When daylight broke the plane, we discovered, was stopped but a few feet short of a cliff that dropped into the ocean.
I tell you this tale because it illustrates why we won that war. We, the allies, had the guttiest pilots in the world. The man should've gotten a medal. A free Zippo fill-up was probably his reward.
Gramps
They needed ground pounders on Okinawa. I was on Luzon. They decided to airlife troops (a rather new concept in warfare) using the only planes available in numbers to accomodate the transfer. They were the famed B-24's.
WE were trucked to Clark field and loaded onto B-24's. Top accomodate so many man and for weight purposes the bombay's racks were fitted with 2"x10" planks lashed with ropes to the bomb racks. Bu shuffling their cargo constantly (we were the cargo) the kept a single file of dogfaces rotation around the pereimeter of the planes cabin, into the bombay, work you way around the racks everytime we were told to shift and finally back into the cabin which was considerably warmer than the interior of the bombay. We did this mile after mile until things turned ugly. We lost an engine. Not to worry the crew chief told us. He said "this old crate can fly with three. And then a short time later another engine began to throw oil and had to be feathered rather than risk a fire. Now we're down to two engines both of which were on the same wing. And the crew chief while still trying to sound positive did prepare us for abandong the plane if need be. It was all so simple for him. A routine he'd been trained for. Not so for his guests. He explained using the chute and just stepping through the escape hatch on the rear deck of the cabin, and how to pull the tip cord as soon as the wind hit our faces and to NOT inflate our Mae West life belts until we felt out feet go into the water because if we inflated it before we hit the water the jolt would kill us. Gosh. How simple could things be, huh? Well, somehow our pilot kept the plane airborne, flying all by oursleves because the squadron we'd been with didn't wait for a crippled plane. And we flew into a terrible storm -- high winds heavy rain and all the good shit we didn't need. But, however bumpy the flight was we stayed afloat. It was dark when we flew over the island and came about to land on a recently captured airstrip called Motopu kind'a on the northwest tip of Okinawa. The first time we headed in we were off course and someone told the pilot to make a new approach and to come in on the signal of the blue beacon. It was all greek to me but not to him and we finally lined up with the strip and landed, taking an extra bump or two when we touched down. It was raining cats and dogs and the wind was fierce and the plane almost went on its nose when the pilot brought it to a stop. The crew chief shouted, "everyone out. Get under neath of the wing out of the rain." We bailed off. And stood under the wing. The pilot climbed off, walked underneath the wing, took a pack of smokes out of a pocket, put one in his mouth, took a Zippo lighter out, opened it, blew a breath into the fuel chamber, Held the lighter above his head, released a petcock that let fuel dribble out into the lighter, turned the fuel like off, closed his zippo, lit his smoke and not once __ I REPEAT, NOT ONCE_____ DID i SEE HIS HAND TREMBLE. He turned around, took a drag on the cigarette and said, "One hellova bumpy ride, huh?". He climbed on the first truck that came to pick us up.
When daylight broke the plane, we discovered, was stopped but a few feet short of a cliff that dropped into the ocean.
I tell you this tale because it illustrates why we won that war. We, the allies, had the guttiest pilots in the world. The man should've gotten a medal. A free Zippo fill-up was probably his reward.
Gramps
