Our Father's Generation

by F. M. Worden

  Enemy airfields were a major target. We destroyed a lot of the Luftwaffe on the ground. Trains were another good target along with truck convoys. The hunting was really good day after day. We heard thru the French underground that the P-47 was the Huns most hated aircraft. All the pilots got a big kick from that. We knew then we were doing our job.

  I was in the officer’s club having a late night drink with my boys when I got orders to go to a secret meeting. I was furnished transportation and an escort of two MP’s. At the assigned meeting place, I was ushered into a room full of top brass, both British and America. In a few minutes, I was educated to why I was sent for.

  The Gestapo in Paris, France, had captured several top leaders of the French underground and was holding them in the Gestapo headquarters building in downtown Paris. The underground had sent word a top interrogator was coming from Berlin to take charge. The brass was afraid the entire underground would be compromised as the Gestapo were experts at torture. The only solution was to destroy the building. I was told my squadron was picked to do the job, I didn’t get a chance to think it over, it was orders. I was told by a General that high level bombers were likely to kill many French people and would probably destroy many buildings. He said, “We don’t want to mess up downtown Paris.” I could see his reasoning.

  Here’s the deal, my squadron would attack from the west and from the east. Half the squadron would hit the building at first light from the west. The other half would be in position to strike from the east as soon as the first attack finished, I would lead the first strike. We would have cover from both British Spitfires and American P-51s. We must go low under the German radar, go tree top until Paris is sighted, then pull up to make the attack.

  A complete mock up of Paris was made for me and my guys to study. My attack would be critical, as the others would follow my lead and hit the same building. Our whole mission would depend on the French underground to give us the word to go. Members of the underground would be in position to help anyone who could escape from the building.

  We got word the mission would go the following morning, I want-a tell ya, I didn’t get much sleep that night. We took off at four-thirty and flew at less than a thousand feet all the way across the Channel. I thought several times I was going to get my feet wet. At the French coast, we pulled to fifteen hundred. Soon, my second group parted ways. When Paris came in view, I had some doubts as nothing seemed to fit, I was sweating blood. Our timing was right on, I knew the target was just north of the Eiffel Tower and a few blocks east. There she was in the early morning light, What a relief! The Tower lights were still on.

  I gunned my jug and climbed five hundred feet, left bank then right bank. The Gestapo building loomed ahead, a big red Swastika hung above the entrance. I put my sight on the flag and fired the rockets and machine guns. As I pulled up, I released the five hundred pound bomb, a direct hit.

  Looking back, I could see my guys were making hits, too. Above I could see our cover aircraft; I banked left hard and made a heading for home. On landing, we were met by lots of happy brass, they weren’t the only ones. The French reported the raid was a complete success. My whole squadron received the AIR MEDAL. Many prisoners escaped and we got the Gestapo big shot. The only sad part was that many good French people had to die that morning, I’ll never forget or get over that.

  We returned to our hunt and destroy missions. The main objectives were the Luftwaffe airfields, we were hunting, bombing and strafing any military equipment or conveys we could find.

  One sunny afternoon, we were working about fifty miles from the German border and in southern France. I spotted some trucks pulling out on a road from a wooded area. I called and told the boys what I saw, circled around, dropped down and strafed the trucks, I banked hard right, a bad mistake. The next thing I heard was a loud explosion, I was hit by ground fire; my engine was pouring black smoke. I tried to gain altitude, no good, I turned south. I saw my guys fly by, I had to get out.

  Opening the canopy, I fell out on the wing and rolled off. I knew I was too low and I hit the ground hard, luck was with me. I missed the trees and fell into an open area. God I was hurting, I couldn’t stand and the chute was dragging me. I hit the release and the harness came off, the chute blew away toward the trees.

  The next thing I knew there were black boots standing around me, Germans. One of the soldiers poked me with his rifle and demanded in German, “Get up!” I tried but couldn’t. Two of them pulled me up. Ah, my left hip, leg and ankle were killing me with pain, I could hardly stand. One German started taking my things, my pistol, my wallet, the picture of Allie and Elsa, he was a sergeant. He was grinning at me all the time. I tried to fall, but they stopped me and started pulling me into the trees.

  Oh, I had so much pain, I cried out to stop. They just kept pushing, I don’t know when it happened, but the Germans held up their hands. We were surrounded by French partisans at least thirty, women and men. I got my stuff back, the German wasn’t grinning any more.

  Two men carried me until a young boy came with a short pole, then the two men carried me on it between them. Gun shots filled the evening stillness, I assumed the Germans were shot. Soon, I was put in the back of a truck, it had German markings. In the back of the truck, the pain became so bad I passed out.

  When I came to, I was lying on straw in some kind of shed. An older man was leaning over me. He asked if I could hear him, He spoke in French, I murmured, yes. He told me I had a broken hip, leg and ankle. A young woman was there also, she gave me a bottle of red wine. I drank almost all of it on the first offering. He said I would be moved the next morning into Vichy, France. He told me many Allied airmen were being smuggled by the French underground through Spain to Portugal and picked up by British warships. Somehow, I made it through the night with help from the wine. The young woman stayed with me all night.

  I was taken to a Nun’s Convent and put in a small room. A man and lady went to work on me, he gave me a shot that put me out. When I woke up, I had a cast on my left side from foot to shoulder.

  I stayed in this room for what seemed like months. There was one small window, I could see the sky and some tree branches. I did have a lot of company, now and then, Allied airmen would stop by and visit on their way to freedom.

  Different people fed me all the time and changed my diaper.

  Just out of the blue, the man who put my cast on came in and told me it was time to cut it off. It took three weeks for me to walk well and get my strength back. When it came time to leave, I felt sad to leave these wonderful people, I told them so.

  Two men had the task of getting me to Lisbon, Portugal. We traveled by auto, train and sometimes horse cart; all the time I had good company. How can I ever repay them? I was taken out to sea in a small boat to a waiting British warship. We were taken to a port on the west side of England.

  After my ordeal of being shot down and the long recovery, I felt fit for duty and reported in to the 9th Air Force. Instead of duty, I received orders to go home. I was told the war was about to wind down. A transport ship would be available for my transportation home in two days, I took the time to see my guys and some of the RAF people I had served with.

  On the scheduled day, I reported to the waiting ship, I had just climbed the gang way up to the ship. I hesitated to look at the people on the dock. Leaning on the rail, I suddenly saw a familiar figure. The lady looked up and then tried to hide her face. I knew instantly who it was, I rushed back down to the dock, ran and caught the lady by her arm, I spun her around. “SARAH!” I yelled.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. “It is you, Sarah. Why?” I gasped.

  She fell into my arms and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. She explained. “Tom, I knew it would not work, go home to your wife and forget about me.”

  “Sarah, I do love you, I hope you can understand, I can love two women at the same time. Give me your address, I want to write.”

  She gave me an envelope with her address on it. I had
to leave as they were calling from the ship that it was time to go, I barely made it back on the deck. I stood there watching Sarah as the ship pulled away from the dock. I watched as long as I could see her standing on the dock. She gave a little wave and then disappeared in the fog. God forgive me, I did love that woman.

  Out to sea, I wrote her a long letter, I paid a Steward to mail it in New York.

  The ship’s Captain announced we could send cables to our love ones.

  When we docked, I had on my pinks and greens and carried my flight bag. Twenty-five hundred people wanted off the ship, it seemed, at the same time. As I moved along the rail, I spotted Allie; she had a little girl by the hand, my little daughter Elsa.

  Allie didn’t see me until I was almost off the gangway. When she did, that wife of mine went wild, hugging, kissing, crying and laughing all at the same time. When I got her settled down, I picked up my little girl and with Allie on my arm we walked down the dock into a new world and new life.

  Chapter 8

  Allie, Tom’s Wife, Finishes the Story

  I was deliriously happy to have Tom home at last after four long years. I met him with our daughter when his boat docked at the harbor in New York City. I had never been so happy in my entire life to have him home again, Oh, how I had longed for this day. He was so handsome in his uniform, all the ribbons on his chest and he was a Major. We stayed in a hotel in New York City for a week, just lazing around and sightseeing. Tom wanted to go home to the ranch to see his folks. I had to tell him my Daddy Jack had died and both his Grandparents were gone. Uncle Bob was awfully sick, but he was still getting around. He didn’t say much about his grandparents, just that he was sorry to hear they were gone. I guessed his Mother had written about them.

  We stayed three days at the ranch. Tom took long horseback rides, he always wanted to go alone; he would be gone for hours. His Mom told me that he did that a lot when he was a boy. He never said much when he returned.

  Tom was mustered out of the service in Santa Monica, California. I had purchased a house in Santa Monica when I worked for Lockheed Aircraft Company. My house was only a few blocks from the plant. At the house, Tom was not sleeping well, he took midnight walks, he sat on the back porch a lot and he played the phonograph record {Once in Awhile by Tommy Dorsey and Frank Sinatra}. He played the music over and over again. I became concerned and went to see an Army shrink at Brentwood Vets Hospital. He said not to worry; it would take awhile for him to adjust to a normal life again. A lot of help he was.

  One afternoon, I was shopping and ran into Howard Wilson, my old boss at Lockheed. He had a crush on me and he admitted it.

  “How’s that lucky guy of yours?” he asked

  I started to cry. He grabbed me in a bear hug. “What’s the matter, Allie?”

  Howard was such a great guy I had to tell him I was sick over the way Tom was acting. He knew right away what had to be done. “Flying, that’s what Tom is, a flyer. We need test pilots. Do you think he would work for us?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered.

  “I’ll stop around tomorrow and ask him.”

  Tom jumped at the chance. In a few days, he was at an airfield in the California desert flying the new jet planes. He became a different man, happy, he was so happy.

  We sold the house in Santa Monica and moved into a mobile home near the Base. I had another girl; we named her Emily after Tom’s Grandmother. We purchased a house in a new project near the Base. We spent most holidays at the ranch with the families, Tom’s parents, Frank, Al and their families. Life was darn good to us. The years just flew by, we both grayed a little. Our girls were getting to be young ladies.

  One morning, I was in the kitchen cleaning up. The girls were off to school and Tom had an early morning flight. I heard the sirens at the base. Out on the back porch I could see thick black smoke from the Base, I knew it was coming from one of the runways. I jumped in the station wagon and drove to the Base. The MP on the gate told me by his look that something was wrong. I drove to the headquarters, Howard pulled up in a jeep. He came right over, reached through the window, took me by the arm and said, “Allie, its Tom.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “No, Allie, he’s dead.”

  I passed out, when I woke up, I was in the Base hospital. Howard had sent for our girls. We cried and cried, I asked if he had been burned. Howard said, “No, we got him out in time.”

  Howard told us, “Tom was doing the thing he loved, flying. No man can do better than that.”

  A service was held at the family cemetery on the ranch. Hundreds of people came; some from England and all over the country. An Air Force Chaplain gave the service, an Honor Guard fired a 12 gun salute, it was a beautiful Military Service.

  Tom and I would visit the little cemetery most of the time when we would go to the ranch. Tom always said, “This is my final resting place; here I can watch the planes take-off and land, put me here, Allie.”

  After the service, Tom’s brother Al, he is the manger of the ranch, invited me and the girls to come live on the ranch. “There’s a nice adobe house, needs some repair, but you and the girls are welcome to it. If you want, I’ll have the repairs done right away.”

  The girls wanted to move as soon as possible, horses and girls, you know. I told Al we wanted it. He said he would call as soon as it was finished. I put the house at home for sale, it sold in a week. I sold Tom’s car and we started to get things ready to move as soon as Al would call.

  I was in the garage picking through tools and stuff to give away. Under the work bench, I found a small metal locked tool box. I cut the lock off and inside I found a pack of letters from some woman in England. They were addressed to Tom at a mail box in town. Opening a letter, I was astounded to learn this woman was writing what I saw as love letters. I took the letters in the house and began to read the oldest one first. Reading between the lines, I could surmise Tom and she had had an affair while he was in England. I was devastated to think Tom had deceived me. I cried all night and well into the next day.

  Howard stopped by to see how I was doing; he saw right-a way I had a problem. I told him about Tom having a lady friend while he was in England.

  “Allie, most flyers will find someone. They go to bars and Allie; there are girls there ready for a relationship. A guy in combat where life is cheap has needs; those girls will fill that need. Don’t be sad Tom is—was--only human. The ladies are giving you a go-a-way party Saturday night, talk with them.”

  Saturday evening, I joined twenty women friends at the party. It was really nice. I talked with my friend Georgia, she’s a little loud, is really good looking and kind-a life of the party. I got her aside and talked about Tom and his having a lover in England. She gathered all the ladies around and told them my Tom had a lover overseas. She asked, “How many of your husbands had lovers overseas?” All raised their hands. Some told me they were sending money to children of their husband’s.

  Georgia said, “Allie, Tom loved you and he probably loved the women over there. Accept it and go on.” I decided to do just that, although it was hard.

  We moved to the ranch. Al had completely rebuilt the adobe house, a real nice job he did. A Spanish type, three bedrooms, three baths and a gorgeous patio with flowers and all. That Al was a real fixer.

  We had supper that first night with Mom, Dad, Frank’s family and Al’s family. After the meal, Al told me I was a partner in the ranch, I got Tom’s part. He said as manager he would be reporting to me once a year. I felt I had a real family.

  Frank wanted to talk. We walked up to the little cemetery on the hill and sat on a bench. t “Allie,” he took my hand. “Allie, Mom told me about the letters you found. You know, Allie, Tom never had a girl in high school. Girls never interested him; flying was all he cared about. When he came home after meeting you, he told me he was in love. I knew you must be special. Allie, I always had a girlfriend; God, Allie I had a lot of them, I loved them all. Only trouble was, every time I t
hought this was the one, I lost her. Until Laura came along, I thought I was jinxed. Over there, Tom needed someone to hold, he loved you more than his own life. This woman must be something for Tom to care about her. Allie, write her, tell her about Tom, I’m sure it will make you feel better.”

  I did that very night, I wrote a letter, no, I wrote a book about me and Tom. I carried the letter in my purse for days. Then, one day the girls and I were in town shopping, I stopped by the post office and mailed it.

  A week later, I got the most beautiful, tear stained letter I had ever received with a picture of her and Tom sitting on the wing of an airplane both in their blue RAF uniforms. She was lovely. I invited her to come for a visit, she did. The girls and I were in the waiting room when she came through the door, I knew immediately it was her. A lot of hugging, kissing and crying went on there. People must have thought we were crazy.

  That first time, she stayed a week with us. No wonder Tom fell in love with her. Our whole family did. We visit back and forth all the time now. Every day she is here she goes up to the little cemetery and stays an hour, she was truly in love with Tom.

  We visit each other at least twice a year, I go to the UK and she comes here. The last time I was leaving London, we hugged and I said to her, “Sarah, I feel you are the sister I always wanted.” She said she felt the same.

  If you ever go to England, go to the south coast village of Hasting. A few doors from the Hotel Royal is a small jewelry shop. Go in and you will be met by an aging lady, and if you look close you will see on her left hand ring finger an amethyst purple stone ring. If you ask, she will tell you her name is SARAH.

  Book 2

  Brother Frank, The Architect

  Chapter 1

  Frank Tells His Story

  Munich, Germany, April 1, 1938. Here I stand rigid as a stone statue with at least two hundred guys my age, on the railway station platform in Munich, Germany, waiting for a train to arrive to take us to some unknown destination. I was rousted from a sound sleep at the home of my friends where I have resided for the last six months while attending the University of Munich, by a knock on my bedroom door. Two burly black uniformed SS men entered my room and demanded I get dressed pronto; I had no choice. I dressed as fast as I could and was herded passed my wide-eyed German family to a waiting truck with a dozen young men like myself and made to get aboard. All the young men on board acted happy at this development they were in.