My parents rented a house in Electra before moving to the oil field where we were closer to the station. In the fall of 1935, the family moved from the field to town. Our house was built with the bonus Dad received from World War I service. This location was my residence until finishing high school in 1940.

Most young men and friends of mine volunteered for the Air Force, but I took another route. On August 6^th, at twenty years of age, I had not given any thought to the Service, but was preparing to return to North Texas State Teacher College in Denton, Texas. On August 7^th, the mailman left a card informing me I was classified 1-A with another card following on August 20^th. It stated I was to appear for a physical august 24^th and cautioned that failure to report at this time and place indicated will result in your being reported to the U.S. District attorney as a delinquent. To my knowledge, I was the first 20 year old to be drafted from the Electra board.

On September 15, 1942, I was sent to Camp Barkley, Abilene, Texas for an inductions physical. At the end of the line sat a fellow, who to my surprise, asked if I wanted to go to camp immediately or take fifteen days to report. Everything had happened so suddenly I do not remember my thoughts as I boarded the bus, leaving Electra on September 23, 1942 at 7:00 AM for Mineral Wells, Texas and the inductions center of Camp Walters. I stayed there two weeks longer than my group as the Air Force "One Size Fits All" didn't. It took that time for my Class A uniform to be whittled down to my size.

My next move was to Sheppard Field, Wichita Falls, Texas where I spent three months recovering from surgery on my left leg, first in the hospital and later on quarters.  January 8, 1943 found me entering B-25, B-26 Airplane Mechanics School which operated around the clock. Depending on your schedule, you could receive noon, supper or breakfast at the mess hall. One of my memories was a 2:00 AM trip to the mess hall.  About two blocks from arriving, I could smell a strong fish odor, resulting in zero appetite.

One of my instructors there was my high school wood shop teacher. Due to my school grades, I was interviewed for O.C.S. but nothing ever came of it. On May 8, 1943, I graduated with Private 1st Class rank but I don't remember how much my pay increased.  Then it was off to the Aerial Gunnery School, Tyndall Fields, Panama City, Florida. At school's end, I was now sergeant receiving air crew member wings, and with it came money, as flying status garnered base pay plus fifty percent more.

From Gunnery School, I went to Salt Lake City, Utah and a large Air Force replacement pool, then on to Pocatello, Idaho.  A bus load of us arrived at the base gate with the guard there not knowing nothing about us. The guard contacted the C.O., who was equally in the dark. After more delay, the Officer of the Day arrived asking where we were from and where we were supposed to be.  Imagine a G.I. being so informed?  More waiting. The barracks and mess hall were opened and the powers-that-be set off to learn our real destination. We cooled our heels there  for two or three week until the paperwork arrived saying we should have gone to Casper, Wyoming.

The trip form Pocatello to Casper was quite a story. First we took a bus to the train which consisted of four cars, counting the engine. The seats were the ancient wooden ones and at one end of the car was a coal-burning stove; cinders came in the windows as much closed as open. After dark the conductor lit some sort of light with a match. All the comforts of home! Surely Buffalo Bill must have shot buffalo from one of those cars.

At Casper, I was assigned to crew number 145, Flight Officer McCutchin, pilot. If anything unusual was going to happen, it was this this crew. By the time we had finished O.T.C. our bunch was well known by Operations.

Our crew then broke up and I traveled alone to Fairmont, Nebraska. I had to get to Denver, Colorado before any of the train crew knew where Fairmont was located!! The ground was covered with snow as I dismounted the train and I could see down a street to the end of town. At the base, I was assigned to the 451st Bomb Group, 724th Squadron, Crew 9.  

Thanksgiving Day, 1943, our Group began it's journey to combat. It was a southern route, stopping in Miami, Puerto Rico, Balem and Natal, Brazil. Each plane left Natal on it's lonesome for an over water night flight to Nakar, North Africa.  While there, Roosevelt came through  with a conference with Churchill. North Africa didn't resemble anything from my geography book. No monkeys, or elephants, but did see the desert.

It was very, very cold in Tunisia where we spent several weeks at a town near Constantine, flying practice missions while waiting for a field in Italy.  Following snow and rain almost every day, the first of January, 1944 the Group flew to Gioia De Cole, Italy. From this location we flew about a month under severe weather conditions. The Group bombed Reginsburg, Germany on February 25th. By the time the last plane had taken off, the runway sunk and the planes appeared to be going down a river with mud and water flying everywhere. The runway sank enough that the planes could not land upon their return. The group received the first three Unit Citations with this mission. Two squadrons flew to one base and two squadrons flew to a base occupied by another Bomb Group. With this arrangement the 451st had to rendezvous as a group, join wing, then join Air Force, making more flying time than other Groups. After a month we moved to our permanent base near Foggia.

The following is a condensation of an article in the Air Force Magazine concerning the target at Polesti, Romania:

Polesti was the third most heavily defended target in Europe... being about twenty square miles with nineteen targets. At the time of the opening  salvo against the German oil in early 1944. Polesti's estimated production was 450,000 tons of crude oil output per month, of which, 177,000 tons represented maximum gasoline production. Polesti was finally knocked out in a three day assault in August 1944. In the twenty-three attacks, nineteen were by the 15th Air Force. 90% of it's production was denied the Nazis. However, the cost was great - 2277 airmen lost or missing plus 270 aircraft. In the liberation of Bucharest, Romania, one thousand airmen were found.

On April, 1944, the 15th Air Force went to Polesti for the first time after the low level attack,  where now the railroad yard would be 451st largest. The briefing said we could expect 150-200 enemy aircraft and the flak would be intense, heavy and accurate. We were approaching the I.P. under heavy fighter attack and the plane flying lead for our twelve planes began to slowly lose altitude. The remaining planes in the formation began to follow the decent when the ball turret gunner bailed out. The rest of the flight had to quickly regroup, joining the balance of the 451st. In the meantime German fighters continued giving us all they had. The ME-109 kept up the attack from the I.P. until the flak hit us. Once off the target, the enemy fighters were waiting for us on the other side. As we came off the target, I counted twenty seven  parachutes from my nose turret.  The Germans were still attacking what seemed a long time after bombs away. Our fighter escort were to have been 43 P-47s and 132 P-38s; never did show. The mission was seven and a half hours long and in my diary I wrote this was the worst mission up to that time. The Group received it's second Unit Citation for this trip. 

On June 23rd, 1944 the target was the Georgian Oil Storage in the Polesti area.  By now the German Luftwaffe was pretty well out of the air and briefing  told us not to expect any aircraft but flak would be common. After briefing, McCutchin said if I did not find a crew I could fly with him on this milk run.  I needed one more mission and I could go home. Back to McCutchin, he lost number one engine over the target to flak and twenty minutes later number two engine failed. When they reached Yugoslavia,  the plane did not have enough altitude to get over the mountains and could not climb so all bailed out and were captured and held prisoners for 333 days. One member of the crew marched more than 500 miles before being liberated.  Fortunately, I flew with Lt. O'Connor without incident.

The USS General Meigs landed in Newport News, Virginia on August 4, 1944. The mess hall tables there had large pitchers of milk and all the ice cream you could eat.  I was given a thirty day leave and on August 20, 1944 I married my high school sweetheart, Doris McHugh.

Until September, 1945 I was assigned to the Air Inspector's Office at a P-38 base in Santa Maria, California, where I worked until my discharge from service at Fort Sam Houston. San Antonio, Texas, September 15, 1945.

Adios, Uncle Sam and I live happily ever after!!