My Bombsight View of WWII
R. Casey Hasey
Sold by Chiron Media, Wallingford, United Kingdom
AbeBooks Seller since August 2, 2010
New - Soft cover
Condition: New
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Add to basketSold by Chiron Media, Wallingford, United Kingdom
AbeBooks Seller since August 2, 2010
Condition: New
Quantity: 10 available
Add to basketIntroduction......................................................xiForeword..........................................................xv1) The Prelude....................................................12) The War Was In Europe..........................................33) December 7, 1941 "The Shock"...................................54) Decisions, Decisions...........................................75) The Army Air Force.............................................96) Private Hasey..................................................117) That White Line................................................138) Santa Ana......................................................1169) Tex Rankin's Washing Machine...................................2410) Santa Ana Again...............................................3311) Christmas and Shooting School.................................3612) A Bombing We Will Go..........................................4113) Telling the Pilots Where to Go................................4714) Going Home and Tampa Bound....................................5215) After Hours...................................................6116) M.G.M.........................................................6517) Lakeland, Florida.............................................6818) Tyler, Texas..................................................7119) Hunter Field Savannah, Georgia................................7720) Camp Kilmer, New Jersey.......................................8121) Dodging Submarines on the Queen Elizabeth.....................8522) The English War Zone..........................................9323) Little Blitz..................................................9924) Nick's Chick..................................................10625) The Wild Blue Yonder..........................................11026) London........................................................11927) Our Commander.................................................12528) More Nasty Missions...........................................12929) Pathfinders...................................................13330) Oboe: Our Pathway in the Sky..................................13931) Schiphole Mission.............................................14432) Normandy Invasion Approaches..................................14933) D-Day The Greatest Show on Earth..............................15234) Night Missions................................................16135) V-1 Bombs.....................................................16536) Saint-Lo Breakthrough.........................................17137) V-2 Rockets...................................................17738) Leaving England...............................................18039 Beauvais Air Base..............................................18340) Paris In Wartime..............................................19041) General S. Anderson...........................................19842) We Are Winning................................................20443) Home is Our Tent..............................................20944) Magic Number 55...............................................21445) Adieu La Belle, France........................................21946) England Revisited.............................................22447) Homeward Bound................................................22948) Santa Ana III.................................................23449) V-J Day.......................................................23950) The Scattering................................................244Vignettes.........................................................246Tidbits & This and That...........................................255Appendix..........................................................275Photos............................................................287My Honor Flight...................................................301
A little one engine airplane came flying over. It buzzed the area and circled around. All of us kids in the neighborhood ran after it shouting and waving.
It was the first real airplane we had ever seen. No one we knew had ever been in an airplane. It was almost Christmas time in 1939 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I was the driver for my Aunt Sadie who sang every year in the choir for the production of the Messiah by Handel. Because it was a rehearsal there was only one other person in the balcony of the auditorium, killing time as I was. I struck up a conversation and he was a pilot on a lecture tour. He related that while flying over the great Australian Outback desert his engine sputtered and quit. He was successful in making a dead stick landing. After a day a nomad tribe located him. His water bottle was dry and he was hungry. He spent a month walking with them from water hole to water hole. Mostly they turned over rocks looking for snakes, lizards, grubs or anything edible. He said roasted grubs tasted much like popcorn. Finally, they arrived at a tribal post and store. The Australian government grants a reward for rescuing lost or stranded people. The tribe received a valuable sack of salt and also a credit at the store. He said that for the rest of his life he would never turn down anything edible no matter what it looked like. I was not encouraged to rush right out and join the Air Force.
We were well aware of the war raging in Europe. It was not my main concern and I paid scant attention to it. It was a long way away with a very big ocean in between. I did not feel personally involved. I had read somewhere that Hitler did not have enough money to expand a long and costly war, and would have to give it up soon. I had not learned that money doesn't matter when you have a dedicated dictatorship and a superior army. I always felt I could not achieve any judgment before age 29, and boy was I right. I was just naïve.
The day of the draft had arrived and everyone rushed down to sign up. A friend of bobby Gratz named Mendelson signed up. He was ineligible at age 16. He said that with all those millions signing up, there was no chance he would be called up soon, and he might just as well get it over and get in the action.
The day the first numbers were randomly picked was a big media event. There was lots of publicity in the newsreels, radio and newspapers. You guessed it, Mendelson was one of the very first names drawn. He was so happy to have been chosen. The service sent him to Firefighters School. He spent the entire war at a Midwest airbase doing his part for victory. As a civilian after the war, with his training in the service, he made it his lifetime occupation.
It was a quiet Sunday at the University of Wisconsin in Madison, Wisconsin. Bobby Gratz, Paul Zeimer and I were in our student room in a house called "Ye Olde Seldom Inn". We carried a full college load of classes and worked about 40 hours a week as most male students did. Sunday morning was our chance to get a little extra sleep. After getting up, our Sunday ritual was to eat a brunch in our room. It was a time and money saver. First we played one hand of a German card game called Shopskof (Sheepshead). In those days every roadhouse in the farm areas had Shopskof Tournaments every Winter. Our loser had to buy, and go get brunch. To be fair regarding costs, it always had to be the same stuff. It consisted of a loaf of bread, a stick of liverwurst, a jug of milk, and chocolate cake for dessert.
We actually did get to do some studying between the "bull Sessions", about football, food and especially about girls. We rarely dated. We seldom had an extra nickel or dime to buy her a coke or a movie. Usually five hours sleep was all we could manage to get. Time was of the essence. The activities at the Rathskeller in the Student Union substituted just fine. They even sold beer to you if you were eighteen. Patrick Henry beer was between 12 to 14% alcohol. After the war started the government mandated no more than 3.2% beer. In the Paul Bunyon Room they had some lively card games. For no money, of course, as this was the rule. We just kept score and settled up later.
There arose a murmur in the streets outside. It became a roar. Even the dogs joined in. Excited people rushed about telling neighbors and strangers to listen to the radio. Quickly we grabbed our little old tiny tinny student model radio.
We were shocked out of our shoes and our sox. Pearl Harbor was under attack. In just a few seconds our lives changed forever. Now we were fighters, and "good-by" being students. In moments America became a united country. War had arrived and Americans were dying. All of its citizens were determined to do everything they could as fighters on the battlefront, or as a worker on the home front. We were male, healthy and the right age to lead the way to defend our way of life. We grabbed our books and tossed them helter-skelter into the corner of our room. Of course, reality returned on Monday morning. We had to retrieve our books from the corner of our room to trudge off to class.
We had to make a life changing decision. We could enlist now in the service of our choice, or wait until we were drafted. It was an easy decision to enlist now, but we had to make that decision before our draft number came up. That could be one day or two years. We needed a little time to check and see which service was going to be stuck with Bobby and me.
A lot of students went right down and enlisted to get in the action right now. However, Uncle Sam had no place to train so many all at once. We were building and expanding training camps and airfields like crazy. Troops were training with old World War I rifles or even broomsticks. I knew how to shoot because I had owned a rifle since age 8. We needed lots and lots of everything. Factories started running around the clock. The only thing the services had enough of was marching, K.P. (kitchen Police) and hurry up and wait.
Bobby Gratz had an older brother who had obtained an offer for us to enlist in the navy as Lt. J.G.'s (Lieutenant Junior Grade) in intelligence. Both of us qualified anyway so we did not need the F.B.I. Deal. It sounded interesting and we could see ourselves tracking down spies. They told us all kinds of good things, about the wonderful training facilities and that the food was great. They even promised to teach me to swim. It sounded great until we asked what our duties would be to begin with. They replied, "censoring mail". We could not see us censoring other peoples love letters even if it might be educational. We thanked the kind people and left. Had we stayed, our lives would have turned out differently. Like, maybe, I would have learned to swim.
Right across the street was the Army Air Force recruiting office. We looked at each other and said, "Why not?" They were nice to us and explained they had a program to sign up to be an Aviation Cadet and learn to fly. It paid $75.00 per month. It was a lot more than the .25 cents an hour we had been earning. They said their food was the best. The army allotted .30 cents a day to feed one soldier and the Navy allotted .70 cents, but the Cadets were allotted one dollar a day. The pay and the food sounded great, but what got us was the excitement of learning to fly. It was super exciting for two guys who had never been higher than a barn roof. I could just picture myself as an Air Ace just like the Red Baron. It was the only service that sounded like fun. They gave us a pen and we signed up on the dotted line for Pilot training.
A few days later we took their simple physical exam. I passed, but Bobby failed, because of his flat feet. His were congenital and never hurt and never would. We thought it terribly unfair. Pilots fly around and didn't March around all day. Later the Cadets relented and Bobby was in. But, it meant that he would train later and we would not go off to fly together in the wild blue yonder. The Army Air Corps now owned us totally, and was stuck with us for better or for worse, as they say.
I was officially enlisted and eager to go, but there was no space available in a training facility to send me to. I was classified a "Private Unassigned", earning $21.00 a month. I was told to go home and wait for orders. The Army puts great importance on obeying orders, so home I went. I was in no mood to just sit around, so I located a job in a liquor store. I drove around the Eastside of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I mostly delivered cases of beer and collected delinquent accounts. I had keys to a couple of houses to check if any bottles of wine were missing and needed replacing in their wine cellars. They knew I was waiting to be called and they treated me like their son.
Good friend Dick Livesay enlisted in the Navy. After 10 days they cancelled his enlistment. He then tried the other services with the same result. He was a chemist and on a list too valuable to enlist. The Jap fleet had cut off our normal Far East supply of rubber. He was assigned to work on making artificial rubber and later rockets. Wallace Weiderman was deferred. His mother was a widow and he was the only one available to work the family farm. Food is absolutely essential. Everyone pitched in to do whatever they could for the war effort.
A High School friend of mine (nameless) was accused of rape by an un-named girl. If true it would be the first time she ever refused anyone. Anyway, the judge did not believe her, so he offered my friend a deal. If you join the Army I will dismiss the charges. He entered the Army. I just knew he would be too brave to survive in the Army, and sure enough he was killed in battle. A lot of these deals were offered by judges at that time.
CH7[ That White Line
On May 16, 1942, I reported to the Milwaukee Army Center. There was a tough exam on the eyes for color blindness and depth perception. The rest was easy. Like, if you could hear the question, you passed the hearing test. They asked if you liked boys or girls. If you said boys you were out.
There was a white line down the middle of the room. All eight of us stepped over the white line together and that was it. Little did we know that only two of us would come marching home. The other was Bob Ruland, who was the son of a Racine Banker. Stepping over the line meant that I was promoted from Private at $21.00 a month, to Cadet at $75.00 per month. Who wouldn't step, hop or jump over that line. I never told them that I would have stepped over that line for nothing more than the adventure. We were also highly motivated to fight for our country, which was under attack. Of course, there were lectures. A heavy emphasis was on the moral code. All Cadets were to have the morals of an officer and gentleman. We were inclined that way anyway. Violations usually resulted in instant dismissal. You were instantly a Private. We did not subscribe to the joke that went around. If you get too drunk to stand up, always fall on you face, so that no one can tell that you are an officer and a gentleman. The penalty at that time for rape was being shot at sunrise.
We were provided with a hotel and 2 "Chits" for meals. I was the only local and they looked to me as to where to check out the action. They voted no to the museum and the art exhibit. It was the last night before the Army dictated our lives. As I expected they decided on the 3rd Street Opera House. I negotiated our way in free. At some distant time it might have been an Opera House, but now the show was of a different kind. It was the local name for the burlesque. The girls danced and paraded, but they never sang a single song. It wasn't my cup of tea, but it was educational. We then adjourned to the Terrace Club. I slightly knew the owners son and was able to obtain free tickets and a free beer each. We rewarded their patriotism by buying another round. It had a big ring area in the center with a bar all around the ring. First was a boxing match followed by a wrestling match. The grand finale was a strip tease. This was a great educational experience. In the morning we were bused to the Chicago Train Station. My grandmother, bless her saintly soul, gave me her recipe to keep me safe and secure. She had never flown. She said, "Always remember to fly slow and low". I appreciated her love. Slow and low is actually more dangerous. Ask any crop duster.
I do not recollect how many Cadets there were, but we all came from Wisconsin, Michigan and Illinois. Only Cadets were allowed. It was our train. We boarded alphabetically. Of course, Zaidlich was the last to board and he was given all our records and he was put in charge of the train. Can you imagine today what would happen if you filled a train with Army recruits and sent them off for three or four days with absolutely no Army supervision? We were Cadets, and we needed no supervision. We did hit a cow at midnight in Nebraska that flung me forcefully against the end of my upper bunk. The three day "Red Dog" card game was awesome. It's a card game where there is only guy who wins all the money. I knew the odds and I kept my $20.00 in my pocket. We stopped in Indio, California, and I made an attempt to climb the first Palm Tree I had ever seen. I had even less luck trying to catch a lizard. I was six feet, and so skinny that all my ribs stuck out. We arrived in Santa Ana, California on a slightly foggy overcast day. Not a sunny beach or a bikini was in sight, but we knew it only required a little patience, and soon it would come true. ]CH7
CH8[ Santa Ana 1
Santa Ana was named for a despotic Mexican General. He believed a soldier was worth less respect than a chicken. I hoped that my new base would be run with a little humanity.
We were quarantined for 30 days to control disease. All of our civilian clothes were shipped home. No civies were allowed on or off the base for the duration of the war. As we passed through a certain door a man was lurking on both sides. Each of them grabbed an arm and busied themselves giving me my shots. At least they were quick and efficient. The Cholera shot gave me a big reaction. My arm was red and stiff for 3 days. I was issued fatigues (coveralls) with a cap to match, and olive drab underwear. The G.I. Jacket was ok, but the coveralls were tight in the crotch and did not come close to my ankles. It was all they had so I shut up and made do. I had little need for the Gillette razor, but the two pair of shoes with experimental steel heels walked my way through Europe. We were marched over to an area completely filled with tents. Of course we called it Tent City. Of course our cots were assigned alphabetically. The latrine was only a couple of blocks down the Company street.
The Army Air Force had promised us good chow and they kept their promise. We would grab a plate and recklessly pile it as high as we dared, and then add a quart of milk. It was a time for serious eating and not a time for talking. When that plate was finished we did the same thing all over again for seconds including the milk. The mess hall reminded me of a plague of hungry locusts devouring everything in sight. The cooks knew this would happen when a new class of cadets came in. The cadets were unaccustomed to such action packed 12 to 15 hour a day routines. After about 30 days everyone's appetite slowly returned to somewhat close to normal.
The base guards were as new as we were. I think most of them knew where the trigger was located on their obsolete W.W. I rifles. Their instructions were, after lights out, to fire at anything that moved. Several times at night we did hear shots fired. They were not supposed to say "stop" three times as fast as they could and pull the trigger. They were supposed to say stop with pauses to give the guy a fair chance to stop before pulling the trigger. The only time I was challenged I froze and put my hands up to boot. We were told that saboteurs might sneak in and blow us up. We were also told about the "Black Dragon Society". There was a war going on. The government had not yet learned that Japanese citizens were loyal to their country, the U.S.A.
(Continues...) ]CH8
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