In every war, both sides have numerous casualties due to friendly fire. It is tragic but it happens. Sometimes we drop bombs where we shouldn’t. Sometimes our troops shot our planes down. Sometimes we shot our own planes down. One day one of our crews crash landed in friendly territory in Belgium. They climbed out and inspected the plane. It was full of 50 caliber bullet holes. The Germans did not have 50 caliber guns, so one of us did it.
A radio operator from New Orleans said that he saw my tracers hitting the plane. What saved me was the airplane’s Form 1. This is a detailed record kept on all airplanes. The Form 1 showed that I had not fired a shot out of that side of the airplane that day. The only way I could have done the damage was if we flew upside down. Over thirty years later, I ran into that radio operator in downtown Chattanooga. He said, “You don’t remember me, I’m Frank Towle. I answered, I will never forget you, “You *&^&^^%$#$%$”. Small world!
One of my high school buddies (for example, Wallace Beard) learned of my being accused of shooting down a B-26. He stretched it a bit and told everyone that the Germans had awarded me an Iron Cross. Some even claimed that I was named a German Ace (5 American planes shot down).
Today, the news media goes ballistic at the very mention of friendly fire. It happens. In WWII, Korea, and Viet Nam, friendly fire caused two percent of all casualties. In Desert Storm there were only 72 casualties but 35 were due to friendly fire.
By the way, 58% of friendly fire causalities are when ground troops shoot other ground troops. Thirty seven percent are caused by Air Corps bombing or staffing our troops on the ground. Five percent are caused by ground troops shooting our flyers.
On one mission, the plane next to us went down in flames. There were no survivors. However, the regular tail gunner was in the hospital and the substitute died in his place. I asked the regular gunner how he felt when he looked up and saw his plane missing. I expected an answer like John Wayne “There, but for the Grace of God go I”, or some such. However, he said, “I am going to send that girl a dozen roses”. He was in the hospital for VD. Reality is not like the movies.
IF YOU ARE SHOT DOWN……
Late in WWII German civilians were so upset at their losses and devastation caused by American and British bombers, it was not safe for an airman to surrender to them. Lynching by civilians was common. If capture was imminent, we were advised to try to surrender to the Luftwaffe or German Army. After the war, because of this animosity, we dared not wear our wings in Germany.
Each of us carried a little kit to help us in enemy territory, but I don’t remember much about what was in it. I know it had a picture of me dressed like a French civilian, for possible use on forged documents.
The Germans captured more than 90,000 American flyers who were shot down. Although being a POW was no picnic, only 1.2% of prisoners died in German custody, compared to 40.4% who died in Japanese prisons. America lost 59,296 aircraft in WWII—9,949 bombers (911 B-26’s) and 8,420 fighters. The final human toll for US Army Air Force 234,874 killed and 565,861wounded. The total number of Americans who died in all branches was 406,000 (source: Air Force Magazine)
Editorial Comments: Saving Lives
Frankly, I am perplexed every fall (when the anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima comes around) at the parade of bleeding hearts blaming America for killing innocent civilians. Remember please, we did not start the war, and we didn’t start the killing of civilians and we weren’t as good at that as the Axis Powers (Germany, Japan, Italy and Rumania).
Counting the dead from all the bombing in Europe and world wide, including both atomic bombs, Allies killed 2,106,941 civilians. That is terrible, but the Axis Powers killed more than 10 times that number of Allied civilians (25,239,673 mostly Russian and Chinese). Think about these figures the next time today’s liberal media tries to send you on a guilt trip (Source: June 2003 Air Force Magazine)
President Truman estimated the atomic bomb saved one million lives by cancelling the invasion of Japan. From all I have seen since then about Japan’s plans, it saved more lives than that, including MILLIONS of Japanese. The atomic bombs killed THOUSANDS, but saved MILLIONS of lives. (August 2000 VFW Magazine said 1.7 to 4 million Americans were saved and 5 to 10 million Japanese were saved).
VICTORY IN EUROPE
On April 12, 1944, as I climbed on an Army truck, I heard that President Roosevelt was dead. Hopefully, he already knew that the victory in Europe was imminent. My last mission was only a couple of weeks away. When Hitler died, there was a celebration as a prelude to Victory in Europe Day (V-E Day May 8, 1945).
Ed and I had a pass and celebrated V-E Day in Lyon, France. We spent time in an amusement park, etc. but I really don’t remember much celebrating there.
In Dijon, the 17th Bomb Group and the 320th Bomb group had a parade, and a mass formation flew over the city. Free champaign, too. V-E Day was special for all the Allies, but imagine what it meant to the French and other occupied countries.
Think what this must have meant to the European Jews? Although we knew that Nazis hated Jews, none of us could conceive of the Holocaust. Seeing is believing; so General Eisenhower ordered townspeople, adjacent to concentration camps, to tour the facilities and see the horror first hand.
This was not just to punish Germans, but in anticipation of future denials.
Today the president of Iran and others believe that there was not a Holocaust. What is shocking to me is that 23% of American college students believe that. Failure to teach Civics and History in public schools is one of my pet peeves.
WWII was a just war for the Allies. Sixteen million served in the American military and were enthusiastically supported by virtually all Americans. Uncovering the horror of the Holocaust underscored the evils of the Nazis and the importance of their defeat.
When the celebration died down, in the 17th Bomb Group, our brass announced plans for training us in a variety of subjects. We were to enroll for six hour classes, three days a week. This was more show than reality. Frankly, I don’t remember what we did with all our time. We attended some classes, flew some, had a little sports activity and did a little sight seeing. The Red Cross offered donuts and coffee. The military clubs would fill your canteen with champaign for five francs (ten cents).
All of this spare time made us ripe for rumors. We knew some of us were going home, some were going to be in the Army of Occupation, and some of us were headed to the Pacific to fight the Japs.
I won’t call any names now, but a guy who flew about three feet above me was an expert rumor monger. Our latrine was a “24 holer”. To start a “Latrine-O-Gram” this unnamed rumor monger would whisper to me, loud enough so that he was sure to be heard. “I was up at group headquarters and I heard that everyone with less than 25 missions is going to have 30 days in the states and then go fight the Japs”. By the time we got back to our tent, the rumor had spread like wild fire.
Back to reality, our ground crew had been in Europe three years, so they were leaving us soon. Flying these beat up old airplanes was risky anyway, but with limited ground crew and poor maintenance, it would be downright dangerous.
Less than a month after V-E Day the 17th was ordered to move to Lintz, Austria; however most of the air crews and airplanes were transferred to the 9th Air Force (344th Bomb Group). We flew up to Florennes, Belgium.
Our new commanding officer was Colonel Lucius Clay Jr., a West Pointer. His dad, General Lucius Clay later headed NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization) for a number of years. The Colonel was a great down to earth guy. One day he gathered a bunch of us, and arranged for us to play golf on The King’s Golf Course at Waterloo. He asked, “Who can drive this 6 x 6 truck?” No hands went up so I hesitantly raised mine. He noticed my doubt and said, “You are a sergeant, this is a new truck, if you wreck it, you will be a private!”
I accepted the challenge and finally figured out all those gears, then took off like I knew what I was doing. I didn’t, but sped over those cobble stone roads like a mad man. The golf was great but the thing the troops will always remember is that mad rush across Belgium with a nut at the wheel. I can’t believe I did this.
Our casualties continued due to accidents, flying practice missions. We lost five men in the North Sea when the profile interrupter did not work and they shot their own tail off. We lost several on a C-47 taking troops to England on leave. When we moved to Munich we lost seven in the Alps due to weather.
Accidents, or near accidents, continued. The B-26 had the best loss record in combat but the worst in training. Overall, I understand the Army Air Corps lost 22,000 men in WWII just to accidents.
I had my first ride in an A-26 Invader, America’s newest medium bomber. It had the same engine as the B-26, but was newer, lighter and faster. We had an engine conk out on take off. If we had been in a B-26, we would have crash landed, but we didn’t have to. I was impressed with the A26. In the Korean War, the A-26 was renamed the B-26 and some were still flying later, even in Viet Nam.
If you didn’t fly at least four hours in a month, you would lose your flight pay (50% more due to hazardous duty).
In June and again in July, I had “flak leave” to a rest home near Namur, Belgium, on the Meuse River. We had a row boat and a sail boat, nice quarters, good food, etc.
I met Lillian Delaney, an upcoming artist. After the war, she had Art Shows in New York and Houston and came by Chattanooga for a visit. She painted a landscape of where we met and gave it to me. We corresponded for a while but no romance.
Years later, I hosted a group of European Art Journalists and asked about Lillian. They said she was doing OK, “now that she is doing landscapes again”. Apparently she had been side tracked doing abstracts for a number of years.
In July I also had a rest leave in Brussels and later in Paris. I learned of the Japanese surrender (V-J Day, August 8, 1945) while on a train between Brussels and Paris. By the time we got to Paris, I was one of only a few that was still sober. However, I don’t recall much celebration in Paris. I guess European’s war ended on V-E Day.
In between all of these leaves, we played a little baseball. Since enlisting I had grown two inches and put on 40 pounds. It was a pleasant surprise to see how much farther I could hit a baseball and punt a football. I had finally grown up. But I still couldn’t grow a beard.
We also enjoyed passes to nearby . Sometimes a bunch of us would challenge Belgium teenagers at an indoor facility featuring bumper cars. They were good. Movies were not too good, but the Charloroi Red Cross was always a nice place to meet people from all over (in Dijon, I ran into a classmate, Lawrence Glen, who lived across the street from me when I was born).
I know all of this sounds like tough duty, we toughed it out. Somebody had to do it. However, rumors were still flying all over the place and most of us expected to go fight the Japs soon. No one expected the end to come quickly because the Manhattan project was the best kept secret of WWII. No one expected the Atomic Bomb, so we were pleasantly surprised when the Japanese surrendered.
WWII losses were staggering. Combined military loses totaled 20 million. Over 27 million civilians died; mostly Chinese and Russians. America lost 406,000 and had seven hundred thousand wounded. It was a bloody war, but justice was on our side and we won. When today’s “historians” get through re-writing history, they will say that we started the war and lost, if they even mention WWII at all.
I heard recently on cable TV that Hitler was responsible for 21,000,000 deaths; Stalin for 62,000,000 deaths and Communist China from 50-70,000,000 deaths. It is a cruel world.
OFF TO GERMANY AND THE ARMY OF OCCUPATION
When the 344th bomb Group moved to Munich, Ed and I volunteered to drive a jeep with a trailer. That was about my only chance to go sight seeing in Germany. We were impressed with the Autobahn, a preview of the American Interstate system, started later by President Eisenhower. Many of the bridges were blown so we had to take an occasional detour. The devastation caused by Allied bombing was evident in most of the cities. The historic Cologne Cathedral looked OK from the air, but was badly damaged. Most of the city had been destroyed.
As mentioned earlier, we were surprised to see ME-262’s parked in the woods and center strips of the Autobahn, paved and disguised by green paint, to provide a nice runway.
Soon after arriving at our air base (R-75) near Munich we were put on guard duty. I hated guard duty but it was interesting to see subdued SS German troops. Now they didn’t look like you see in the movies, i.e., immaculately dressed and highly discipline soldiers.
The infamous Dachau Concentration Camp was nearby but I never toured it. Call me a coward. We were near the Black Forest. Some of the guys went hunting and we would have venison for dinner. A group of us city boys piled in a jeep to try hunting with a couple of shotguns, carbines and a 45 pistol. Before we got off the base, we spotted five or six deer and dismounted our jeep. We chased those darn deer, but never caught up with them. I was glad because I didn’t want to kill one of the cute little deer. These deer were very small, but the rabbits were huge (jack rabbits), almost as big as the deer.
While in Munich, we had a football team and played other air bases. I still have a bad knee to prove it. We were undefeated and un-scored on when I left. Let me repeat that—UNDEFEATED AND UN-SCORED ON. It is true that we had only played three games when I left. By the way, we didn’t defeat or score on any other team either, three 0-0 ties. General Neyland would be proud of this outstanding defense; however the offense was really pitiful.
One day Ed and I were walking down the streets of Munich observing almost total destruction. One huge tower was still standing. The clock on it showed three fifty. We debated whether it was three fifty in the afternoon when the Americans did their daylight bombing or three fifty at night when the British did their night bombing. Ed asked, “What time is it”, I looked, and it was three fifty-------------------the clock was still running among the total devastation.
American cigarettes were the main commodity in the Black Market. We were rationed a pack a day until V-E Day and a carton a week after V-E Day. These were tax free so they cost only five cents a pack. A carton would sell for $40 to $1,000 depending on where you were. Prices were highest in Berlin because the Russians flooded the city with counterfit American money. Munich prices were around $40. You were not supposed to sell on the Black Market, but everybody did it.
We had a dog affectionately named Bitch. She introduced me to the miracle of natural birth while I was writing a letter to Mom. I had never witnessed anything being born.
I wrote Mom regularly (censored and sometimes via Victory Mail, microfilmed). She kept me informed about the home front. She also sent care packages with crumpled cookies and sundry supplies. My mother was special.
A point system was established to determine who does what. You would get one point for every month of service, another point for every month overseas, five points for each major campaign, five for each decoration you were awarded, etc. I had 70 points.
Rumors had been flying for months now Latrine-O-Grams galore. At last some were coming true. Most of us were headed home.
On October 19, I was alerted for shipment to the “zone of the interior”. That is beaucratic talk for the USA or going home. I was assigned to the 834th Aviation Engineers, near Wiesbaden, Germany, then the 922 EAR (whatever that is) near Paris. I learned that these construction GI’s used more salty language than fly boys.
When I left Germany I had four Marks (forty cents). When I got to Paris, I had over $400. I sold my cigarettes out the train window. Also I sold extra clothing left by a tent mate who was shot down. After I sold what I could, I still had a barracks bag full, and took it up the street in Paris until I found a needy man. He could not believe it was a free gift. Now that I had a small fortune, I could not bring it home. There was some regulation that you could take a maximum of a month’s pay or some such. So, I went shopping. I bought my brother Charles a pipe with a carved bull head’s, probably worth $10 for $32. For Mom I bought a huge scarf for $75 probably worth $25. She admired it but it was still in the box when she died in 1988 at 92.
For reasons I never understood, all GI’s pay in France was based on the Franc being worth two cents. It was only valued at one cent. I wonder where the other penny went. Because of this injustice, I didn’t feel guilty about selling my cigarettes.
Of the seven of us flyers still together, five, including me, were snaggled tooth. Other flyers wore dress uniforms or flight suits, medals and rank. We didn’t. We looked like the pitiful GI’s portrayed by the famous Mauldin Cartoons. Incidentally, I had knocked half of two front teeth out liberating (i.e., stealing) a brass bed from a Luftwaffe officer’s quarters. The only other loot I liberated was a French carbine and a framed metal relief of the Good Samaritan.
Soon we arrived at Marseilles and loaded, on the Army Transport Ship, The Sea Owl. One of the guys got seasick before we left the dock and didn’t get out of sick bay until nine days later when we landed at Newport News, Virginia. After we left the Mediterranean, we hit a storm in the Atlantic and a lot of us, me included, got seasick. I was in the bow, five hammocks high. It was like being in an elevator, up and down.
One day as I went to chow, I picked my way through the results of all the seasickness. One guy stepped in it and fell flat, throwing his tray in the air. It came down on his head, giving him a wig made of spaghetti. This would qualify as a scene for the Keystone Kops.
It was wonderful to sight the good ole USA. Think of how it must look to POW’s and guys who have been away for several years. After unloading, we boarded a train to Ft Knox. As we slowly passed the first intersection I spotted an American girl and was fascinated by her long, beautiful, flowing brunette hair. It was the kind you loved to run your fingers through. It was natural looking, not sticky with goop. I thought, “It sure is great to be back in America”.
I don’t know why we went briefly to Fort Knox, but soon we were in Camp Attaberry, IN, awaiting discharge. The Army required you to pass all their physical and dental tests before they would release you. We were all anxious to get home for Christmas, but I was told that I needed two weeks of dental work done.
It turned out the dentist was from Etowah, TN. When I told him about all my family connections to Etowah, he knew of my grandpa. He asked “Can you take it”. And he did two weeks work on my teeth in one day so that I could be home for Christmas. GI”S were struggling to find transportation home in a hurry. Some even pooled their resources to purchase used cars together. The one that lived the fartherest got to keep the car. I lucked into a train ticket and rode my Chattanooga Choo Choo. Thanks to the Etowah dentist, I got home December 23, 1945, a free man with no post war plans but that I might go to college.
(This is an excerpt from Bob Elmore's new book, "A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to the National Cemetery." The book is $10 in softback, $20 in hardback. Copies are available at the Bicentennial Library downtown, Wally's (on McCallie), Senior Neighbors, The Racket Club and the Brainerd Trophy Shop. All proceeds, not just profits, go to the Chattanooga Area Historical Association. For more information, call 629-1366.)