Had to Go to War Part 1

By

Thomas L. Yates -- 766th Bomb Squadron

The other day I was watching an old movie about Mark Twain and I thought how nice it was for him to just sit and write about the things that he knew and imagined.  I then thought about my father who never wrote much except a memo about World War I during the time he was in France while fighting there.  Although his writing wasn't the best it was quite legible.  As all this went through my mind I wondered if my family and their families would have any interest in some of my activities and some random thoughts about the things I remember before and during my time in the United States Army Air Corp.

Our Crew was #53 and consisted of the following men: Pilot, Lee P. Ward; Replacement Pilot, Michael K. LaRock; Co-Pilot, Gregory E. Maaza; Bombardier, Andrew E. McVicars; Navigator, George Wilson; Flight Engineer, Thomas L. Yates; Nose Gunner, William E. Glover; Ball Gunner, George Reaney; Tail Gunner, Melvin J. Moore; Radio Operator, Anthony J. Centanni; Waist Gunner, Mervin A. Dumdei.

I didn't want to be a mechanic.  I didn't feel I had the talent for the job.  I didn't try very hard for I didn't like what I was doing.  After a break one day I noticed a bulletin stating if one failed this initial course he would be transferred to the infantry.  Would you believe I finished second in my class for the entire course and was rewarded with a ride in Pistol Packing Mama, a celebrated B-24 which was brought back to the States to help with the war effort at home.

I learned I was to be the Aerial Engineer.  I protested for I didn't feel I was qualified to be a flying mechanic.  The protest was of no avail and I had to go through with it.  I learned how to transfer gas, how to feather props, how to change out amplifiers and how to do many other necessary flight maintenance tasks, all in the classroom, but not in the air in actual flight.  I went up once with a Flight Engineer and watched him, the next time he explained the things he was doing, and the third time he said, "It's all yours."  At that time I hoped that my pilots had more training.

When we were ready to go overseas we flew our B-24's across the nation from West to East stopping in Arizona, Tennessee and New Hampshire.  After a couple of days in New Hampshire we went over to Gander, Newfoundland.  We were weathered in there for about a week.  The weather let up a bit and early one August morning we took off from Newfoundland and headed for the Azores.  It was beautiful for we were flying just above the clouds and when the sun came up it seemed to filter the rays of light through the peaks of the clouds.  We were fortunate to have an excellent Navigator for we hit the Azores head on.  We stayed there over night and then we were off to Africa.  We landed in Marrakech in one of the worst electrical storms I have ever experienced.  After that we went to Tunis and then we went to Bari, Italy.  We left our plane there and were transported to Cerignola in another plane.

I remember my first mission.  It was to bomb an airfield at Athens, Greece.  It seemed that the Germans were trying to get their troops out of the area by tri-motor transports and we wanted to isolate them there.  There were light anti-aircraft shells exploding around us and the fire in the middle of the shell was as big as a barn.  It was frightening.  The Co-pilot who flew with us this day was an experienced combat pilot and he called back to the waist position to throw out chaff.  Now chaff is like Christmas tinsel. This material fouls up the radar which guides the flak guns.  Our crew was so green that they didn't know it had to be removed from the cardboard boxes and they dumped box and all. I don't believe that anyone knew about it except the Germans.  At least they already had their Christmas tinsel a bit early.

We lost our first Pilot, Lee Ward, when he was shot down over Trieste.  He was flying with a "green" (new) crew on their first mission.

After the loss of Lt. Ward we were assigned a new Pilot.  He was Second Lieutenant Michael K. LaRock who had been a Co-pilot on another crew.  Mike was a nice appearing young man who had a certain air about him.  He had great confidence in himself as a pilot and trusted others to know their jobs.

On Michael's first mission with us we drew a long mission to Poland.  Planes are much like cars, in that some give good gas mileage and some get very poor mileage.  We had a plane that drank more than the usual 200 gallons of gas an hour.  On the way to the target I informed Lt. LaRock that we would not have enough gas to get back to our base.  He informed me that this was his first mission as a First Pilot and he was going there and back even if he had to get out and push.  On the way back we lightened our ship of almost everything unessential and then through radio communication we found out that there was an emergency landing strip on the island of Vis just off the coast of Yugoslavia.  This little landing strip was cratered in among some mountains and this caused updrafts which made landing difficult.  Before landing Mike kept asking me if we could circle one more time.  Since the gauges are tube type and fluctuated with the movement of the plane it is difficult to get an accurate reading, so I kept telling him it was a risk.  When we finally landed I took a stick reading of the tanks, from the top of the wings.  I found that number three engine had about 30 gallons and the others varied from 5 to 20 gallons.  It was nice to be down.

Many unusual things happened to the different crews of our Squadron and to us.  Once when the Operations Officer had to fly with our crew and we were near Prague, the supercharger to one of the engines went out and the spare would not help.  At this time we had to abort, and while returning we came close to a previous target that we were unable to bomb because of poor weather.  We decided to give it a try but had no bombsight so the bombardier used the windshield wiper and we hit the target solid.  That day we were one of the camera ships so Sgt. Dumdei filmed the hit.  Because of the hit we got credit for the mission.

I believe the worst of the trips was the one to Munich in October of 1944.  We were in the flight that was to hit the target and then rally right drawing the fire.  Then the rest of the planes in the Group rallied left and were a little more protected.  As a result the #4 plane of our group, which is the center plane of the formation, caught a direct hit.  When 2800 gallons of 100 octane gets a direct hit it is a tremendous burst of fire and parts of the plane and crew went in all directions.  We were flying in #3 position, which is to the left and ahead of #4, and the power of the blast moved us ahead and outward.  Planes in the #5, #6, and #7 positions were all damaged and were not able to get back over the Alps.  We throttled back to lend protection for a while, but the planes just couldn't maintain altitude.  Crews of those planes all bailed out into the Alps and we never did hear of their outcome.

I have to tell you about my tail gunner.  He was from Greenville, Texas.  He had pilot training, but washed out.  He was a splendid person about six feet tall with curly red hair.  He had a Texas drawl and said that he did not believe in God.  He always wanted to encounter enemy fighters and one day he got his chance.  He shot down a German FW-190 and saw his shell kill the pilot.  It made him realize that he didn't want to do any more killing.  He never wanted to see another enemy aircraft.  Melvin used to say that in the next war that there would be three in the tail turret for it would take two to hold him in there.

The war was fought by the youth.  The oldest person on our crew was 28 year old George Reaney.  You might have guessed that we called him "Pop".  One of the best Nose Gunners was a youngster who turned 18 while flying his tour.  The finest Lead Pilot was only 20 years old and I was told that his Commanding Officer had to send in a waiver on age so as to promote him to the rank of Captain.

Lt. Faulkner and his crew were shot down.  This was a raid to Vienna and we weren't on this raid but later when they returned they told me of their experiences.  They got hit coming off the target and the Pilot kept the ship in the air with the use of trim tabs as the control cables were shot out.  The Engineer was able to get the crew members to get their chutes on and push them out of the bomb bay.  He wasn't sure that all were conscious at the time.  Some were hit pretty bad and the Radio Operator had died from severe head injuries.  After all had bailed out the ship burst into flames. They were rescued by Mihilovich's Chetnicks.

There were also some Russians at a tavern where they stayed and these Russians kept taunting their group.  After a while the Co-pilot went over to one of the Russians and floored him with one punch.  They said that after that there was no more trouble.  Faulkner asked the Chetnicks to be turned over to a friendly group of Yugoslavians.  Now this was a problem because the Yugoslavians and the Chetnicks were at war with one another but American money talks and the situation was soon straightened out.  It took about a month or so for all this to take place and they came in the gate looking like hell.  I thought surely they would be sent home but that crew didn't have much luck.  They were patched up and sent back in the air to finish their missions.  Remember, the Radio Operator who was killed, well, he was a pickup operator for their regular Radio Operator who refused to fly anymore for he had had enough.

At Sheppard Field we had different days for different parts of our basic training.  There was a master schedule for activities such as close order drill, physical education, aircraft recognition, etc.  A friend of mine found out the schedule for the days of aircraft recognition.  When these groups started for the theater we would sneak in their formation.  It was a lot better in the theater than on the drill field.  At Harlingen Gunnery School we also had aircraft recognition.  I made the highest grade of anyone who attended that program.  Little did they know that I had more practice than most.  Once when we were coming off a target in Austria, my pilot wanted to know if any of us could see the escort.  I swung my turret around and spotted the escort.  I replied that they were at seven o'clock. A few moments later I heard my Tail Gunner blasting away and tracers were buzzing over my head.  It seemed that the best student in aircraft recognition had mistaken German FW-190's for P-51's.

When the Winter Olympics were held in Sarejevo it reminded me of our many targets in Yugoslavia.  Sarejevo was one of our targets along with Zagreb.  Once while bombing Zagreb a shell hit so close to the plane that I felt the heat and thought the plane was on fire.  I slid out of my top turret without releasing the seat and this can't be done.  Anyway I looked around and found a hole about the size of a Texas Grapefruit.  My waist gunner had been looking out the camera hatch and when he lifted his head his face was covered with soot.  We were lucky that this shell burst downward and not upward.

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Last modified: 02/27/2008