Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to War.
Shakespeare; Henry V
Sean was part of a program the Army called stacking. Keeping the Aviation Cadet Enlistees in holding while they were processing and spooling up to train the deluge of people who wanted to fly in the Army. He was kept exempt from the draft until they had a place for him in flight training. He turned 19 while waiting. They sent a teenager to Arizona to start his pre-flight training after basic training. It was there where the process of training or elimination began. He was surrounded by a group of young men who were chosen from the right side of the Bell Curve. Their aptitude and intellect made them a group of men that the Army deemed worthy of all that money that was to be spent on their training. No dummies here, but a lot of dumbass behavior. Much to the chagrin of their superiors.
It was in pre-flight training that Sean met Doug Kemper. The Army’s desire to keep everything ordered, as in alphabetical, put the two trainees together, Kelsey and Kemper were destined to be bunkmates for all their time in training. Sean soon realized how lucky he was. Doug was from Los Angeles, and he was the son of a stage Mother. She had him enrolled in dance, voice, and acting lessons that began when he turned five years old. Her greatest wish was to be the mother of a child movie star. There was a big problem with that idea. Doug was very smart and as a teenager, he started to develop his own ideas and goals about what he wanted to do in life. In short, all his mother did was raise a wise ass with theatrical skills.
Doug soon recognized his own good fortune in meeting Sean. When a wise-ass Army trainee meets Marines or Sailors in a bar there is soon to be trouble. A couple of Marines were getting ready to give Doug what they thought he deserved, Sean stepped in and made short work of the kerfuffle. He was fast and had accurate hands, something that only a trained boxer could handle. Doug was in awe and said, “My Good Man, I think you’ll do.”
Doug tempered his behavior somewhat and tried to get along with his fellow servicemen. He was happy to know that Sean was in his toolbox though. You never know when skills like that are needed. As for Sean, his new friend was quite the find. They were in the train station to catch a train to Tucson for their flight training. They found their seats next to the window. The station was filled with people looking at schedules, clocks, and track numbers. Soldiers were hanging out of the window to touch their girlfriends’ hands or saying their goodbyes to family and friends. That is when Doug leaned out of the window and yelled, “Goodbye Darling, I’ll be home soon. Tell your Dad I plan to make an honest woman out of you when I return!”
He sat down and picked up the newspaper that was on the seat next to him. He snapped it open with both hands and covered his face as if reading. Then he slowly took his index fingers and folded the top half of the paper towards his face to reveal a big grin. Then he said, “Look at them, we added something to their lives. Always leave them wanting more.” Then he popped the paper in front of his face again. When Sean looked at the crowd outside, he noticed everyone was smiling and searching each other’s faces. There was not a bored-looking face among them. They were busy looking around for clues. There were a few girls that looked guilty though.
Flight School was in technicolor. Everybody was smart, excited, and nervous about learning to fly. They had to learn about the weather. Aerodynamics and the theory of flight. The mechanicals of the airplane are learning to fly. Flight simulators, and flight regulations. Meeting your Flight Instructor and learning what he demands. Every day was packed with new and incredibly fun stuff. On top of all that you got to solo in an airplane. That first solo flight is the most memorable thing in a person’s life. You may remember losing your virginity, but not how her hair smelled. Maybe not even her name or her breasts. You remember everything about that first solo. The touchdowns, takeoffs, and the excitement of telling your classmates about it. Some guys did not get to solo. They would wash out of the program. Subconsciously everyone distanced themselves from those guys. The bad feeling you had for them was fleeting. As if whatever hindered their learning how to fly was somehow contagious like the flu.
Doug and Sean relished every experience they had in flight school. Upon the completion of each phase of training, Doug would put his arm around Sean’s shoulder and say, “My Good Man, we left them wanting more. What’s next?” What was next for them was multi-engine aircraft and then B-17 bomber training. Their B-17 platform instructor told them there was a crew of 10 on each aircraft and they would have to learn how to coordinate their jobs to keep the mission running smoothly. Doug looked at Sean and whispered, “We’ll have an audience, how much better can it be?”
Nearly a year of training was finished, and they had their orders for the 95th Bomb Group in England. They were to take a troopship to England out of New York. The two newly minted pilots wanted to go to a large department store in New York. Like the stores, they see in the movies. Doug saved his best for last. It was in a huge store that was crowded with shoppers. He pushed the toiletries and a five-dollar bill over the counter toward the check-out girl. As she was registering the items, Doug broke into song. He started singing “Putting on the Ritz” and dancing left and right along the front of the counter. He had his imaginary Top Hat and Cane and was using them to full effect in his dance moves. Sean thought, well his mom would be proud of his skills. He was talented. He sang the entire song. When it was over, he turned his attention to the check-out girl. She was staring down at the countertop, not daring to look up. She slid his change and bag of merchandise toward him. As he reached for them, she quickly jerked her hands back. Not wanting to chance an accidental touch. He took his stuff and immediately started to make a sound like a trumpet playing the chorus of the song as he tap-danced sideways to the door. When he was halfway outside, he stopped and looked back at a store filled with stunned people staring at him. With a huge infectious smile, he yelled, “You know, if you people would learn to dance, this would have been ever so much more fun.” It was as if they all understood at once. The beginning of the war had so much bad news for America. These young men who were going to fight for them were so enthusiastic about life. Victory was in their future. The room erupted in applause. The shy check-out girl went out of character and married a bombastic young man after the war. She lived a happy life presiding over a house filled with laughter.
Then he told Sean, “My Good Man, always leave them wanting more.”, as they left.
The Allies embarked on an aggressive bombing campaign during the War. The British were to fly the nighttime raids and the Americans the daylight bombing raids. The toll on the American crews was horrendous. The chances of surviving were less than 50 percent. The Army decided that after 25 missions the aircrew could go home. This was a number that gave them hope, however, few made it to 12 missions. Over 50,000 aircrew died. Almost three times that number were wounded or became prisoners of war.
The Memphis Belle was the first B-17 to make it to 25 missions completed. In the seven months that the aircraft was in service: she had 9 engines, both wings, both main gear assemblies, and two tails replaced due to battle damage. That is not counting the bullet hole patches, wiring, and lines that had to be repaired or replaced. Miraculously none of the crew were wounded during her service. It was not rare to lose 100 men killed or wounded on a mission in the aircraft that returned after a big mission.
The Schweinfurt raid to bomb a ball-bearing plant fielded 291 bombers to try and destroy the plant. Over 60 bombers were shot down, with over 600 men lost. Thirty-eight of those planes that returned were irreparably damaged. That was just the first day of the raid. They returned two more times to try and destroy the plants. The Germans had a large supply of bearings in stock and were able to buy more bearings from other countries. Within six weeks the plant was repaired and back in business. These were the darkest days for the 8th Air Force. Precision bombing was reconsidered by the Allies. It was not until the P-51 Mustang fighter plane with a much greater fuel range was brought to bear, did things start to get much better. By staging the Mustangs along the routes where the ME 109s and FW 190’s fighter planes were, the Allies were able to reduce their losses and heavily attrit the Luftwaffe.
The aircrews would watch the fighters in combat. A P-51 and a BF 109 in a dual to the death. Sometimes in climbs straight up, trying to get the advantage over the other. As they climbed both would be bleeding airspeed in the rarified air. Above 20,000 feet the sky got a darker greyish blue if you looked straight up. In the great distances, they may appear to be nothing more than glints of reflected sunlight to the aircrews watching. These pilots were the best these Armies could field to fly these expensive machines. Above average intelligence and more than likely from good families who instilled in them the pride of trying to excel. They were the best each nation could offer. As they climbed, the whine of the superchargers gasping for more air, and the airspeed deteriorating let each pilot know this was going to be about whose plane was the last to stall out of the climb. Approaching a stall, the flight controls got mushy and had less of an effect on maneuverability. They would feel the clank of the controls as they hit the stops. Whoever stalled out first and dropped out knew he was going to have the other turn out of the climb with a little more airspeed to aid maneuverability. Knowing where you were, and guns armed and ready to fire and put as much lead in your ass as he could. From great distances, this dance looked so graceful. Two boys who prayed to the same God, trying to kill each other.
This was the environment that Sean and Doug found. Everyone called the orders that were assigned to the unit an invitation. An invitation to your funeral. Their in-theater training was administered by their new units. They were familiarized with the procedures of a bombing raid and what was expected of them. It was during this training that a sense of foreboding was conveyed to the trainees. All the men went out to the tower to count the returning Aircraft. Everyone was there, to help with the wounded crewmen on the planes if needed. It was there that the first real sense of what was going on was made clear to Sean and Doug. This battlefield in the sky was just as bloody as any. Five miles up, a desperate struggle played out regularly.
As expected, the Chaplain always played to a full house on Sundays. These young men were all too much aware of what could come next for them. Sean preferred to go to the Anglican Church near Horham. Sean is an Irish Catholic and yearned for the liturgy of the church. Doug was not raised in the Church and chose to accompany his friend, because he needed the calm and grace that a higher power might provide. At first, the English did know how to take the arrival of so many American lads. “Overpaid, oversexed, and over here.” Was the common refrain. At first, the Parishioners were not that happy with strangers in their Church. They just knew all these young men could not be up to any good. Very few of these fellows returned after 4 or 5 visits to Church. When the Parishioners found out why they did not return. They did not shirk. Their boys were at War too. They gave the kind of love and support they hoped their lads were receiving. They opened their lives and hearts to these young men, knowing that it will bring only heartbreak. The boys needed a sense of hope and love. How could a tiny island nation that stood up to Hitler save the world from untold horrors? The answer is courage. “There will always be an England”.
Sean and Doug spent a lot of their free time helping at Church. Plenty of home-cooked meals were in the offing. There was a reason that the need for spices launched the World’s Greatest Navy. It was English cooking. The nice people that fed them, not the food, were the reasons they never turned down an invitation for a meal. Doug loved their accents. “They just sound smarter, don’t they?” He was always trying to mimic their manner of speech. “My good man” was joined by “Old Chap” with an English accent in his repertoire of wise-ass remarks.
One Sunday the congregation was going to have a big Garden Party. Clotted cream, scones, and strawberries were to be the main attraction. Of course, the beautiful Spring flowers and blooms were to provide the perfect setting. As they were setting up the folding chairs. One of the Americans was working feverishly unfolding chairs and arranging them in just the perfect order. He seemed so nervous about the task. The Vicar noticed and with a smile said, “Relax lad, there will be plenty of seating for everyone in the garden”.
“This is not the garden I am preparing my seating for Sir.” He replied.
Sean and Doug quickly moved up the ladder. The great turnover of aircrew made the demand for Aircraft Commanders acute. Both men were excellent pilots and kept their heads in combat. They were made Captains and given their Aircraft to command.
The beginning of a mission began with the takeoff and the arduous climb to altitude for all the B-17s. Laden with fuel and bombs made it painfully slow for the aircraft to join up in their formations. The higher they climbed the more the aircrews had to button up their coats and flight suits. The cabin temperature would drop to -30 degrees Fahrenheit at 25,000 feet. The German fighter performance was greatly diminished above 20,000 feet, the reason for the high altitudes.
Doug was the most fun Captain the squadron had. He had an audience of nine and he tried to keep them entertained. When the aircraft reached altitude, there were hours of boredom to endure before the Luftwaffe or anti-aircraft fire appeared. The intercom system kept everyone connected, the pressing of a switch allowed any crew member to talk to the entire crew. His fun demeanor made it easy for the crew to join in on the banter. Keeping the formation tight, encouraging all ten sets of eyes to scan the skies, and preaching conservation of ammo. Those were the things Doug concentrated on. He also learned about his aircraft. “A good horseman knows his steed.” Doug took that to heart and learned about his Flying Fortress. The more you know the calmer you can be in directing “workarounds” to problems. That instilled confidence in his crew.
Sean was much the same way, except for the showmanship. He was the kind of guy who listened and smiled a lot. Everyone felt comfortable around him and teamwork naturally grew. He had a waist gunner who was 18 years old. When under attack, he could be heard crying over the intercom. His co-pilot asked him what he thought about that. “I heard his gun firing too, and he didn’t seem to be wasting ammo. I don’t give a shit otherwise” he replied. After he thought about it a while. He said, “Maybe he is crying because he is trying to take the life of another. Maybe the whole world needs a good cry.”
Doug and Sean were great guys and even better aviators. They could do anything except beat the odds. Doug’s plane was shot down and had one wing shot off. As the aircraft was slowly turning out of control only two chutes were seen escaping the plane. A ME 109 strafed the men hanging in the silks. The fire was so intense the chutes were seen collapsing and the remnants streaking to the ground with the chutes as streamers. The Luftwaffe left the world wanting more, forever.
Sean had better luck. Three weeks later he was shot down. His aircraft lost the tail section and a large part of one wing. It turned so violently; the crew was unable to parachute out. For some reason, the plane began to spin like a boomerang at 500 feet and hit the earth spinning forward in a slide. Three people survived. Two were unhurt and walked away from the wreckage. Sean had a broken leg and his arms were pulled out of their sockets. The French Resistance found them. They helped the two men get back to England. They could not help Sean and had a Farmer turn him in at a German hospital. The Germans nursed him back to health and kept him in a prison camp for 15 months before repatriation. Thanks to the International Red Cross his family learned he was alive and let him send and receive letters.
Sometimes the greatest of bureaucracies can get it right. When the shoe-shine boy joined the Army, they decided to put him in their Training Command. He was to become a platform instructor. A job that he was well suited for. He studied and learned the subjects he was supposed to teach and worked at his craft with a dedication his Commanding Officer wished everyone had. For such a young man his skills teaching were amazing. He focused on what they needed to know and made sure the class would erupt in laughter often. The idea was to keep them interested and entertained. He was so good, they put him in MOI, Method of Instruction, teaching the teachers how to teach.
Mike wanted to do more in the war effort. His brother was a prisoner of war and he wanted to help bring him home sooner. He applied for a transfer to a combat branch. His request was met with an almost immediate response. He was brought in to see the Colonel in charge of the training school. The Colonel said, “There is no way I am letting you leave here. You are my Bullshit Artist Extraordinaire, you are too important to the effort. We are trying to teach things that will save lives and hasten an end to the war. By the way, extraordinaire means: harnessed for the greater good. I am not letting you go. Throw yourself into the job, you are having a huge impact for such a young man.”
That is how Mike spent the war: teaching.