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W. Earl Hall World War II stories, 1944
1944-08-26 Letter #12
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slug-Helps 3 Iowa-4 By W. EARL HALL Globe-Gazette Managing Editor Letter No. 12 London--(Air Mail)--In no other phase of the war effort does teamplay count for more than in the operation of a flying fortress. I had known this in a general way but it wasn't until I spent a couple days at the "Hell's Angels" bomber base that I realized the full verity of that observation. Pilot, co-pilot, navigator, bombardier, radio operator and gunners all have their important role to play in the operation and if any one of them falls down, the purpose of a mission is lost. It may mean death to the flyers and destruction for the plane. The difficult and specialized duties of each member were impressed on me as I clambered the length of a flying fortress, equipped and ready for its mission over Europe, except for the bomb load. The nature of the bomb load is not determined until the specific target is known. "There's just one reason for your flying over Germany today," Col. Kermit D. Stevens of Oregon told the crews of his group as they made ready in the wee hours for their mission. "That's to drop your bomb load on the target assigned to you. If you don't do that, you might just as well have stayed home." That's how it is. In flight to and from the target area, maneuvering and evasive action against flak and fighter planes is permissible. But when it comes to the final target run, planes must be held to their exact course, come what may. It's here that the element of teamplay reaches its highest development. And in this connection, I'm reminded of the observation frequently made to me by the commanding officers at the base that "the 5 enlisted men in every crew don't get their share of the credit." One of the Hell's Angels non-coms who has won the commendation of the officers is Phil Smith of Ottumwa. He holds the rank of staff sergeant and he operates the radio equipment on his plane. Like many--and I think I can say most--of the radio men in this important group, Sgt Smith received his technical training at the army radio base in Sioux Falls, S. Dak. Sgt Smith was the first lad I talked to as flyers from the Mersburg mission stepped out of their planes and proceeded to the interrogation building for Red Cross doughnuts and coffee. By coincidence, I had met one of his Ottumwa buddies, Lt. Al Jones, in a London café the previous night. Jones is in the army flying service but at another base. The two had lost track of each other for several months. Now, however, plans are afoot for a London get-together--and it will include another Ottumwa boyhood pal, Howard Fickle. The sergeant and I talked mostly about Iowa. It was with the greatest difficulty that I squeezed out some information about the important flying mission he had just completed. He wanted to know about his Iowa friends, Iowa weather and a dozen other things. In a sense I was an animated letter from home. Often in the movies I've seen pictures of crews getting together for interrogation at the conclusion of a flying mission. This is to say that their fidelity to the real thing is nothing short of amazing. Faces are grim. Clothes are disheveled. Conversation is at a minimum. Principal concern is over the planes which haven't yet set down. A typical question: "What happened to Tom? I saw him get a burst of flak just after his ship finished its bomb run." If anybody harbors the quaint notion that flying over Germany in a fortress is pleasant, Staff Sgt. Phil Smith is one person who can correct the delusion. Like every American boy with whom I've talked over here--and I've met them by the hundreds, he wants more than anything else in the world to "get finish this job and get back home." -- 30 --
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slug-Helps 3 Iowa-4 By W. EARL HALL Globe-Gazette Managing Editor Letter No. 12 London--(Air Mail)--In no other phase of the war effort does teamplay count for more than in the operation of a flying fortress. I had known this in a general way but it wasn't until I spent a couple days at the "Hell's Angels" bomber base that I realized the full verity of that observation. Pilot, co-pilot, navigator, bombardier, radio operator and gunners all have their important role to play in the operation and if any one of them falls down, the purpose of a mission is lost. It may mean death to the flyers and destruction for the plane. The difficult and specialized duties of each member were impressed on me as I clambered the length of a flying fortress, equipped and ready for its mission over Europe, except for the bomb load. The nature of the bomb load is not determined until the specific target is known. "There's just one reason for your flying over Germany today," Col. Kermit D. Stevens of Oregon told the crews of his group as they made ready in the wee hours for their mission. "That's to drop your bomb load on the target assigned to you. If you don't do that, you might just as well have stayed home." That's how it is. In flight to and from the target area, maneuvering and evasive action against flak and fighter planes is permissible. But when it comes to the final target run, planes must be held to their exact course, come what may. It's here that the element of teamplay reaches its highest development. And in this connection, I'm reminded of the observation frequently made to me by the commanding officers at the base that "the 5 enlisted men in every crew don't get their share of the credit." One of the Hell's Angels non-coms who has won the commendation of the officers is Phil Smith of Ottumwa. He holds the rank of staff sergeant and he operates the radio equipment on his plane. Like many--and I think I can say most--of the radio men in this important group, Sgt Smith received his technical training at the army radio base in Sioux Falls, S. Dak. Sgt Smith was the first lad I talked to as flyers from the Mersburg mission stepped out of their planes and proceeded to the interrogation building for Red Cross doughnuts and coffee. By coincidence, I had met one of his Ottumwa buddies, Lt. Al Jones, in a London café the previous night. Jones is in the army flying service but at another base. The two had lost track of each other for several months. Now, however, plans are afoot for a London get-together--and it will include another Ottumwa boyhood pal, Howard Fickle. The sergeant and I talked mostly about Iowa. It was with the greatest difficulty that I squeezed out some information about the important flying mission he had just completed. He wanted to know about his Iowa friends, Iowa weather and a dozen other things. In a sense I was an animated letter from home. Often in the movies I've seen pictures of crews getting together for interrogation at the conclusion of a flying mission. This is to say that their fidelity to the real thing is nothing short of amazing. Faces are grim. Clothes are disheveled. Conversation is at a minimum. Principal concern is over the planes which haven't yet set down. A typical question: "What happened to Tom? I saw him get a burst of flak just after his ship finished its bomb run." If anybody harbors the quaint notion that flying over Germany in a fortress is pleasant, Staff Sgt. Phil Smith is one person who can correct the delusion. Like every American boy with whom I've talked over here--and I've met them by the hundreds, he wants more than anything else in the world to "get finish this job and get back home." -- 30 --
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