The Start of Something Big...

  As I look back, I know that World War 2 had the greatest influence on my life, far more than any other single item. In Lincoln we were preparing for the journey to who knows where. Never once were we told where we would be going.

   This was where I first got to know the crew that I had been assigned. The pilot's name was Lt. Slingluff. The only significant thing I could remember about him was he was always scratching his crotch. He seemed to be a rather nonchalant sort, rather reddish hair and a rather red nose. I figured he would hit the bottle if the occasion arose. He was probably about 23 or 24. Our Copilot was a rather small built guy by the name of John Titus. He gave the impression that come hell or high water he would handle any situation. I don't know why but I always thought Titus should have been the Pilot and Slingluff the co- pilot. But who am I to tell the Air Force how to manage their affairs. George McCormick was our navigator; he took us there and bought us back. He was rather quiet, but just talking to him you knew he was all business. Don Miller was the Bombardier. Don was always smiling and seemed like just a regular nice guy to be around.

  Cliff Preston was the head engineer, and Eldon Sasser the assist. Engineer. Manny Mauro was the head radio operator, and Bob Willard the assistant. Walter Early was the tail Gunner, and I flew the nose or any other position needed. When in combat, all the enlisted men flew at gun position. We were all trained as gunners, having gone through gunnery school. Of the entire crew Mauro was the oldest, married, and about 25. All in all I would say we were a pretty good crew, well trained and ready to make things happen. We felt sure once the Germans or Japs knew we were coming they would turn tail and run. Damn it was nice to be young, full of vim and vigor, not caring what tomorrow would bring.

   At Lincoln we were briefed as to our next destination, issued full flying gear, our plane serviced, and the following day bid farewell. We flew from Lincoln to Bangor, Maine. This would be our final stop before leaving the good old USA. We took on a full load of gas, about 2000 gallons, extra rations, and Don Miller was given some cash, just in case. We went to briefing and told to take off for Newfoundland. We also carried some mail, to be dropped off at our final destination. The Red Cross put a case of cigarettes aboard, also to be dropped. We were told when leaving Newfoundland we would have sealed orders as to our destination. By this time we knew we were headed for the European Theater. The trip to Newfoundland was uneventful. We landed, refueled spent the night, and took off the following morning. Mac set our course across the North Sea headed for Europe. A few hours after takeoff Slingluff opened the orders and they read Glasgow, Scotland. After about eleven hours and forty-five minutes, Mac called everyone on the intercom, and told us to be on the lookout for land. The plane performed like a champ, but we had bucking a head wind the entire trip and were using gas much too fast. Preston, the engineer, estimated we would have about an hour or an hour and half flying time left. We finally reached the coast of Scotland, but guess what; the field where we were supposed to land was "socked” in. Zero visibility. We were told to fly north and perhaps we could find a field in Ireland. We had been flying about ten thousand, but Slingluff decided to drop down to five thousand. By this time we were doing an awful lot of looking and praying. All at once we broke through the clouds and just below us was a small field. We later found out we were about ten miles from Belfast Ireland. We landed and were greeted by an English ground crew. We were down to about 30 minutes of flying time left in our gas tanks. They treated us royally as we were the first crew to ever land a heavy bomber on their field. One thing I noticed was every place we went we had to get accustomed to different languages and customs. Landing at this British field was no different. A tanker came out to our parking area, jumped out of his truck and in full British accent said, " Hi Yank, need some petrol?" Cliff, not being used to their language, replied, “nope we sure don't, but we sure as hell could use a couple thousand gallons of gasoline.'' We were assigned British quarters and ate in the British mess halls. Everyone treated us royally. We had a hard time getting used to hot tea all the time instead of coffee. They offered us some coffee once, and once was enough. I thought GI coffee left a lot to be desired, but British coffee tasted like one teaspoon of coffee to 10 gallons of water. We were told to stand by for a few days and we would be contacted as to our next destination. We spent our time listening to some of the English guys telling of the battles taking place on and over England. Finally we got the word; tomorrow we leave for a place on the west coast of England called Newkey.

   The next day we went for a pre-flight briefing. We were told that every plane crossing the coast of England must fly at five thousand feet and must fire a recognition flare or we would be challenged with anti- aircraft fire or fighter planes. We must fire the color flare of the day, each day the color of the flare would change. We were given the color for the day as a yellow flare followed by a green one. By changing the colors each day it would confuse the enemy and not let an unauthorized plane slip in. We took off and after a routine flight we were approaching the coast of England. Sure enough we were challenged and told to fire the color of the day recognition flare. Cliff fired the appropriate colors, so they gave us permission to land. The pilot was told to go to HQ for instructions, the rest of us were told to stand by. Later he returned and told us our original instructions had been canceled and we would have to stand by until new orders come through. We were also told there were no housing facilities on this base. We could eat in the mess hall but would have to sleep on the plane. B 24's were not built for hotel accommodations. We were all issued jungle hammocks, in Lincoln, so we strung them up in the bomb bay, and laid them on the flight deck.

   Three days past before we received further orders. Finally, Slingluff got the orders to take off at 8 PM for Africa. We would be flying at night as the Germans were patrolling off the coast and flying in day time we could easily be sighted. The flight was an all-night affair. I never had any problem sleeping when flying so I proceeded to catch some shut eye. Sometime later I waked up and could smell a strong odor of gasoline. Thank god I used the flash light instead a match to see. I looked down and the floor was covered with gas. Sometime during the night Cliff had been transferring gas from the auxiliary tanks to the main tanks. He had forgotten about them and when the main tanks were full they spilled over running into the back of the plane. I jumped on the intercom and notified the pilot. We quickly opened the hatches and bomb bay doors and stood by with fire extinguisher in Hand. We refrained some smoking for the rest of the trip. The gas disappeared and the fumes evaporated. The sun came up and Mac notified us we were getting close to the African coast. Next stop Marrakech, south of Casablanca.

   We circled the field of Marrakech and received permission to land. A B-24 lands at a minimum speed of 120 MPH. Everything checked out fine, wheels down and locked, air speed dropping as required, flaps down and we touched down with the usual jerk and wheel noise. We had slowed down to approx. 90 MPH when the nose wheel gave way. We skidded on the nose, sparks flying everywhere. With the nose eating up the runway we were in big trouble if we didn't get stopped quickly. Finally we came to a stop with the tail was high in the air and the nose fuselage crushed. We were quickly surrounded with fire trucks and ambulances. I have seen 10 men depart from an aircraft, but nothing as fast as we got the hell out of there. I jumped out of the waist gunner’s window, a distance of about 15 ft. to the ground, and sprained my ankle. We were taken to a tent area and given temporary quarters. Later we were called to a meeting and told we would be here for approx. a week, for temporary repairs. We would then fly to a base south of Cairo, Egypt for a major overhaul.

   The stay in Marrakech was anything but pleasant. The tents were hot as hell and the flies drove us nuts. Nothing to do but sit around and shoot the bull. We were able to write a few letters, but warned not to mention where we were, or anything of Military information. Try writing a letter giving no information, you will have a problem. After a couple days of just plain goofing off we were told a truck was going to a nearby village and we could go if we desired. This trip was an experience. For the first time I got the impression we taking a step back to medieval times. We saw their transportation consisted of hand or animal drawn carts, most of the wheels on the carts, were made of wood. Their housing was straw huts or clay. Their clothing was no more than what appeared to bed sheets wrapped around them. Most of the women were completely covered; even their faces were hid behind veils. The women wore no shoes and were always carrying large jugs on their heads. For the first time we heard a language that we could not understand. They used Francs for money, which we had no idea of the value. There were no real stores as we know them. It appeared everything for sale was displayed on side of the road or street. Everything that could be eaten was covered with flies. Through the middle of town was a small stream. In less than a mile we saw, in that stream, women filling their water jugs, people taking baths, a dead horse, and kids just playing in the water. The horse apparently had been dead for some time as it was blown up and covered with flies.

   You can imagine our subject of conversation when we finally returned to base and discussed what we had seen. Mauro (radio operator) had a rather weak stomach, at meal time we would kid him about eating horse meat taken from the one we saw in the water. He would gag, spit, cuss, shove his food aside, and call us anything but human. Earley, who had a good sense of humor, would make a waving gesture at the flies gathering around our food, and exclaim, “get the hell out of here you little bastards and go back to the shit house where you belong." After about a week of waiting we were told to get ready to leave for another base, our plane had received temporary repairs and could be flown, but was in no condition to be put under any abnormal strain. We took off and were well on our way when the pilot told us our next landing would be in Tripoli. The flight was uneventful, no problems. We could see nothing but desert the whole trip. We were all sweating out the landing, which would be the first real test of the damaged nose wheel. No problem she flew in and landed like a champ. We were spending the night and take off was scheduled the first thing in the morning. We were carrying the Norton Bomb sight with us. Normally when we landed, Miller would check the Bombsight into Security, this time he didn't. The Bombsight was considered a very secret piece of equipment and could not be left unguarded at any time. Slingluff asked me to guard the Bomb sight while rest of the crew sent to the mess hall. He said, "as soon as we finish eating someone will be out to replace you, and the rest of the crew could take turns guarding during the night." It was about 6 PM, so I figured about 8 someone would show up. A couple of times the MP's would pass by or stop and shoot the breeze for a minute. Each time they would ask if everything was Ok, or did I need anything. It got later and later and no one showed. I was getting hungry as hell. The next time they came by and asked if I needed something, I asked them if they would get me some "chow?" They suggested one of them could take me to the mess hall while the other guarded the plane, sounded good to me. I figured what the hell they were more qualified at guarding then I was, so why not, so off we went. After I finished eating the MP took me back out to the plane. When I asked the MP that was guarding if everything was normal, he said, "no problem." I stayed on the plane all night and about day break the whole crew showed up. Slingluff asked if everything was Ok and who had relieved me during the night. When I told him no one, he hit the ceiling, blaming everyone but himself. When he asked me if I had gotten anything to eat last night, I told him about the MP's helping me and he hit the ceiling again. He insinuated that I could be court-martialed for leaving my post. Later Miller told me not to worry as Slingluff would be in big trouble for not seeing to it that I had been properly fed and housed, as he was the plane commander. We took off, our next destination a major repair depot at a base just East of Cairo. Again the flight was over hundreds of miles of nothing but desert. We landed at field called Healeoplous Airport. We were given quarters just about two blocks from the Red Sea. The closest little town was Ismailia. We were told the repair job to our plane would take from two to three weeks. The next few days were spent swimming in the Red Sea and doing absolutely nothing but catching up on some letter writing. We found out there was a small Red Cross office at the base HQ. Not having anything else to do we visited the Red Cross office and asked about going to Cairo. We had visions of seeing the Pyramids and the Sphinx and any other sights of interest. The Red Cross worker suggested that if we had the time, they would arrange a trip for us to Tel Aviv-Jerusalem area. We jumped at their offer.

   The next day we were driven to a rail station near Cairo and we were on our way, by rail, to see the sights of Tel Aviv. Their rail system left a lot to be desired. It looked something that our great grandfathers had used back in the 18th century. It flew at a tremendous speed of about 20 MPH. The distance from Cairo to Tel Aviv is about 550 miles, it took us two days. We took a supply of K-rations as no food was available on the train. We finally arrived and a Red Cross station wagon took us to a hotel they were using as their headquarters. To say we were treated royally would be putting it mildly. They arranged tours to the old city of Jerusalem, Bethlehem, The Wailing Wall, The Garden of Getsimnie, and many other places of interest. To top it off, a guide was furnished for all these excursions. At night we were wined and dined and had excellent accommodations. We were told not to leave the hotel at night as the Germans had been bombing some nearby villages and towns.

   One night I was sitting at the bar having a cool one when the director of the African division, Mr. Oliver Wasson struck up a conversation. During the conversation he mentioned he had two Red Cross workers and a station wagon he wanted transferred back to Cairo. He was reluctant to allow them to drive 550 miles, across the desert, by themselves. Would I be interested? Not looking forward to the train trip back, I jumped at the chance. He suggested that one other person should accompany us, so I asked Earley (tail gunner) if he would be interested. His standard answer to any positive question was, "does an ape have an ass?" Olive Wasson made all the arrangements to leave as soon as possible. The British gave their permission to make the trip and gave us maps and clearances. We were to clear a check point at the outskirts of Tel Aviv entering the desert. Our station wagon was loaded with extra gasoline, food, tires, and emergency supplies. We were told we would be given two days to make it to Cairo and if they didn't receive word we had made it, a search party would be sent to look for us. When we crossed the desert we would be going through the western check point. They in turn would notify the entrance check point we had made it.

   The next morning we were up at 4 AM, ate breakfast, and wished everyone farewell. Neither of the women could drive so I took the wheel for our exit from Tel Aviv. We arrived at the Eastern check point at 5 AM. By this time daylight was just cracking in the East and it was fairly cool. We soon lost sight of everything but desert and more desert. As far as the eye could see was sand with a black line. The road was paved with asphalt all the way. Back in those days, to have air condition in a car, was unheard of. It began to get hot, but the car ran beautiful. Mile after mile rolled by with no problems. At one point, for a short distance we lost the road. A sand storm had blocked our view, so we "crept" along 'till finally we could see the road again. The entire crossing we did not see another vehicle. One time we saw a camel caravan way off in the distance. A few times we stopped to check the tires, pour gasoline in the tank, and take a "pee" break. (The girls would stay on one side of the car, and Earley and I on the other). I started driving and drove the entire trip. Finally, late in the afternoon, we could make out what looked like some civilization. At exactly 5 PM we came to the ferry which would took us across the canal to the western check point. I looked at the speedometer; we had driven 527 miles between points. From there it was only a 3 hour drive to the Red Cross hotel in Cairo. We were greeted and given the red carpet treatment. We were given private rooms with all the privileges, invitations to join the staff for dinner, and a show after dinner. They told us they were making arrangements to have a guide to take us to the pyramids and sphinx the next day. The next day we were taken to camel compound, two camels were chosen for our trip. We visited both the pyramids and the sphinx on the back of camels. The next day arrangements were made to take us back to our base. When we arrived back at our quarters they were just the same as when we left. The rest of the crew did not get back until a couple of days later. After we told them of our trip, they were envious as hell. Through this whole trip the Red Cross picked up the entire tab.

   A few days later we were to get ready to ship out. Our plane had been repaired and would be given a flight test. If everything worked out we would be on our way. Plane was in good shape so we bid Egypt good bye. This flight we began to see some of the results of desert warfare. For miles all you could see was desert and occasionally a set of tracks and at the end of those tracks a burned out tank. We would see burned out trucks, downed burned planes, and large abandoned canons. We were warned, while in Cairo, that the Germans could bomb us at any time. Slingluff told us our next stop would be a small field in Persia, now known as Iran. We would be there over night, fuel up and head out. We had no time for sightseeing or any other activity. We took off the next day for Karachi, India. A short stop and off we headed for Agra, India. No unusual trip. We were notified in Agra we would be there for a couple of days. We took this opportunity to do some sightseeing. We visited the Taj Mahal, the Old Fort, a Hindu burial ceremony (burning of bodies), and people bathing in the filthy branch of the Ganges River. We visited several bazaars on several different streets. For the first time I saw cows walk in and out of stores unmolested. The smell was anything but the smell of perfume, cow shit was everywhere. The sight of poverty was everywhere, more beggars than I had ever seen, even more than we saw in Cairo. It was then that I got my first lesson in how to deal with street vendors.

   We were for warned never to pay the asking price, always barter. As we were walking down the street this young kid stopped us, and after fumbling around, pulled out a dirty old handkerchief. He looked around, as if someone were watching, and showed us a diamond ring. With his guilty attitude I just knew he had stolen it and it could be worth thousands of dollars. He was asking 100 Rupees, equivalent to 30 bucks our money. I offered him 10 Rupees. He rejected, so we starting walking, he followed, all the time begging and pleading. We went through this same procedure several times and he finally relented and sold it to me for 10 Rupees. We returned to base, I was feeling pretty proud of myself that I had pulled off the deal of the century. Back on base we were told a guy in operation was a former jeweler in civilian life and would appraise any jewelry we bought. We found him and I couldn't wait for him to tell me I had bought the cousin to the famous Hope diamond. He took one look and said, "Sergeant, that's the finest workmanship on a Coke bottle I've ever seen, if you paid over 5 Rupees, you've been taken." He had stuck a pin in my ego. The third day we were told a pilot and co- pilot were coming to escort us to our new base, which we would be permanently assigned.

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