Monthly Archives: June 2018

Father John McHugh, B-24 Bombardier, Miracle Man

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Consolidated Aircraft built the “B-24 Liberators [which] were not designed for crew comfort. The bombers were not pressurized or heated. Crews wore oxygen masks above 10,000 feet and were exposed to temperatures as low as 50 degrees below zero. Crew members’ heated jackets didn’t work most of the time. They were heavy, but not heavy enough to keep out subzero temps for up to 10 hours at a stretch.” ( https://inmilitary.com/world-war-ii-bombardier-shot-everything/ )

During the early days/years of writing Our Duty, my daughter, Kristine, told me that I really needed to include Father John McHugh, a priest she had met over the weekend. I explained that the book was about people who I knew and their contributions during WW II; it was mainly honoring family members. Anyone who knows Kristine is aware that she is pretty adamant in her convictions, and also pretty persuasive. (If for no other reason than she just wears you down.) Because of her story concerning a man I knew nothing about, a priest who had lived thirty years of his life helping the poor of Belize began inching his way into my book.

I really needed to include Father John McHugh,

 By this time Father was ministering to Native Americans in Mora, New Mexico. Through phone calls at first, which entailed much yelling due to Father’s hearing impairment, (He would rather the money for hearing aids be spent helping the poor.) and later through “turtle mail,” a total stranger was also inching into my heart, and becoming better known than many family members.

John McHugh was just a twenty year-old farm boy from Oklahoma when he, like millions of others, joined the military to fight the Nazis and the “Japs.” He became part of the new Army-Air Corps because he was enthralled with the idea of flying. After extensive testing, both physical and mental, John was selected for officer training as a bombardier. In this precarious place, aptly called the “greenhouse” he had a bird’s eye view of the sky and the earth around him. This was not a great place to be on a bomber when other planes are attempting to  shoot you from the skies.

Looking at the front of the B-24 in the WW II museum

When my husband Paul and I visited the WW II museum in New Orleans, LA, one of the first things I saw was the front end of a B-24. I suddenly realized what an awful position the bombardier had—even more so than the ball turret gunners. The area was cramped and the airman inside was a sitting duck, visible from all but the back side. It was definitely like sitting in a flying greenhouse.
In her award-winning book Unbroken, Laura Hillenbrand detailed the critical job of the bombardier. The main character of the book Louis Zamperini told her, “For flat runs he (the bombardier) used the Norden bombsight, an extremely sophisticated analog computer that, at $8,000,cost more than twice the price of the average American home [at that time]. On a straight bombing run …[the bombardier] would visually locate the target, make calculations, and feed information on speed, altitude, wind, and other factors into the device. The bombsight would then take over flying the plane, follow a precise path to the target, calculate the drop angle, and release the bombs at the optimal moment. Once the bombs were gone, [the bombardier] would yell, ‘Bombs away!’ and the pilot would take control again.” After the bombs had been dropped, he would climb out of the cramped greenhouse and man a machine gun to fight off attacking enemy fighters.

Looking at the front of the B-24 in the WW II museum, I could finally understand Father John’s description of how he, the navigator and nose gunner were cut off from the rest of the plane, and miraculously survived when it exploded in midair  killing the rest of the crew in March of 1945. It was only the hand of God that allowed those three men to parachute into the hands of the Germans and to a POW camp. But, they were alive, even though the military thought all on the bomber were killed.

When Father John told me that he was a bombardier, I had never heard of that job and definitely had no idea what he did on the plane. In fact, talking with Father John, I was surprised to learn that bomber crews were comprised of 8-12 men.

My visits with this wonderful priest were both educational and entertaining. However, upon meeting him in person, I was also struck by his humility, of both his time during the war and his life helping the poor. Father John will be the topic of more posts.

If you would like to enjoy some of Father John’s antics, visit this  YouTube channel.
Continue ReadingFather John McHugh, B-24 Bombardier, Miracle Man

Women in the Fields Feed the Nation and the Military

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Kansas wheat harvest is in full force 2018

The landscape is changing daily as huge combines cut thousands of acres of grain each day. The fields are like the head of a huge blond haired boy that the barber takes a clipper to. At first there are wide swaths through the blond landscape. and quickly the scalp is bare. The weather is miserably hot, dry and windy—perfect for wheat harvest. Most all farmers today have air conditioned combines and trucks for hauling grain. They go home to air conditioned homes for a good nights sleep. Of course, things were completely different during WWII.

Glancing through WW II pictures while preparing a different post, I came across photos and posters of women working the fields during the war. I thought it appropriate this week to give recognition to some of the millions of women who gave up their desk jobs and home making to provide food for the nation and the world while so many men were away fighting.  Those women didn’t have air conditioned tractors or combines.  And, after a long day in the hot fields, they felt like queens if they had running water and could possibly take a bath before falling asleep, again without air conditioning

In 1943  nine states had  WLA training facilities. By 1944 the number had risen to 44.

As the war continued, the government not only encouraged city women and girls to give up their free time and

vacations to help on the fields, they initiated the Women’s Land Army (WLA)  to provide agricultural training and transport women to places needed. At first women worked on farms near home where they returned each evening. Eventually, with

fewer and fewer men left in the country to work, the government transported the girls and women all over the US. They lived in work camps, some not as sanitary or comfortable as would be expected.  Child care became a huge issue during the war for both the farm and factory working women.  Some women took children to the fields with them, but the government stepped in and created at least 3,100 day-care centers which helped alleviate the problem for some.

 “USDA officials estimated that as many as 800,000 women and 1.2 million young people would be needed in 1944 to assist in agricultural work.”

” WLA recruits included farm wives and daughters, college students, school girls, teachers, store clerks, stenographers, service wives, and homemakers. These women raised vegetables in New England, topped onions in Michigan, detasseled corn throughout the Midwest, shocked wheat in North Dakota, picked cotton in the South, planted potatoes in Maine, and harvested fruits and nuts on the West Coast. They also drove tractors, fed livestock, and performed dairying and poultry work. In total, 250,000 women were placed on farms during the 1943 crop season[alone].”

“The WLA reported that year-round wages averaged between $25 and $50 dollars a month,

with room and board furnished, while hourly rates for seasonal workers ranged from twenty-five to fifty cents.[an hour] . . .  However, the WLA conceded that “farm wages do not provide the strongest incentive for doing farm work in wartime” and cited the chief motivating factor for joining the land army as the “desire to perform patriotic service.”

Nora Stern, hauling hay , organized a class of tractorettes, who trained on her husband’s 260-acre farm.

 

“Mrs. Leslie Tresham of Hornick, Iowa, highlighted the significance of agricultural work for American women:’ It was with a feeling of pride and uncertainty that I started my day as a farm helper. I had promised a  farmer,  whose only son had enlisted in the  Marines, to haul corn from a picker to the elevator. . . . I managed to put through  without mishap. . . . When the last ear had tumbled out of the wagon I was so relieved. . . . As I swung the empty wagon alongside of the picker . . . the farmer shouted, “Have any trouble?” “Not a bit,” I lied, “It was easy.” And, so it went, load after load, day after day, until I have now hauled over 10,000 bushels of corn. Tired? Of course, I get tired, but so does that boy in the foxhole. That boy, whose place I’m trying so hard to fill.’ ”

And who fed these crews of farm laborers? Of course it was the farmer’s wife. She may have had to milk the cows before heading to the garden to pick vegetables to preserve for winter— and to help feed the harvest crew. If she was lucky,  her garden produced lettuce, green beans,corn, onions, okra  potatoes, and more for the meal. She may have killed and butchered two or three chickens before frying them in a sweltering kitchen so the harvest hands would have a  good meal. She set out two big pales or bowls of water for the crew to wash off the dust and grime, and she made sure there was plenty of good cold water to drink as the field hands washed up before eating like this was their last meal. During the war many wives and  young women replaced their brothers, uncles and friends doing the field work while they still had to keep up all of their multitude of chores required of a farm woman.

Much of the information for this post was learned from http://www.archives.gov/publications/prologue/1993/winter/landarmy.html

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BEAUTIFUL ARMY AIR CORPS FLIGHT NURSE, GRACIOUS LADY , WONDERFUL FRIEND

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I inherited Aggie from my mother.

That’s Mom, (Pauline Garrity Wetta) in the picture to the left. It’s amazing that Aggie  is such a dear friend considering our age difference. I think that Aggie is my inheritance from my mother. They became best friends in nursing school during WW II. Without Aggie, Mom may not have graduated because she was quite the rebel.  After becoming an RN (registered nurse), Aggie joined the Army where she qualified to be a flight nurse so she became part of the Army Air Corps.

She is such a humble lady that she never discusses this part of her life unless prodded. Then her usual comment was, “Oh I don’t remember much. We all just did what needed to be done.”

She helped keep 28 wounded soldiers and crew safe when the flight had to ditch over the Pacific.

When her twinkling eyes try to bluff as they look over the top of a hand of cards, you’d never guess the things she has done and seen. One dark night she helped keep 28 wounded soldiers and crew safe when their two engine plane lost one over the Pacific, and had to ditch. This occurred shortly after the war ended, and the men were being air-lifted from far-outlying islands to Hawaii. The flight was blessed with a pilot who had flown the route so often that he was able to find a deserted atoll to set down on.  

Because most of Aggie’s service, during the action, was spent on medical flights within the US, she always down-played her work saying the nurses in the battle zones were the angels. Transporting the wounded in the States may not have been as dangerous as in the areas of conflict, but it was still difficult and required constant work with multiple types of injuries. The first soldiers Aggie treated were returning from hospitals in Europe where they had received basic treatment after suffering horrible wounds on the battle fields. Some of the worst were  mutilations suffered during the horrible, freezing Battle of the Bulge. Many men still required extensive hospitalization and care once shipped to the US.  Aggie said that the burn victims, amputees, and psyche cases broke her heart the most. The latter because she knew very few people in the ‘40s understood mental illness at all.

Some of the worst were the injuries and mutilations suffered during the horrible, freezing Battle of the Bulge.

At first Aggie was stationed at in Florida where her flights originated. They would fly to Washington so men could be treated at Walter Reed, then on to New York, Chicago and out to San Diego. At each stop they delivered wounded to hospitals closer to home, and picked up others to transport to facilities farther west.

Aggie was bound for Hawaii aboard a solitary troop transport from Seattle when Japan finally surrendered.  Because of the constant threat of attack from Japanese, all were on high alert.  When the whistles started sounding and “All hear this,” came over the ship’s loud speakers, the crew and nurses being trasported were sure they were being attacked— until the wonderful announcement that the war was over. The ship burst into noisy celebration.

12 to 15 hour flights from islands as far away as Japan and the Philippines were the norm as the last fighting occurred in the far east of the Pacific.

Once the nurses reached Honolulu, they went through a quick orientation and began flying to islands where many men were awaiting medical attention. 12 to 15 hour flights from islands as far away as Japan and the Philippines were the norm as the last fighting occurred in the far east of the Pacific.  Because of restrictions on how long crews could fly in one day, sometimes they flew to Haneda Air Base in Japan with a plane filled with supplies and then picked up wounded on the way back to Hickam Air Base. Each flight had 25-30 men with various wounds, some of them quite critical. They were flown to Hawaii for assessment and stabilizing care before being flown to the States.  Aggie also accompanied five of those long flights to California during her service. She said the celebration was almost holy as they flew over the Golden Gate Bridge.

Last year Aggie moved to Arizona to live with her daughter because her advanced glaucoma prevented her driving and was slowly stealing her independence. Also her daughter had retired and wanted to spend more time with her mother. (Imagine that!)  A couple of weeks ago, during our weekly phone call, Aggie was frustrated that their pool was not yet warm enough to get in each morning for a relaxing swim. “The nights are still too cool so the water doesn’t warm up enough.”   I hope when I am 97, I will be as full of life and as much fun to be around as this wonderful lady who helped earn the title of “Greatest” for her generation.

Aggie was 97 on May 27th.

Continue ReadingBEAUTIFUL ARMY AIR CORPS FLIGHT NURSE, GRACIOUS LADY , WONDERFUL FRIEND

D-Day: 74th Anniversary

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This week’s blog is dedicated to the thousands of young men who set aside their fear and homesickness to finally make a foot-hold onto European soil. After five years of terror by a madman, on June 6, 1944, the allies finally initiated the long awaited invasion D-Day. This was the first day most of the people of Europe truly celebrated since Hitler began his horrible rein over most of a continent and into Africa. The day immortalized in such movies as Saving Private Ryan and The Longest Day. D-Day which, hopefully, 90% of the baby boomer generation immediately call to mind heroic acts, and the horrible slaughter of thousands of young men on beaches far-away from their farms, schools and businesses in Australia, New Zealand, many European countries led by Americans, British, and Canadians.

Strategic plans for the invasion were deliberated for almost 18 months to better assure victory for the Allies. We know that Eisenhower, Bradley, Montgomery, Leigh-Mallory and other generals and admirals were the brains for the invasion. However, I had never thought of how much tedious work was done so the most specific aspects of the five beaches of Normandy would be known. This was done to give the men coming ashore a better chance of survival. In her book The Sea Before Us, Sarah Sundin recounts the detailed work of British Wrens in painstakingly assembling vital information. As always, her much researched novel provides a different, mostly unknown look at the War in a compelling manner.  The book also details some of the drills and preparations of thousands of soldiers that were taking place in Great Britain.

At 6:30 in the morning of June 6th, the assault began, and many died in floundering boats before reaching shore.

For over a year, young men who had never seen action trained in England. Many were part of the 29th Division that

would be in the first landing vessels because the generals knew they would be enthusiastic and also naïve as to the reality of battle. All were soaking wet from the waves splattering their crafts during the long night crossing the channel in secrecy. Hundreds were so sea-sick they thought they were dying without a shot being fired.  At 6:30 in the morning of June 6th, the assault began, and many died in floundering boats before reaching shore. Many more died as the landing craft ramps lowered and they were hit by German artillery. The young men who made it to shore expected to be able to take cover in craters created by allied bombing just for this purpose. Because pilots feared hitting the approaching landing craft, they failed to drop the bombs on the beach. Those who made it through the water faced wide-open space with no protection.

The hamlet of Bedford, Virginia (3,200 people in 1942) has the unfortunate distinction of contributing the most young men from one town in the first minutes and hours on Omaha Beach. 19 of their beloved boys were killed on that day. Forming Company A, later part 29th Division, they had enlisted together, trained together and so many of them died together on the beaches of Normandy. For this reason, the National D-Day Memorial is located near Bedford at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains. ( Source )

More about the sacrifice of Bedford can be seen on this CBS broadcast.

An amazing visual representation of what the number killed on the beaches that day would have looked like was masterminded by U.K. sand artists Jamie Wardley and Andy Moss in what is known as “The Fallen 9,000”.  The sand art was created in September of 2013. It is well worth a visit to the site to be awed by the art and, in a small way, grasp more fully the reality of D-Day.

 

Often we forget that D-Day was a joint effort of all of the Allies. Because the movies we see are from an American perspective, and Dwight D. Eisenhower was the Supreme Allied Commander, but credit must be given to others that were vitally important. “Of the 1,213 warships involved, 200 were American and 892 were British; of the 4,126 landing craft involved, 805 were American and 3,261 were British.Indeed, 31% of all U.S. supplies used during D-Day came directly from Britain, while two-thirds of the 12,000 aircraft involved were also British, as were two-thirds of those that landed in occupied France. Despite the initial slaughter at Omaha, casualties across the American and British beaches were much the same. This is not to belittle the U.S. effort but rather to add context and a wider, 360-degree view. History needs to teach as well as entertain.” Source

 

I hope some of what I wrote today is interesting to you. Lots more detailed info than I will normally post, but this is such an important day. The more we know, the more we can share with younger generations. Teens are so busy, but if you know any and have an opportunity to do so, share a special D-Day event, even an ice cream with conversation to help them know what happened 74 years ago.

 

 

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About This Blog

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This blog is an endeavor to shine a light on some of those humble heroes of the WW II.
If you ever think back to the long ago (longer for some of us) days of grade school, what do you most remember? Recess, of course, and if you were lucky to have wonderful cooks like Mrs. Demming and Mrs Nigg, the aroma and to-die-for cinnamon rolls, breads, and casseroles will always be a special memory.  Running a close race for my favorite memory is the time after lunch if our teachers often read to us. This was when I could enter magical worlds and become a part of the story. I could fly away to tropical islands with Robinson Crusoe or could overcome problems with Meg and her sisters in Little Women. However, a very small book, one not nearly as well-known as many, was much more influential in my future life. Snow Treasure by Marie McSwigan ignited a love of history. Set in Norway during WW II, the book describes the clandestine activities of the children who risked their lives to save more than nine million dollars of gold from the national treasury. They had to sled wealth of their country past the Nazis who had taken over their land.  Snow Treasure by Marie McSwigan ignited a love of history.

This book and others in the historical “fiction” genre made me realize that real heroes were seldom famous or even recognized.  It’s the common things people have done day to day throughout history to defeat injustice and insanity that have preserved our culture.  The stage manager in Thorton Wilder’s play Our Town states, “Babylon once had two million people in it, and all we know about ’em is the names of the kings and some copies of . . .  contracts for the sale of slaves. Yet every night all those families sat down to supper, and the father came home from his work .  . . And even in Greece and Rome, all we know about the real life of the people is what we can piece together out of the joking poems and the comedies”. . .and histories.   The play goes on to show that the everyday person who does what needs to be done each day is the true hero we seldom appreciate.

 Babylon once had two million people in it, and all we know about ’em is the names of the kings and . . .

This blog is an endeavor to shine a light on some of those humble heroes of the WW II. When Tom Browkaw published The Greatest Generation, my first thought was, That is the book I was going to write someday. I wanted elderly friends and family to be recognized, if only for a few moments, for their sacrifices. As I researched my soon-to-be-published-novel,  it suddenly occurred to me that I paid to take two graduate level WW II college classes. The contributions of women were never mentioned. Seems the War was fought and won by the generals and admirals.  Hopefully this blog Nurses, Airmen, and the Home-front will begin to remedy that oversight as some less academic books have done, and perhaps the blog will whet your appetite to learn more about the generation that did so much to change the world. When my book is finally published late this year, Just Doin’ Our Duty will relate much more.

If you were a visitor to my defunct blog, (below), which died from TD –technical difficulty-you may recognize a few people and ideas from the posts on the “Humble Heroes.” With help from some tech savvy friends, I am hoping that you will be able to leave comments and share stories if you want.  Your ideas will be appreciated and I will do my best to reply.

Inspiration and Meditations Prompted by WWII Nurses, Humble Heroes & Homefront

Thoughts inspired by the lives and ideals of parents, relatives and friends during WW II

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