Back At It...

   It wasn't long before we were scheduled for another mission. Our target was some railroad yards with not too much opposition. When we were about half way home my thoughts turned to Muriel and wondering what she would think if I asked her to marry me. Heck I'm old enough, it was then that I realized today is Nov. 4th. My birthday and I'm 21 years old. I told the other guys about it, Earley suggest I could celebrate by bailing out. That night I wrote Muriel and popped the question. I told Berney what I had done and was patiently waiting her answer. It took about two weeks for our mail to reach home and get an answer back. It seemed like years, but finally the answer came back, YES. There was a standing rule that no one could go home unless they were injured or had completed at least four hundred hours of combat flying. You can bet we all kept pretty close account of our flying hours. By the later part of Nov., '43 our crew had completed about half of what was needed.

   Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day and wouldn't you know it, we were scheduled for a mission. Our mission was a target that could bring ack-ack, but not much fighter resistance was expected. We had just completed our bomb run, with some ack-ack, when way down below, I spotted one fighter. I alerted every one and we watched him as he began to climb to our altitude. He finally got to our altitude and about a mile distance in front when he started a head on attack. His was the only fighter in sight and must have had committing suicide on his mind. The nose guns and top guns from all planes open up, he didn't have a chance. No one could take credit for the kill as we all may have hit him.

   Another mission that really drew the attention of Rangoon Rose was a raid on a small town on the west coast of Burma. At briefing we were shown our target for the day. It was a two story school house. The Japs had established their Headquarters in the second story of the school house. Intelligence told us the first floor was still being used as a school. As much as we disliked bombing children the building had to be destroyed and perhaps we could get a few top officials along with the school. We flew the mission and the target was demolished. That night, sure enough Rangoon Rose came on calling us a bunch of barbaric bastards and we would all be executed after the Japs had won the war. Some of our missions were night missions. On night missions we would take off at five minute intervals as we would not be flying formation and drop our bombs separately. There was not a great danger from fighters, but the search lights were hell. Several of these missions were over Rangoon where the bursting ack-ack would light up the sky like a 4th of July show. On one raid we got caught in the search lights before the bombs away. We had to hold our course for the run over the target. We felt like sitting ducks as they threw everything they had at us. As soon as the bombs were away the pilot put the plane in a straight down dive. B-24s were not made for dive bombing and it felt like the wings were coming off. He finally pulled out at a couple thousand feet; we had lost the search lights.

   One day the whole Sqdn. was called to a review. The orders read," full dress class ‘A’ uniform with gas masks." The “rag tag" outfit that fell in was a sight to behold. I don't think one single G I had a full class ‘A’ uniform. As for gas masks, they were long ago a discarded item. The Major gave everyone a good "ass eating" talk and told us to straighten up our act. He then presented various medals to several deserving guys. Willard and Preston were presented the Bronze Star for the quick repair that saved our plane on a previous mission. We were paid a visit by General Davidson, head of the 10th Air Force. He may have said something to the Major about our uniforms but if he did we never heard anything again about them.

   One thing I do remember about the General was one mission he flew with us. At briefing the intelligence officer showed some pictures of the previous mission, several bombs had missed the target and fallen into an open field. The General said, “that’s right men, drop your bombs on the rice paddies and starve the little bastards to death." There were a few snickers which he didn't think were a bit funny, and said so. One day while out cleaning our guns we noticed the ground crew was installing three bomb bay tanks in each plane, leaving room for only four five hundred pound bombs. We had seen two installed before but never three, what in the hell is coming up. Each bomb bay tank holds 350 extra gallons of gasoline. Where in the world would we be going that would require an additional 1000 gallons of gas? When we got back to the barracks and mentioned this to the other guys, the rumors started flying. Whitehouse came up with idea that we were making a trip back to the states to pick up some booze. Soon the orders came to report to briefing at 4 PM. We soon learned why the extra gas. We were flying a night mission to Siam (now Thailand). The target was an air field just outside Bangkok. We were to stay well off the coast of Burma and head inland off the coast of Siam. We were to be over the target about midnight. If we were undetected we would receive no resistance. Take off was accomplished with no problems. The engine setting were for as lean a setting as possible, maintain altitude, and use as small amount of gas as possible. We were told to take our positions and be on full alert well in advance of reaching our target. In a cramped small turret this gets to be a real problem after a few hours. The seat feels like it is slowly eating holes in your fanny. The navigator final gave the heading over the mountains of Siam and gave an estimated time of arrival. As we crossed over the mountains straight ahead was Bangkok.

   They had no idea we were coming as the city looked like a Xmas tree, all lighted up. We dropped down to 5000 ft. and made our bomb run over the airport. The airport was so well lighted we could see the planes parked on each side of the runway. This was a bombardier’s dream target. It looked as though every bomb found its target, fires started everywhere. Miller said, “bombs away, let's go home." As we gained altitude and started back over the mountains we could see the whole city of Bangkok was blacked out, guess they got the message. Finally after what seemed like hours we were permitted to leave our positions. The plane was set on automatic pilot and most of us slept all the way back across the Bay of Bengal. When we awakened, the sun was breaking through and we were close to the border of India. Our gas gauges showed we would have just enough gas to make it home. Seeing our base ahead was certainly a pleasant sight. We landed, recorded our time, 14 hours 35 minutes, and heading for debriefing. We were told we had just set a record for the longest bombing mission ever flown by a U.S. heavy bomber.

   Time passed with normal routine flying and Xmas would soon be coming. Some joker got a little dead tree and set up with a few empty beer cans for decorations, this was our Xmas tree. Rangoon Rosey gave us a dose of White Xmas every time she broadcast, reminding us how lonely our loved ones were back home. Soon after Xmas we got the orders to prepare to move to another base, this meant moving everything. After a couple of trips, about 2 hours distance, we settled in on a base near the village of Asonsol. Not a whole lot of difference, as far as appearance, but closer to the border of India.

   We had just got settled in when Berney and I decided to check out the country side. We were permitted to check out a couple of shot guns from ordnance, this made it much better than hunting with only a 45 pistol. We saw plenty of jackals and occasionally a snake, but nothing worth shooting at.

   One day we were told the crew was to meet with the Squadron C.O. for special assignment. What was this all about? We were told the British had brought in a squadron of heavy bombers, the first they had in India. All their planes were equipped with 30 caliber guns and they were replacing them with the same type guns we used, 50 caliber. We were to fly up to their base, stay with them for a week, and teach them all about 50 caliber guns and fly some training missions with them. We were to be ready to go in two days, take off scheduled for 8 AM. The same day we were scheduled to leave a mission was called. Even though our crew didn't have to fly the mission, Berney's crew did. I told Berney I would go to briefing with him anyway as I was curious what kind of trip they would be getting. It was going to be a rough one. A low level bombing run on a railroad from south of Rangoon toward Siam. They were told they would fly at about 500 feet and could expect heavy resistance. When we left the briefing room I wished Berney good luck and told him I would see him in about a week, after we got back from the British school.

   The school was no picnic; we had a rough time making them understand Yankee English. The food was not as good as what we been getting at our base. Thank goodness the week rolled by and we returned to our base. A truck was waiting to take us back to our barracks. When I walked into the barracks, the sight that greeted me made my heart skip a beat. Berney's mattress was rolled up and all his belonging were gone. All the guys in the barracks were as quiet as a mouse; they were all looking at me for a reaction. I knew what had happened, I had seen it before. Berney and his crew had gone down and reported as missing in action. Later someone told me they saw Berney's crew take a direct hit and explode. At that altitude no one could have survived.

   It has been said, “in a life time you make many good acquaintances, but only a few real good friends." Berney was truly a good friend. Later I wrote to both his girlfriend and his folks. They both responded, thanking me and asked that when I got back would I please write a more detailed letter. While overseas, due to censors, I could not give them the details that were told to me. Not too long after Berney's death we had another fatal accident. We were coming back from a mission and our lead plane had developed engine trouble. On attempting to land with three engines the plan spun into the ground, killing all on board. The pilot flying the plane was our Squadron CO. We were all shocked by this as he was an excellent pilot, with many missions of experience behind him. He was also a darn nice guy. As usual rumors began to fly as to our replacement CO would be. Two days later we were called to a squadron formation. We were formally introduced to our new CO, A Lt. Colonel Fitzwater. It didn't take long to get the full scope on him. He was fresh from the states, his father was a General in the Pentagon, and he had never flown a combat mission, and had very few hours in B-24s. He did not give off a good first impression. GI's always have a habit of giving anything and everybody a nickname. It wasn't long before everyone was referring to the Colonel as “Fitz-paunee”. In Hindu the word “paunee” means water.

   We were getting intelligence reports the Japs were making a move on the Imphal Valley, just off the northeast coast of India. We were flying short missions into northern Burma against troop concentrations. This went on for a while and then the Monsoons set in. Being from Florida I thought I knew what rainy seasons were all about, how wrong I was. It would rain day and night weeks after week. Bombing missions were impossible as you were never able to see the targets. Soon we were told to get ready to move again. This time to the north east corner of India, a small field just outside the city of Dacca. It was India then, it is now known as Bangladesh. By now the monsoons were in full blast and would go for days without seeing the sun. Everything wet, including the inside of our barracks.

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Men of the 7th Bomb Group