My Dad's experiences in B-24 and P-51 groups

[HMan]

This is a write up of our Dad's (Robert O'Sullivan) experience in the war. From the frantic transferring Dad went through, multiplied by millions, it's a wonder the US ever won the war ...

Dad grew up in Orange, Conn. near New Haven, the son of a Judge. Our grandfather served in the US Congress and was one of Billy Mitchel's champions.

Dad is still very sharp, but he is rather a quiet guy. So I would be happy to ask him any questions you have, as he tends not to tell stories unless you ask him. For instance, just a few years ago we found out he met Ike, after a trivia game asked "Who's the most famous person you met?"

He met Ike before the war, while Ike was still a Colonel(?) at a neighbor who knew Ike when he was MacArthur's aide in the Philippines. Dad knew Ike then from stories in Life magazine.
Of course Ike wasn't as famous then as he later became.


MEMORIES OF MY DAD

Dad's sometimes humorous relationship with the U.S. Army began
with processing in Ft. Devens, Mass. From there he was shipped to basic training in Miami Beach. It was in a resort hotel that had been stripped and set up with 4 bunks in a room. It was a hotel that Betty Grable had stayed in (?) or that was used in the film "Moon over Miami".

It sounds as if his training consisted mostly of test as they tried to figure out what to do with this Connecticut Yankee from the Judge's court. He recalled taking a Morse code test - listening to a series of dots-n-dashes in his earphones and trying to repeat what he heard.

He missed an earnest aspect of his training when, instead of getting a low dose of mustard gas and learning how to use a gas mask, he spent time practicing regimental maneuvers. Hours were spent marching back in forth in the pursuit of this task (made extra difficult by the sheer numbers of men involved in regiments, as opposed to companies or battalions), since some great general was supposed to arrive soon.

The general never arrived, and after only 12 days, Dad was moved on to his next assignment.

Despite his expertise at regimental maneuvers, Dad was picked to be an armorer. Although he never was given gun training during basic, Dad was able to raise his hand when they were asked if anyone knew what an armorer was. Dad had heard the phrase during his earlier warlike days at Valley Forge Academy. Impressed with his academic credentials, the brass hats sent Dad to Lowry/Buckley field in Denver.

As a final exam, Dad was put into a bunker with lots of MGs that had been deliberately busted. He had to figure out what was wrong with them, and then fix them.

After six weeks at Lowry/Buckley, Dad was sent on to Salt Lake City, HQ of 2nd AF, where he was assigned to the 400th Bombardment Group (heavy). He then went to Pueblo. Other groups formed from there were shipped to the C.B.I Theater, but Dad's became a training group. Such are the fickle whims of fate.

Fate turned another direction and resulted in Dad and the others in his group having to give money out of the mess fund to cover the cost of cows shot up by B-24 crews training in Arizona. Dad's group had to pay because the B-24s were originally scheduled to join his group.

In the brief period between getting orders to go overseas and then having those orders canceled, Dad was given 6 days leave. He rushed home to Orange, taking several days by train, sitting on the floor the whole time because trains were so packed. Since it would take a couple of days to get back to Pueblo, Dad basically had a day and a night with his family.

After this rather rushed leave, Dad spent the rest of the war traveling from one spot in the U.S. to the next. He ended up serving in 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th AFs - all the AFs in the contiguous US. His chronological duty stations while in the USAAF, including those already mentioned were:

Ft. Devens, Mass.
Miami Beach, Florida
Denver, Colorado
Salt Lake City, Utah
Pueblo, Colorado
Salinas, Kansas
Alamogordo, New Mexico
Charleston, South Carolina
Tampa and Sarasota, Florida - transferred to a P-51 group, I'm not sure which one. War ended here

March Field and Santa Anna, California - post-war duty stations

He was discharged from there. The soldiers, now civilians, were given a lump of money and told to figure out a way home. "Ladies of the Night", who knew of this practice, lurked at the gates of the camps and relieved many of the soldiers of their lump sum, often stranding them far from home.

Dad kept his priorities straight, and caught a 4 day train ride home. In order to save as much of the money as possible, Dad rode coach, sitting up, the whole way. Probably didn't eat much either. As a side note: shortly after this long 4 day ride, a pilot took a jet cross country in 4 hours. If only Dad had waited a bit.

During his travel back and forth around the country, Dad serviced many an airplane and had many an interesting experience. There was the time in South Carolina, when Dad, always on the lookout for a cheap thrill, asked to go along with a B-24 crew on a training flight. He was told to get a parachute and come along.

By the time Dad had scrounged a 'chute up and returned, however, the plane had left. It never returned. The crew was spotted later in a raft, but a pick-up wasn't possible at that time. They were never seen again.

While stationed in Pueblo, Dad was told to guard a room with flight suits. Recognizing a golden opportunity for a souvenir, Dad grabbed a flight suit and ran back to his barracks with it. For a brief moment, the fate of the war hung in the balance as any Axis spy in Pueblo had access to the unguarded flight suits, before Dad rushed back to his post.

On one flight Dad was able to ride along on, Dad watched the crew shoot at giant billboard targets set up on barrier islands. At one point, however, the crew, finding the billboard not much of challenge or something, began shooting at two fishermen in a boat. There were splashes all around the boat, and, as Dad says "I'm not sure if the they were trying to kill them, but the guys in the boat were ducking."

One of Dad's most vivid memories of the war occurred in Charleston.
He worked throughout the war with practice bombs, that had small charges. They were just enough to make a small explosion, so bombardiers could see what they hit. On Christmas Eve '43, they were reports that U-boats were off the coast. Thus Dad spent the whole day on standby, ready to load real bombs. The base was socked in with fog, so the planes never took off.

It was at Charleston that Dad was made a tail gunner. He never flew any missions as that before an officer realized that Dad didn't have good enough eyesight to qualify as a gunner.

On D-Day Dad was AWOL. They had requests for leave forms, that you could fill out that would fool the MPs. The COs never took roll call, and the other guys would cover for you. Dad was on one of those fake leaves in NYC when he heard on the radio about D-Day.

They pulled this scam until some clown was caught with one of these forms, signed in pencil. The guy probably did not even forge the Colonel's signature and he had a stack of them in his pocket.

Some of the strangest times for Dad seem to have been when he was waiting to be discharged. All his friends had been moved to an isolated corner of the base. Later Dad figured it was where black troops were housed. (Dad is white). Dad was left in the main part of the base with guys he didn't really know. Being the social guy that he is, Dad moved out to the quarters of his friends.

He came to the main base at times to go to the PX (but not to buy anything, I'm sure). On those trips he often saw KP lists with his name and notices asking about Dad. "Does anyone know where he is?" As far as I know, Dad didn't enlighten the notice posters.

That was one example of the confusion that seemed to occur fairly often when Dad was around. Once during training, they were practicing setting up pup tents. The men would line up and count off. The odd man would place a stake or bayonet in the ground where he stood, and that was where the tents would be placed. Dad and his even numbered partner (or odd-numbered, Dad didn't say
which), noticed that their spot in the line was right over a cactus, which would mean a rather uncomfortable night.

Dad asked an officer what to do, the officer checked the manual, and then stated that he "didn't know what to do".

The height of confusion seemed to come right when the war ended. Dad remembers being lined up at least twice, and officers going down the line asking: "Who are you? Number? Where are you? Where do you think you should be?" I'm sure that last one led to some interesting answers.

Dad would often say, “It’s not easy to shut down a big war”. It was a big mess as they spent six months trying to figure out what to do with them. During that time, Dad didn't work on a plane or gun. He recalls seeing C-47s endlessly practicing touch and go landings as no one told them to do anything differently.

The confusion didn't seem to be confined to the officer class, though. Dad saw a guy with a 7th division patch in a bar in Charleston (Dad was probably just in there asking directions). Dad, who knew the 7th had been at Attu and Kwajelein, asked the guy where he had been. 7th Division said "Well, it was flat". Seeking clarification, Dad asked "Did it have palm trees?". "Yeah", replied 7th Division. Dad realized the guy had no idea where he had been.

It wasn't all confusion and cactus, however. While at March Field, Dad went to the Coliseum, and saw a Rose Bowl game. He also saw military football teams play there who were quite good. They had players who either had or would play in the NFL.

The highlight came after the games, however. Men in those days had slit pockets in their trousers, and those pockets, combined with the angles of the seats in the Coliseum, meant that money would often fall out of the pocket onto the floor. After the game Dad ran up and down the aisles collecting this manna from heaven, or the pocket. He could make a fair chunk of change by doing this, and he could see other guys on the other side of the stadium doing the same.

Dad believes the tent drill fiasco was at Alamogordo. For reasons known only to Generals, Dad's group had been shipped there without any planes.

The officers had nightmares of the guys getting in trouble with the roadrunners, tumbleweeds, and bright lights of the small NM towns around there. So the officers kept the men busy with training. Dad thinks this may have been where he finally got the gas training that he should have gotten at Miami Beach basic.

Dad remembers Alamogordo as a British base. Based on their war experience, it was very dispersed. As it is deep in the interior of the US, it was probably one of the safest places in the world from enemy attack. The dispersion made getting around very difficult.

[Carl Schwamberger]

My father was a ordnance officer in a B26 Group, and in 1945 a air liasion with ground forces, probablly US 1st Army. He left us several good stories. My current favorite was his description of leaving Germany at the end of April 1945. He & the other passengers persuaded the convoy commander to give some of the numerous French laborers on the road a ride back to France, the trucks being empty & deadheading the return to depots west of the Rhine. The trucks had no canvas spread and it rained a fair amount, but the French workmen & PoW were grateful for the lift and the American cigarettes.

[HMan]

RIP Dad

He passed away June 4 - 74th aniv. of the Battle of Midway




Dad on right, someone id'd as "Klein" on left. Looks like tail of B-24 with a B-24 in background.
unknown date/place




Dad's father on left and General Mitchell on right. They became friends when my grandfather
was on a committee investigating the US military - Mitchell tempest




Dad at Valley Forge Military Academy in 1941




unknown date/place




unknown date/place




At Alamogordo N.Mex.




Dad on left, a buddy on right. unknown date/place




Dad on top, a buddy on bottom. unknown date/place




Pueblo, CO - summer of 1943. I believe Dad is in top row, 3rd from left




Dad on left with his brother Jim on right. His Dad and Mom in background. We believe
this is when Dad went back to Conn. on 6 day leave after getting orders to ship overseas.




Dad is the odd man out in a different uniform. No idea why, but he went to Yale after the war,
where they were required to wear ties. Sick of Army regs by then, and in no mood for more
Micky Mouse he wore the tie - as a headband. So maybe a small revolt?

It would be cool if anyone knows any of the people in the pictures or the picture takers
and could give more info.