I was working for the Sunflower Ordnance Plant on road maintenance just before enlisting. I spent a lot of time reading everything available about airplanes. I learned to recognize them all in an instant, a critical ability when on a real mission. My basic training took place in Midland, Texas. Soon after that  I was off to aircraft training in Amarillo, Texas and then after that went to Seattle, Washington to Boeing for my aircraft mechanic training. Finally, I ended up in Las Vegas, Nevada for gunnery school.

My job in the service was as the right waist gunner on a B-17 Flying Fortress bomber. I almost didn’t even make it to war at all. I was almost killed on a training mission when we flew way too close to some treetops and just about crashed into them!

During training, my job was to check each person on my plane to make sure they all had their oxygen masks on when we reached 10,000 feet. Once during training, I looked back at the tail gunner and there he was lying on the floor of the aircraft. I thought he’d passed out or had a heart attack, so I went back there to check on him. I soon discovered the darn fool was asleep, and I wanted to toss him out the door! On this same training mission we had to switch our fuel tanks in mid-air. That was an experience I'll never forget. I pretty much saw my life flash before my eyes.

I was supposed to have flown to Bizerte, North Africa to get sent overseas, but a Master Sergeant bumped me from my flight. Then I had to take a ship.  It was a good thing I didn’t enlist in the Navy, because that voyage was all I needed to convince me that being on the water was NOT for me.

From North Africa we took another ship with the British to Naples, Italy. We were greeted with bombing; something the enemy always did when the Allies were bringing ships into the harbor there. We spent the night at the University, sleeping on the floor. Soon afterwards we were off to our base.

My initial air base in Europe was in Foggia, Italy. The first three runs we had were only milk runs (easy missions with no combat involved). The fourth run was different however. We were on a mission to take out some railroad marshaling yards near Zagreb, Yugoslavia. I was keeping my eye on a Focke-Wulf 190, which was zipping by at 5 o’clock, and totally out of gun range of about 1,000 yards. I heard a huge explosion up front. Later I learned it was caused by a German rocket that had hit us.

When I looked up toward the cockpit, all I saw was a huge wall of flames and the left waist gunner was waving his arms frantically at me. We were flying at 25,500 feet and there was so very little oxygen. I panicked and pulled off my oxygen mask. I remember pawing at the strings and snaps of my 16-pound flak jacket, trying to get it off. Somehow, I snapped out of the panic and got on my parachute. I headed to the door and kicked it out because the radio operator hadn’t done that yet. I guess he was panicked too.

Once I jumped out of the plane, it was like being in a dream falling through the air and because of the lack of oxygen I passed out. I fell about 15-20,000 feet I guess before there was enough oxygen to bring me around, but luckily there was time to deploy my chute. I saw something dangling on the tail of the aircraft as I was falling through the air. I found out later that, that was how our left waist gunner died. He must have panicked too, and pulled his ripcord before jumping out of the aircraft. Then his chute got tangled up on the tail of the plane.

I landed in the foothills of the Alps. A tiny, little old man came by and picked me up, threw me over his shoulder and took me to the top of the mountains. I only weighed about 140 pounds back then. A bunch of young women were at the top of mountain and asked if I was British or American. When I replied American, they shouted "Americano!" and seemed very pleased to see me.

The old man took me to a stone building with a dirt floor where another man offered me a piece of pork. It didn’t look very appetizing, but I took it and ate it so as not to offend my host.  He never asked for my escape kit. The escape kit held a map which would tell me where I was, some money, a pocket knife, and a chocolate bar, which I gave to some kids who were also hanging around.

Another two fellows came along with an oxcart. They put me inside and we went off toward the village. Along the way civilians would come by and offer me food and drink, most of which I accepted, except for the schnapps. I didn’t want to get drunk and end up with a loose tongue. When a German soldier came by on a bicycle, the men had me duck down in the cart and they concealed me. Eventually we came into the village and there were lots of people milling around looking at me. I was beginning to think that they might get me out of there when I looked up the hill and saw a large building with a swastika on the side.

I was taken to a Nazi ground crew who took me out of the mountains. That night I was interrogated, but I had nothing to tell them, other than my name, rank and serial number. I was put in a touring car with a German officer and a German woman who was really a gruff woman who barked angrily at me. They took me to a  train station where I waited for a train to Graz, Austria. They finally brought me some black bread and sauerkraut while I was waiting for the train. A German troop train passed through and I’ll never forget the German soldier in his blue Africa Corps uniform who winked at me as he passed on the train. I’ll never know what that wink meant. After arriving in Graz, I was taken by ambulance to Maribor, Yugoslavia to a hospital because I had broken my ankle when I parachuted from my plane.

While I was in the hospital, I was reunited with my radioman, ball turret gunner, and pilot, who were all wounded. It was tough seeing all those injured people in the hospital, and even more devastating to see all these people in pain. There was one fellow who was badly burned and his ears were all shriveled. He later died. There were all different nationalities in the hospital; Americans, British, Australians, and Indians. We shared all we had, food and money.

One day I could hear a B-24 outside the hospital and a German motioned for me to come along with him. I refused, and next thing I knew he was coming after me with a fixed bayonet. When he asked again for my cooperation I agreed and he led me to an air raid shelter.

After about two months, I got out of the hospital and was sent to Frankfurt am Main, which had been almost totally destroyed by bombing. There was rubble everywhere. I was taken to a building and left there while my German guards went off somewhere. I was sitting there wondering what they were going to do with me when a civilian kept strutting by, he was making motions like my throat was going to be slit. I became really nervous. The Germans finally came back and I was interrogated again. When I asked what they were going to do with me they just laughed. I realized later that this all took place on D-Day when the Americans invaded Normandy.

I was shipped by train to Wetzler, Germany to a transit camp. That’s where they put you until they decided which prison camp to assign you. While I was there I got a small brown cardboard suitcase from the Red Cross. It contained toiletries, a deck of cards and a small Gideon bible. Finally they sent me off to the POW camp, Stalag Luft #4 in Grottshychow, Poland. There I joined about 10,000 other POWs. They split up the Air Force prisoners into different camps.

I was a POW for 13 months and one week, although I didn’t have it as bad as a lot of other POWs in other places. Mostly I was hungry and cold. We spent a considerable amount of time playing cards; bridge or hearts, with either handmade ones, or cards we got from the Red Cross parcels that were sent to us. 

One of the coldest winters on record in Europe occurred while I was a POW. The Germans gave us very small supplies of coal to burn for heat. I had to share my bunk with another prisoner. In the morning we all had to go out to roll call and the snow was up to our knees. The prison barracks was built on stilts so the men could not tunnel underneath and escape. That made them even colder. In the evening we would be locked in. Sometimes the guard would come in at night and rant and rave to scare us.

One day the guards shot a man who jumped out of a window in my barracks. Someone made a comment about getting the son of a gun who shot the man. The German who had shot him understood English and asked for the man who said that to step forward. Nobody moved a muscle. He stomped off and later the Commanding Officer (whom we had nicknamed "Iron Cross") came to us and declared that we must give the man up or 10 Americans would be randomly shot the next time we exited the barracks. Our camp leader talked him out of this penalty somehow, so there were no reprisals.

In addition to being cold and hungry all the time, the Germans didn’t give us our full parcels from the Red Cross. We had coffee made from acorns and "black bread." We’d also get a small bucket of boiled potatoes. The black bread contained sawdust, glass, and leaves and was the staple of our diet. We’d get our bread rations every day for 16 men and we took great care to see that all the prisoners got their slice of bread. Nobody wanted the heels because they were like a rock. So we used cards to deal out the slices. Mine was the two of clubs. If it landed on the heel, I got it, no arguments! We’d use those cards to divvy up other stuff too. It made it fair and stopped arguments. There were some fights among the prisoners and foul language. The last several months near the end of the war they really starved us by keeping the Red Cross food parcels from us.  Click on the small recipe to see it up close.

The other thing we had to deal with was bedbugs as our bunkmates. We’d spend time picking bugs off each other. We were also thirsty all the time. Sometimes we wouldn’t have fresh water. Once we got our hands on some dishwater, and we drank it anyway. When the diarrhea followed, we were all sorry. The German guards cleaned the latrine shovels in our drinking water and it made many of us sick too.

I didn’t have to do my time though, because the Russians were closing in and that’s when the death marches began. They moved starving prisoners by having them march in the bitter cold to keep ahead of the advancing Russians. Lots of men died on these marches. Since I hadn’t totally recovered from my broken ankle I couldn’t go on these marches. I was put on a boxcar with 50 some other prisoners and spent eight nights and seven days traveling without food, and almost no water. It was bitterly cold and I remember that my hair froze solid. Someone died in the boxcar too. One day they let us out and we gathered snow in the white metal bowls we prisoners had. A guard gave us some creek water and that gave many of us diarrhea, which made the journey even more unbearable.

We ended up in Barth, and the Russians came shortly after and liberated us. Just before that the word was out that Hitler had given orders to kill all American airmen. Someone went and talked with our Commanding Officer at the camp and dissuaded him from complying with the order. He was told that he would be declared a war criminal if he followed orders. He chose not to, sending word that he did not have enough men to accomplish the task.

After liberation, I ended up in Rhiems and rehabbed a little at Camp Lucky Strike. I took a ship home and sailed into Boston harbor. From there I took a train to Fort Leavenworth, and in October 1945, I was discharged from the service. I had post-war jitters for a bit and was fearful of going outside as I thought people were watching me.

My war experience taught me what it was like to be on the other end of prejudice and I never wanted to treat other people like that. I don’t know how long the people who lived during this important part of our history will be around to tell their first hand accounts of what really happened. I want to have my story heard.