When Dad left the Army Air Corps (had his B-29 check-out orders in hand) at war's end, he kept his officers cap, bomber jacket, and B-17 manual in a big, Lucky Strike box.
I remember being just tall enough to pull it over to play "Bomber Pilot".
That manual taught me to read.
At age six could anything be cooler than pictures of a Sperry twin-.50 mount?
The last of the 'greatest generation'. There are only a handful left and they need to be celebrated. My Dad was in training to be a B-24 Liberator pilot when the war ended. He would have been 87 in March but he died in 2009. He was a big man and literally starved himself for two weeks to get down below the 190 pound limit to get into the pilot training program. He stayed in the reserves as long as he could and eventually worked his way up to Major. He also worked as a recruiter for the Air Force Academy in the early 1970's.
Maybe he was in one of the bombers that took out strategic points for my great-uncles division. I had 3 great-uncles in WW2. One in Italy, one in France and Germany(he was in the battle of the bulge) and one in USA transportation. One of them earned the Purple Heart and the Distinguished Service Cross.
I am very proud of my heritage. Sic Semper Tyrannis!
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.