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Memories of WWII Pilots
& Crews
squadron on the internet.) Hope these memories will preserve some of the greatness that was and is an integral
part of those who fought and all too often died in WWII.
made such an indelible impression on me that I thought it might interest you as well.
These events took place in the Phillipines where my father built runways
for our flyers in the 5th Air Force. Stationed at this base was a P38 squad led by a 25
year old Colonel. According to my father, this pilot was a very good flyer. After
a mission, he would make a pass over the runway INVERTED 10 feet off
the ground. About mid way down the strip, he would climb straight up and
do aileron rolls while climbing.
One day, this man left on a mission and never came back. I never knew his
name, but I will always remember this story about him.
In honor of this pilot and others like him that gave all they had, let us never
forget that "Freedom" is not free.
This story was given to me
by a friend of mine in San
Antonio, TX, Monte C.
Monte's Dad had never
shared his W.W.I.I memories
with his family, up until now.
What promoted him to do so now
was that Monte asked him to tell
him a story so he could add it to
our site. What happened as a
result of Monte's request was, to
me at least, pretty teriffic.
Monte and his brother spent a
weekend with their Dad during
which time they videotaped hours
of their Dad's recollections about
his W.W.I.I experiences. I
believe that if Monte had never
asked, their dad may never have
told them anything.
The "moral" of this message is:
PLEASE: ask a veteran to share
their memories with you
TODAY. Tomorrow may be too
late. Even if you don't send it
here, get it anyway as it can at
least be recorded somewhere.
Thank you!
My dad, Arthur C. served aboard the USS Yorktown as a fighter pilot.
He was discharged at the rank of Lt. Commander after serving with
distinction in the Pacific. He was credited with 7 kills.
Dad was trained in a Hellcat and by his record, he was quite good.
What surprised us all was that at any given time, he would be told to fly
a mission in another type of plane. In fact, he might have to fly any
plane that was aboard ship, depending on the need. As any pilot will
tell you, taking off of and landing on an aircraft carrier is always a
challenge. But to have to do it in a combat situation in a plane that
you may never had flown was nothing short of remarkable.
Another surprise, for me at least, was to hear how he described
the lack of maintenance on the aircraft. In order to determine whether
a particular plane was air worthy, pilots were told to take out a plane
for 3 take-offs and landings. If the plane made it, they figured it was
capable of going out on a combat mission! If it didnt make 3 well, you
get the picture.
During their weekend of listening to their dad's stories, Monte told
Arthur that I (Ghost) fly in a WWII virtual squadron on the internet. So,
Arthur passed on some advice for an evasive tactic when an enemy is
on your six. (By his record, it sounds like it worked for him) As best as
I can relate, he said you have to bank left, then quickly bank right then
roll while banking and you will pull up low on the enemy's six! (No, I
have not figured it out, but i hope I have the privilege of meeting Arthur
so he can tell me himself.)
THANK YOU Arthur for your courage and for your service!
The following story was given to me by my next door neighbor. (I must tell you that you could not ask for
nicer neighbors than Merle and his wife Betty!)
Merle was a bombadier on a B-17 in the Eighth Air Force in 1945. The photo below shows Merle with his crew next to their ship. He is in the top row, the center man. (Looks pretty young, doesn't he?)
He has shared his memory with us in the story below. It is nice to note that not all memories of war were of
death and destruction.
PLEASE REMEMBER, if you and I do not save these memories of our veterans, they will be lost and the
lessons we can learn will be lost with them. Ask a veteran to share some of their memories with you TODAY,
and send it in to us or to another memories page.
An Easter Story
(A memory of Merle C)
The year was 1945. The United States was still at war in Europe and in the Pacific. German submarines were still
prowling around the shipping lanes of the Atlantic Ocean. As a consequence, ships from the United States to
Europe were still travelling in convoys. About a week before Easter a convoy departed New York City headed for
Europe. I was one of several thousand troops on board ships in the convoy. I was a twenty year old B-17 gunner,
part of a ten man replacement airorew headed for England to become part of the Eighth Air Force. We were on
board the troop ship, the USS General William Wiegle.
Our ship departed New York harbor under cover of darkness then joined up with the other ships of the convoy and
our escort vessels the following morning. There seemed to be ships in every direction all the way to the horizon.
There were oil tankers, cargo ships and several other troop ships. The troop ships were near the center of the
convoy for maximum protection. We travelled only as fast as the maximum speed of the slowest ship in the
convoy, which we soon decided was an oil tanker off our port side whose decks appeared to be awash most of the
time. The first two or three days out of New York were fairly uneventful as we explored the ship and settled into
our routines. A few of the troops became seasick, but most of us did OK
About the third or fourth day of our voyage one of those infamous North Atlantic storms caught us. Very soon
it seemed that everyone on board was seasick. The sleeping areas soon smelled of vomit and unwashed bodies.
Many of the men laid in their bunks, to ill to attempt any kind of activity. In addition, it was quite dangerous to
walk on deck as they were extremely slippery as a result of waves constantly breaking over them.
All day and all night the bow of the ship would rise on a huge swell, until the center of gravity shifted and the stern
would then rise as the bow plunged into the next swell. After what seemed like an eternity, to those of us unfamiliar
with ships and the sea, the buoyancy of the ship would bring the bow back up. Each time that the stern rose and
fell the ship�s propeller would come out of the water and the ship would resound with a loud �plop-plop-plop� as
the propeller emerged from and reentered the water. The cycle would then start all over again.
Many of the men were to ill to eat. Others found it extremely difficult to do so. As the ship inclined from side to
side and from bow to stern, the metal trays the meals were served on would slide similarly on the galley tables. This
meant using one hand to hold the tray while using the other hand to eat with.
After five days and nights the storm moved past us or blew its self out, or did what ever North Atlantic storms do.
Most of the men recovered from their seasickness quite rapidly and the ship was soon cleaned up and everyone
soon returned to their routines.
The next day was Easter Sunday. The Catholic personnel on board had determined that there was no Catholic Chaplain on board our ship. We assumed that there would not be an Easter Mass to celebrate the Resurrection of
our Lord and that we would not have the opportunity to receive the Sacrament of Communion.
Easter Sunday dawned with overcast skies and the seas were still rough and angry looking, adding to the gloom
that many of us were feeling. As we walked on deck we noticed another ship sending a message to cur ship with
a signalling lamp. I imagine the ships were observing radio silence to avoid giving away the convoy�s position to
enemy submarines that might be monitoring the air waves. As we watched, the ship that we had seen making the
signals came alongside the USS Wiegle. It was another troop ship just about identical to ours. When the two ships
were travelling at the same speed and about 75 to 100 feet apart, a small line was shot from the other ship to ours.
This line was used to pull a larger line to our ship. The second line was used to pull a still larger line across the open
expanse of water. This third line was secured to the superstructure of both ships. A breeches buoy was rigged on
this line which was about 25 or 30 feet above the water. A breeches buoy is a device suspended on a pulley or a
wheel which travels on a line between two ships and is used to transfer cargo, mail or personnel between ships at
sea while they are underway.
As we watched, a man on the other ship was helped into the breeches buoy. The device, with its human cargo,
was pulled from the other ship toward ours. Just as the halfway point was reached, the two ships inclined toward
each other, as they moved through the still rough seas. This natural inclination plus the weight of the man being
transferred caused the line and its human cargo to drop toward the water. It appeared the man would be dunked
into the extremely cold waters of the North Atlantic. At the very instant that the man�s feet appeared to reach the
water, the ships� inclination reached the maximum in one direction. As the ships began their return to a normal
attitude, the line supporting the breeches buoy tightened and the man was saved from his dunking. He was quickly
pulled the rest of the way to our ship and willing hands helped him from his precarious perch onto the safety of the
deck.
The word was quickly passed around the ship that the man transferred to our ship was a Catholic Chaplain
coming aboard to say Mass for the Catholic servicemen on board the USS Wiegle. A galley table was soon
converted into an altar and it was announced over the ship�s public address system that Mass would begin
immediately. The Chaplain announced that since it would be impossible for him to hear the individual confessions of
the large number of Catholic personnel on the ship, he would give general absolution so that all of us could receive
the Sacrament of Communion on Easter. This meant that each of us must seek out a priest and go to confession at
our earliest opportunity. The Chaplain, whose identity I do not recall, proceeded to say Mass and distribute
Communion to the ship�s Catholic personnel.
After he had finished the Mass, the Chaplain announced that he would be transferred to yet another ship to bring
the word of God to other troops . As many as possible of the troops crowded onto the deck and watched in
fascination and admiration as this holy man of God uncomplainingly put his life at risk to carry the word of God
and the Sacrament of Communion on this greatest of feast days in the Christian church to young American
servicemen who might be in combat in just a few days. The willingness of this priest, who was not a young man,
to put his life at risk doing the work of his calling, made a deep impression on me, and I�m sure on the thousands
of other men, Catholic, Protestant and Jew on board the several ships of the convoy that he ministered to.
It made me realize that not all heroic acts during war take place in combat or on the battlefield. Every year when I
celebrate Easter I am reminded of that courageous priest.
Here is Merle by a B-17 at Lackland AFB
in San Antonio, TX in 2001.
Thank you for your story and most of
all for your service.
This memory tells about a glider pilot who... well, it's best if you read it yourself.
I completed Pilot Training at Eagle Pass Army Air Field and received my Pilot�s Wings and commission as a Second
Lieutenant on August 4, 1944. I was selected for transition training into the P-40 Warhawk fighter plane and stayed at
Eagle Pass AAF for that training. In October, 1944 I was sent overseas to England, where I was assigned to the 435th
Troop Carrier Group at Newbery, England, part of the 9th Air Force. By the time we arrived in England, the German Air
Force had been almost totally destroyed and there was no longer a need for more fighter pilots. Eventually some of us
P-40 pilots were transitioned into C-47 Gooney Bird pilots.
In February, 1945, we were transitioned into Glider Pilots. On March 24, 1945, as members of the 77th Troop Carrier
Squadron of the 435th Troop Carrier Group, we took off from our home field in central France. The mission was code
named �Varsity� and was the first time Allied troops would invade Germany by crossing the Rhine River. I was piloting a
glider with 17 infantry troops on board. After about a three and one-half hour flight, we landed near Wesel, Germany. It
was here that a bunch of Pilots turned into the 77th Glider and Anti-tank Squadron.
Here is the story as told in �The Stars and Stripes� on April 1, 1945.
"The Battle of �Burp Gun Corner�"
A good smart PFC, poring through the records of Troop Carrier Command, could spend many hours and many days
without finding the name of one squadron of a group which just came back from Germany. He�d find the official
designation, all right � the 77th T.C. Squadron of the 435th T.C. Group � but he wouldn�t find the name the men earned
for themselves on a country crossroads five miles north and a little west of Wesel, at about 2400 hours on March 24,
1945.
There were 144 men in the squadron, which took off from its home field in Central France a few minutes after 0800
hours on March 24. By 1130 hours , they were down with their gliders in the patches of woods, the cultivated fields, the
dirt-covered roads of what became the northern gateway to the Reich.
"Suddenly They Became Doughs"
Up until then they had been pilots and co-pilots. Their job was to deliver cargoes of men, equipment, and supplies to
the designated landing zone. Then, on the ground, their assignment changed. First lieutenants, second lieutenants, and
flight officers formed up as infantry at their assembly point, and went into the line to hold a roadblock at �Burp Gun
Corner.�
Their bars were pinned on the under side of their shirt collars; they had tommy guns and M1s and entrenching tools in
their hands, and they had grenades dangling from the breast pockets of their combat jackets. And every man had a knife,
M3, strapped to his leg.
Their position was backed up by two .50 cal. Machine guns, manned by genuine infantrymen of the 194th Glider Rgt.,
17th Airborne Division, and a 6-pounder AT gun of the same outfit.
Veterans like John Love, of Youngstown, OH, making his third combat landing, teamed up with recently-converted
power pilots like tall, rangy, Texas-born Ray Niblo (from Dallas), both second lieutenants, to dig and fight like doughs.
"Watch in the Night"
Through the afternoon, there was scattered fire on their position from German troops pulling out of Wesel ahead of
British commandos who had crossed the Rhine at dawn. That didn�t worry the glider pilots, though � they were hunting
Lugers and P38s in the small brick houses which bordered the roads at �Burp Gun Corner.� They found them, too. They
also found a warehouse crammed with bicycles which had evidently been confiscated by the German �ack-ack� troops
who occupied the position before the glider pilots took it over.
They ate their K-rations in the dusk of an early spring evening, and then settled down in foxholes to sleep and watch
by turns.
At midnight, all hell broke loose at the crossroads
A force of Germans, estimated at about battalion strength, came up the road from Wesel. They had two 20mm
dual-purpose guns, a dozen or more machine guns, and the courage of desperation on their side. The glider pilots had
youth, guts, brains, and plenty of ammunition for their light automatic weapons on theirs. They needed them all before the
fight was over. Another thing they were damned glad they had was the infantry training back in the states. Many of them
had never expected to fire a rifle in combat � they were pilots. But there at �Burp Gun Corner,� they had a choice to
make - to fight like infantrymen, or to die. None of them died.
Somebody, manning a .30 cal. Machine gun, spotted the Krauts first. Slipping shadows moved in the moonlight, trying
to infiltrate the position.
�Halt,� the MG man yelled. A shadow moved in the darker shadow of a house. The gun flashed and chattered into
action. The Battle of �Burp Gun Corner� had opened.
Red tracers streaked the darkness beside the houses. A glider, which had landed in a field just off the corner, burst into
flames. The German advance men pulled back and the Kraut tank moved up.
"The Battle Was On"
The crossroads itself is on the top of a ridge from which wooded country slopes away in the direction of Wesel.
Because of the reverse slope the tank was able to approach almost to the edge of the glider pilots� foxhole line without
coming under fire from the AT gun to the rear. As it maneuvered into position, the Germans started a weird yelling and
cheering.
You could hear it, plainly, from foxholes as far as 200 yards behind the corner defense line. Then they came in with an
attack like the Japanese �Banzai� charges reported from the Pacific.
The glider pilots poured it into them. One lieutenant, firing a bazooka in combat for the first time in his life, stopped the
tank.
Dragging one track, it churned around and pulled back. The machine-gunners tried to light it up with tracers for the anti
-tank gunners, but were unable to do so. Before it backed away, the tank knocked out one of the .50 cal. guns, wounding
two men.
The dreaded 20mm guns, which had chopped up gliders in the air that morning, were duck soup when the Krauts
moved them up to the corner. One, struck by a bazooka shell, was reduced to a mass of twisted wreckage. A machine
gun burst killed the crew of the other without damaging the gun. The gun was captured and incorporated into the glider
pilot defense line.
The reception they got at �Burp Gun Corner� was more than the Krauts could take. They pulled back, those who
could make it, to surrender later in the day when the whole area was cleaned out and scoured. When it was light enough
to see, the glider pilots took score. They counted 13 dead Germans at or near the corner. They took 45 prisoners and one
little German medic who did his best to care for his dying countrymen. Unwounded prisoners at the corner amounted to
well over 80.
On their side, the glider pilots had one man with an eye injury caused when a tile, blown off the roof of a house, hit
him in the face. Another had his scalp creased by a burp-gun bullet.
The glider pilots were taken out of the line at dusk the next night. They marched nine miles back through Germany,
crossing the Rhine in British-manned assault boats, to a bivouac area in a shelled-up town on the west bank. As they
moved along the road past the massed armor of Montgomery�s Second British Army, which was moving up to exploit the
bridge-head they had helped establish, they passed two men standing by the road.
One, short and stocky, with his cigar tilted at a rakish angle, was an Englishman. His name was Winston Churchill.
The man with him was an American. His name was Dwight D. Eisenhower.
Only one man recognized the British Prime Minister and the Supreme Commander. Excitedly, he told the men he
marched with: �Do you know who those guys are? That�s Churchill and Eisenhower!�
A slow southern drawl replied: �Ah reckon they doan know who we are -- the 77th Glider and Anti-tank Squadron �
the only one in the whole god-damned Army. That�s us.�
He was right �that�s them.
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Walt, thanks for sharing your memories and thanks for your service to our Nation !!
of his experience, though we can only imagine what he must have experienced in a POW camp. For me, it reminds me anew of the many hardships our veterans endured so the world would be
free. We must always remember these unselfish men and their patriotism! THANK YOU for
your service John.
(B-24 Flight Engineer and Top Turret Gunner)
After completing B-24 Aircraft crew-training at Biggs Army Air Field in March, 1944, our
crew was sent to Topeka, Kansas to pick up a new B-24 aircraft . It had only four flight hours
on it. We were really excited about being assigned to a brand new aircraft to go over seas in.
We named the aircraft. And painted the crew-member names on her next to the crew position
that each man occupied. After a few days we received our orders to proceed overseas and
flew first to Grenier Field at Manchester, New Hampshire. We spent a couple of days there
and then flew to Goose Bay, Labrador. At Goose Bay we had to wait two or three days while
the weather cleared on our route to England. We departed Goose Bay and flew to Bluey West
Number VIII, Greenland. There were a series of landing strips on the west coast of Greenland
all named Bluey West and differentiated from each other by being numbered from One
through Eight. We only stayed there long enough to get crew rest and refuel and then flew on
to Warrington, England. After we landed we were sent on to our Base by ground transport and
never saw our new B-24 again. We were assigned to the 713th Bomb Squadron of the 448th
Bomb Group at Seething, England. We were shot down on our 18th mission on July 13, 1944.
The mission was to bomb the railroad marshalling yards at Saarbruken, Germany. We were hit
by both anti-aircraft fire and German fighter aircraft. Our entire crew bailed out and we were
captured immediately. No one on our crew was seriously injured, although several crew
-members had broken legs from hard landings. We were held as Prisoners of War until March
1945 when we were released.
And now - the rest of the story:
In the late 1990's, the Department of Defense directed all services to locate personnel and
present any awards from all wars and bring personnel records up to date. In 1997 I was
contacted by someone from the Military Personnel Center at Randolph AFB and asked how I
would like my Air Medal and Prisoner of War Medal presented. In 1998, with just a few close
friends and wives present, (at my request) a private ceremony was held in the Wing
Commander�s Office at Lackland AFB. Brig/Gen Barksdale presented me with the two
medals. There was no publicity of this event, at my request.
of the fine virtues common to so many of our W.W. I.I veterans, namely courage and self-sacrifice. Read on and
see if you don't agree. Then, remember this story is just one of many, many others. PLEASE get a story from a
veteran and send it to us so it can be here for all to read about and to learn from these brave men.
As for your invitation for a story for your journals, well is fate a strange thing or what. I read your e mail this morning while having breakfast as well as reading my morning paper. Low and behold before my eyes is a great flying story
(although I do have several more ). I have added some reserch material in the story, but the main story itself is all fact.
I felt this story would be a good addition to your pages as well as help to keep alive the memory of this great fighter.
Death of a Baby Killer
(Ghost's note: don't let the title fool you. It does not refer to the pilot)
A tribute to Lt William Leefe Robinson VC
Adapted by Albert MacBeath ( 83rd Gen_Albertz )
In the early morning of Sunday, September the 3rd 1916, Lieutenant William Leefe Robinson, a 21 year old flying
corps officer was flying his BE2c biplane. It was late in the evening and darkness had just fallen while he was heading
back to his airfield in Hornchurch Essex. As he flew over Cuffley Hertfordshire, he saw a German Navy Schutte-Lanz
airship, number SL11, one of the so called "Baby Killers" ( they were called this because they would attack at night
when people were just going to bed. Most of there victims were people asleep in there beds. This type of attack at that
time in history was deemed as unfair and against the rules of decent warfare, if indeed there is such a thing )
The airship was caught in the search lights over Finsbury park, following its earlier raids on Tottenham and Enfield in
North London. Because Lt Robinson had no form of communication he could not radio for help or help direct gun fire
from the ground. Because of fading light Robinson also knew that any delay in getting back to his base may mean he
would get lost in the dark and have to ditch his plane.
However, risking danger from ground shell fire which would soon be bursting all around him, and machine gun attack
by the airship crew, Robinson put his aircraft into a dive and flew to within 500 feet of the airship. As shells peppered
his craft and tracer bullets whizzed past him Robinson emptied an entire drum of incendiary bullets from his solitary
Lewis gun into the airships belly and side. Within a few minutes of his attack, the airship began to slowly glow and
then started a blazing fire within the rear of the airship before falling into a field in the town of Cuffley. All 16 crew
members of the airship were killed.
Robinson then used all his skills as a pilot to fly low hugging the ground to find his way back to his airfield, which
was now in total darkness. 4 days later Robinson received the Victoria Cross from King George V as a tribute to his
act of bravery. ( The Victoria Cross being the highest award any British citizen can receive )
After a short leave, Robinson was back in the seat of his craft, but sadly crashed his plane behind enemy lines while in
action near Douai. He was held P.O.W, with fellow pilots until his failed escape attempt lead him to be held in solitary
confinement until the Armistice in 1918.
Lt Robinson wrote several letters to his family, but never mentioned his ill treatment or harsh living conditions. He was
always up beat and longed for the day he would come home to the loving arms of his family, which was his only
purpose now for living. He finally got his wish when in December he was set free and sent home. Sadly, several days
later Robinson died of influenza at his home on the 31st of December 1918, following his appalling treatment in
captivity. One consolation is that he did indeed get his final wish and be back home with his family.
He was buried at All Saints, Stanmore where a memorial still stands to this day on the Ridgeway in Cuffley.
THANK YOU for visiting. PLEASE ask any veteran you know if they will share a memory
with you. If you wish, we then ask you to share the story with us and our visitors. Your
memories will become part of this Tribute and a part of recorded history!
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