Coming in 2011: New Book about the 95th Bomb Group

The new 95th Bomb Group history 'Into the Wild Blue Yonder and Beyond' is in its final publication stages with Potomac Books and will be released in 2011. The book tells the story of the Bomb Group and its subsequent Foundation from its inception through the current day. Included are chapters on wives, POWs, ground crews, entertainment and London, the British, and much more. The book is arranged, for the most part, chronologically, except for specialty chapters such as wives or Entertainment.

95th Bomb Group (H) Reunion in Washington DC: Photos Batch One

Lt. Keith Murray, missing in action. Keith walked over the Pyrenees Mountains to Spain in the fall of 1943. Of the twenty-odd men making the trek, only three survived.

A photo of the young, handsome Keith Murray taken before shipping overseas.

Keith Murray today. Bigger muscles than most twenty-year-olds, Keith pumps iron and plays golf despite having lost a number of his fingers: he plays with a left-handed club. Keith was one of the very first men in the original cadre of the 95th, joining the Group in its infancy in Spokane, Washington .

Charlie Besser and his wife were my tablemates at the final banquet. Charlie won this wooden B-17 model for being the oldest attending veteran at age 94. Charlie was one of the original cadre of the 95th, as was Keith Murray.

Adam Hinojos and his family at the banquet. Adam spent the entire war at Horham as a member of the 457th Sub Depot.

L-R: TT Gunner Irv Rothman (POW); Pilot John Walter; Bob Spinnenweber; Pilot Ed Jacobson; Bob Inman. Men whose crew position is not listed are those that I am unsure of.

Top Row, L-R: Irv Rothman, John Walter, Bob Spinnenweber, Ed Jacobson, Bob Inman, Harry Hull, Jack Bertram.

Bottom Row, L-R: Keith Murray, Charlie Besser, Fred Kennie, Herb Wilkov, Bob Fay.

Rob Morris, Red Dillon and Paul Dillon. Red was shot down on the Broman Crew over Munster in October 1943 and became a POW. He is one of the top-scoring ball turret gunners of the European Theater. Paul is the illustrator of my new book on the 95th.

Mary and Dub Vandergriff look at the 95th's plaque at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Arlington National Cemetery.

Ben 'Rojo' Rojanksy and Herb Wilkov confer.

Herb Wilkov, a shot that captures his humanity and goodness.

My dear friend pilot John Walter, who wrote 'My War' and who helped me write 'Into the Wild Blue.

Thumbs-up from Red Dillon!

Jack Bertram, a quiet hero.

Ball turret gunner Bob Fay, a good friend and a great contributor to the unit history.

Keith Murray and his daughter. Keith proves that real men wear pink.

James Mutton presents Karl Voss with his old kit bag.

Band of Brothers.

Another wonderful reunion filled with stories, friendship, and history. The 95th met at the end of August for its annual reunion. Around twenty veterans of the Group were in attendance, as well as many family members and friends. Here are some photos from the reunion.

Photo of 95th BG Rongstad Crew Discovered after Years of Searching

Three 95th Vets pay tribute to the fallen crew in June 2010. Redlingfield, Suffolk. (Photo by Richard Flagg)

Monument to the crew, erected in 2010. (Photo by Richard Flagg)

The Rongstad Crew. Front Row: Left to Right: 2nd Lt. Kenneth B. Rongstad of Montana, 2nd Lt. Warren M. Strawn, 2nd Lt. Richard E. Diete, 2nd Lt. Joseph F. Spicer.

Back Row, Left to Right: S/Sgt. Gordon V. Sorensen, Sgt. Julius W. Torok, Sgt. Charles E. Phinney, Sgt. Louis M. Mirabel, Sgt. Aloysius L. Godek, S. Sgt. Agnew R. Eckert.

(Eckert was not on the crew at the time of the crash) S. Sgt. Gail A. Richmond is not in the photo)

Just received news from James Mutton in Suffolk that a crew photo of the ill-fated Rongstad crew has been donated by a neice of crewmen Warren Strawn. James has been looking for a photo of this crew for many years, as the crash of this crew was one of the things that drew him into his interest in the 95th Bomb Group and the air war in World War Two. Rongstad's B-17 crashed shortly after takeoff when it stalled in a banking turn. All the crew were killed in the accident. In June, a memorial was erected at the crash site. For more on the Rongstad crew, see the related stories on this blog by typing in "Rongstad" in the search box in upper left corner of blog.

Captain Halcott Thomas, 95th Bomb Group, 30 Dangerous Missions over Occupied Europe

Yesterday, I heard from a friend who works at a nursing home in Los Angeles named Brad. Brad has been keeping me posted on one of the residents at the home, a man by the name of Captain Halcott Thomas. Capt. Thomas flew with the 95th Bomb Group (H) in World War Two. That happens to be the Bomb Group about which I just finished writing a unit history.

Yesterday, Brad told me that Captain Thomas had put on his uniform and gotten his materials together to give a talk about his experiences and nobody showed up to listen to him. This was in part due to a scheduling error, but it also struck me as symptomatic of our society's flawed values. We are willing to pay a lot of money to watch grown men dribble balls and hit balls with sticks, and we follow every move of people like Paris Hilton and other 'celebrities'.

Now let me get this straight. We pay hundreds of millions to watch overpaid prima donnas but we aren't interested in seeing a real hero, one who helped assure our freedom sixty years ago at a time when the future of humanity literally hung in the balance. One Facebook comment that hit home came from Maria Eck Bullard, whose father, Harold Eck (still alive and in failing health) is a survivor of the U.S.S. Indianapolis sinking. Maria commented it was the saddest thing she'd heard in a long time. I agree.

A lot of people have expressed interest in contacting Capt. Thomas to thank him for his service. This warms my heart, and it will warm Capt. Thomas's even more. But there are thousands of men and women just like Captain Thomas all over the United States. For example, right here in Idaho Falls, there is a gentleman in the Alzheimers unit at a nursing home who is a former P-51 Mustang pilot with 3.5 aerial victories over Germany with the 339th Fighter Group. I visited him a bit last summer and then got busy and haven't been back lately. I dropped the ball.

I am pleased that the school where I work, Clair E. Gale Junior High, holds a Veteran's Day appreciation every year and invites as many local WWII vets as they can track down for a special lunch with the seventh grade students. The lady who coordinates this, Mrs. Pearson, also has the vets sitting at tables with kids who interview them. It is a fine time for all.

Last school year, my 9th grade students corresponded with three Bataan Death March survivors. We did it as a supplementary activity, outside the curriculum, because of the comments from so many Bataan Death March suvivors I'd been interviewing for my Untold Valor: Pacific book that nobody knew anything about the March and that it was never taught in the history books any more. To my surprise, at the end of the school year, many of my students said this was their favorite thing that they learned all year. Why? Because history came alive for them.

We need to recommit to honoring our WWII vets, because in another few years, they will all be gone. Call local nursing homes, or the local American Legion of VFW, and find out if there are vets in your area. In the past year, I have found right here in my small city, almost enough men to fill my Pacific book, including a Navy Cross-winning Okinawa Marine, another Marine who saw the flag go up on Iwo Jima, and many more.

Now, back to Captain Thomas.

Halcott Thomas was working on a degree in Engineering at the University of Southern California and was almost doen when Pearl Harbor was bombed December 7, 1941. "I decided to join the Army Air Corps," he told me in an interview July 2, 2010. "It took one and a half years in five different places to get to Dyersburg, Tennesse, where I got my whole crew.

"Most of the crew had never been in a B-17 Flying Fortress. This included my copilot. We spent a whole month at Dyersburg learning to take off and fly in a 36-plane formation, which is what we'd be using when we got to Europe. A lot of the other pilots didn't let their copilots fly much during this time, as the copilots had no experience. I took the opposite view. I let my copilot do three-fourths of the flying and then he was ready to roll."

After training, we flew to Goose Bay, Labrador. They showed us a movie taken from the nose of an aircraft that showed us how to locate the landing field in Greenland. We had to fly at low-altitude for seventy miles up a deep fjord. Eventually, we would see a three-masted schooner which had sunk in the middle of the fjord. There was a 12,000-foot mountain on the right side of the fjord. We were supposed to fly right between the masts and then we'd see the runway.

"Instructions were very clear. You land. You don't try to go around. And by the way, the runway is three hundred feet higher at the top than at the bottom. And while you're at it, look out for that 12,000 mountain.

"When we flew out of there, we took off, did a sharp turn, flew to the three-masted schooner and jumped out of the fjord. Our next stop was Ireland, and from there we went to England and were assigned to the 95th Bomb Group at Horham, England. I flew thirty missions with the 95th Bomb Group. I remember in particular one mission, my third, where we dropped guns and ammunition at low altitude to the Polish Underground. They were literally underground and the Germans were almost right on top of them. After dropping off the weapons, we flew on to Russia.

"This Russia mission had been planned for some time. Three times we went to briefings and were then told the mission was called off, because they had been unable to get Stalin to agree to let us land. It was a huge operation. All the materials and supplies we'd need when we landed in Russia had to be trucked in from the south before we arrived in a big convoy. Finally, we got clearance from Stalin and flew the mission." (After the war, a diplomat from the Polish Embassy tracked down Thomas and awarded him with a medal for helping to resupply the Polish Underground in its time of need).

Captain Thomas is doing a more extensive record for me, but this was from our conversation last night. It is an honor to thank this American hero.

Rongstad Crew Gets a Memorial

Official Army crash photos taken after the crash.

Crash site, Green Farm, Redlingfield, Suffolk. Many artifacts from this aircraft have been recovered from the site. (Photo by Rob Morris, June 2008)

Old barn across the lane from Green Farm. (Photo by Rob Morris, June 2008)

The farmhouse built on the spot of the detroyed original Green Farm. (Photo by Rob Morris)

Green Farm Accident Report, 95th Bomb Group Archives.

Crash report.

Lt. Rongstad's obituary in the Daily Interlake, Kalispell, Montana.

Green Farm burns after the B-17 crashed next to it.

B-17 tire.

Memorial (Photo by Richard Flagg)

Photo by Richard Flagg.

Three 95th vets pay homage to the downed crew. (Photo by Richard Flagg)

Photo by Richard Flagg.

Photo by Richard Flagg.

Veterans and family members and friends at the Dedication Ceremony. (Photo by Richard Flagg)

Earl Jostwick at the memorial. (Richard Flagg photo)

The Rongstad crew perished in a fiery crash after taking off from Horham on November 19, 1943. The pilot, fellow Montanan Kenneth Rongstad of Kalispell, banked his B-17 sharply after takeoff, the aircraft stalled, and it plunged to the ground, narrowly missing the Green Farm farmhouse, setting the farm house and another across the lane on fire. The men who possibly survived the initial crash were killed when the ordnance went off.

The photos of the memorial ceremony were taken by a friend of mine, professional photographer Richard Flagg, at Open Day yesterday, May 15, at Horham, Suffolk, England.

95th Bomb Group's Larry Buchholz Flies Final Mission

A fallen hero is honored. Riverside National Cemetery, California. (Photo courtesy of Larry's granddaughter Rachel Terry)

Eagle on Larry's casket. (Photo courtesy of Larry's granddaughter Rachel Terry)

One of my heroes, the soft-spoken, brilliant Larry Buchholz, passed away last month, I heard from his granddaughter a few days ago. This news makes me very sad, because Larry was a hell of a nice guy, a true gentleman, and a man who bravely answered his nation's call to service in its time of need. Larry flew 30 missions as a radio operator on a B-17 Flying Fortress with the 95th Bomb Group out of Horham, England in World War Two.

I had the pleasure and honor of meeting Larry in Tucson Arizona a few years back at the 95th Reunion. He was kind, quiet, and possessed a thoughtful and intelligent nature that I really appreciated. Though I only knew Larry for a few days, we became friends and his loss is just one more example of the rapidly-disappearing 'Greatest Generation'. God bless you, Larry, on your final mission.

Read the obituary of an American hero here.

Interview with 95th Ball Turret Gunner Robert Fay

I had the pleasure of talking with 95th BG ball turret gunner Robert 'Bob' Fay this evening as part of the final research for my book. Fay flew 35 missions in a B-17 Flying Fortress between September 13, 1944 and early March, 1945. Throughout his time at Horham, Fay kept a diary. "I'd come home from a mission, and make notes while it was still fresh in my mind," he remembers. However, at the end of the war, before he could send the diary home, it had to be passed by the Army censors. "They gutted the center section out, and left the rest. Later, when I was back in the States, they shipped the gutted part to me after censoring."

Fay flew on the Hiram Griffin crew, in the 334th Squadron. He ended up in the ball turret because of his small stature. At first, we flew whatever plane was available. When they showed up at their barracks, they found they had been assigned to Barracks 13. There was only one man inside. He had missed the mission a few days previously, and the other men of the two crews who shared the barracks with him had been shot down. "He was the only one left in there," remembers Fay, "and he was really in trouble mentally by that time." The Griffin crew promptly changed the number of their barracks to 12-B.

Finally, after a few missions, "we got a new bird and we named it Victory Devil. On missions, lots of times things didn't work out. You'd be pushed to a secondary target due to weather mostly, and when that happened, you often got a lot more than you asked for." One particularly memorable mission was to Merseberg, to hit a synthetic oil plant on November 14, 1944. We had to bomb with PFF (Pathfinder radar) even though we could see fairly well. The Germans had put up a smoke-screen that obliterated the target. But we made a tragic error. We turned twenty miles too late, and went over the target through a flak area. We were suddenly in range of hundreds of guns, and had to put up with fifteen minutes of flak. Wicker's crew burst into flames and damn near took us down with him. Grif saved the day by cutting the throttle. We lost fifty-six bombers and 30 fighters that day, because of that error. I wrote at the time that considering the loss of life and equipment, the mission was a failure."

Fay did not particularly mind the tight confines of the ball turret. However, there were several things he didn't care for. First, "I didn't like the fact that the ball had a door that had to be opened for you to get out, and if it didn't rotate right, you were a cooked goose. You had no chute in the ball; there was no room. Second, it was damn cold down there."

"I had to get pulled out twice after losing my oxygen. Fortunately, our crew called around frequently and made sure everybody answered. It was a team effort. I was pulled out unconscious by our waist gunner, Bob Hamlin. I owe him a debt for that."

Close calls were frequent. Fay saw many bombers explode, or go down in flames, as well as American and German fighter aircraft. Flying in the winter of 1944 was dangerous, as the weather was terrible. On a December 16 mission to Stuttgart, the weather got so bad that Griffin had to drop out of formation and try to return alone. "We were out of oxygen, so had to drop to lower altitude. By the time we got back, you could hardly see the runway. Three ships overshot the runway that day and had to be scrapped."

Flak was the main enemy on many missions. "We'd get briefed for twelve flak guns and then we'd go over the target and there would be 100. On one mission down the Ruhr Valley, we ran the gauntlet of 1,200 flak guns. And then on another mission, there would be none."

German fighters still made frequent calls. Once, Fay saw two of the new German jet fighters, the Me262s, suddenly scream through the formation. "All they did was fly through and by the time I got a burst off they were gone! We knew they (Me262s) were there but didn't know when we'd run into them."

The closest Fay came to death was when a German shell ricocheted off the armor-plate behind his back in the ball, tearing a gash in the only place on the ball that could withstand such a hit. Otherwise, I would not be here."

As the crew neared the magic number 35, they had to try to make sure to finish at roughly the same time. Some days, one or more of the crew would be sick or couldn't fly. At the end of Fay's tour, he had to fly two missions after most of the rest were finished. "They all were there waiting for me at the end of the runway when I came back."

After the war, Fay didn't talk much about his experiences, but after a while, I began to get together with the other men on the crew. To this day, Fay and his wife have visits with the crew's original navigator, Bob Inman, as well as the co-pilot, Ken Wright. All three made it to the reunion in Dallas, Texas in October.

"We were very fortunate," he says.

The Day I Visited the Ruins of the 95th Bomb Group Base at Horham, by Ken Hutcherson

The Vergene W. Ford Crew, 335th Squadron, 95th Bomb Group. Back Row: Vergene Ford, Pilot; Murray Saylor, Copilot; Julian Meyer, Bombardier; Cletus Comisky, Navigator. Front Row: Ken Hutcherson, Radio Operator; Willis Perry, Top Turret Gunner/Engineer; Robert Evans, Waist Gunner; Richard Peterson, Ball Turret Gunner; Marvin Casaday, Armorer/Waist Gunner; Leonard Styczynski (Stevens); Tail Gunner. (Photo from 95th BG website)

Another crew photo. Ken Hutcherson is in the back row, second from left. (Photo from 95th BG Website)

95th Bomb Group Veteran Kenneth Hutcherson poses at the crossroads near Horham during his return visit in August, 1972. Hutcherson flew with the 335th Squadron as a Radio Operator on a B-17 Flying Fortress during World War Two. (Photo courtesy of Kenneth Hutcherson)

This is one of my favorite written accounts of a World War Two bomber crewman's return to his old base. The full version will be appearing in the 95th BG history, out next year. Kenneth Hutcherson was a young radio operator on a B-17 crew when he first saw Horham during the war. He wrote of his return in August of 1972:

"It was a beautiful summer day the likes of which we rarely saw during the summer of 1944," he begins, "The train for Ipswich, Diss and Norwich, left at 8:30 AM so we got up at 7, had a quick breakfast at the Hilton (not like the ones we used to get at the Regent Palace) and took the tube to the Liverpool Street Station...

"We finally managed to get a seat in a compartment not unlike the ones all of us remember vaguely with the webbing overhead for packages and luggage...

After arriving at the train station at Diss, Hutcherson hailed a cab to Horham. The driver was not certain how to find the old base in nearby Horham, and had to stop several times to ask for directions. But finally, "after travelling the eight miles to Horham, we pulled onto a hard stand at the edge of a wheat field and said we were there. It was hard for me to get my bearings at first. There was a farmer across the road on a combine mowing his wheat. He stopped his tractor and came over to assist us and everything started to fall into place.

"One of the headquarters buildings was still there and the farmer took us through the briars and underbrush to get inside. You would find it hard to believe but there were still pin-up pictures pasted on the wall from Yank Magazine and also a Sad Sack cartoon stenciled on one wall. Over one doorway was stenciled 'Through These Doors Pass the Best Damn Flyers in the World'. What an experience!

"Our barracks from the 335th Squadron was a crumbled mess of corrugated rusty steel. We couldn't get back there because of the crops and no roads but I took a picture of it from the distance. The control tower crumbled last year but the main runway was still there. We drove down the runway which is still used for small planes for crop dusting. We took pictures there and also at the crossroads with the signs--Horham, Diss, Ipswich, Norwich and Eye. On the way back to Diss we stopped and took pictures of the thatched roof houses which I did not remember."

Upon arrival at Diss, the Cockney taxi driver refused to accept a tip, though he had stayed with them all day long. "I'm a cockney from London...and my word is my bond," he told Hutcherson."

Hutcherson finally persuaded the cabbie to take two pounds. Interestingly, Hutcherson had never visited the town of Diss during the war, as it was off-limits.

He then boarded the train, the mists of time again wrapped his memories in a comfortable embrace, and he returned to London.

Green Farm Accident Report, November 19, 1943

This goes with the post immediately preceding it. Read that one first.