The Greatest Generation???

Started 28^th Sept.’99

          Had this been started while in the service, it would be a diary.  A diary would help keep the dates honest.   However, that opportunity has passed, so this will be an older veteran’s view of events and perhaps present some reasoning that may seem to be questioned today.

          My boy scout days were in the shadow of World War One, the war to end all wars. America had gone to help the nonbelligerent nations of Europe.

          1929 brought us the great depression. Americans may have seen how, working together helped and most certainly practiced frugality

          At U. of M., being a land grant college, we were required to take two years of military training.  This ROTC course also had and advanced course for the other two years. When advanced officers training was offered, I volunteered. There was a slight pay inducement. Counting pennies was the name of the game, at least for me.

          The training had been aimed for the artillery.  I had taken chemical engineering and was offered a choice of artillery or chemical warfare service.  As chemical warfare had been big in World War One, I chose chemical.  It seemed perhaps better than all that mud.

          Advanced ROTC included two weeks active duty at Englewood Arsenal.  MIT and Texas A&M both had Chemical Warfare ROTC programs, so had contingents.  There was also one or two from each of the remaining States.  For most of us it was our first military camp.  There were about a hundred of us, mostly third year engineering students, living in pyramidal tents, and all with different accents. We worked together operating live mortars, machine guns, tanks, and all.

          They gave us a weekend pass.  Two or three of us hitch hiked to Washington to sight see.  On the way back were really itching and were looking forward to a good shower.  When we did, we discovered a lot of red spots.  We had been well bitten by jiggers, having slept on the grass besides the Lincoln Memorial, saving time and the expense of a hotel room. However, that was a lot better than a fellow in the next tent, he came back with gonorrhea.  All in all, it surely was an interesting introduction to military life.

          Before we leave the ROTC, should mention a former WW I officer, Major Eberly, on the staff, who was a mentor for me. He felt that saluting was simply the way the military said hello, and as the enlisted man saluted first, the officer was able to gain a feeling as to how things were going.  The OCS boys didn’t seem to have had such a mentor and was just a military requirement.  The service needed a lot of officers fast and Officers Candidate School helped to fill that need with so called “Ninety-day Wonders”.   Another item Major Eberly taught was to always think about the welfare of the men.  That one was one of the reasons that took me to Sweden. (More about that later.)

          June 1939, I graduated from U of M and was commissioned a second lieutenant in the Army Reserve, with serial number 0-380452.

          My girlfriend, Betty (Elizabeth Curtis) also graduated in the same class.  After working a year and attending monthly reserve meetings at Schulkill Arsenal, we married on 15 June 1940.  She was my best acquisition from college. 

          My first job was with Scott Paper Company, in Chester, Pennsylvania.  The army was after new lieutenants to get a year of active duty.  They made the options look inviting and one was Hawaii.  We decided to join up and get the active duty over with.  In August I was called and attached to the 9^th Bomb Group at Mitchell Field.   They flew B-18’s, the bomber version of Douglas’s DC2. The DC2 also lead to the DC 3 (civilian) and C-47 (military).  My assignment was to be the Chemical Officer and was assigned to the 99^th Sqdn. of that Group.  

          Many officers were being indoctrinated at that time, so when we checked in for our physical, the line was quite long.  We were, in typical military fashion all lined up with our clothes under one arm, waiting at each station for the respective doctor to do his thing.   Lindberg was further up the line, also getting a physical, and just as naked as the rest of us.   

          The Group was preparing to leave the continental US but didn’t know where the new station was to be.  I remember talking with our Sqdn. Commander, Captain Upthegrove and mentioning my invitation for Hawaii, but he did not know anything except that the assignment was to be outside the forty-eight.  In November we were on our way to Panama.  All existing bases in Panama were quite well garrisoned, and we found ourselves at Rio Hato, an auxiliary field some 90 miles in the interior of Panama.  There were no buildings.  We stayed in tents and started building barracks, a theater, a dock and so on.  It was on the Pacific side at a beautiful beach.  There were several nice resort homes along the shore close by.  Our wives could not join us unless we found adequate quarters.  With some prompt moves and good luck, we found a weekend place belonging to a well to do couple in the Zone for $150 a month.  Our quarters allowance was $40, but with a couple of other officers we made it close enough.  Actually, it was very nice. We each had a bedroom and our own baths.   The house had its own lights and water system and caretaker.  Our duty hours were seven to two. We had our afternoons to spend on the beach or whatever. The army paid for our car to be shipped down, so we had that to explore with, as well as get back to the Zone on occasion.  It was a second honeymoon.

          The 9^th Bomb Group was broken up. I was transferred to a new base being constructed in the Zone, Howard Field, as the 16^th Air Base Chemical Officer. A Chemical Warfare Officer’s duties were to try to get men to carry their gas masks and give training in their use.  This was a very unpopular duty and received little cooperation even from the base commander.  He assigned me all kinds of odds and end duties.  For instance, one of these jobs was to establish a laundry facility, which was done by hiring several Chinese, finding a location and equipment. Another was to build a small concrete building to de-louse mattresses.  I had so much court work was getting to be quite a lawyer. At the same time could generally be found at the hanger where a large maintenance facility was being set up. 

          Just before Pearl Harbor, Betty and I took a few days leave to go to San Jose, Costa Rica, where my sister lived. She was a teacher for the younger children of the United Fruit Co. Earlier in the week of Dec 1st; I went in town to arrange for the tickets. While standing in line, a Japanese fellow was impatiently waiting at the end of the line.  After a bit of that, he pushed around the line to the window. He crowded in and asked for a ticket to some place, I couldn’t hear where, but the clerk patiently said was unavailable.  The Jap then shouted, sell me a ticket to any place out of Panama.

          We sailed to Port Limon on the coast of Costa Rica and after looking around Limon, found our train to go up to San Jose We were late getting on the train so wasn’t able to sit together.  I was sitting beside a young fellow, who from his strong accent, was German. We talked a bit and he said he was a salesman in Panama.  His business was very good selling German made items like kerosene lanterns and other home ware items.  I mentioned how we were going to see friends at San Jose.  He then said how he had to get away from Panama for a few days.  Hmm?  This was December 5^th. Did he and the Jap know something that FDR didn’t?

          On Dec 7th, when we heard the news and were soon offered a flight back to the Zone by the Costa Rican US Consulate. At first, they had only arranged a flight for me, but Betty had no idea of letting me go without her and she quickly got that changed to include her.

          When we got back to Howard Field that afternoon, we were told that there was another Japanese flotilla, besides the one that hit Hawaii in the morning, that could be headed for Panama.  Later we were told it was the one that made the second wave of the attack on Hawaii. Have also read that the Japs had designed a special float plane for a Panama attack. A squadron of these planes were to be carried within strike range, each one was sealed in a waterproof container, on the deck of huge submarines.

           Things were of course very different at Howard Field, at least for a few days.  We were issued side arms and set up air raid sirens.  We posted guards in trees as lookouts. The officers dug dispersed fox holes were we slept.  One morning from my fox hole and as it was becoming daylight, I saw a slowly moving line of green and gray moving under the brush, quite snake like.  A boa constrictor? It kept moving it must be big. I drew my forty-five. As it became a bit lighter, I put away the forty-five; it was only a parade of leave eating ants carrying sections of green leaves.            

          All dependents, children and wives were sent back to the States.  With no children Betty was one of the last to leave, it may have been April 1942.

          After Betty left things were kind of slow.  Being so near the equator the darkness came not long after six o’clock.  This made the evenings long. 

          Mostly the guys played cards.  I started playing with them. The games started getting rough. Finally, one evening someone laid his forty-five on the table. I quit.

          I bought an old Model A and spent much of this time rebuilding engine parts. I installed a gallon can under the hood for gasoline (which was rationed) with a diverting valve operated from the driver’s seat that could draw from this can or from a line wrapped around the exhaust from the main tank. The main tank held kerosene (not rationed), to be used once the engine was well warmed up, saving the gas for starting and also occasionally for acceleration. This worked well.  Also purchased a set of new Goodyear All Weather tires for five dollars apiece from the commissary supply in the zone.   All in all, had less than a hundred dollars invested, plus a lot of time.

          We could keep up with the war news on the radio. We heard how the Japanese at home were being interned. That was obviously a good move.  Japanese being so distinguishable and now so low on the totem pole there is no telling what a few hot heads might have done.

          A Chemical Warfare Captain was assigned to our CW Attachment.  As First Lieutenants get ranked by Captains and there wasn’t that much to do, the hanger looked pretty good to me.

          Captain Cramer was the acting commander of the Base Maintenance Squadron and had become a good friend.  He was “acting commander” as at that time only pilots could be unit commanders in the Air Corps.  He was very busy setting up a Base Maintenance Shop with a lot of new equipment. He didn’t care that much for the paperwork end of the job.   We both knew Colonel Munroe, a rated pilot and the “paper” commander of the Sqdn., who was at Quarry Heights, at Air Corp headquarters, in the Zone.  Colonel Munroe had me transferred from Chemical Warfare to the Army Air Corp, and I did the Sqdn paperwork, paying the men, morning reports, etc.- no more Chemical Warfare.  

          The sqdn. first sergeant, Sergeant Tedder knew the ropes. Can’t resist inserting a story about him.  He came from one of the southern states so didn’t know snow but was quite curious about it. He was especially interested in ice, which of course had to be manufactured in the south, so quite expensive. We talked about it, telling him about our ice houses and how we just cut out the ice cakes from a lake, and stored them in ice houses for the next summer. Then one day he asked, what do you do when you get to the bottom of the lake?                 

          This Air Corp job was great, even when we were not talking about ice. Would call operations each month for a plane and pilot for me to pay our men on detached service.  All men had to be paid personally, in cash on payday, at that time.  

          Colonel Munroe told me about a school at Wright Patterson Air Base where a fellow with an engineering degree and was a pilot could get a degree in aeronautics.  This sounded good, so I put in for pilot training, in grade.

          Reported at San Antonio in Dec of 1942 for eight weeks of preflight school.  Betty rejoined me.  Then moved to Sweetwater, Texas for primary training.  Started flying but was interrupted by the Waves taking over the base.  They moved us to Corsicana, Texas, where in eight weeks, we completed Primary Training.  At that school we flew PT-19’s, a Fairchild low wing plane with a lot of plywood but nice to fly.  Next went to Perrin Field in Sherman Texas for Basic Training for another eight weeks. We flew BT-l3’s, a rather tricky plane, the so-called Vultee Vibrator, with fixed gear.  Then was off to Ellington Field at Houston, Texas, where we flew AT-10’s, a twin-engine Beech craft, also a nice plane to fly.  Had a lot of bad weather with hurricane threats off the Gulf of Mexico, so as an officer was asked to help the instructors move the planes to other fields farther north.  As a result, most of my advanced training was flying cross-country.  However, after eight weeks graduated and received pilot wings. 

          By this time combat seemed to be next, but if I was to go to Wright Patterson and stay in the service, it was logical to have a tour of combat under my belt. Besides, getting into combat seemed like the best way to help end this war.

           My next training was another eight weeks at Liberal, Kansas for B-24 transition. At this
phase my instructor was a pilot who had just returned from a tour in Alaska flying B-24s. He showed me two maneuvers both not allowed in B-24 training. One was how to get out of a spin and other was how to land without power. As at Ellington and as an officer most of my flying time was cross country, however the two items of training from my “Alaskan” instructor gave me a better understanding for B-24 airplanes. I frequently used the power off procedure when returning from missions with less than four engines. It was much easier while reducing power with an off balanced plane not to have to fight such off balance or by repeated trim adjustments. However, as this instructor said, “one has to repeat this procedure frequently to keep in practice.” It required full flaps and gear down, which means a very steep decent to maintain sufficient air speed for control, then to raise half the flaps to translate this steep decent to a more normal horizontal landing.

          One trip took us to Van Nyes Field in California. When we landed Betty Davis came over to see our plane.  She had been taking a flying lesson. We gladly showed the plane off and in return she invited us to the studio where she was making a film.  There was a fad at that time, collecting autographs on a dollar bill. Such a bill was called a “Short Snorter”.  It seemed like a good time to start one.  I still have it.  It has not only Betty Davis’s autograph but also Jack Benny’s and Claude Raine’s who were working on the same set. (and later acquired Jimmy Stewart’s). 

          From there went to Blythe, California for eight weeks of combat crew training.  This is where our crew got together and started training as a crew, flying B-24’s.

          Our crew consisted of ten men as follows:

1^st Lt. Charles R. Huntoon Jr 0380452, First Pilot.

2^nd Lt. Harold S. Call 0816228, Co Pilot.

2^nd Lt. Edgar M. Parmentier 0700757, Navigator.

2^nd Lt. Robert W. Hunt 0698562, Bombardier.

S/Sgt Robert L. Pierce 36580104, Radio Operator.

S/Sgt Robert T. Gustafson 39277388, Flight Engineer.

Sgt. Fletcher W. Swezey Jr. 31332918, Tail Gunner.

Sgt. Robert (nmi) Holloway Jr., 38398566. Waist Gunner.

Sgt. Ernest D. Gammon 34257460. Waist Gunner.

          Originally, we had ten men, but one was soon lost due to sickness and never caught up with the rest of us.

          During all this training many pilot friends were lost through airplane accidents, actually more than during my combat tour.  The training was very concentrated.

          Following Blythe our crew was sent to Hamilton Field just outside San Francisco. We were promised a new plane and appeared to be headed for the Pacific Theater.  We received the new B-24 and were flying it to accumulate ten hours flying time. This was required for a new plane prior to it leaving the States. Then suddenly we were on a train moving across the country, picking up B-24 crews as we went. (Apparently as replacements for the 8^th Air Force.)  We ended up at Camp Kilmer, NJ, with eighty crews, where we went through a bit of troop ship training, then were off by boat to Europe.  Our ship had been part of the United Fruit Line, with a fair number of cabins.   As officers we had the cabins, not all outside or private of course, but so very, very much better than the holes fitted with hammocks for the enlisted men. We were in a convoy with other ships and escorted by destroyers.  One day we saw a destroyer leaving a trail of depth charges.  Probably a submarine.  There were a lot of German subs in the Atlantic.  I recalled how it was very difficult to get equipment and food through the Carribean while I was in Panama.

          We landed in Glasgow, Scotland and proceeded to Belfast, Ireland for training in 8^th Air Force tactics and given other helpful facts.  For instance we had to draw a map of Europe to know it’s geography. for possible escape if taken prisoner.  They gave us a pair of special shirt buttons, one with a slight pin and the other magnetized that could be placed on top of each other for a compass. Once sewed on the shirt they could hardly be distinguished from normal buttons. We were made conscious of how most German people felt about us with our continual bombing and all. If shot down and if capture was certain how we should show as much good will as possible to civilians, and hope to get in the hands of German military personnel without being pitch forked first.

          From Belfast we were assigned to various 8^th Air Force Heavy Bomb Groups.  Our crew went to Old Buckingham, England, to the 453^rd Bomb Group, 734^nd Sqdn., just before D day.

          Our living quarters were called Nissin Huts (English for Quanset Huts?).  Each had a small coal burning potbelly stove.  As officers we had sixteen in a hut, while the enlisted men had twenty-four. We each had a cot bed and a footlocker.  The beds had three “biscuits” for a mattress. The bottom sheet, if we had one, had the job of keeping the biscuits not only on the bed but also somewhat aligned. The biscuits were not that bad though, had I stayed in the artillery, mud might have been softer, but…           

          The D day mission was very unusual.  As it became daylight, there was a line of six bomber formations as far as one could see in both directions over the channel flying towards France. Below, the channel was quite filled with cruisers, destroyers, landing craft, troop ships, etc. all headed across.  Little lights kept flashing both from these craft and from the shore, artillery.  Our scatter bombs were dropped on the shore and just prior to the landing, to soften the mine fields and artillery positions. 

          Our Group had gotten up around eleven the prior evening, made up our formations in the dark and with only flash light communications plane to plane, observing mandatory radio silence.  Yet, these bombers were only a part of the operation.  The army certainly proved its ability to organize. 

          As we come to the subject of combat missions, a common question is.  Weren’t we pretty scared?   Of course we were.  However, in retrospect some of our doings can now be thought of as humorous.  Was quite up tight with my first trip, but things seemed to get better each mission until about the fifth.  It then seemed there was a reasonable chance and with a lot of care one might complete a tour. As time went on and we experienced events that were more luck, than any of our doings, we became more and more scared.  By the fifteenth, I was surely walking straight and narrow, measuring each step.    Most of our fear was prior to a mission. When we had made our way through briefing, assembly, and on our way over the channel we felt it was half over. Actually, when the going was rough with fighters or flack, we were too busy to feel much fear, or the flack had already gone through the plane.

          The number of missions to complete a tour was based on risks and the possibility of completion. In England it was twenty-five when I first flew. Somewhere along the line the risks were better, and a tour was changed to thirty. At that time, we had fifteen, so our tour was proportioned and became twenty-seven. ( Later as Germany became less able, a tour became fifty.)

          One day, while resting on my bunk reading, quite a few men had gathered in the hut. They seemed to be waiting for their pilot to show up.  Sure enough, when he came in, they landed on him.  It seems he had been playing a bit of poker and they had heard about it, so had gathered to chew him out for risking their luck playing poker.  This seemed logical to me and I remember, I decided I wouldn’t play any poker.

          All missions were not as bad as movies like “Twelve o’clock High” showed.  All the things that movie showed did happen, but not in every mission.

          Our crew spirit was unbelievable.   No sport team ever showed any more cooperation.

          On one mission we had received a strong burst of flak, so as customary, I called for each station to report.  In that routine, the last station was the tail gunner. The tail gunner, Swezey, did not report. Called directly to him but no reply, so proceeded to have one of the waist gunners go back and check.  About then Swezey came on shouting, “Skipper, I’m hit, I’m hit”. By then the waist gunner had made it back, and found Swezey thrashing around with one hand dripping red. It seemed, he had been hit under his seat, where he had his flak suit.  (There wasn’t much room to wear flak suits in turrets) The piece of flak was quite big, as flak goes, and when it hit the flak suit it lifted Swezey so forcefully that he hit his head on top of the turret and dazed him. When he came to, he was feeling his rear for damage and when he withdrew his hand it was all dripping with red.  However, the red was not blood but was mercurochrome from the first aid kit in his back pocket.

          Speaking of flak, it was a rare mission if we didn’t receive some.  It sounded like hail on a tin roof, as it came through the plane. However, as crowded as we were, it seems there was a lot of space in between.  None of our crew was hit to qualify for a Purple Heart during all of our twenty-five and a half missions.       

          On another mission our co-pilot’s right foot took a hit, throwing his leg up and somehow hit the crash switch, killing all four engines.  Allow me to go back a bit and lead up to that situation.  Our target had been a manufacturing plant on a river in Germany.  It seems the wind was in the same direction as the river and somehow our lead had allowed us to meet the river downwind of the target. There was a lot of manufacturing along this river, which meant there was a lot of flak guns lined up with our bomb run.  The Me 109’s had left and we started our bomb run.  The flak smoke was getting blacker and blacker and flak pieces were heard ripping through the plane. As we proceeded, a plane on our high right took a hit in her bomb bay and blew up. Some of the pieces were big sections, so required some sliding around to miss.  Guess the future didn’t look very promising, as I recall thinking, maybe this is it, and my reactive thought was, now maybe, I’ll see what’s on the other side. About that time, we received a blast under one wing, and we were going down, four engines had stopped.  As we made our way down through the formation, the chances of losing four engines at once, each with quite separate systems, told me something.  There are only two things that are common to all four, the electronic control for the turbo supercharger waist gates were combined so when at altitude only one knob could control power to all four engines and the crash switch that could ground all four engines at the same time.  First made the electronic check but just continued down. The co-pilot checked the crash switch and sure enough, we now had power.  (It was hard to figure how his leg flying upward could close a switch that had to be moved downward, but it was done.)  The outcome of it all was that the co-pilot had one side of his boot ripped out, no Purple Heart, and we had three operating engines, enough to safely drop our bombs below the rest of the group and the flak and return to England, falling in as a “Tail End Charlie” with another B-24 group.

          Our targets were to strategic sites.  We did no “area” bombing as the British did. However, as we could not “pickle barrel” our bombs, even with our great bomb sights, we sometimes hit a fair area to cover the target.  This also meant we sometimes went to an alternate target when visibility wasn’t good enough for accuracy in a critical area.  For instance, two of our missions were to the railroad yards in Paris, both were diverted for fear of hitting too much of Paris, so the secondary targets were chosen.  

          After each mission we were offered a drink of liquor, possibly set up by Congress from an old navy ritual.  As far as I know, no one ever took up the offer.  After de-briefing we were much more interested to hit the sack. As a result our portion was accumulated at the bar in the officers’ club.  Once in a while, like in a period of extended bad weather and operations knew we wouldn’t have a mission the next day, we would have a “stand down”.  When this occurred, we would gather at the club and catch up with our portions.  At one such stand down I gathered another famous signature on my “Short Snorter”. Jimmy Stewart, who signed as James Stewart, was the group operations officer. Later he was given his own group. 

          He was a fine, hardworking officer. I recall writing how we would probably never recognize Jimmy after the war he had become so old and tired looking.  

          Whoever was to lead a mission gave the briefing.  If we saw Jimmy coming on stage, we all groaned as he only went on the longer, rougher ones.  On one, he showed up and as we were all groaning, he raised his hand and said, just a minute, this is my thirteenth.  It was a short mission, what we called a “Milk Run”.  At one stand down Jimmy’s acting talent showed through a bit, at least he sure entertained a few of us with stories about various actresses of the time. 

          During such stand downs we might have a rest and a long shower. At one of these showers Jimmy also showed up. Years later our daughters said, “Wow!”

          Our missions were about six to ten hours long of actual flying. We flew slightly longer missions than the B-17 flew.

          The B-17 went to England first, and possibly for that reason is far better known as the heavy bomber of the 8^th Air Force.  Both bombers were rated with the same horsepower, 1200 for each of the four engines.  The B-17 was a tail dragger, it had a tail wheel, while the B-24 had a nose wheel, like modern airplanes of today, but relatively new then.  This made the B-17 look more traditional, and the B-24 more revolutionary.  The B-17 could fly higher, but B-24’s could fly longer distances and carry a larger bomb load.  Not being able to fly as high, the B-24 was more vulnerable to flak.  In spite of the rivalry as to which is the best between the two, have heard B-17 pilots say how they felt sorry for us down there taking all the flak.  As a B-24 pilot, will say how we respected them for being there earlier, when there were more fighters. We saw German fighters, but not as often as the B-17s saw at first.  However, as B-24’s flew longer distances over Germany, the losses percentage wise were about equal.   Have learned our 453^rd Group made 259 missions in thirteen months and lost 58 aircraft, while dropping 15,804 tons of bombs. (In my mind) the B-24 did not have enough power. When loaded our top speed was about 140 mph and our stalling speed was 120.  This made a tricky arrangement. If the group was making a turn, the inside plane was about stalling while the outside plane would fall behind. If a group was going in and a group was returning happen to be on a collision course, perhaps due to weather, we were not able to clear each other completely. This meant we were on our own to feed through and generally several didn’t make it.

          The B-24 was designed and built for combat. There was no forerunner for the 24. It had many alternative ways to accomplish operations. For instance, we would lower the main gear normally by hydraulic power from the hydraulic pump on #3 engine. In addition, we had a hydraulic pump that could be operated electrically but had to be put into the system with a valve in the bomb bay. We also had a hand pump located on the right of the co-pilots seat. Further the gear could be lowered with a cable system operated by hand. As a result, the B-24 pilot had a lot more mechanics to learn than most airplanes required. 

          It was cold at the altitudes we flew.  Fifty or fifty-five below zero was not uncommon. The planes had no heaters in combat. We pilots wore electrically heated suits and silk gloves.  How did silk gloves keep our hands warm enough to operate switches etc.?  Maybe the use of silk stockings by the girls was more than just for attraction.

Our crew flew twenty five and a half missions. On the twenty fifth, we did not return until the war in Europe was over. That accounts for the half. 

          On the 25^th of August we left England for a target on the German shore of the Baltic, near Wismer, to hit a FW aircraft engine plant. Our route took us over the North Sea and made “land fall” where the German coast turns North towards Denmark. We were greeted with the usual flak. This time we took a burst under our right wing that hit something in the oil system as we soon lost our number four engine. We were then about twenty minutes from Wismer. The group was still climbing.  We had been told that our engines would last about a half hour at the higher take-off power settings (I have more recently read the manufacture said approximately five minutes).  We had gone this far so I elected to try to continue to the target, but not climb any more. I still wasn’t able to quite keep up with the group and was somewhat behind when number three engine also quit. We headed back for England, dropping our bombs on a German seaport, probably Lubec.

          Since the war I have received a copy of the 453^rd report from the pilots de-briefing regarding this mission.  Ist Lt DeLozier reported, “Huntoon feathered engine about Langeland may have come over target by himself”.  2nd Lt Judd reported, Huntoon “feathered #4 and kept dropping behind formation until out of sight”.

          As we started back across Germany, with a P-5l covering us, # 2 started smoking and had to be throttled back. Now we could no longer hold altitude

          With the navigator’s help, we figured, at our rate of decent, we would be ditching somewhere along the German held Frisian Islands.  Statistics said only six men would survive ditching a B-24.   Sweden was about the same distance.  A decision had to be made. I recall the thought came to review it with the crew.   I later learned several other pilots had.   But, reminded myself I was in best position to decide. I remembered what Major Eberly back at the University ROTC, had said; always look out for your men. If four were to die and as I had a choice, I headed for Sweden, a neutral country. We had about finished our tour and the plane we were flying was one of the original planes in the group. We still had full power on # 1 and partial on # 2.  As we lost altitude we seemed to do better at maintaining it, perhaps because we were throwing everything loose overboard. 

          Just south of a big city we saw an airfield and two Me 109s taking off.  There were a few scattered clouds.  Soon one of the fighters slid down beside us.  This did not look good. We suspected any minute he would lower his wheels, meaning we do the same in surrender.  In lightening the plane, we had thrown out all our guns and most of the ammunition. However, had reserved the most effective nose and tail guns.  The nose gunner reported he had him in his sights. We were in a very poor position to start a fight. We could see Jerry in his cockpit. Our co-pilot Hap waved to him.  After a bit, Jerry waved back and took off.  How did that fighter pilot explain this to his outfit? This instance has seemed so far-fetched, have frequently thought it must have been imagined. However, recently one our crew members called me while writing his memoirs. He mentioned this happening. He had also thought he must have dreamed it.

          Our navigator Lt. Parmentier had done a good job for us.  We had no maps for that section of Europe, only the coordinates of some place in Sweden, a neutral country.  He had pinned down the chart we had for the mission and extended the lines of latitude and longitude from the chart and located those coordinates on his map board.  Knowing somewhat where we were, he gave me a heading to those coordinates. These coordinates turned out to be Malmo at the southern end of Sweden. We landed with full power available on number one, part power on number two, and three and four feathered. (all our power was on one side)

          It was a large grass field, and our landing roll took us to the opposite side of the field from the hangers and other buildings.  We two pilots were still sitting in our seats rubbing our left legs that had been holding hard on the rudders, when a Swedish enlisted man climbed up to the cockpit with a “tommy” gun exclaiming, “Velcome to Sveden”.  Then he rattled off something that we could not comprehend.  He gestured with the gun.  We finally realized he was saying to taxi around back to the hangers.  Of course, with only one outboard engine we could only go in a circle.  As we tried to explain he just gestured more with the “tommy” gun. Hap, our co-pilot queried “Welcome to Sweden?” and he replied “Velcome to Sveden”.  About then an officer, who could speak good English, arrived.

          We were led to a barbed wire enclosure with a tent. They gave us some large paper bags and a bale of hay, with the suggestion to stuff the hay in the bags for mattresses.  After a while civilians showed up.  This group turned out to be representatives of the Red Cross and the American Legation.  The Red Cross people seemed concerned to know who we were for certain, while the legation folks debriefed us regarding our mission and our problem.  The Red Cross people left and we hoped they would contact our folks. The army sent Betty the MIA telegram with the Red Cross’s identification. 

          I learned later they had sent such telegram to Betty.  However, it was several weeks before she had a letter from me.  Sometimes I think the folks at home had it rougher than we did.  They were so alone while we were always with friends.

          The legation representative explained what was to happen.  He also said we were not to try to escape.  That last seemed to be rather odd, as “military” we were always taught escape. 

          The Swedes offered us something to eat that didn’t look very appetizing.  I don’t remember that any of us ate any.  We were as usual more tired than hungry.  Sometime later we learned it was probably blood pudding as commonly fed to Swedish troops. 

          After dark we were led to a train.  We passed through the city en route, where we saw store windows all lighted up and full of stuff.  As we settled on the train, we four officers were seated together.  Our navigator had always been rather quiet, but now was quite loosened up telling jokes and all.    After a bit he leaned over to me and seriously asked, Skipper, “when did we die?”

          We left the train in the morning in a town named Falun. There we were assigned hotel rooms. Hap and I roomed together. That morning Hap stayed in the sack while I explored around a bit.  I met other Americans and had a good breakfast with real eggs.  Wow.  It seemed we were to stay there temporally awaiting assignment to some camp and would be given an advance on our pay to buy more suitable clothes etc.  We could not wear uniforms. We would be paid as in England but now via the legation. 

          There was a public bath house near the hotel, where for a Krona, about twenty-five cents in our money, you first had a shower, then if desired a steam room, another shower, then a nice swimming pool. When you got back to your cubicle, your shirt, underwear and socks had been washed.  All around were women (quite matronly) picking up things and would give you a massage, if desired.  Their presence made some so bashful that they never came again.  Most of us went almost every day and stayed a couple of hours, enjoying the pool especially. Sometimes after the swim and clean clothes we might go for a Swedish smorgasbord.  It consisted of many courses, mild tasting ones first then the following with increasing flavor.  We would have a little aqua vite between courses.  The whole meal could take hours.  We would not be drunk but sure felt fulfilled.  There was a lot we could learn from the Swedes.

          Falun had a skating rink, where our boys played ice hockey. I later learned that was the first ice hocky ever played in Sweden

          Occasionally while in Sweden we received packages from home which as I later learned was also some of the work the Red Cross did. One of my requests to Betty was for some popcorn. The Red Cross system came through just as it did for other prisoners of war. Of course, sometimes such packages never completed the trip thanks to other hands the packages had to pass through.

          When I popped the corn, I offered some to one of my Swedish friends. The Swedes had never seen popcorn.

          Most officers in combat were either first or second lieutenants. I was a very senior first lieutenant, so often was the “mother hen”.

          In a few days someone from the legation came and interviewed us, not about our mission but more like what were our talents, previous assignments etc. Having been in base engineering, was asked if I would like to go to one of the fields where our aircraft were being stored to help with their maintenance.  This sounded good to me and relief from “mother hen” duties.   

          With another train ride went to one of the Swedish Air Bases, F-7, at Satenas on the southeastern shore of Lake Vanern about a hundred fifty miles east of Stockholm. 

          Our crew was repatriated by November.  I went back to Falun and we had a farewell party.  One of our crew had stolen the clock out of our plane and they presented it to me.  I still have it.  After they were gone, I figured I wouldn’t be far behind.  However, later I learned anyone doing a job could be the last to leave.

          At Satenas, quite a few of our bombers had been scattered around.  There were about twenty Americans there running up engines and generally trying to keep the planes in flyable condition.  It seems that according to the Geneva Convention, if the Swedes impounded aircraft they were supposed to keep them in equal or better condition.  However, with over a hundred bombers and all so much larger than any of their planes, our help was appreciated. 

          Some of the planes were in soft ground and with running up had become quite mired in mud.  At one edge of the field, and quite near the main gate, where we stayed in a small hotel, there was some hard ground.  We talked the Swedes into letting us have a strip of that land and proceeded to move the planes in two lanes there. The days were getting much shorter and we were collecting tools and spare parts, so requested a tool house.  One was built and paid for by our legation. It had a partition across the middle and another from this partition to the rear wall.  This gave us a sort of office, tool shed, and day room. 

          We had a stove in the open area to help keep the place warm. More about this later.

          That winter it was dark until ten in the morning and dark again by two in the afternoon. Work on the planes was done mostly with flashlights.  Where necessary engines had been re-built and other damage repaired at Malmo before flying to either Satenas or Vasteras. for storage. We did change some engines and other heavy repair work.  Vasteras was a much larger field and nearer Stockholm but it had become overcrowded with our bombers.

          We were allowed to flight test the planes once a month with a limited amount of fuel and with the accompaniment of a Swedish Officer. The Swedish pilots appreciated the chance to fly in our large planes. In return I was allowed to fly some of their planes including soaring gliders.

          While at Satenas I found out why, when we were first briefed by the legation upon our arrival in Sweden, to not to try to escape.  The interned Americans, with the legation were operating a bit of espionage. When I arrived at Satenas there were two other American officers there and I was sort of the engineering officer, with no command assignment. Sometime after the first of Jan 1944 the other two officers were repatriated, so I was the only American officer.  Before they left, I was called to the legation in Stockholm for a meeting. At that meeting I was told about the espionage effort by the Americans.  It seems that originally and for the most part the only men returned from Swedish internment were on the basis of one Axis personnel for one Allied.  However, it was pretty well known that the Swedes were sending ball bearings to Germany for coal, not available in Sweden.  The legation gave the Swedes a hard time for such assistance to one of the Axis countries, when they were supposed to be neutral.  This was published in some of the American newspapers much to the discomfort of the Swedes.  After much discussion, principally with Count Folke Bernadotte, who was in charge of all internees, it was decided if we could positively prove such assistance with Germany, they might repatriate some of the Americans without equivalent Axis troops. This started some internal espionage by we Americans.  There were quite a few people in Sweden on espionage assignments.  It was not unusual when any of our boys were out on pass to be approached by such characters. As a result, whenever one of our boys returned from pass, they were interviewed.  If one had been asked such questions about what unit they had come from and such, we started a card file on that person.  If we found the same person had been asking about such military things with other Americans, we got the best description of that person possible and his or her description was forwarded on to the legation.  If this appeared more than casual that person might be investigated by some one of us assigned to the legation to try to establish that the Swedes had been allowing espionage in their neutral country.  If it could be established Bernadotte would be approached for a deal. The result might be that an American or two could be repatriated without further ado. One of the best actions of this sort was one of our boys who had become quite serious with a Swedish girl, (who he later married) was invited for Christmas by her folks to a town that we never were given passes to. It happened the chief of police in that town was this girl’s father.  At some point during our boy’s visit, he and his girl were walking along the waterfront.  He had a camera and took a picture of his girlfriend with a freighter unloading coal in the background.  Further the freighter was flying a German swastika and behind it all was a Swedish advertisement on a large building.  The legation offered to forget it all if 15 Americans could be released.  After, some bargaining it was agreed eight could be repatriated.  This espionage work was very productive and only a few Americans stayed in Sweden more than a couple of months. All other allied internees had to wait for an equivalent axis internee.  Americans are ingenious.

          While bragging about Americans I should also say how great a job the Red Cross did. Too often I have heard from service men saying, “What good is the Red Cross?” The Red Cross with their thousands did much for our millions of service men, but never bragged about it. 

          I had skis and frequently used them, in the wintertime, to go around the edge of the field to headquarters by skating on the hard packed snow. The Swedes in the tower watched me and were quite impressed with this skating. It seemed odd as after all it was Swedes who introduced skiing to us Americans in the first place and we always thought they were the experts.

          In the spring, our legation had arranged that ten of our bombers might be returned to England.  The route was to be all around Norway and only B-24’s had that much range, so we proceeded to pick the best and have them ready.  However, the end of hostilities in Europe was in sight so that effort was canceled sometime in May.

          While at the air base in Satenas I was frequently invited to base functions.  One such event was a visit by Sweden’s Prince Gustoff.  The tables were arranged in a U shape.  My seat was inside the U right opposite the base commander with a gentlemen beside him with a formal suit and a red diagonal sash with a medallion, who I supposed was the prince.  Beside me was a man in a business suit and who talked very good English, we joked a bit and were enjoying each other’s company.  As the banquet got started a toast was made to the Prince.  We all stood up except the gentlemen beside me.  He was the Prince and had requested that arrangement so he could practice his English. 

          I had another encounter with royalty in Sweden.  It seemed that Count Bernadotte enjoyed talking with Americans and I was invited to his apartment in Stockholm. It was dark with a lot of leather and old wood.  Our conversation centered on the war and his thoughts were very enlightening.  He felt our President was quite under Churchill’s influence.  Things might have been much better if we had not entered the war.  Yes, England might have been invaded but in that way become more part of Europe.  Hitler couldn’t last much longer. While Germany with a unified Europe would be able to stop Russia, the biggest enemy.  Now that it is all over, I can see how Bernadotte was a real statesman.  He was responsible for so much of the original work to establish a United Nations, but unfortunately was killed in an airplane accident.

          With VE Day the planes could be returned to England.  Most of the interned planes were gathered at Vasteras and ours at Satenas were transferred there.

          As we left Satenas I tried to sell our building to the Swedes.  They didn’t go for that, knowing I couldn’t take it with us.  One night a few of us had a bit to drink and the subject came up. One thing led to another, and we ended up igniting the wood pile behind the stove.  We went back to the hotel, but nothing happened.  The next morning, we saw where our fire had started but only managed to burn a hold through the floor. Oh well!

          At Vastaras  we set up a 100 Hour inspection line.  Sergeant Bill Gregory, a well-qualified B-17 flight engineer had the B-17’s and I had the B-24’s. A detachment was sent from England to do this work, however they were very willing to run around Sweden while we continued.  Flight crews were made up. These crews flew them to England after an inspection and flight test.  Some crews made several trips.  Orders were cut by the legation for those few of us remaining.  These last orders were all cut the same day, July 5^th.  On July 12^th, I flew back the same plane we had brought to Sweden, with four re-built engines.  Sgt. Gregory served as flight engineer. This was the last interned American plane to leave Sweden.

          We made a “Cook’s” Tour flying at about three thousand feet and taking pictures with a newly acquired German made Kodak camera.   Over Hamburg as far as we could see there was nothing but brick shells of burned-out buildings. These pictures are very impressive.

          As we reached England the weather was good so was able to get a picture of the White Cliffs of Dover.  At that altitude we looked carefully for the Barrage Balloons but saw none.  Perhaps with so much American equipment and most of the Americans themselves gone, the English were no longer afraid England was going to sink.

          Our 453^rd Group had left England and returned to the States. I was put in the Project R group, (recovered personal) and had priority to leave England.  They issued us a uniform, no charge.  Officers usually bought their own uniforms.  We found a tailor who in a very short time converted the new blouses to Eisenhower Jackets.   I still had my raunchy officers cap so was right in style. It seemed good to be back in uniform.  We were soon on a tanker with room for about twenty passengers on our way home.  We landed in New York and was greeted by the Statue of Liberty. Wow!   Without any choice we were given six weeks leave.  In that six weeks Japan gave up.  The war was over.

          All military were glad there would be no invasion of Japan. So very many lives would have been lost.  The Japs never gave up easily and they certainly wouldn’t have on their homeland.

          A point system had been set up to determine who was eligible for release.  Having five years of service and combat time I could have been a civilian right off.  However, I was still interested in the service and in the degree in aeronautics that Col. Munroe had suggested so long ago. The points were given up and an application for the school at Wright Patterson Field was submitted.

          While the application was going through channels, I was assigned to Turner Field, Albany Georgia, where I flew B-25s for gunnery training. Quite impressive when the nose cannon was fired.

          Someone noticed my base engineering work, so was sent to Columbus Army Airfield in Columbus Mississippi, as base engineering officer. We were gathering PT-13s for storage.  Things caught up with me a bit while there, first a promotion to Captain, next a Distinguished Flying Cross and then some work I had done in Panama with aircraft rescue got me assigned to a Crash Rescue Study at Lowery Field in Denver.

          While at Denver I had a chance to fly a B-24 N, the army’s single tail version. It was not done as well as the Navy did with their PB4Y single tailed version but had many improvements over the H and J’s we had flown. It had a bit more power, another escape hatch over the flight deck, fuses had been replaced with breakers and so on. It also was “red lined” to never reduce power when in landing configuration, (steep angle of attack”). The operations officer who had arranged my flight had a curiosity about this “redline”.  I also had the curiosity, so we climbed to about twelve thousand feet. Oxygen is required above ten thousand, however Denver is already around five thousand feet, so we only had about five thousand to play in. We put it in the red lined position and found we had lost the control of the elevators. We added power but did not have sufficient ground clearance to recover enough speed for the elevators. One wing dropped that put us in a spin and we gained flying speed and all normal spin recovery procedure. Remembering how my Alaskan instructor had told how to get out of a spin, we gave the inside engines a burst of power, and sure enough we were flying again. The important part was to apply only a burst to assist the rudders get control but not more as it would have gone in a reverse spin.

          Upon return to Columbus in the spring of 1946 found quite a different atmosphere.  The officers I had enjoyed working with seemed to be leaving the service.  I hadn’t heard anything from Wright Patterson. Perhaps I had better check out the opportunities in civilian life.  We had some leave time left so started home.  We went through Chester where I had worked for Scott Paper when I entered the service in 1940 and checked with personnel. They offered me my old job back at the same pay, thirty dollars a week didn’t sound very interesting.  We continued on to Rumford, my hometown and where the Oxford Paper Mill was located.  They had paid my tuition and books while at the U. of M.  Again, the welcome carpet wasn’t out, it seems that industry was still in a state of flux from the war.  They were having trouble locating work for their returning veterans, as required.   Steel was in such demand it was hard to find. This held up projects. Industry definitely had not completed the transition from war time demands. 

          Betty’s Uncle Cliff told me about one of his friends, Carle Merrill, in Portland who ran an engineering firm, working mostly with paper mills, and was looking for someone with paper manufacturing training.  That was interesting, so gave him a call and we set up an appointment.  He suggested I bring Betty. (I learned later, he was concerned about one’s wife, when interviewing.) When we got there it was a rather warm day and he suggested we go up to his camp on Sebago Lake.  We talked a bit, and his wife took Betty in tow as she prepared a roast beef dinner.  Mr. Merrill suggested we go fishing.  I caught a salmon but nothing to brag about and threw him back.    We had a good time.  We returned to camp and enjoyed the roast beef.  As we were leaving to get back to Rumford, I mentioned that I had come about a job, but we hadn’t said a word about that.  His reply was “When can you come to work?”  Stalling a bit, I mentioned how I had given up my points to get out so might require a letter from him.  He replied, just send him a note saying what he should write. 

          When we got back to Columbus, I found I was to be transferred to Enid, Oklahoma. I have forgotten what the assignment was but remember while there the orders came through to go to Wright Patterson.  Also, having submitted the letter Mr. Merrill wrote, to leave the service had also come through.  If one could have known about the future space programs, I suspect I would have taken up the Wright Patterson School orders. The aeronautical degree would have been a substantial rung in the Air Force ladder.  It could have been interesting to say the least.  (Sputnik showed up only a few years later.)

          While at Merrill’s, I stayed in the reserves, went to weekly reserve meetings and two weeks active duty most every summer.  Also, there were correspondence courses available covering subjects aligned with one’s specialty.  Points were given for this training, and a reservist was required to earn at least fifty to stay in the program.  For a while we could go to Bangor’s Dow Field and fly AT-6s.

          Our weekly meetings were quite like a fraternity.  We had lessons to complete.  I recall during the Vietnam War; we learned the historical background of the situation and could see the reasoning. This was very different than the public heard.

          The Berlin Blockade, Korea, and Vietnam all transpired but we were not recalled.  It seems we had our turn, now it was the younger fellows turn.   I received two more promotions and retired in 1966 as a Lieutenant Colonel, with twenty-eight years of reserve service, including seven on active duty.

          The war had been won!   But did we lose the peace? 

          Many Vets had gone to college with help from the GI Bill.  We raised families and created the Baby Boomer generation. We made a lot of money and spent it with these children.   How could they have possibly learned to save?

          They say, we had gone to war as boys and came back as men.  True, but also with a much better appreciation of life and how to try to live it.

          However, would like to comment on the question marks following the heading of this epistle. This generation did a fine job with the war but question our handling the peace.

          Prior to the war money was scarce. The dollar was based on the value of gold, a valuation that varied little. Now, money was more available.

          With the GI Bill advanced education was made easy to attain.

          Now worshiping money seems to have replaced all else. I still prefer Goodness.

Charles R. Huntoon, Jr., Lt. Col. USAF Retired.