Memories of my years in the Army Air Corps

World War II January 1943 - January 1946

The year was 1941; the year I graduated from High School. There were a lot of feelings that our future was rather in doubt!

War was raging in Europe, and there was a lot of talk that the United States would eventually become involved. The movie theaters usually showed news pictures showing the horror taking place in Europe created by the German leaders, and the slaughter of the Chinese by the invading Japanese Empire. Not a very bright outlook for the graduating class!

On December 7th of that year 1941, the Japanese, without warning, bombed the U.S. Naval Base at Pearl Harbor and practically sank the U.S. Fleet, killing 2,334 people and wounding 1,347. The United States was now involved in what became World War II. The enlistments in the Military soared to the point that it overwhelmed their ability to process these volunteers. I like so many other boys my age (17 years old) were signing up in the service of their choice.

I wanted to join the Air Corps! I had always wanted to be a pilot! I fantasized that dream from a young age of 4 years old, and that urge was stimulated by my older brother Robert, who in later years inflamed that urge again when he was working on his pilot's license, when he paid for my very first flight at the Haverhill Airport! I was bitten!

However, at 17 years of age I could not enlist in the Air Corps until 18 years. And my Dad, wise as he was, would not sign for my enlistment. It was a disappointment. He told me that this war would likely last many years, and I would be involved before it ended. He also said there is no point in rushing to die. I had to concede to his wisdom.

The whole year of 1942 became very sobering, as the newspapers began reporting the deaths of airmen, sailors and soldiers from Haverhill, older boys that preceded me in school!

As the New Year of 1943 came, I was nineteen years old, and the drafting of men for the Army neared my calling number, also the numbers of my friends. It was time to make a choice. Two of us joined the Marines, two joined the Navy, and I and a friend joined the Army. I asked for the Army Air Corps in hopes of somehow becoming an Air Cadet, or air crew member.

I arrived at the Army Base known as Fort Devens in Ayer, Massachusetts. This was the induction center for New England. The date was February 5,1943. Everything moved fast from that day onward. We took aptitude tests and general knowledge tests, received medical exams, and were given our uniforms, we then took the Oath, were sworn in as soldiers and notified which branch of the service we were assigned. Some to Infantry, some to Signal Corps, Artillery, and Air Corps.

I was assigned to the Air Corps; the Air Corps would decide what my future would be. I was so happy! At that time I didn't know that I was not selected for the Air Cadet Program. I believe that God must have had plans for me! I soon joined others in our group; as our names were called we boarded a troop train to somewhere! We later learned that due to security and secrecy, a person finds out where one is going only when you arrive at your destination!

After about five days of traveling south, we noticed palm trees, and then we were told that we were going to Miami Beach for our basic training.

I spent 20 days learning to salute officers, two hours of calisthenics a day, attending lectures on the "Articles of War", and movies on venereal diseases, we learned how to march in "close order" drill, and marched in parades.

One day after drills, names were called and were told that your group was "shipping out," and don't bother to ask where. On the train we noticed that we were heading north! What do you know! New York City! LaGuardia Field for schooling in air-craft repair and maintenance. No pilot training for me, but at least I'd be near those beautiful airplanes. From LaGuardia to Newark, NJ, Casey Jones School of Aeronautics, then Roosevelt Field on Long Island, NY.

During my stay at Roosevelt Field, our brother airmen were taking a beating while bombing the German war machine in Europe, losing many airplanes, pilots and air crews!

One day a notice appeared on the bulletin board, the Air Corps needed more pilots. Anyone wishing to become pilots should sign up. I lost no time! A number of us were driven to Mitchell Field a few miles away on Long Island. I took the physical, passed the written test, and was so very happy to think I may get to be a pilot after all! Wrong, to my surprise the eye test that I had taken showed I was color blind! So it was a no go, in spite of my "begging." The flight surgeon said to fail later in the program would be a more bitter pill to swallow. He was right of course! Well maybe someday I would be a pilot, all I had to do was live long enough!

After graduation we were sent to the Bell Air Craft Factory School in Niagara Falls, NY to learn about the Army Air Corps P-39 fighter plane, hi the middle of September 1943 we graduated from the fighter school, and were on stand-by for assignment to either a newly forming squadron or whatever fate was planning for us.

The Eighth Air Force in England was losing bombers by the dozens, each bomber had a crew of ten men, five of which were aerial gunners. Once again, there was a call for volunteers to become aerial gunners! Once more I and others like me signed up; there were so many like me who wanted to fly! A group of us were shuttled to Buffalo, NY given physicals again; again none of us were ever called. God apparently had other plans. Oh gee, I wanted to be an air crew member if not a pilot! September of 1943 was fading into October and no sign of our joining a bomber group, let alone a new group.

Finally, a call! 50 of us by alphabetical order were told to pack up! We were shipping out! We were going to Keams Air Force Base at Salt Lake City, UT. The first time we were ever told where we were going! What a let-down, not a single airplane, not even an airstrip: Keams Air Base was an overseas training center to prepare for over-seas assignment as replacements to whatever squadron was undermanned. What a let-down again!

When we arrived at Kearns, we were told that we were supposed to have been given a ten-day leave to go home; it never happened. The Air Base had no open barracks to house us, so we were told to go home and be back within ten days. We scrambled for telephones to call home for money to get home. My brother Robert financed my trip, it would be my last chance to see my family, maybe forever? It was great to see my family after nine months in the service! And it was a somber good-bye when I left to return to Utah and Kearns Air Force Base.

We spent about four weeks at Kearns. More calisthenics, rifle range, obstacle courses over walls, crawling on our bellies under barbed wire, while live machine guns fired just above our heads, training for poison gas, going through gas chambers, real infantry training! Even 20 mile hikes with full packs! When we asked why this type of training, we were told that you never knew if your air base could be over-run by the enemy! It was here that I qualified as an "expert shot" with a carbine.
 

Soon the training was all over and we were back on the troop trains to some unknown port of embarkation. It turned out to be Camp Kilmer in NJ, a short ride to the docks at New York City. We must be on our way to Europe! No permanent assignment as yet, our morale was low, not having been assigned to an existing squadron in the U.S.A.

It was a matter of a few weeks and one fine day we were driven in troop trucks to the docks in Manhattan, and to the sound of military bands we boarded a ship! How discouraging not even a plane ride to our destination!

It was a somber feeling as we walked up the gang plank with our steel helmets and our barracks bag over our shoulders. We had our winter wool uniforms taken from us at Camp Kilmer, and surmised that we couldn't be going to Europe, perhaps our destination would be Africa, since our troops had taken over Morocco and Libya. The ship we boarded was named "Santa Cruz" or "Holy Cross" and thought that was a good omen; we should make it to the other side safely even though the German submarines were sinking a lot of ships in the Atlantic! We left the port of New York on December 7, 1943, how ironic the second year after the Pearl Harbor disaster. It soon became apparent that we were not part of a typical convoy of many ships! We were the only ship and guarded by two Navy destroyers.

After a few days at sea, the ship became the home of a thousand or more sea-sick land-lubbers. The ship just reeked, the lavatories a sea of vomit. Now we knew why we were issued our steel helmets so soon, the helmets made great vomit buckets! A few more days and we realized that our ship and our naval escorts were heading south. Where are we going? Soon it was "Land Ho"! We were stopping at Cuba for repairs; salt water had somehow entered the boilers and had to be corrected. Then it was onto the Panama Canal. We must be going to the Pacific ... as we left the Panama Canal, where were our escort destroyers? Oh, they are not joining us, we are on our own!! What a shock! No escorts, we are as good as dead! The Jap subs will get us for sure. The good ship Santa Cruz or Holy Cross will see us to our destination! We pondered this and prayed silently! The good ship Santa Cruz plowed on, and we began to be at ease with the prospect of "going on alone."

About a week later we began talking about Christmas. Here we are, each of us feeling blue, our first Christmas away from home. Only the silence of the ship slicing through the calm of the Pacific Ocean. It was very much like a lake, that's how the Pacific came by its name. The ship's lights were out, and the stars were so brilliant, and so it was, as we thought of home. I attended Holy Mass that morning on the Center Deck!

Because all of us in the Air Corps were non-commissioned officers, that is. Corporals, we were chosen to assist in the defense of the ship. In the event of an enemy attack, we would assist the "Armed Guard" (a branch of the U.S. Navy) assigned to the ship. For the next week we were taught the locations of the ship's ammunitions and the use of the communication stations. My assignment was to pass ammunitions from the locker located in the stem (back of the ship) to the crew of the 5-inch gun. Not a warm feeling being inside that ammunition locker!

In the meantime, I was to stand watch at anti-aircraft gun stations as a "look out" for submarine periscopes, which leave a trail of white water on the surface. We used field glasses and wore head-sets to alert the ship's bridge. This duty was 2 hours on and 4 hours off. One day as all seemed to be well and serene, the ship slowed down and stopped! What now! For two days we drifted and fretted about Jap submarines. Somehow, salt water had entered the ship's boiler, a repeat of the problem as we neared Cuba. Finally, the ship's engines started up and we were on our way once again. Hooray, a moving target is more difficult to hit! We began to wonder how much longer our luck would hold out!

A few days later the ship's Captain announced that there would be a practice firing of the ship's guns. "Lord, don't tell me that the ship is being run by rookies!" Perhaps, but we never found out! The assisting defense crews, "the airmen" would report to their battle stations. The rest of the passengers will remain below decks. A few days later, the "general quarters alarm" sounded for the firing practice. I ran to my battle station on the aft deck where the 5-inch bore gun was located. The bridge gave the firing order for each station. First it was the anti-aircraft guns, then the main deck's 3 inch guns and finally the biggest of all, the 5 inch gun on the after deck. When it first fired, the concussion almost made me wet my pants!

A few days later we we told that we were about to cross the Equator. The ship's crew appeared dressed as Pirates and we were given the Rights of Passage from King Neptune. We were suddenly drenched with the ship's fire hoses. The next day we were given a wallet-sized card attesting to the passage.

It was a nice change from the boredom of watching the flying fish following on the sides of the ship! And the days blended into one another as we traveled to our unknown destination! Then one morning just before dawn, while all were sleeping, that ear-piercing "general quarters alarm" sounded again startling all on board. The scrambling was terrifying as I raced to dress up and get into my shoes, then ran to my battle station. This had to be real as there was no announcement of a "drill"!

Once in my ammunition locker, my heart was really pounding, my thoughts raced through my head and turned to my Mom, Dad and to God. My prayer was brief "Dear God, I don't want to die in here with all this ammunition."

After a period time, that seemed like "forever" the all clear alarm sounded and the ship's Captain announced that a "friendly" airplane had scouted the area, creating the highest alert situation! What a relief! The Captain also added that we were about one day out from our destination - Noumea Harbour, a port on New Caledonia Island.

We entered the pjjst of Noumea on January 17, 1944, we had been at sea for 42 days. What a cruise! ! And when the ship tied up to the dock, a loud cheer arose from the ship. Dry land at last, we made it! We expected to see military trucks to take us to our destinations, but no, we had to wait three more days until the washed out roads could be repaired from a hurricane that had passed over when we were at sea! Will we ever get off this ship that in our frustrations were now calling a "Mud Scow"? Such disrespect for the faithful "Santa Cruz."

Within a few days an Army convoy of trucks came and we were all taken to the Replacement Center, this would be a temporary stay until our final destination. The Center provided tents and field kitchens to serve all branches of the Army-Infantry, Artillery, Medical and Air Corps replacements. Daily we began saying goodbye to our friends we had made while going through mechanic school as our group of 50 was being depleted by twos and threes, flying out to fighter groups, bomber groups, etc.

One day it was my turn, and a friend who had been with me since Fort Devens, a guy from Vermont, Bob Edminster, had been assigned to the 28th Depot Repair Squadron on the very island we were on. About as far back from the action as one could get. New Caledonia here we are!

We boarded a personnel carrier and were driven about 50 miles up the Island to the Air Base. At last, here is a base with airplanes of all kinds, even a hangar. Finally, arriving at the Headquarters I met the Commanding Officer, and the office staff, then after a quick identity check against my records, serial number, etc., I was assigned to a six-man tent occupied by four other airmen. I was introduced to them, and welcomed by them. They seemed like regular guys.

I was shown where all the facilities were: mess hall, the community showers, and the Johns. The squadron was made up of a lot of guys from Texas. The squadron was originated in Texas and had been overseas for about a year.

I was introduced to the crew that I was going to work with, headed by a Staff Sargeant by the name of Bill Prince. This crew was assigned to modify B-25 medium bombers and like a production line, it stretched a seemingly 1/2 mile. There must have been at least 30 - 40 of them. I seemed to be accepted by the crew as the days went by. Each day and the days that followed were filled with work, and it was good to be there, hearing the sounds of airplane engines, take-offs and landings. On good days after work we were taken to a beautiful clear water river, not too far from our living area, and we swam, and washed before our supper. This was great; for a war, it was a pleasant surprise.

I lost track of my school friend, Bob Edminster, who had been with me since Fort Devens. He had been assigned to a different crew at this same base but not on the B-25 project.

One day followed another and as the days passed one by one, ! received mail from home, and from my closest friend Kite who was in the Navy. He was in the middle of the action up North from me. My sister Claire wrote to me very faithfully keeping me abreast of our family, and also the local guys from Haverhill who wouldn't be coming home.

The B-25 was an impressive airplane and how I longed and wished that I could fly it! It wasn't to be. It came equipped with a 55 millimeter cannon in the nose, and rear machine guns were only 30 caliber. This arrangement was not suitable for the intended use for ground support. It was our job to remove the cannons and rear guns to be replaced with 50 caliber guns for strafing purposes. This was basically the plane that General Doolittle used to bomb Tokyo soon after Pearl Harbor.

£TC

During this time, the Line Chief, Master Sergeant Gene Slaughter, a stern leader of the B-25 project submitted my name to headquarters and I was promoted to Sergeant. This was a promotion over several corporals in the squadron who came over-seas with the original organization. I believe that my enthusiasm and love of airplanes and flying may have been a deciding factor. As a result, I was able to fly as a "Crew Chief on test flights following the modifications on the B-25s. That resulted in my "Air Crew Wings." I still did ground work on the B-25 project, but also flew in the flight tests.

It was thrilling to ride as the test pilots would fire the 14 machine guns in the nose of the B-25 at an old ship wreck off the coast of New Caledonia. As the war progressed, little did I know that my career would be so brief, as the project ended about six months later! The crew chiefs were responsible to perform all of the pre-flight inspections, including fueling the aircraft, checking the ship's log to assure that all repairs listed were signed off as completed by the ground crew, and assuring that the test pilots had signed off after the flight test, and the aircraft secured at the hard stand (parking place). On rare occasions I sat in as copilot, for a few minutes as a gesture by the pilots. This was great, I was flying though not in combat it was thrilling and rewarding. In time all projects in New Caledonia were finished and the Pacific war was gathering momentum, this base was to be closed, consequently we were flown to the Solomon Islands to the infamous Island of Guadalcanal.

Our work here was to repair some B-24 Liberators, and B-17 Fortresses that had not been flown to New Caledonia due to the lack of time and lack of proper equipment for advanced air bases. We also were to destroy those aircraft determined to be damaged beyond air-worthiness. We also had to oversee that warehouse parts were in satisfactory condition to forward to front line air bases. A sort of clean-up mission. It was nearing Christmas of 1944. the war in the Pacific was advancing northward toward Japan at an increasing rate. Our work was necessary, but boring and not very exciting.
 

Our squadron medical doctor, and our Commanding Officer along with the cooks at the mess hall had planned a party for Christmas. We were all asked to pitch in five dollars each. The Commanding Officer sent an air crew in a B-24 bomber to Australia. The bomber had quickly been fitted out with a plywood floor in the bomb bay to carry back the surprise. They returned with fresh milk and fresh eggs. What a treat!

Late in the afternoon, the day before Christmas, the cooks and the medical officer proceeded to make a fruit punch, with cans of fruit juice and 100% medical alcohol. Some party that afternoon and evening! I never saw 200-250 drunken soldiers all at once! I had only a few drinks, as a taste, because I wanted to attend Mass in the mess tent the following morning. There wasn't much of a Christmas dinner, the cooks all had hang-overs and there weren't too many guys up for eating breakfast! That was Christmas number two, 5.000 miles from home! That was okay though because it began to look like I would get home eventually, not like a lot of men doing the fighting up North.

One day I received a letter that Henry Sansoucie from our boyhood crowd, a Marine, had been killed in action during the assault on the Marshall Islands. He was only 17 years old, and without a father, his Mother had been very reluctant to sign his request to join the Marines. She stated that it was like signing his death warrant, and it turned out to be so. Knowing that his Marine Division was on a rest leave at Guadalcanal, I had access to a Jeep and was able to get time off to drive up to the Marine encampment. On arriving at the Marine base, I located his division, and met another Marine from Haverhill, who claimed that he was with Henry and witnessed his death! He gave me Henry's wristwatch so I could mail it back to his Mom. He also told me that Henry had gone to Mass and Communion the day before the landing. What a somber trip, but I knew that his Mom would cherish his watch and the fact that he had gone to Mass the day before. What a coincidence 5,000 miles from Haverhill!

Time was dragging on, our armed forces in the Pacific were growing hi numbers and were smashing the Japanese forces everywhere. One day an order came down and 35 of us were told to pack up, we were going to Nad|ab, New Guinea to close up another Air Force Base. A few days after we arrived, the B-24 Squadron made their last raid from this base, and we witnessed their raid on their mission to bomb Rabaul, a huge Japanese base, that was neutralized and would be left to "rot on the vine" as it were.

We were the "clean-up crew" to see that all Air Force material had been removed, and that airplanes that were abandoned were not flyable! I came down with Malaria here in New Guinea and was soon sent to a Field Hospital. I was really sick and almost died. One day my temperature was up to 105 degrees. I was burning hot and praying. A nurse that read my temperature immediately ran out of the tent! Now I really began to panic. She came back though with a few other nurses, took off my clothes down to bare skin and covered me with ice cubes! Where did they get these in this tropical jungle? My temperature came down and I survived (obviously) thanks to the Virgin Mary and those good Army nurses.

A few weeks later our crew left Naofab. Our air transport flew us to the northern tip of New Guinea. We circled the Island of BiaK; and landed to join the rest of our 28th Depot Repair Squadron, who had gone before us from Guadacanal. We were all together for the first time since I joined this group. We were informed that we were now part of the 5th Air Force, and no longer part of the 13th Air Force.

What a huge Air base this was. I don't know how many separate ground squadrons there were, my guess would be four to five squadrons of ground crews. There was a lot of air traffic coming and going and I would surmise that we were the major supply for replacement of new aircraft, fighters and bombers and other supplies for the Army Air Force in the Pacific area. The war in the Pacific was going at a fierce pace. Bombers were being ferried in, and fighter planes being unloaded from ships. What activity! It was here that I saw the B-29 Super Fortress for the first time. What a sight!

I had my own crew and was assigned to the P-38 fighter line. For months, all I did was to assure that my eight fighters were always ready to be flown to the front lines. We were a crew of four, myself and three corporals. Every three days we would remove the canvas cover from the engine super-charger and from the pilots cockpit. My helpers would stand by with fire extinguishers and I would start the two engines, let them warm-up until the engine oil would reach operating temperature and then turn them off. This protected the engines from the extreme dampness of the tropics. Then we would replace the canvas coverings. When the ferry pilots would fly them away, we would repeat the cycle with new fighters. This was a lot of fun, but no more flying for me.

One night the "air raid alarm" sounded, which was a firing of the anti-aircraft guns into the sky. At the first alarm, we hurriedly dressed and ran to the air shelter, which was nothing more than a fox hole in the ground. More anti-aircraft fire, then an "all clear" sounded. We were subsequently told that a lone Japanese bomber had followed a friendly airplane to escape detection and had dropped one bomb on the main runway. A "desperation raid" by a stranded Japanese base that had been left to starve and die because their military could not protect, nor supply them, let alone rescue them!

Spring of 1945 went into summer, although at 3 degrees away from the Equator, it wasn't noticeable. Once again this air base was too far from the action of war. The activity slowed down to next to nothing; and once again, we began the closing process of this base on Biak Island.

Being on the Equator, and not having much work to do, we had a lot of free time. The ocean waters were warm, almost like bath water, and the evenings lasted well into 9:00 o'clock pm. Hence, we did a lot of swimming. We had a raft out in the water about 100 feet from shore, and being near the Equator there were practically no waves, we could go under water and see all the beautiful multi-colored fish! Somehow though, it didn't seem right knowing our comrades in arms were fighting and dying further North!

It's now August of 1945, lots more time off and we’re destroying old war-weary aircraft. We drain the gasoline from the airplanes, remove flight instruments, propellers, then cut the wings off and push them over a cliff. The instruments, and propellers are taken out into the deep ocean and thrown over-board. No flyable aircraft to be left behind.

One night the quiet was shattered by a massive amount of anti-aircraft fire! We ran from our tents expecting to hear the sound of enemy bombers. The sky was ablaze with exploding anti-aircraft shell fire. Then came a wave of shouting from everywhere. "The Japs have surrendered, the War is over!" The whisky that had been stored for years came alive, and the joy was an unforgettable scene.

The next days and weeks were filled with joy and the wonder of how soon we will get to go home. Of course, the old timers with long over-seas duty would go home first based on the point system that had been planned prior to the advent of victory. I couldn't get too excited because I was a "new comer" to the squadron, with 18 months over seas. Now the clean-up and closure of the Biak Base continued with enthusiasm, and a few weeks later myself and the "short timers" said goodbye to our friends of the 28 Depot Repair Squadron, and we boarded an L.S.T. (Landing Ship Tank) and this time we were told that we were on our way to Yokohama, Japan. An ocean cruise, with no stress this time.

After about ten days we arrived in Yokohama and were driven to Haneda Air Force Base. This was an established Japanese Air Base. There were wooden barracks which looked good as it was late September and the weather was cool. Cooler than we were used to, after all we had been in the tropics for so long.

It was not to be, our superiors were well informed of the atrocities that the Japanese did to our flight crews who had to parachute out of their airplanes over Japan. Therefore, those nice barracks had to be thoroughly searched for hidden explosives. And to show good faith, we had to surrender our rifles to our

own forces. Not a cozy thought. We were also told to remove our Air Force shoulder patches, because of the hatred we might experience from the Japanese survivors of our bombing raids. That was understandable! One could hardly blame them, yet they started this war! hi the meantime, the nights were getting colder and we were very uncomfortable sleeping in tents.

A few days later, I became ill, as I noticed that I was passing blood. I reported to sick bay and was taken to the big concrete hospital in Tokyo. This fine hospital was on the "No Bomb List"; it was a beautiful building built by Americans after a severe earthquake many years before the war. I was cared for by Arrny doctors and Army nurses. After x-rays and other tests, I was told I had a kidney stone. It was now Christmas week and, once again, my thoughts of home weighed on my mind as I longed to be home. This would be Christmas number 3, and again far away, and in a really strange country. I was feeling blue.

The doctors were able to crush the stone, but one small piece stayed in my kidney. I was free to roam around the hospital. It was a huge building to a small town boy. I'm not sure, but my memories say eight floors. Each floor had balconies that opened into the central part of the hospital's interior. Sort of like an opera theater! We were told that religious services would be held there, on the stage on Christmas day. I attended the Catholic Mass on Christmas day, and was feeling very homesick! At the proper time of the Mass a pretty Japanese girl, dressed in a brilliantly colored Kimono sang the Ave Maria. What a flood of emotions that came over me! What an awakening, not all Japanese were evil, I felt guilty, I felt sad, the tears came as I thought of my Christmas Masses at home. I was alive, and the war was really over. I praised God, the war was really over!

A few days later my doctor had been notified by my superiors at Haneda Air Base that I had a sufficient number of points to be sent home. The doctor said that since my stone had broken up, and I had passed most of the pieces, I could go home if I signed a Release. I didn't lose any time signing the Release and my doctor called my Headquarters at Haneda Air Base. I was picked up by the Sargeant of the motor pool.

A few days later I and a group of about 20 others including the guy from Vermont that had been in my outfit since we entered the Air Corps at Fort Devens were driven to the docks at Yokohama! We settled on board ship, it was only a matter of days when we pulled away from the docks and we were saying "so long" to that famous land mark, the white capped mountain of Mount Fugiyama. Even though it was only a matter of days, it seemed like forever when we pulled into San Francisco Bay. I had never been there, but oh Lord, when the ship passed under the Golden Gate Bridge, a cheer went up from the decks of that ship that must have been heard in downtown San Francisco. There weren't too many dry eyes I'll tell you!

When we docked at the pier, what a reception! Huge signs saying "Welcome Home to the Greatest Soldiers in the World". There were four military bands playing one song after another: God Bless America, The Star-Spangled Banner, the Air Corps song. It was an unforgettable moment, one I will always remember!

There was a long line of Army trucks, we boarded and were driven to some army base which name I cannot recall. Upon arrival, we were given free long distance telephone lines, with unlimited time to call home. What a great home-coming! And all the fresh milk we could drink! As I write this, those wonderful emotions come back and it is so uplifting to my heart!

We were all segregated as to our final destinations. We were issued new uniforms, and somehow, to this day I do not know how it was done, because all our ribbons, representing medals, our stripes as to our rank, and our Air Force patches were sewed to our new uniforms. Apparently, those who were sewing all of this to our new uniforms had access to the information of our names, and records, etc.

Once again, a few days later, we boarded a troop train to Fort Devens, Massachusetts, "our original starting point of 3 years ago." After appropriate stops along the way to drop off other servicemen, we finally reached Fort Devens - we were really home! I called my brother Robert and he knew beforehand that I would call after my discharge was final. It seemed like no time at all, and I was on my way to 2 Woodcock Avenue!

I was given a grand reception, but the only ones that I can remember now is my Mom and Dad. The first to greet and hug rne was my Dad. My thoughts at that moment were "How right my Dad was, when he wouldn't sign for my enlistment five years ago." Perhaps I would not be here today. More tears of joy — I had flown enough! Thank you Holy Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Pacific Theater Casualties - Killed in Action

•    Army Ground Troops        38,458

•    Army Air Corps Airmen    16,687

•    Navy                                  31,032

•    Marine Corps                     22.479

Total:   108,656