American Under Attack

by Jeff Kildow

  When the Base Commander “requests” something of a major, the major doesn’t have many options.

  “Of course, Bill. Get me a driver, will you? I’m not up to driving yet.” He didn’t mention that the medication had made him woozy.

  He put the draft report in a folder, and prepared to leave.

  Chapter 23

  9 May 1943

  Office of the Commander

  Millville Army Air Field, Millville, New Jersey

  1300 Hours

  Promotion

  He walked into Colonel Watkins’ office, and reported; all three men waiting for him stood and moved toward him.

  “How are you feeling, son?” inquired Lieutenant Colonel Watkins with a concerned look on his face.

  “Well, sir, like I just went ten rounds with Jack Dempsey and a wildcat! And lost to ‘em both!” Joel replied. Watkins laughed.

  “That’s quite the dramatic eye patch, Joel,” said Lieutenant Colonel Randolph, his boss. “Is that why the flight surgeon grounded you? Is your eye going to be OK?”

  “That’s not why he grounded me, sir. My eye’s going to be fine. He grounded me because of possible infection where the bird split my cheek; he’s afraid it could go into the eye. Cheekbone’s pretty sore where it’s broken, too; he said it could really be painful at altitude, so I have to pass on that for a while. I’ve got a small scratch on the cornea of my eye, which will heal quickly, according to the doctor.”

  Watkins said, “Good. Glad to know the injuries aren’t permanent. Have a seat, Major. The first thing is to introduce you to Lieutenant Colonel Marion Green, from the JAG corps.”

  The two shook hands. He was a solid man with brown eyes, and short reddish-brown hair. The Judge Advocate General was the Army’s legal branch.

  Colonel Watkins said, “The reason we’re here is to get your version of what happened. This is not a punitive hearing; we believe Mr. Giovanni is probably the responsible party here, but we have to get your statement first.”

  Carefully, Joel recounted the trip and the accident, referring frequently to his hand written report. Colonel Green made notes as he spoke. The questioning went on for more than an hour.

  “Major,” Colonel Randolph said, following Colonel Watkins’ nod, “we think you performed admirably in recovering your aircraft from a very serious bird strike, and safely getting your civilian passengers back on the ground. We are considering a citation. Say, have you seen today’s paper?”

  When Joel shook his head, Randolph held up the Millville Daily Republican.

  The headline read:

  Army Hero Saves Teacher, Children

  Flight Was Bond Drive Prize

  Birds Strike Plane; Local Farmer Implicated

  Below the headline was a photograph of a bloodied and battered Joel. A second photo showed Susan with an arm around both kids. A third showed the smashed nose of the C-45. Quickly, Joel scanned the article – they had it essentially right and even named Giovanni as the farmer on whose land the illegal dump was located.

  “Where do we go from here, sir?” Joel asked Colonel Green.

  “Mr. Giovanni has been formally warned on several occasions,” the Army lawyer said seriously, looking at his documents; “I am recommending charges against him and will attempt to recover damages.”

  “And I will approve those charges,” Colonel Watkins said firmly.

  “Sirs, with all due respect, what needs to be done is to get rid of that—” he hesitated, suppressing a rare expletive. “Get that darn dump buried before it kills somebody!” Joel burst out.

  “Already underway, Major.” Colonel Watkins said, “An Army bulldozer is covering it, and is taking down some of the trees encroaching on the flight path as well.”

  “I’m real glad to know that. What about your airplane, sir?” Joel asked him. He had to turn his head from side to side to look at the men as they spoke; the eye patch was a major inconvenience.

  “We don’t have a full damage assessment yet, Major, but my guess is at least $10,000 worth. If it requires a new engine and prop, that could double. Mr. Giovanni may not make a profit this year. One other thing, Joel,” he glanced at Randolph.

  “Colonel Randolph has received orders to Europe, to join the 8th Air Force. He is to leave in about six weeks. As soon as you are able, we want you to begin to take over for him. Here is a little something you’ll need to do the job,” he held out a small blue box.

  “Congratulations,” all three officers said.

  The box held a shiny pair of silver oak leaves; Joel had just been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel.

  “You’re now the junior Lieutenant Colonel at Millville, Joel!”

  “There’s one more thing, Colonel Knight,” Colonel Watkins said smiling. “In spite of what this command does, we’ve never been able to convince Air Corps headquarters that we ought to have our own G2 detachment. Now, while I continue to work on that, I’ve arranged for you to be ‘invited’ to a newly established weekly intelligence briefing at the Pentagon for ‘Non-Combat Units’.” He said the phrase with distaste.

  “Your first briefing will be at 0800 this coming Tuesday. You are authorized as my representative to obtain a copy of the briefing materials and to ask questions on my behalf.”

  He looked at Colonel Randolph, “Has transport been arranged?”

  “Yes sir. He can either fly down to Washington on the courier the night before, or take one of the base flight aircraft, which ever works out best.” He stopped and looked at Joel,

  “Oh, that’s right, you can’t fly yourself. Well, we’ll make sure you get on the courier.”

  “Uh, sir,” Joel said, “I shouldn’t fly at all, according to the doctor. How about if this intrepid aviator just takes the train?”

  Chapter 24

  11 May 1943

  Bachelor Officers Quarters

  Millville Army Air Field, Millville, New Jersey

  1930 Hours

  Letters

  Joel sat writing a letter to Susan. His face wasn’t as swollen as it had been, but it often throbbed, especially when he was sitting quietly, like right now.

  My Dear Miss Johansseson;

  I’m writing to apologize for the terrible scare you and the children had this past Saturday. I sincerely hope that the unfortunate incident won’t scare either of the children away from flying again, or for that matter, you either!

  I feel especially badly that I ruined your nice handkerchief, and will replace it as soon as possible. Would you prefer silk or linen?

  By way of expressing my apologies, and since I never delivered on my promise of lunch, I would like to invite you to be my guest for dinner at the Appleton House dining room in Millville, at a date and time of your choosing.

  I have spoken to the parents of both children, and everyone seems to have recovered from the shock. Those are two very brave kids! You have taught them well.

  The base Judge Advocate General lawyer who is involved in this case has assured me that the farmer who operated the dump from which the birds flew up will be charged with damaging government property, and ignoring a lawful order, among other charges.

  My injuries are healing quickly. My temporary eye patch makes me look like Terry and the Pirates! I have been told that I should be reinstated to flying status by the end of next week, or the week following. I’ll have a rakish scar on my cheek to always remember our flight together!

  By the way, thank you so much for coming by the hospital to see me; I regret I was unable to suitably receive you!

  I’m looking forward to our dinner. Please give my best to Mr. Kneebone and your fellow teachers.

  Sincerely,

  Joel Knight, Lieutenant Colonel

  US Army Air Services

  He added his office phone number, and the one in his quarters as well.

  Three days later, he received a reply in the mail.

  Dear Lieutenant Colonel Knight;

  I was very pleased to hear that you are recovering fr
om the injuries you suffered. The children and I prayed for you. I was very much afraid at the time that you were more severely injured. Thank God you were not! You looked so horribly battered that night at the hospital.

  I, too, have spoken with the children. Elmer is treating it as the grand adventure of his young life, and has all the boys hanging on his every word whenever he talks about it! He thought it great fun, and brags how he’ll become a famous pilot himself, someday.

  Beryl, as girls will be, has been quite introspective about it. She realized we all could have died, which is a pretty big thing for an eleven-year-old to deal with. I found her crying in the girl’s room one day, and was able to comfort her. The personal note you sent her was a great encouragement and has given her some bragging rights with the girls! Thank you for that.

  As to your kind invitation, which I appreciate, would you consider having my friend Mildred and her friend Charles join us? They are both teachers, she at Alexander Hamilton and he at Millville Senior High. We could all pool our ration coupons for dinner and the gas to get there if that would be acceptable for you.

  Please let me know.

  Sincerely;

  Susan Johansseson

  She included the phone number at the boarding house where she lived, but not that of the school, Joel noted.

  Joel spent only a moment considering Susan’s offer.

  Well, if it takes a double date the first time, I’m all for it, he thought, smiling to himself.

  He called her at the boarding house, and arranged a date and time. Joel called the restaurant and got reservations. They decided that Joel would meet the others at Susan’s boarding house, and they would all go to the Appleton House Hotels’ dining room in his car.

  Chapter 25

  Saturday, 15 May 1943

  Stanton Township, New Jersey

  2017 Hours

  Dinner for Four

  The evening was warm and clear when Joel drove up to the elegant old boarding house in Stanton Township. He was admitted to the parlor by the matronly housekeeper, who eyed him suspiciously, despite his sharply creased dress uniform. She viewed his bandages with obvious suspicion. Susan introduced him to her friends.

  “Mildred Rossini, please meet Lieutenant Colonel Joel Knight. Joel, this is my dear friend Mildred, of whom I spoke.”

  Joel shook the young woman’s hand. She was about 5’2”, slender, with dark brown eyes and black hair. Her dimples were charming, and her eyes were bright; Joel guessed she was about twenty-two.

  “Oh, please call me Millie; everyone does,” her voice was high pitched, giggly, almost childlike.

  She turned to the man standing beside her; “Joel, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Charles Angleton. He’s from Vermont.”

  The men shook hands. He was a solid looking man, with sandy hair and thick glasses. His smile was warm.

  This guy is definitely not a “Chuck,” Joel decided, he’s a “Charles” if I ever saw one.

  Charles cocked his head, and looked at Joel’s bandages and bruises. “Lose a fight?” he laughed.

  “And how! But I’m afraid the eagles lost the round,” Joel responded with a grin, “to say nothing of about a dozen gulls.”

  “Yep, read about that, and of course, Sue told us, too.” His distinctive Vermont accent contrasted with Millie’s.

  “How is your eye, Joel?” Susan asked with concern, touching his cheek. He’d found a white silk eye patch to wear, which he thought looked rather natty.

  “To tell the truth,” he said, “it still stings like anything and waters a lot, but the doctor says it’s doing fine. I can stop wearing this silly patch soon, I hope.”

  “I think it looks very distinguished,” Mildred told him reassuringly, nodding in agreement with herself.

  Glancing at his watch, Joel told them “We’d better move along; don’t want to be late!” They walked out to the Packard.

  “Oh, it’s very pretty, Joel,” Susan smiled.

  “Packard! Army must pay well!” said Charles, chuckling.

  “Hardly, Charles. I recently bought it second hand. There’s room for two in the back, just lower the jump seats,” he instructed.

  Charles walked around the car, looking it over. “Two colors. Fog lights. Nice. No fender skirts? Take ‘em off?” he asked.

  “No,” Joel replied, “the only accessories are fog lights, a radio, heater, and refrigerated air.”

  “Refrigerated air? Cools you while you drive? Heard of it, never seen it. We try it?”

  “Sure,” Joel said.

  This guy talks like a machine gun – in bursts, Joel thought with amusement.

  Susan sat in front with him, while the other couple shared the smaller but comfortable rear seats. The talk was mostly about the Packard; none of them had ridden in one before.

  “Quiet, smooth,” summed up Charles. “Love that cool air.”

  Mildred rubbed her hands on the broadcloth seat. “This feels like an expensive couch,” she said approvingly.

  Joel kept a furtive eye on the gas gauge; he still hadn’t learned to judge how far the Packard’s six cylinder engine would take him on four gallons of gas.

  Looks pretty good so far, he decided; hope that refrigerated air machinery doesn’t take too much gas.

  There weren’t many folks dining that night, so the foursome had the restaurant mostly to themselves. The menu was limited.

  “No beef is available at all; rationing, y’know.” said the small woman waiting on them.

  “You will all have to use your ration cards, and I have to see ‘em up front. The soldier will pay the full price, of course. Now. We got some nice local pork roast, and a good selection of fish.”

  She handed them hand written menus.

  “We got us fresh coffee today, and a peach cobbler just out of the oven.” She eyed Joel’s bandaged, battered face with no comment.

  Joel had eagerly anticipated the meal; he’d developed a taste for seafood since joining the Army, and assignment to the East Coast allowed him to indulge it.

  “Now, speaking for myself, I think the swordfish looks good, and lobster would make a great compliment, don’t you think?”

  Mildred demurred, saying, “I haven’t had pork roast in the longest time; it sounds yummy! That’s what I’m having.” Nodding her head again, she put down her menu, the decision made. Then, she spotted the dish of hard rolls.

  “Oh, look! Is that real butter? I haven’t had butter in just ages; oh, do pass it to me, Joel.”

  He passed her the small jars of homemade jam too. She sounds more and more like a high school girl, thought Joel; he had to suppress the image of her wearing saddle shoes and a pleated skirt.

  “Yummy pork. Hmmm,” Charles looked at her, and shook his head, bemused.

  “I think fish. Cod. Can’t beat it,” Charles was succinct.

  “Oh, I believe I’ll have clams and oysters as an appetizer, with the fillet of flounder; is that all right?” Susan asked Joel.

  “Sure,” he said, “just save room for desert; I hear they have mighty good chocolate cake with ice cream here, and that cobbler sounds good, too.”

  This is going just fine.

  The meals came with mounds of the wonderful fresh vegetables New Jersey is famous for, along with steaming baked potatoes. They all had ordered coffee; finding fresh coffee was a treat. The meat portions were adequate, if not generous.

  “So, Joel. You Christian?” Charles asked between bites.

  Joel was surprised, wary.

  “Well, yes, I am. I was saved as a kid back home, when I was about twelve. How about you?”

  “Hmm,” Charles said, swallowing a mouthful of the cod. “Me too. Since ’36.”

  “Where do you attend services, Joel?” Mildred asked him brightly.

  “Millie, I haven’t much since I was assigned to Millville. I was raised Assemblies of God, but none around here,” he answered, knowing the excuse was flat. “To be honest, I haven’t attended regularly since
West Point, where it was mandatory.” Where is this going? he thought.

  Charles eyed him for a moment.

  “Baptists call that ‘backsliding.’ Consider your profession, Joel. Dangerous, even in peacetime. With the war on—,” he snapped his fingers, “Europe in the blink of an eye, right in the thick of it. Best get things right with God.” He winked to lighten the moment a bit.

  “Ouch!” Joel said. “That hits close to home.” He knew in his heart Charles was right.

  “Susan, I’ve never asked you where you attend; where do you go?” Mildred asked, interrupting the men, for which blessing Joel was thankful.

  Susan said, “I was raised Lutheran, but like Joel, I haven’t been able to find anywhere to go around here. Or at least anywhere that I liked. I tried the Lutheran Church in Millville, but it was – well, you know, kind of stuffy, and no young people. So, it’s been a long time for me, too. Where do you attend? Do you two go together?”

  “Yep. Stanton Township First Baptist,” Charles answered for her.

  “Oh, say, you must come and go with us, Susan! You too, Joel. It’s a real friendly church. Why, we could go have a bite to eat afterward, if you liked. Oh, do come!” Mildred gushed.

  “Sounds like food is becoming the basis of this friendship,” laughed Joel. “But that’s a good idea; would you like to go, Susan?” Strike while the iron’s hot, he thought.

  She was taken off guard a bit, Joel realized, and he was almost ready to let her off the hook, and then she said, “Why, yes. That would be very nice. What time are services?”

  Mildred took a printed bulletin from her purse, and showed them.

  “May I pick you up, Susan?” Joel asked. Please say yes, please say yes!

  “Certainly,” Susan smiled, “I’d like that.”

  Joel smiled internally, as he took another bite of the broiled lobster, which was really quite good. He’d hoped for the opportunity to see her again.

  This is perfect, he thought.

  “So, you worried about the draft, Charles?” Joel asked as the plates were cleared away, aware it was an awkward question.