May 8, 1945 is a day that none of us that lived during WWII will ever forget. I was born 3 1/2 years before Pearl Harbor so all of my early memories were defined by war. The European war was particularly impactful to the adults in the family as they were 2nd generation immigrants to America. All I knew in those early years was rationing, shortages and bad news about how things were going both in Europe and the Pacific. I grew up with no toys like kids usually have and didn't have a real Christmas until 1946. I didn't get to see my grandparents in Michigan during the war years as there was not enough gas available to go visit them. So the day it ended was a joyous event for a war weary world suffering from the worst war in history.
The losses on both sides were staggering, the Army Air Force losses in bombing raids resulting in more deaths than all of the Marine losses in the bloody Pacific island hopping campaign combined. Germany sent over 3 million troops into Russia and only a relative handful of them ever returned. One of those returnees tutored me during my apprenticeship as an injection mold maker. He had a picture in his tool box of Adolph Hitler pinning a medal on his chest. I was always fascinated with the air war because I loved airplanes enough as a young boy to eventually join the Air Force. The throbbing roar of piston engine fighters that shook the windows in the house was unforgettable and the steady drone of bombers far overhead was the music of the day. Right after the war my dad drove us through row after row of retired B-29 bombers freshly returned to the US and awaiting destruction. They bore the scars of war, the patches, repair, wear and tear of many long trips to Japan and back and all of the bomb symbols indicated how many missions they had flown. It was an indelible experience for a young kid to be among those monsters and realize what they had been through.
As much as I was fascinated by the air war I was horrified by the submarine war. Leaning toward claustrophobic I couldn't imagine a worse way to die than underwater in a steel coffin. German submariners started the war as heroes with all of their successes during 'The Happy Time' but in 1943 they were no longer the predator but the prey. Of the 40,000 that entered submarine service during the war 30,000 were killed with almost 750 subs lost, a 75% loss rate. Germany sent 62 submarines into the Meditteranean during the war and none ever returned to the Atlantic. The glamour of the early years had turned to horror.
It was such a relief to have it over but there were still months of war left in the Pacific and both of my uncles were in the thick of it. They talked little about it. After the war I met a number of combatants, the 88mm gunner that I took apprenticeship from and I backpacked with a German that was a little older than me but too young to be in Hitler's Youth Corps. I also worked with a Frenchman that had been incarcerated by the Germans for several years and he had some provocative stories to tell indeed. And I went to visit a B-24 pilot friend of my older brother that had survived the Ploesti raid. Each had his own perspective on the war but each had survived and become successful in the post war years. We all had one thing in common-we were damned glad it was over.
The losses on both sides were staggering, the Army Air Force losses in bombing raids resulting in more deaths than all of the Marine losses in the bloody Pacific island hopping campaign combined. Germany sent over 3 million troops into Russia and only a relative handful of them ever returned. One of those returnees tutored me during my apprenticeship as an injection mold maker. He had a picture in his tool box of Adolph Hitler pinning a medal on his chest. I was always fascinated with the air war because I loved airplanes enough as a young boy to eventually join the Air Force. The throbbing roar of piston engine fighters that shook the windows in the house was unforgettable and the steady drone of bombers far overhead was the music of the day. Right after the war my dad drove us through row after row of retired B-29 bombers freshly returned to the US and awaiting destruction. They bore the scars of war, the patches, repair, wear and tear of many long trips to Japan and back and all of the bomb symbols indicated how many missions they had flown. It was an indelible experience for a young kid to be among those monsters and realize what they had been through.
As much as I was fascinated by the air war I was horrified by the submarine war. Leaning toward claustrophobic I couldn't imagine a worse way to die than underwater in a steel coffin. German submariners started the war as heroes with all of their successes during 'The Happy Time' but in 1943 they were no longer the predator but the prey. Of the 40,000 that entered submarine service during the war 30,000 were killed with almost 750 subs lost, a 75% loss rate. Germany sent 62 submarines into the Meditteranean during the war and none ever returned to the Atlantic. The glamour of the early years had turned to horror.
It was such a relief to have it over but there were still months of war left in the Pacific and both of my uncles were in the thick of it. They talked little about it. After the war I met a number of combatants, the 88mm gunner that I took apprenticeship from and I backpacked with a German that was a little older than me but too young to be in Hitler's Youth Corps. I also worked with a Frenchman that had been incarcerated by the Germans for several years and he had some provocative stories to tell indeed. And I went to visit a B-24 pilot friend of my older brother that had survived the Ploesti raid. Each had his own perspective on the war but each had survived and become successful in the post war years. We all had one thing in common-we were damned glad it was over.
These pictures were taken at the air museum in Tucson , Az. . One entire building dedicated to the 390th . The other picture is one of crew he was with ,he's bottom right . He flew his 25 missions on a B-17 as a ball turret gunner ,bombing Germany . He was one of three survivors of his first crew , Ordered to bail out over Belgium on one mission , pilot was unsure they were going to make it over land ,they actually bailed when still over water ,but between the altitude , and wind direction they made it over land before they landed on the ground . Many other stories , he finally started sharing some of them. This particular visit with him in Tucson at age 92 , my aunt made the comment we are hearing things that I haven't heard , after being married to him for over 60 years . As many know, a lot of these WW2 guys did not want to talk about their war experiences .
