Lt. Col.Samuel Clifton Pruett

A Short Genealogy

Before writing about myself, I thought it would be more appropriate if you knew a little more about my genealogy.

My Mother, Ruth Horner Pruett, a.k.a. Mom, was born in Essex, Connecticut, on October 17, 1892. She died in the Paul Kimball Hospital in Lakewood, N.J. on July 18, 1976, from ovarian cancer — just six weeks following my Dad’s death. Her mother, Minnie May Horner, was born in Naughrightville, N.J. in 1867 and died in our Teaneck home around 1950. Mom’s father, William E. Horner, was born in Essex, Conn. in 1868. I have no record of when or where he died. He worked as a conductor on a railroad. There were no other children.

My Dad, Samuel Clifton Pruett, Sr., was born on September 1, 1895 in Baltimore, Md. and died on May 27, 1976 from a brain hemorrhage at the Point Plesant Hospital in N.J. His mother, Ida Virginia Pruett, was born on February 28, 1852 and his dad, George Washington Pruett, was born on August 2, 1844. I have no records of where they were born, or lived, but it is presumed both places were in the Baltimore area. Dad was the youngest of seven children — five girls and two boys. After graduating from high school, he attended Baltimore Polytechnical School and got a degree in mechanical engineering. His father’s occupation is unknown.

I have no recollection of how or where Mom and Dad met, but I believe it must have been in the Elizabeth, N.J. area. They were married in the Second Presbyterian Church in Elizabeth on November 16, 1921. Mom was a telephone operator prior to marriage and lived in Elizabeth with her mother. Dad, after leaving Baltimore around 1914, lived I suspect, in Elizabeth too. He commuted to New York City where he worked for the American Agricultural Chemical Co. - a manufacturer of chemical fertilizer. I do recall that, prior to meeting Dad, Mom was engaged to a man named Ben Price who, I believe, served in WWI as a medic. Dad had a deferment because he worked for a company that was closely allied to the food industry - which served not only our own country’s needs but also the needs of our European allies. Obviously Mom was stricken with the Pruett charms !!! and returned her engagement ring to Ben. I do not recall any love interest Dad had other than Mom.

Although they loved one another dearly, every once in a while there would be a rather heated argument, usually over nothing very important. Dad had a unique way of simmering Mom down a bit. He would approach her face to face, grab her in a bear hug, and jounce her up and down a few times until she started laughing at the sillyness of it all. Then the argument was over.

The law of opposites attracting was certainly true in Mom and Dad’s case. Dad was soft spoken, loving, and rather easy going. Mom could be quick tempered at times but very compassionate and affectionate. You always knew where you stood with Mom. She told it like it was. I remember that during the depression we often had beggars come to the rear door of our house in Teaneck asking for food. I never recall Mom ever refusing to give them something to eat. And when her mother and her mother’s sister, Aunt Nell, were down and out Mom had them live with us for a few years. Quite a tribute to Dad’s compassion too!

Mom loved to tell a joke - usually on herself. One was about the time she ordered a pound of syracuse from the butcher. He scratched his head and replied, “Sorry Mam, we don’t have any syracuse, but we do have some cincinnatti”. Mom agreed that’s what she wanted and said to the butcher, “Well you know they both begin with a ‘C’”.

Both Mom and Dad were active in the Dutch Reformed Church we attended in Teaneck. Dad was the treasurer at least a couple of times. It so happened that each time he was elected as treasurer he bought a new car. He took a lot of ribbing on that coincidence. He also was on a church building expansion committee and made the design plans for it. Mom taught Sunday School for many years. One time the minister brought in, unannounced, another minister to observe the class Mom was teaching. She got so nervous that she finally told them to leave. Mom contributed many home made pies, cakes and cookies to the many bake sales and annual bazaars the church sponsored to raise money - especially during the depression era.

Their social life was wholesome if not spectacular. On the weekends they often played bridge with neighbors and friends. A couple of times a year the three of us would go to New York City to see a play or to Radio City Music Hall to see a show. Afterwards we’d usually have a good Italian spaghetti dinner at a Caruso’s restaurant (no longer in business). Of course we often went to see a show at one of the two movie houses in Hackensack.

1923 to 1929

I was born on February 13, 1923, in a hospital in New York City by C—section. Mom could not have any more children. At that time we lived in an apartment in Weehawken, N.J. until 1925 when we moved to 852 Garrison Avenue in Teaneck. It was a dirt street then and remained so for a year or two. The house was new — had two medium size bedrooms and one small one plus a bathroom all on the second floor. The first floor had a living room, dining room, parlor, and kitchen. There was no garage until the late 20’s when Dad built one himself plus a two strip concrete driveway. The neighborhood had many different nationalities represented - Irish, Italian, Russian, Norwegian, etc. With only a few exceptions, we all seemed to get along together. The Italian family living behind our house kept a cow in their back yard for a few years. It was a rather rural setting.

We kept food in an ice box. Milk, bread, eggs, butter and pasteries were delivered by horse drawn wagons. The other staples were purchased at stores on Cedar Lane, a block and a half from our house. I still remember Mom listening to a crystal set radio, with ear phones of course, while she was ironing in the kitchen. Speaking of radios - when we finally purchased a conventional one the “gang,” about six neighborhood boys, would take turns at one another’s home and listen to such programs as Buck Rogers, Jack Armstrong, Dick Tracy and Little Orphan Annie. How we did look forward to listening to an hour of those serials just before dinner — especially in the winter time when it was cold and dark outside.

Although my parents were proud of their one and only child, Mom, on many occasions, was rather reluctant to show me off when she was wheeling me down the street in my carriage. The reason was because between five months and five years of age, at times, I would break out with eczema and and my face would be covered with all kinds of different colored salves. I still remember Mom and Dad fastening corrugated cardboard sleeves around my elbows so that I couldn’t bend my arms and scratch my face while sleeping. That wasn’t the best solution because I would then rub my face in the pillows until they were bloody.

Mom waited until I was six and a half years old before she would let me go to kindergarten. She wanted me to have all the fresh air and sunshine I could get before being cooped up in a school room. I remember the first day of kindergarten because I cried my heart out.

1930 to 1940

Of course the depression was in full swing in the early 30’s. Dad’s job with American Agricultural Chemical Co., the only company he ever worked for, was, at times, a little uncertain. But we managed quite well especially when you consider the economy and the number of people who lost their jobs. One thing that boosted our spirits in those troubled times was “Impy”. He was the first of two of our Boston terriers. Mom sent me to the Teaneck train station, only about five blocks away, to pick up the dog. He had been shipped in a crate from someplace in New York state. I ran down to the station, got him out of the crate, and carried the little puppy in my arms all the way home. That dog brought much happiness to the three of us - especially after he was house broken.

In the ’30’s because money was rather tight, and of course no television, we entertained ourselves a lot. We played baseball in the summer and football in the fall and winter at a vacant lot a block from our Teaneck home. Since I was on the heavy side as a young boy - my friends called me “Crisco” (fat in the can) - my position playing football was usually guard or tackle. When my parents bought me a helmet and shoulder pads I thought I was invinceable. In those days playing marbles was quite popular too. My friends encouraged me to play with them because I invariably lost and, therefore, supplied them with a lot of marbles. My parents, grandmother and aunt always knew what to give me as a gift - more marbles. Every so often in the fall we’d build a fire at this vacant lot and roast potatoes and eat them on the spot. Another very popular sport was street hockey using four wheel roller skates that clamped onto your shoes. Inline roller skates were unknown in those days. We’d skate in the street with little or no traffic. Of course when nearby ponds were frozen over we’d play ice hockey too. I enjoyed down slope skiing at the old Phelps Manor Golf Club located near the intersection of the eastern end of Cedar Lane and Teaneck Road. Unfortunately that didn’t last long. Building route 4 from the George Washington bridge to Paterson in the early ’30’s meant that people along the highway had an easy commute to New York City. Consequently a lot of people in the city moved out to the suburbs of Teaneck. This created a building boom and the golf club was purchased and replaced by new homes. Sleigh riding on some of the hilly streets near our home was also a lot of fun. To me though the best of all winter sports was going on the tobaggon slides at Bear Mountain in New York state. I spent hours climbing to the top of the slides and tobaggoning down the steep mountain sides in seconds.

In the summer of 1933 Dad was transferred, temporarily, to Pierce, Florida. A great time to be there???. It was a company town and no longer in existance, This was the area where phosphate rock was mined and washed. Dad designed these huge washers and, I guess, he was sent there to evaluate the operation. None of us liked that part of the state. It was inland and hot, humid and full of bugs and snakes. The company house assigned to us was full of cock roaches. Mom stood one night of that nonsense. We moved to the company hotel while the house was fumigated. It was not much fun for me because there were very few boys to play with. I spent a lot of time reading Tom Swift books.

Most of our two weeks summer vacations in this decade were spent in New England. In the early ’30’s we vacationed at a farm house on Lake Hortonia which is about 25 miles north west of Rutland. They had cows, a bull of course, pigs, chickens and horses. I spent a lot of time in the barn with the animals. Many days Dad wanted to go fishing and he wanted company. I was the company. In those days kids did what their parents wanted — no questions asked. Well, I twould have much preferred either playing with the other kids or visiting the barn. That experience soured me on fishing. Other places where we spent our New England vacations were Vergennes, Vermont, on Lake Champlain, Silver Lake near North Conway, New Hampshire; Kezar Lake near North Fryburg, Maine; and both Long Lake and Highland Lake near Bridgeton, Maine. While in New Hampshire, Mom, Dad and I climbed to the top of Mt. Chocorua on what started out to be a sunny day. We no sooner got to the summit when a thunderstorm let loose, and we had to retreat to a shelter without even getting a chance to see the beautiful surrounding scenery. On these vacations we visited Fort Ticondaroga, went to the top of Mt. Washington by the coal-fired cog railroad, and visited the Old Man of the Mountain, Lost River, the Flume and many other sites.

In the late ’20’s and early ’30’s cars did not have much space for luggage. Packing clothes for for three people for a two week stay was not easy. Mom filled a huge steamer trunk with our clothes and shipped it by railroad to our destination at least a week before our arrival date. The reverse procedure was taken on our return home. Of course in this era there was only a fraction of the number of New Jersey cars traveling in New England compared with what you’ll find today. Whenever we saw a New Jersey license plate we’d honk the horn and wave to the occupants of the other car and they would wave back.

Between 1930 to 1940, we did visit with some of our many relatives - especially those on my Dad’s side. We exchanged visits with the Treco family in Waltham, Massachusetts. Aunt Sue Treco was one of Dad’s sisters. They had three children — Mildred, Howard and Bud, who were older than I. Quite frequently we drove to Baltimore to visit Uncle George, Dad’s brother, Aunt Pearl and my cousins Pearl, Mary Virginia, and Lewis. One summer We vacationed with them on Bush River which is on the Chesepeake Bay. We had a lot of fun fishing and crabbing but not swimming. The river was full of seaweed. We also visited Uncle Bill and Aunt Myra Sharp and their two daughters Betty and Louise. They lived in Philadelphia and were relatives on my Mom’s side. Beginning at age fourteen, Louise invited me to parties at her house. I traveled by train. She got me dates with some nice looking chicks. There were usually three or four couples at these parties and we’d play kissing games. I liked that.

In June, 1934, I graduated from the sixth grade at Emerson Elementary School on Elm Avenue across the street from our church. In September I started in the seventh grade at the new Teaneck Junior/Senior High School. Because of inadequate classroom space at this time when the population of Teaneck was exploding, we had, for at least a year, two school sessions — one from 7:30 to 12:30 and the other from 1:00 to 6:00. That lasted for a year or two until the school expansion was completed around 1936. It was tough getting up at 6:00 for a 7:30 class.

In 1935 I joined the Boy Scouts. We met at our church where we played games and learned the basics of scouting. I made Star Scout and quit. For two or three summers I camped at No—Be-Bo-Sco near Blairstown, New Jersey. The area was noted for its snake population — rattlers, copperheads, black snakes, you name them they were there. Another story about the Pruett Luck. We lived in tents with three or four other boys, and when they said lights out at bed time they meant it. I found that out the hard way. One night one of my tent mates awakened, and I heard him rummaging around for something. When I asked him what he was doing he told me he was trying to find something — in the dark no less. Being a compassionate soul, I turned on my flashlight and tried to help him. Wouldn’t you know one of the older boy scouts in charge of our tent area heard the commotion and came to investigate. I told him the story. As a result, because I was the one violating the lights out rule, I had to take a pail, go down to the beach, about a five minute walk, fill the pail with sand, bring it up to the tent area and empty it. This was done about five times at around midnight. So much for helping your friends.

When starting my freshman year in 1936 I chose to take the college (or scientific) curriculum. A language course was not mandatory but I chose to take french. Well that was a big mistake. The teacher was a southerner from New Orleans, and I couldn’t understand her when she spoke english - much less french. I quit the course.

I was not active in either sports or other school activities while in senior high school. My interest in sports was strictly as an observer. We had good football and wrestling teams, and I did attend many of those matches.

Mom and Dad insisted that I take dancing lessons and, much to my surprise, I enjoyed them. A group of my high school friends and I took weekly lessons at a dance studio in Hackensack. The instructor often selected me to dance with her when demonstrating a new step or dance. She was kinda cute and I was flattered. I did attend a few of our high school dances. I had no particular girl friend until my senior year. Her name was Janet Volk — daughter of the owner of Volk Funeral Home in Teaneck. She was a student librarian, and I made it a point to Visit the library quite often. I’ll never forget the time I called on her at her home. Her mother, who was beautiful, answered the door and directed me to a room in the basement where Janet was “working.” When I opened the door, there she was putting make—up on a corpse. That I didn’t expect, nor particularly enjoy watching. So much for high school.

1940 to 1943

I applied for acceptance at Lehigh University in early 1940 and was quickly accepted. There must have been other colleges to which I applied but my memory fails me as to which ones. Why Lehigh University? It was renowned as having an excellent engineering curriculum, and I wanted to follow my Dad’s footsteps and be an engineer. Another reason — it was close to home so that I could get there and back over a weekend if necessary. In those days Lehigh had about 1700 undergraduate students — all male.

I lived in a dormitory for the first seven months. It was called “Drinker House” — and, no, it did not mean that only those who drank lived there! Fraternity rushing started the latter part of September, 1940. Rushing in those days consisted pretty much of dinners at the fraternity house, picnics with the brothers and seeing a burlesque show in Allentown. It’s my understanding that fraternity rushing is a bit more refined now. I received at least two invitations to join other fraternities but selected Beta Theta Pi - a national fraternity, and have never been sorry. In those days I was rather shy - not aggressive in making friends. Fortunately frat life changed that. Of course living in a dormitory didn’t leave me too much time to associate with my fraternity brothers who numbered about 30. My only contacts with them were at the dinner table and watching sporting activities, mostly football, wrestling and basketball. During my freshman year one of the upper classman told me that if I didn’t move from the dormitory to the fraternity house and get to know the brothers better, I might not become a member. So in early 1941 I moved to the Beta house, got to know the brothers better, participated in the fraternity’s activities and on March 7, 1941, was formally initiated, I eventually was chosen House Treasurer and eventually President.

During the summer of 1941 I worked as a plumber’s helper for $15 a week. The boss specialized in rough plumbing of new homes in the Bergen County area. Most of the time I was a “go-fer”, but I was allowed to caulk sewer pipe and cut and thread pipe for water and gas. I also drove a truck to pick up supplies at various plumbing supply houses. The guys I worked with were very earthy people. It was quite an education for me. Most of them only had a twelfth grade education if that. Despite my being a “college guy”, I got along quite well with most of the workers.

The Beta house was known as the wrestling fraternity. One of my brothers, Harold Masem, was an Olympic champion in three different weight classes at the same time. We had four or five brothers on the team, some on the football team and one or two on the basketball team. We got used to winning wrestling matches and losing football games. The extent of my activity in sports was confined to interfraternity wrestling and being a manager of the lacrosse team.

Before freshmen classes began we had to take some tests. I passed all but one — english. The english course I had at Teaneck high school concentrated on reading literary works — Shakespeare, Chaucer, etc. not on learning how to write to be clearly understood. Consequently I flunked the english test and had to take english zero with no credits. Lehigh’s faculty felt very strongly that everyone — engineer, arts and business students, in order to be successful, must be able to express themselves by writing clearly and concisely. I do believe that, even though it hurt, terribly, to flunk english zero, the lesson learned benefited me the rest of my life.

Here again my social life at college was not spectacular. I had to study every night during the week to get decent grades, leaving only the weekends for fun. Two of the hangouts for almost every Lehigh student was Joe Kinney’s Bar and the Mannechor, a German pub. I know that you kids won’t believe that your father drank at the tender age of 17 and 18 — but on occasion I did. One time when I was an upper classman I had too much to drink on a Saturday night. Around eleven o’clock on Sunday morning, in order to awaken me, a lowly freshman was bouncing the heck out of my cot in the third floor dormitory room. I opened my eyes, was just about able to see the freshman, and thought he had lost his senses. Freshmen just didn’t do that to upper classmen! I was just about to cuss him out when he motioned me to be quiet and said, “Your father is on the other side of the dormitory door waiting to see you and your mother is downstairs.” This was not good news! I had no idea they were planning to visit me. So I staggered out of bed, greeted my dad, and told him after I had a shower and got dressed I would meet them downstairs. The were going to take me to the Bethlehem Hotel for dinner. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the hurt look on my mom’s face when I greeted her. She never even entertained the thought that her darling son would ever get drunk. To make matters worse I just picked at my dinner when ordinarily I would have devoured it with great satisfaction.

The Mannechor was actually a private club. You had to have a membership card, but a member could have guests. So we did exactly what you would have done. One of the Betas purchased a card and invited about a dozen or so brothers into the club. I still remember that beer was fifty cents a pitcher and all the pretzels you wanted were free. We had good times there - often singing songs and playing drinking games.

Perhaps the highlights of the social season were the spring proms. The girls we invited took over the fraternity house. The brothers stayed at a friend’s house in town or rented a room at one of the two Bethlehem hotels. A week before the prom began all the brothers got together to clean up the house. We vacuumed, painted, polished and put the doors back on the stalls in the bathroom. Since being rather critical about the clean up work done by my brothers, I got the nickname of “Ma” Pruett. The first prom I attended was held in the fall of 1941. My date was Connie Platt, a cousin of Jim Platt. She lived in Fort Lee and we, to the best of my recollection, had dated only one time before when I was in high school. She was a very sweet girl and a good Catholic. In fact she became a nun! Whether or not that choice had anything to do with the prom I’ll never know. I think that was the last date we had.

My date for the spring prom in 1942 was Mary Lou Reiber — the twin sister of Paul Reiber, my fraternity brother and one of my best friends. She was a blind date, and we hit it off very well. A couple of times during holidays, I visited with Paul and Mary Lou at their home in Pittsburg. We double dated along with Paul and his girl friend, Esta, Who is now his wife. Mary Lou was my date again at the fall prom in 1942 at which time I gave her my fraternity pin. We always had name bands at these proms — sometimes two at the same prom. I remember on one occasion that Sammy Kaye and one of the Dorsey brothers’ bands played for us.

Another form of recreation was, of course, going to the movies but “never on Sunday.” The blue laws were in effect. What else in the city of “Bethlehem.”

The elective subjects available to a freshman in the engineering school were almost nil. We were, however, encouraged to select a major in our sophomore year. I selected chemical engineering in the beginning but changed to metallurgical engineering at the end of my sophomore year. Fortunately I discovered that inorganic chemistry required course in chemical engineering but not in metallurgical engineering. That was one tough subject and, not being the brightest student in the world, I decided to make the switch.

On Sunday afternoon, December 7, 1941, I was studying in my room on the second floor of the fraternity house. All of a sudden I heard a lot of commotion on the first floor from my brothers who were listening to the radio. It wasn’t long before everyone in the house knew that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. The significance of that event didn’t immediately register with me. It wasn’t clear at that moment about the extent of the damage from the raid. It certainly changed the plans of not just the students at Lehigh but people throughout the world. Some students decided to quit college and enlist in the armed forces. Some like I, rather than being drafted in the army, decided to volunteer for service in a branch of our own choosing. My interest was in flying. Should I opt for flying in the navy or, at that time the Army Air Corps? Being just a little pessimistic, I could picture myself flying back to the aircraft carrier from a combat mission in the middle of the Pacific ocean just as the carrier was sinking after being torpedoed by a Japanese submarine. My choice was the Army Air Corps. Of course I was hoping to get my degree in metallurgical engineering before being called up, but that was not to be. In 1942 I, and many other students, even took an accelerated course to continue our education without any summer break in order to get our degree before we were called to serve our country. Around the end of 1942 I received a notice from the Army Air Corps informing me that I was to report for duty on February 13, 1943. What a birthday present!! That day I departed from Philadelphia on a troop train to Miami Beach. It took two days to get to our destination. Obviously we were on a low priority mission because our train was shunted to a siding whenever another train passed our train regardless of what it was transporting — cows, pigs, garbage, etc. I think the coaches we were riding in were of Civil War vintage. No beds, dirty, and no water to wash or shave. I wore a light colored gabardine suit, white shirt, and a tie. What a mistake. All of us were tired and filthy when we finally arrived at Miami Beach on February 15.

We, who were now known as Aviation Cadets, were billeted in a rather small, but modern, hotel close to the famous Collins Avenue — nice quarters. Most of our time in Miami Beach was spent marching, learning how and when to salute, and other military disciplines. Since I had prior experience in marching, because of my two years of ROTC at Lehigh, I was selected as a squadron commander. We learned a lot of marching songs which we sang around 5:30 in the morning as we marched to breakfast. I’m sure that the natives and rich northern snow birds appreciated that.

We were never permitted to leave Miami Beach during the month and a half we were there. Miami was off limits and there wasn’t much to do in Miami Beach. When I first arrived I thought I wanted to spend the rest of the war there. The weather was excellent, nice surroundings, good food and living accomodations, and time off for swimming in the ocean. However, after a couple of weeks, I wanted to move on. I wanted to learn how to fly.

About the beginning of April some of us Aviation Cadets were sent by rail to Kent State University in Kent, Ohio, for, what was called, College Training Detachment. We were billeted in the college’s dormitories. While there we had instruction in courses like meterology, some algebra, and theory of flight, among others. Naturally we had more marching drills. Most satisfying was the five hours of instruction each cadet got in a small, single engine plane with a 40 hp engine. It seemed to take forever to get that plane off the ground and to an altitude of two or three thousand feet. Mom came out to visit me over a weekend while I was off duty. It was sure great to see her. Dad was in a hospital in Connecticut being treated for depression. Mom and I had been to church on Sunday and one of the parishioners we had met called Mom at her hotel and invited her to dinner when I was on duty. She accepted. You see we were the first military unit to arrive in Kent and they really treated us and our families royally. A lot of patriotism in those days.

After a couple of months at KSU we were on our way to San Antonio, Texas for more basic training. While there we were taught to identify both allied and enemy aircraft in a fraction of a second. That training would be important in combat because we only want to shoot down enemy aircraft - not our own. We also learned Morse code so that we could copy at a rate of 10 words a minute. More marching and this time cross country running. Unfortunately, I contracted a mild case of pneumonia and ended up in a military hospital for a couple of weeks. That resulted in a delay in my training and consequently a postponement in the date I was to earn my wings and become a second lieutenant, An example of the Pruett luck! We were quartered in barracks on our base in San Antonio. Each cadet had an open storage cabinet by his cot in which we were to keep only our clothing and towels all neatly folded. On inspection day an officer flipped through my neatly folded towels and discovered a picture hidden among them of a girl I dated at KSU. Penalty — four hours of walking around a square with a rifle on my shoulder.

1943 to 1945

All the flight training I had was under the authority of the Gulf Coast Training Command.

My primary flight training took place in Chickasha, Oklahoma, from November, 1943 to January, 1944. The plane we flew was a single engine, low wing, two place Fairchild PT 19. (PT is an abbreviation or primary trainer). Our flying was all in the local area which was within a radius of about 50 miles. We practiced landings and some acrobatic maneuvers like loops, rolls, spins, and lazy eights. I was fortunate to have soloed after only five hours of instruction. How well I remember that day. I had just landed the airplane after practicing landings with my instructor. At the end of the landing roll he got out of the plane — which I thought was odd, and said, “It’s all yours. Take off and shoot a couple of landings.” I did and, since I walked away from the plane after the two landings, I guess they could be called good ones. There was only one flying incident that shook me up. I was practicing lazy eights at about 4,000 foot altiude when all of a sudden the plane went into a spin. It startled me to put it mildly. I tried to recover without success. Then I told myself to try once more and, if I failed, to bail out. Of course we always wore parachutes when flying in the military. Fortunately the second recovery attempt was successful, but the ground was coming up very rapidly. From then on, when practicing acrobatics, I climbed to 6,000 feet to give myself more recovery room.

Another Pruett luck story that happened in Chickasha. Three other cadets and I had dates one night with girls from the Oklahoma College for Women. The four of us were dependent upon taxis to get to and from the base, and we had to be back by midnight. We called the taxi company about eleven o’clock and asked them to pick us up no later than 11:30 for the 15 minute ride back to the base. No problem we were told. Well 11:30 came, 11:45 and still no taxi. We knew we would not be back by midnight. What to do? My three friends said that they were going to climb over the fence which surrounded the base. I decided to pass through the main gate and tell the MP why I was late. Certainly they would understand and I would be forgiven. Not so!! How naive could I be. I had to report to our base commander, a captain, the following morning. The result — marching around the headquarters building with a rifle on my shoulder for six hours on my next day off. You guessed it — the other three went over the fence and got away scott free. I learned rather quickly that honesty does not always pay.

My basic training was at Independence, Kansas, and lasted from January to March of 1944. We flew the BT 13 (basic trainer) built by both the North American and Vultee companies. Our basic training included more acrobatics and cross country, formation, instrument, and night flying. Had an interesting experience flying one night. I was on the final approach in preparation to land when all of a sudden I got a series of red flashes from a light gun in the tower. That is a danger signal. I looked around and saw another BT 13 about 20 yards to my right, at the same altitude, and lined up for the same runway. I got out of there fast.

My advanced training in multi—engine aircraft took place in Pampa, Texas, from March to June, 1944. We flew Cessna AT—17s, affectionately called the bamboo bomber. It had a fabric, instead of a metal, covered fuselage and wings. More formation and instrument flying plus cross country flying at night. In those days we didn’t have sophisticated radio navigational aids. My night cross country was a round trip from Pampa to Tucumcari, New Mexico, about 320 miles round trip using a light line. The light line was a series of lights flashing morse code signals of letters in the alphabet. The lights were spaced every 10 miles or so and, by referring to the light line signals on a map, you knew your position.

May 23, 1944, was graduation day. The girl I was going with pinned wings on my summer uniform, and I got my second lieutenant’s gold bar. It was a custom then that you had to give a dollar to the first enlisted man who saluted you. I had no regrets in giving away the dollar.

We had a two weeks leave after graduation - my first since entering the service. Of course I went home to Teaneck wearing my new tailored tan gabardine summer uniform with wings and a 2nd lieutenant’s bars. Was I proud — so were Mom and Dad!!

The months of June through October of 1944 were spent at Liberal, Kansas, learning how to fly the B-24 liberator bomber. It is a four engine plane built by the Consolidated Company. This is what I wanted to fly. In basic training pilots were asked their preference for flying single engine or multi—engine aircraft. I was fortunate in getting my wish — multi—engine — the bigger the plane the better. Having more than one engine was also an attraction in case one went out. It was quite a transition from flying a fabric covered plane with two engines, each rated at 225 hp, to an all metal plane with four engines each rated at 1200 hp. In addition to simply getting accustomed to flying the big (in those days) bomber we continued practicing our instrument, formation, and night flying skills. This training also included high altitude (more than 12,000 feet) flying using, of course, oxygen masks.

In early November, 1944, I was assigned to a Replacement Training Unit base in Pueblo, Colorado. It was there that we formed our crews and flew as a combat crew team. A crew consisted of four officers - a pilot, co—pilot, navigator and bombardier and six enlisted men - a crew chief who was responsible for making sure that all equipment — mechanical, electrical and hydraulic — on board was operating satisfactorily, a radio man, ball turret gunner, tail gunner and two waist ganers. The training was similar to that at Liberal, Kansas, with one additional requirement - two 1,000 mile night cross country flights. Both times I headed south from Pueblo to Dallas, Texas, and both times I had an engine failure. No big deal because the other three engines operated normally. Each time the bad engine was repaired and back we flew to our base with no problem.

The challenging part of my job as flight commander was to get ten men to work, cooperate with one another, and perform as a team. I had three problem crewmen. The co—pilot was about five years older than I and, he he had recently been divorced. He was not a happy camper and resented reporting to me, a younger man. My navigator, a southerner and an alcoholic, was really knowledgeable in his field and when sober he was an excellent navigator. However, you never knew when he would be drunk. He also loved the women — perhaps a little too much and too often. The radio operator was Jewish and did not take his job seriously enough to suit me. He worried a lot because we all knew that we were going to the European theatre and he was not looking forward to the possibility of being a German prisoner. His dog tags were stamped HR indicating Hebrew Religion. The other enlisted men told him if he was captured by the Germans he should just tell them that he was a Holy Roller.

In early February, 1945, we flew from Pueblo to Wichita, Kansas, to pick up a brand new B—24, Model M, to fly to Europe. After a couple of days of checking the plane out to make sure all the equipment was operating properly, we departed Wichita for Bangor, Maine. We took off early in the morning when it was still dark. Then as dawn approached and our plane was near Springfield, Illinois, I heard the bomb bay doors open. That was not expected! Well it seems that this co-pilot of mine had to go to the bathroom and the facilities he required were non-existent on our plane or any Other military plane known to me. The relief tubes on the plane would not satisfy his needs. Get the picture? Being an ingenious soul he emptied the contents of his box lunch and used the box for what he had to do. Then he disposed of it through the open bomb bay doors. I could picture some poor farmer out in the fields or some worker on the early shift being hit with that box “lunch”.

When we landed at the airport in Bangor, Maine, the snow along the runway was piled as high as the plane’s wingtips which astounded my navigator from Alabama. He’d never seen snow that high. On the evening of February 13, 1945, my birthday I called my mom and dad to tell them I was on my way to Italy. They took the news very well - no crying. The next morning we took off for Gander, Newfoundland, and the following morning we flew to Lajes in the Azores. That flight was a little hairy because we lost, for a couple of hours, radio navigational signals and the wings began to ice up. I had no previous experience flying in icing conditions, and it did get my attention. I operated the rubber boots on the leading edge of the wings and fortunately was able to break off the ice.

From the Azores we flew to Marakesch, Morocco, then to Tunis, Tunisia, and finally to Guilia, Italy, our destination. Then a very sad thing happened. I was under the impression that I would be flying this brand new beautiful bright silver airplane all through combat. Not So. They took away the plane and transported us in a truck to our base in nearby Cerignola. From then on I flew the dull, camouflaged planes that everyone else flew but, since I was a new arrival at the base, I got to fly the oldest aircraft.

After leaving the Azores to continue our flight to Italy, I was concerned about the possibility of encountering German fighter aircraft. The only armament we had was our side arms - 45 caliber pistols which wouldn’t have been very useful against machine guns. Fortunately we never saw any enemy aircraft. The war was winding down!

Life at Cerignola wasn’t too bad. My crew and I were assigned to the 459th bomb group which had four squadrons - ours, the 756th squadron, and three others - the 757th, 758th and the 759th. The air “field” we used had been a vineyard - the single runway consisted of steel matting. We lived in tents, about six men per tent, - officers in one area and the enlisted men in another area. Each tent was heated by a furnace rigged from a 55 gallon oil can. Latrines were enclosed in an unheated wooden shed. Shower facilities were rather primative but adequate. We had meals in a messhall which I believe was once the farmer’s house. Food was pretty good, but I didn’t like the powdered milk and eggs. At times we’d pay the local farmers for some fresh eggs. Each month we were paid in Italian lira - one lira = a US cent. Every week or two we’d be given a carton of cigarettes (Which I gave to my crew because I didn’t smoke) and a bottle of liquor which I kept.

My combat missions, which began on March 22, consisted primarily of bombing marshalling yards (concentrations of enemy supply trains, military storage facilities, etc.) and bridges in places like Kralupy and Prague, Czechoslovakia; Munich, Germany; Linz, Austria; Padua, Italy; Szombathely, Hungary; and other places. In the spring of 1945 the German infantry in Italy was retreating north to Austria and southern Germany. Therefore we bombed bridges over rivers in northern Italy to slow their escape. We also bombed factories manufacturing essential war materials.

For a typical day’s flying mission we were first aroused by an orderly around 5:00 am, dressed and had breakfast, back to the tent to brush teeth, shave and visit the latrines. Then we would get a briefing on the day’s mission - maps were distributed to the navigators, our target was revealed, expected weather and enemy aircraft, if any, along the route was announced and the amount of antiaircraft activity and flak we could expect. Then we synchronized our watches and finally the chaplain prayed for the success of our mission. Around 6:30 am trucks brought us to the flight line and we preflighted the plane by checking the tires, any oil leaks, electric and hydraulic systems, radios, flight controls, etc. Then at a designated time - usually around 7:00 am, all planes on the mission would start engines and taxi out of the parking area in sequence for take off. We maintained radio silence for fear the Germans would hear our radio chatter and be tipped off about our mission. There were usually about 15 to 20 B-24’s on a mission from our squadron. Our missions would last almost eight hours. Each crew member had canned rations for lunch and either water or cannned drinks. After returning to our base we were immediately interrogated by military intelligence officers as to the amount of enemy aircraft encountered, amount of flak and/or antiaircraft activity, degree of success in hitting our target, estimate of damage, etc.

Normally each crew member participated in 25 combat missions before returning to the states. Since the war was fast coming to a close, I had only 14 in less than three months. The war in Europe was over officially on May 8, 1945.

With no more combat missions to fly we had a lot of time on our hands. We would fly to Rome or Naples a few times in our B-24’s. I visited a lot of the tourist sights in both cities - in Rome the Colosseum, Forum, Pantheon, Vatican City, St. Peter’s Basilica, Catacombs and many other interesting sites. I even had an audience with Pope Pius, along with about 1,000 other military personnel from many of the allied countries and Italian citizens. In Naples I visited Pompei and had dinner in a fine restaurant on a hill overlooking the Bay of Naples and Mt. Vesuvius. The Bay of Naples was littered with ships sunk on purpose by the Axis powers to make any anticipated landings by the Allied forces almost prohibitive.

In May, 1945, another pilot and I flew some of the ground personnel in our squadron from Cerignola to Cairo, Egypt, on a sight seeing tour. Along the way we flew over Tobruk, Libia, and El Alamein, Egypt, along a stretch of north Africa in which Field Marshall Erwin Rommel, the “desert fox” and Lt. General Bernard Montgomery fought over so vigorously for 15 months beginning in February, 1941. We saw hundreds of rusted tanks, trucks, and artillary pieces which were abandoned in that see-saw battle.

In Cairo we toured the city including the bazaar, rode camels around the Sphinx and went inside one of the Giza pyramids. It was a thrill for me. On the down side of our Cairo visit, I got a bad case of food poisoning. I managed to survive the flight from Cairo to Tel-Aviv where I was immediately admitted to a British hospital. They took good care of me, and after a day and a half I was permitted to rejoin the rest of the crew but only after promising the British doctor that I would report to my base flight surgeon immediately after landing. I would have promised anything, because, realizing that this would probably be my only opportunity to visit the holy land, I wanted to see Bethlehem and Jeruselum. Fortunately I was able to make a whirl wind tour of both cities.

Some high ranking officer in the 15t Air Force decided that we should fly members of the ground crews, and others not on flying status, around Italy, Austria and southern Germany so they could see some of the cities and the results of our bombing missions. I flew a group of these unsung heroes on an eight hour tour which included Naples, Pisa and the leaning tower, Rome, Munich, Linz, and Venice. When flying over Munich I could see the basements of many high rise office and apartment buildings. Apparently our side did more than bomb oil refineries and bridges.

During the lull in our military activity we did get to see one USO show near our base. Frank Sinatra, old blue eyes, and his side kick, Phil Silvers, came to entertain us. They did a great job. Frank sang many songs popular in the forties. One song I did not expect to hear him sing was “Old Man River”. Paul Robeson, a tall, strapping black man used to sing that song and now I was listening to that skinny Sinatra singing it. But I’ve got to hand it to him - he was marvelous. Frank also sang “Nancy With The Smiling Face”. If I’m not mistaken Phil Silvers wrote the lyrics to that song about Frank’s daughter.

The war took its toll on many Italian citizens, especially in northern Italy where the retreating German soldiers took all the food they could get their hands on. The 15th Air Force was called upon to supply some of these northern cities with food. So some of our B-24 bombers were converted to cargo ships and we flew our mercy missions of food to these starving people. I remember flying a couple of these missions to Balzano in northern Italy near the German border.

Finally, in the latter part of July, 1945, I was transferred to a base near Naples to await my return to the USA. The word was that we pilots would then be trained to fly B-29s and hasten the end of the war in the Pacific by bombing Japan. That sounded good to me because I wanted the war in that hemisphere over and I looked forward to the challenge of flying the larger B-29. I was disappointed to learn that we would not be flying back to the states but instead we would return by Liberty ship. We were about half way across the Atlantic ocean when the news broke that Hiroshima and Nagasaki had been destroyed by atom bombs. The war in the Pacific was over on August 9.

About two weeks before leaving Naples I had a three day rest leave on the Isle of Capri. It was a beautiful place - we stayed at an elegant hotel, had great food, visited the famous Blue Grotto, and danced to live music.

The voyage on board a Liberty ship from Naples harbor to the New York harbor was a very slow process. As I recall it took us about two weeks. We arrived in New York City in late August of ’45. Mom and grandma Homer met me at dockside and were they ever happy to see me and I them. It must have been about a year since we saw one another. My dad at that time was in a rehabilitation center being treated for depression. He had suffered from depression off and on for over two years. I’ll never forget the feeling I had when the ship passed the Statue of Liberty. Although I had visited it before on a couple of occasions, this time the sight of that statue had added significance. It meant freedom from oppression. I realized then how the immigrants, escaping from European oppression must have felt when they saw that wonderful statue.

I was home only a few days when mom, dad and I drove to Christmas Tree Inn in Bridgeton, Maine, for a week’s vacation. It was a place we had spent our vacations before when I was in high school. They had been saving gasoline stamps for that trip in anticipation of my return from Italy. Of course since the war was over stamps were no longer required. Arriving back to Teaneck I developed hepatitis. I’m not sure howl got this disease — whether it was from hypodermic needles from shots I had in Italy just before returning home or from eating lobsters in Maine. Since I was still in the military, I was sent to Camp Shanks in Orangeburg, New York, to recuperate.

After leading such an active life for the past two and a half years, just hanging around Teaneck soon got rather boring. I decided to hitch hike by military aircraft to California and see Connie Amar, my bombardier. I started from Mitchell Army Air Basein Long Island and got a ride almost immediately to Memphis, Tennessee. From there I flew to San Antonio, Texas, and on to Reno, Nevada. Then I hitch hiked on the road - got a ride to Los Angeles, toured that city for a couple of days, before getting another flight to San Francisco where I met Connie. We had a great time touring that city and reminiscing about our training and combat experiences.

Getting back east was a problem. I must have spent two or three days at a military airport outside of San Francisco waiting for a flight home. I finally ended up going by bus and train for most of the 3,000 miles back to Teaneck. All this was done during the latter part of November and early December of 1945 and it only cost me around $200 for the month I was away. A great experience and a lot more fun than hanging around Teaneck.

1945 to 1947

I returned to Lehigh University in 1946 to graduate with some kind of degree. I took a couple of refresher courses in metallurgy - my major back in 1942 - but discovered that the subject no longer appealed to me. Therefore I changed my curriculum to In Industrial Engineering and graduated with a B.S.-IE degree in June, 1947.