My Dad was twenty-two years old the first time he went into combat as a navigator aboard a B-24 flying out of Horsham St. Faith, England, near Norwich. He was the eldest son of a laundry owner and his wife but, because he attended a year of college at the University of Washington, the Army made him an officer. He trained at Ellington Field near Houston, Texas, and learned to be a navigator at Butler University in Indiana. He joined his crew in Pueblo, Colorado, and went overseas aboard the Queen Elizabeth, sister ship to the Queen Mary now docked in Long Beach, California. He, and a few other fellows, figured out how to go early for mess call, eat and then get in line again. On board the ship was the Glen Miller Band without Glen Miller and my Dad would go listen to them jam.
For a poor boy from Seattle, this was the time of his life. What he worried about was that it might be about to end.
Floyd was the Pilot out of Dayton, Ohio. Ellis was a rich guy related to Bethlehem Steel money. He was Co-Pilot. He died flying his own airplane after the war. George was the bombardier from Indiana and stayed in the Air Force after the war and became a Brigadier General. George would earn the Distinguished Flying Cross after being tapped on the shoulder by my Dad, but that's another story.
The other bombardier in this story was named Jack. He woke my Dad on his first night in England by shining a huge flashlight in his face. He was looking for someone.
This is to honor the crews of the 755th Squadron, 458th Bomb Group, that went over Germany on July 21, 1944. One crew, in particular, was going out for the first time.
Update: This will be the first of a series. My original thought was that the letters force me to work on the project but now I can see them as an organizing principle.
His next letter: Monday, August 3.
Somewhere in England
20 July, 1944
Dear Mom,
Well, I suppose you've noticed that I've moved again. Thank Heavens this is to be permanent. I was getting darn tired of carting my all my stuff around from post to post. The weather here seems a lot better than it was in Ireland too. It rained every single day I was there.
Our base here is very nice. As a matter of fact, outside of the Sigma Chi house I stayed in at Butler this is tops in my army career. We live in what was formerly a private home. There are about five crews in the house so it isn't very crowded. We live downstairs in what was formerly the dining room. We have a fireplace in our room too. Floyd is sleeping in another room at present as we have another bombardier in with George, Ellis and myself who formerly lived here with his crew. He got sick one day (and) his boys didn't come back from that mission. I hope my bed isn't haunted.
We've got our radio working now so things are very comfy. The Army has its own radio network here, and we get all the U.S. programs by transcription so it's just like home. I just got through listening to Bing and Glen Miller's band is playing now from somewhere in England. The food is quite good also, although nothing to compare to the food we had coming across. That's the best I ever ate. All in all, this place has definitely lived up to its reputation as the best in the E.T.O.
Well, Mom, I hope everything is O.K. with you. I haven't heard from you since I left Pueblo (and) that has been a good 6 weeks. I feel kind of embarrassed at mail call with Floyd and Ellis always getting mail, and George getting quite a bit. The only mail I've had since I left PAAB was a graduation announcement one of my old buddies sent me from pilot school. I hope you are all right and nothing is wrong. I've written you twice and Aunt Jo once since I got here and still no mail. I don't even know if you got my pictures. I guess I'm no one to talk about writing but then I'm limited by censorship in what I can write. I promise to be better in the future, however, as there isn't much else to do besides fly around here. I'd feel a lot better though if I knew everything was O.K. with you. As for me, well, time will tell. You get pretty fatalistic when you get to combat. One thing I'm going to do is go to Church regularly even if it is kind of late. Even if I should fail to come back, I don't want you to worry. A lot of guys go down who finally work there (sic) way out of occupied territory and a lot more wind up as Prisoners of War. M.I.A. (Missing in Action) doesn't mean K.I.A. by a long shot so keep holding out hope for me, and I'll come back. Don't forget that $10,000 Insurance policy of mine and remember I get a full 6 months pay after I go down. You be sure and collect.
Speaking of money, don't be surprised if I start sending you some money, for with my 10% overseas pay I should have about $240.00 a month not counting war bonds. You don't need too much money over here as you can't buy anything anyway. It's all rationed, and there's a limit to how much liquor one can drink even if he could get it. I'll probably get a couple of passes to go to London which is about the only place to splurge, but I think I'll take it easy. Particularly along the aforementioned liquor line as I think I'll become a teatotaler again. It doesn't mix with flying. At any rate, if I'm over here 6 or 7 months I hope to save $750 at least and maybe a $1000 as I have $150.00 now to start on. You're pretty tired, generally, around here to do any heavy spending. With luck I should get my 1st in less than two months also which means more money.
I hate to sound so mercenary, and as a matter of fact money is one thing I'm not worrying about now. I'd pay them $250 a month to be back in the States now. However, I'll feel a lot better knowing that I'll no longer be a burden to you and actually have a chance to help with supporting the family. If I do send any money home, I want you to feel free to use it if you need it at any time. If I come back, it should be nice to have a nest egg for my future, and if I don't, well, I guess the laundry can always use a new press. To get back to the morbid subject of the $10,000 for a moment, as far as I'm concerned you can spend it anyway you want except that, if possible, I'd like to have you set aside $2500 to send Bud through college providing that he proves himself worthy of the opportunity in high school. Pop can say all he wants about this now- value of a college education, but I've seen too many examples of the contrary in the army to believe him. Sure, if you've got the stuff, you can make good anyway, but it's 100 times easier with that degree. My one great regret is that I didn't get a chance to finish my education. If I don't come back, I'd like Bud to have the chance to finish what I started.
Well, Mom, I hope I haven't sounded too morbid, but I guess I have. However, I meant every word of what I have written. Frankly, I'm scared, and I'm not afraid to admit it. However, the only guys over here who aren't scared are damn fools and shouldn't be allowed to fly. However, I'll go on doing my job to the best of my ability as long as I am able. That's the best insurance for living they have over here. It's all in the breaks of the game. Some guys get them, and some don't. All I know is that my chances are enhanced by being in the best squadron, in the best group, in the best Air Force, in the best Army in the world.
Well, I guess that's all for now. I've tried to be serious for once, and, consequently, this letter is a literary mess. Keep it as I'll probably never get in the mood again. We can laugh over it when I get home. And if I don't, I want you to know that I think I've had, and have, the best Mother, Father, sisters and brother, that a kid ever had, and that its been great loving you all.