1944, Cont'd |
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OPERATION DRAGOON, Cont'd SUPREME HEADQUARTERS ALLIED EXPEDITIONARY FORCE 12TH TACTICAL AIR COMMAND 17TH TROOP CARRIER SQUADRON |
30 SEP 44 |
Istres Airfield, France. Dawn to dusk airlifts are conducted
to the battle area near the Beifort Gap, delivering fuel; ammo; food and
replacements evacuating wounded on return flights. Inclement weather
persists. Since there are no NAV-AIDS, pilots rely on landmarks to fly their
routes (a bend in a river; a certain mountain peak; a chapel on a hill, etc)
. Most of our flights are conducted at very low levels in an attempt to
remain below the constant overcast. This is considered safer than attempting
to descend blindly through the clouds over uncertain terrain. During one of
these low level flights. Pop Foy's pilot was following the Rhone River,
racing the approaching storm back to Lyon. With his props barely clearing the
water, his ship struck a steel cable where a bridge had once been. The cable
bounced over the windshield, slid down the fuselage, and sliced off the
vertical fin and rudder, possibly damaging the stabilizers. Before anyone
could react, the ship dove into the river. The crew escaped injury, but
ironically, a hitchhiking sailor was drowned. I flew 155 hours during
September, surpassing the required 1,000, and am scheduled to rotate on 11
Oct. I am assigned to a new C-47B, #43-2700, crewed by my old Crew Chief,
T/Sgt. R. G. Brown. |
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I-10 Oct 44 |
Airlifts increase, with 17th crews flying up to three rapid
turn-arounds daily. On a Special Mission, my crew flies Brigadier General
Terry Alien, CG of the 3rd Infantry Division, from Rome to a strip near
Dijon, France. The General is a slight, wiry man, not unwilling to chat with
the enlisted crewmen. I was saddened to read of his death in combat a few
weeks later. Weather worsens, and I am anxious to receive my rotation orders. |
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11 Oct 44 |
Two ROs depart on rotation; I am bumped by another, a junior RO
who is being sent back to the states on emergency with a severe case of
amoebic dysentery. I am to be first on the next list |
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11-31 Oct 44 |
Maximum airlifts continue. My replacement, a young corporal
fresh from radio school arrives at Istres with my rotational orders on the
last day of October. |
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1 Nov 44 |
Since it is the first of the month, I decide to fly today's
mission in order to get in my flying time. While we are pre-flighting, Bob
Brown, develops a case of the "GIs", and goes on sick call,
assigning his assistant to the flight. While I continue the pre-flight, Pop
Foy comes by on the way to his ship. Spotting me in the entrance of the ship,
he grabs me by the arm, yelling, "Where the hell do you think you are
going?" "I'm taking this flight to get in my flying time."
"Don't be silly," he growls.
"You can get in your time on your way back to Rome. You have your
orders, and if you don't get out of that airplane, I'm going to knock your
head off, and carry you out!" Knowing
Pop intimately, I know better than to argue, and send for my replacement. R.
G. Brown and I were more than a bit "shook" that evening, when we
learn that #2700 had gone down in the Beifort area, with the loss of all
aboard-the four-man crew, including a young RO on his first mission; the
flight nurse; Medic, and 17 litter patients.* I couldn't believe my luck! Had my orders been delayed only one
more day, or if Pop Foy had not been concerned with my well being, I wouldn't
be writing this, today! I left the 17th a few days later, but kept in touch
by mail. Strangely, the CO, Lt Col Cheney, who had been my pilot coming
across, is on the same orders. By the time I rotated, I had logged over 1100
hours "east of Algiers." The
12th Tactical Air Command is replaced by the 1st Tactical Air Force. * The cause of the disaster, whether accidental or through enemy
action was never determined. |
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