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Wit's Story
by Wit

Is Jimmy Buffet really gonna be here? His uncle, Bailey, and I flew together in the 8th Army Air Force throughout 1943-44. The Mighty 8th, brings back some memories... That's why I decided to try out WWIIOnline, because I heard that young Buffet would be in here. Bailey and I were both side-gunners on the Boeing B17, the Flying Fortress, the best bomber that the Allies ever fielded (and the most dependable, most beautiful, and most graceful aircraft that ever flew) and I'll never forget the time that an orange saved our lives. That's right, you heard me, an orange.

If you're interested, I'll tell ya about it. But first, let me tell you a little bit about why and how I got in the war.

On Monday, 8 Dec, 1941, my whole family was gathered around our brand new Hallicrafter Super SkyRider receiver listening to President Roosevelt's radio broadcast describing the attack on Manila and Pearl Harbor that had happened the day before. He called that Sunday "A Day That Will Live In Infamy". He said that the Japanese Ambassador had asked our government for more time to talk, and then they used that time to position their carrier group so that it could attack Hawaii. Thousands of American lives were lost in that surprise attack, an attack without warning, without provocation. He also said that several USofA civilian freighters had been torpedoed just a few hundred miles West of San Francisco. After that broadcast was over, my Dad told us "Boys, mebbe I was born during a Kansas night, but it Sure as Hell wasn't last night. Them Axis fellers mean to try and take what they want, and try to kill anyone who don't like it. We got to go, we got to fight, and by Gawd, we got to win!"

You have to understand, even though we were strong young men in those days, and we held a confidence and belief in our country's leaders that's rarely seen today, we also held a fear for our homeland - a fear that the Reich could bring their Blitz "Lightening War" all the way to the states, maybe even to Kansas. And after we heard Roosevelt tell the events that happened 7 Dec, 1941, none of us knew what the Japanese were really capable of.

On Tuesday, 9 Dec, 1941, me and Dad and my five brothers hitched up the team and went into town. The general store/post office in town had a telephone, and Dad used it to find out where we should go to enlist - turned out that Joplin, Missouri was the closest place, and it was a good 20 miles from Baxter Springs, our town. I remember how disgusted Dad was when they told him over the phone that he was too old to go - he was only 62, and tougher than an old boot. But we did have one stroke of luck, a mail truck came to the general store to deliver letters, and that driver said he'd be proud to take us, as he was on his way to Joplin. While we loaded into the truck, Dad had tears in his eyes as he tried to give us what little money he had left from the soybean crop. And when we said no, he gave us Hell, but I knew he was proud that not one of us took a dime of it.

And I never forgot his words "We not only got to fight - we got to win".

We split up in Joplin, some of us brothers enlisted in the Army (Go Big Red), some in the Navy (Swabbies:), some in the Marine Corp (Semper Fidelis, Hoo-Rah!), and one to the Army Air Force. That last one would be me. They put me on a bus to Perrin Field near Denison, Texas, where I did more book work in three months than the whole state of Kansas did in a year. Many didn't make it through that, but I did. I was selected for pilot training, and under the astute direction of one son-of-a-b***h Captain (who shall remain nameless), I learned to fly the Fairchild PT-19, then the North American BT-14. That Captain and I did not get along, so I transferred over to bomber training at Tarrant Field, near Fort Worth, and learned to fly the AT-17 (Later known as Sky King's Bamboo Bomber), and the Beech AT-11 "Kansan". Heh, I liked that twin engine Kansan.

I graduated as a staff sergeant pilot, but that nameless Captain pulled some strings and got my wings clipped, even though I was in the top 5 percent. He did it because we were both sweet on the Col's daughter, and she liked me better. Even so, there was a war on, they needed me, and by Jan 1943 I was wearing the Star and Wings insignia of the 8th Air Force as a side gunner on the B17, Big Beautiful Babe.

Now, if you got the time and the inclination, I'll tell ya how that orange saved the lives of two B17 gunners in early 1944. You see, some of us developed habits, habits that turned into superstitions, and with every mission that we survived over Germany's heartland, those superstitions became as compulsive as breathing... many of us believed that certain rituals performed before missions were the only reason we made it back when many others didn't. For some, it was a certain way of getting dressed, for others, it was a certain way of entering the aircraft - and for me, it was oranges.

Every mission, I Always took one orange with me, and peeled it right after the wheels came up, because it was too damn cold to take off the gloves and peel it at altitude (and no need to peel it if we didn't make the take-off, as overloaded as we were). I'd always wedge that peeled orange between the aft ammo rack and the longeron it was bolted to, and then when the Lt said we were leaving friendly territory, I'd grab it and eat it. Every time I heard him say "Look Sharp, Eyes Open" (his habit, his superstition) I would go for my orange. Those were dark days, you never knew when your number would come up.

Well, one fateful day, Bailey and I had just unstrapped and test-fired both port and starboard guns, and I had lit a smoke (Yes, against orders, and I still smoke some against Doctor's orders, get over it) when the Lt came over the Interphone and said "Look Sharp, Eyes Open"

Damn! I wasn't ready, I like to never got that Lucky Strike lit, but I wasn't about to let it stop my lifesaving ritual of grabbing that orange. So I grabbed for it and stuck the Lucky Strike right in it (those damn heavy gloves!) and in my haste to salvage what I could of my orange, I dropped it. Well, it rolled toward Bailey and he dove for it (He Knew the power of the orange) and I dove for it, and 'there we were', rolling around in that grand old Lady, trying to grab that orange, when Jethro 'Deathrow' Deaubraux's belly turret .50s start hammering, and the Interphone goes crazy. I heard FW190s called out from all points, but by Gawd, I'm gonna get my orange!

And I did. Bailey had to unplug his Interphone and suit heater cords, and crawl all the way back to the bomb racks - he got it, though, and tossed it to me. I got my mask off, grabbed a bite of 'The Orange', ashes and all, jumped back up to my station, and did my best, just like every one of us always did. We made it to the Initial Point, flew through heavy flak to put the bombs on the target, then re-assembled with the group, and it wasn't until we were well on the way home that we saw the 8 holes in the fuselage, waist high, four on either side of our gun ports, both sides. They were a little bigger than 3/4 inch (we guessed 20mm), came in on my side, exited on Bailey's side, and we both realized that if we hadn't been down trying to grab that orange, we'd have been killed instantly.

I guess it was the luckiest day of my life for two reasons - after debriefing, I was asked (more like escorted) to the CO's office, where I was given an opportunity that changed my effort in the war. He said that the AAF was putting together a very special squadron, and I had been selected by their CO as a potential pilot recruit. He said that this squadron consisted of exceptional pilots, and it was to be equipped with the newest fighter aircraft that the USofA had to offer, and he would not say anything else except that their mission was to Destroy the Hopes of the enemy.

If I accepted the challenge, I was to report to Tye Field near Abilene, Texas, on the following Monday, for evaluation and advanced fighter pilot training (provided I measured up).

I had 23 successful missions and 23 oranges under my belt, but I left Bailey and our B17, the Big Beautiful Babe, with a sadness in my heart, and a determination in my head that I would measure up, come Hell or high water.

"We not only got to fight - we got to win", and here was my chance to make a real difference...