A long time ago I was asked about war experiences. I declined since I really don’t have any. But I have since thought of one that just might fill the bill. And besides I’m jealous of all those guys getting their stuff on TV recently.
It is part of the canon that I must first say that this is the Honest To Gawd truth.
Our group was briefed to bomb some poor, little, out of the way railroad town and then descend and strafe. I was flying co-pilot to a guy by the name of Jasper Hall as flight lead. During the bomb release we had a rack malfunction and only one of our bombs dropped. Jasper was on his 63rd mission (or so) out of a required 65 and was really, really tense. He decided that he didn’t want to go down to strafe with a full bomb load, partly because getting back up to altitude would be a chore with the plane heavy. So he decided to stooge around while the rest strafed.
Jasper called the navigator on the intercom and asked him where there was a safe place to loiter. Long pause. The navigator finally comes back and says he didn’t know because he didn’t make a flak overlay at the briefing. An overlay is a clear plastic sheet which is laid over a map and flak locations drawn in with grease pencil. Jasper’s jaw muscles got tighter and tighter as we circled around while trying to stay in the vicinity of the group so we could rejoin when they got back up to altitude. Not a shot was fired at us or anyone else, maybe because the Germans couldn’t imagine that this town was a target and they didn’t have enough guns to defend everything.
Our crackerjack navigator decided that he couldn’t see well enough from his normal position so he took my seat and I stood between him and the pilot. Finally we joined up with the rest of the group and started home. After a short while the navigator suddenly had to take a leak and didn’t want to leave his seat to go back to the relief tube. I guess he wanted to be sure to do some good navigatin’ after having screwed up badly on the overlay. He needed a container so I gave him my flak helmet which he promply filled about half way and handed it back to me.
Almost immediately the group started taking flak. I guess the group navigator’s overlay wasn’t all that good either. Anyway, the radio/navigation area was right behind the cockpit with a single step leading down to it. I sat down on this step, holding the flak helmet on my lap, trying to make myself as small as possible and looking for a better place to hide.
It wasn’t very funny at the time but is sort of amusing now. Amid all the “glamour” of war, picture some poor sad sack sitting amid an artillery barrage while holding a bucket of somebody else’s piss on his lap. It could never happen to John Wayne. I seeRandolf Scott.playing the lead in the movie version.
You mean that story is funnier than how you got to land with an almost full complement of bombs that had already been toggled to release? 
Well, you have to land sometime.
I’m not an expert on bomb racks but we had a bombardier who presumeably had been to school on them. Of course he might have slept through the emergency procedures instruction day.
I think that there was a way to mechanically “safe” the shackles to the racks so that the things couldn’t be released. In any case when the bombs and detonators had the little propellors on and safety wire preventing the arming propellor from turning, the assembly was quite safe. We notified the group lead and the tower of our condition before landing and we landed in our sequence with the rest of the group. Had there been a danger I’'m pretty sure we would have either landed last or been diverted to some godforsaken emergency field where an accident wouldn’t put our field’s only runway out of commission.
And then they raised the minimum number of rotations to 70.
[sub]Obligatory Catch 22 reference. 
[/sub]
I don’t have any “war stories”, since I blew out my knee skiing and couldn’t join. Neither is this story about my dad a war story, since he wasn’t in combat at the time.
Dad was the communications officer for the 7th Fleet, aboard the flagship USS *Oklahoma City (CLG-5). I don’t remember where this took place, but an admiral visited the ship with his daughter. (I guess it was a different admiral, otherwise he would have been on this flagship.) The admiral wanted someone to escort his daughter and show her a good time while he took care of official business, so my dad was assigned to the task. He “borrowed” the Captain’s gig and took her water skiing. The admiral was impressed that his daughter was shown such a good time, so he sent a “thank you” note to the Captain. Unfortunately, the Captain was a real “by the book” type, and also a bit of a worrier. After reading the admiral’s missive he got on the PA: “Lieutenant. [L.A.], report to the bridge!” :eek: (Since dad had gotten on the admiral’s good side, he just got a stern warning “There could have been sharks out there!” and an admonition not to do it again.)
On a more serious note, dad was Combat Aircrew in Korea on an AD-5 Skyraider AEW aircraft. The AEW aircraft were the last to land, and the aircraft before them crashed on the deck (USS Pilippine Sea, CV-47). They had to divert to the Korean mainland. They ran out of fuel on roll-out. Since they were in a fully enclosed aircraft and were not expected to shoot anything, Dad, the pilot, and the other guy were only wearing summer-weight flightsuits. When the engine quit, they lost their heater. In the Korean winter. The base was in the process of bugging out, so there was just a skeleton crew there. The aircraft had to be refuelled out of 55 gallon drums with hand pumps. The coffee must have been two days old, but it was hot. Dad said, “It was the worst cup of coffee I ever had. And the best.” After gassing up, they flew to Kimpo. I have a photo of dad and the other guys wearing fuzzy hats. The caption reads “Kimpo Detachment”. 
Thanks for the story, David Simmons. The situation sounds like a real pisser!
){kind=link}