Thirty Missions to Marie

By Arthur G. Capaldi

This is a true story that follows Captain Edouard J. Jacques, a WWII Bombardier and Distinguished Flying Cross recipient, and his crew from childhood through thirty bombing missions over Germany with the 755th Squadron, 458 Bomb Group of the 8th Air Force from 1944 through 1945.

It’s a remembrance of ordinary men doing extraordinary feats in their quest to defeat the seemingly invincible Third Reich. Included in their stories are those they left behind — their wives, girlfriends, and family. Their stories mirror that of thousands of young Americans who served on the B-24 heavy bombers in WWII and have not had their history documented.

These are the stories of young men from Rhode Island, Utah, South Carolina, Texas, Kentucky, New Jersey, New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Oregon, Pennsylvania and Neumarkt, Germany. Their backgrounds are as diverse as the places from which they came. Through interviews, their stories are told, and it is apparent that while not similar in background or culture, they were similar in their strength of character and love of country. Those who are no longer with us had their stories told by those interviewed.

Those aviators who survived the war were the fortunate ones who returned home to their families, wives, girlfriends, and to a grateful nation.

The history of the battle for Europe, 1944-1945, is told in detail.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Nov 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781619845251

Book preview

NOTE

PREFACE

The 1940s were a decade of glamour, new technologies, and American pride. In literature, Arthur Miller authored Death of a Salesman and Ernest Hemingway gave us From Whom the Bell Tolls . Music was dominated by the propulsive rhythmic groove of swing and the soft intimate styles of crooners like Frank Sinatra. Hollywood produced romantic classics such as To Have and Have Not , starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall.

Overshadowing it all was World War II. Although lives were changed forever, many Americans desired and strived to maintain a normal life, secure a good job, fall in love, and raise a family.

Unfortunately, a normal life was very hard to attain during wartime, especially if you were a soldier or the wife of a soldier.

Ed and Marie Jacques were such a couple. Meeting in 1939, their love affair ran right smack into a world war. In 1941, Ed was a soldier in the National Guard earning $33 a month, which Marie determined to be insufficient income to support a family. Nothing would stop Ed from marrying Marie.

He made the first of many decisions that would dramatically test him and put his life in danger, all for Marie. He would become an officer in the United States Air Force, first training to be a pilot and then training to become a bombardier in order to earn over $200 a month as an officer. This was sufficient money to marry Marie and support a family.

Marie left Rhode Island to meet Ed on base in Lincoln, Nebraska, to be married, then went to Boise, Idaho, to be with Ed while he trained with his B-24 bomber crew. Her traveling was fraught with unexpected happenings unknown to Ed and kept her from him. Marie encountered ultimate sadness and loneliness as she waived goodbye to Ed and his crew as they flew to England and combat. Marie returned home to wait and pray for the return of her husband of ten weeks, home to ponder and worry about his fate.

After twelve dangerous missions, Ed made another decision that would put him in Marie’s arms sooner. He joined a lead crew as a lead bombardier, which would cut the number of missions required for a tour from thirty-five to thirty. Ed would be entitled to a thirty-day leave. Ed increased the possibility of being shot down considerably, but to be with Marie it was worth it.

This story will share the lives of Ed, Marie, and their lifelong friends, the crewmen. It will follow each mission. We will hear each crewman tell the individual account of his life and war experience. These stories are educational, exciting, and the stuff of which movies are made.

We will experience the war through personal stories, and we’ll hear Ed and Marie’s thoughts and feel their loneliness during those years of separation.

Ed was a dedicated and loyal man who became a victorious lead bombardier with thirty successful missions over Germany. He witnessed and became part of the stories that were dreadful and devastating and ended in death. He never shared these stories until he was in his eighties, when he opened his mind, heart, and soul to finally tell his story. He was a decorated aviator who lived a long and successful life.

Ed’s heroic military career isn’t the core of this story. What really made him and his life interesting was his love and devotion to Marie, his wife of sixty-nine years.

PROLOGUE

World War II is the history of ordinary people placed in extraordinary situations performing exceptional and heroic deeds. Several of my uncles were veterans of that war, and to say the least, they are my heroes. It was not through their tales of the war that my admiration for the greatest generation was born but in the dusty corners of a cellar in Providence, Rhode Island.

Grandpa’s cellar was an intriguing and mystical place for a ten-year-old boy in 1952. Although it was small, dark, and dingy in some places, it held treasures to tantalize the imagination of an inquisitive child. It’s safe to say that Grandpa’s cellar was similar to others in immigrant Italian homes in Rhode Island at that time. There was the quintessential extra kitchen and of course many shelves for the storage of preserves. I can venture a guess that my grandfather’s basement was one of few that held a bust of Italy’s notorious dictator.

A mysterious bronze bust was among my grandfather’s things. Just who was this bald man with the protruding square jaw? Grandpa answered me in his broken English. He’s a man who did a lot for Italy. Grandpa Amore came to America in 1905, long before Mussolini came to power. Years later, I speculated that he must have known Mussolini as a man who brought prosperity to Italy and tried to give the land of the Caesars another empire, a sense of national honor, and world importance. Where that bust came from has always been a matter of conjecture; I never asked him or any of his ten children, including my own mother, about it. Perhaps it made its way to Grandpa with the many other war mementos brought back from Europe and Asia by his sons.

Grandpa Amore had seven boys and three girls. Five of his sons served the United States during World War II—four in the Army and one in the Navy. Three served in Europe, one in the South Pacific, and one in the Navy in the Atlantic at the war’s end. My father’s family mirrored the Amore family in that it also consisted of seven boys and three girls. Uncle Albert Capaldi (Bucky) was a bombardier on a B-26 medium bomber in the 12th Air Force, and Uncle Alfred Capaldi was in the Army in Europe. All my aunts and uncles spoke fluent Italian, which was really their first language, but they were loyal patriotic Americans even through they still had family ties to Italy.

In fact, Uncle Tony Amore served in Italy as a mess sergeant; he was able to help feed his extended family in Grandpa’s hometown of Scafati, a town near Pompeii. I can see Uncle Tony taking that bust home to Grandpa as a war trophy; maybe it was given to his son in exchange for food in gratitude for aiding the hungry people of Scafati. No matter how it got into Grandpa’s cellar, it was one of many objects that continued to intrigue me even years later while I studied political science and history at Providence College.

Tucked in a corner room of the cellar sat my uncles’ workbench. Among the radio parts, soldering guns, wires, tubes, and tools was one of my favorite items, the cigar box. It held what seemed like hundreds of military patches in a multitude of colors. One especially, the Screaming Eagle (101st Airborne), grabbed my attention. These patches belonged to my Uncle Joe. As a paratrooper of the 82nd Airborne, he saw action in the jump that preceded the D-Day landings, the jump of the 82nd in Holland, and in the relief of Bastogne.

Uncle Joe carried many other treasures home from the battlefields of France, Belgium, Holland, and Germany. Among them were a German helmet, which I have in my basement today, a German map case, neutralized M-1 bullets, and the prize of prizes, a German Mauser rifle with that menacing sound of the metal bolt sliding and clicking. That rifle occupied my attention for hours. Uncle Joe had blocked the opening of the barrel, but that rifle was real to me. Lastly, there was the symbol of Nazi power and authority, a bronze eagle with outstretched wings and a wreath in its claws, that also sits in my basement. In the center of the wreath was once a penny. When I came into possession of the eagle, I removed the penny to find a swastika. Uncle Joe had glued the penny over the symbol against which he had fought.

I realized at a very early age that there was something very special about these mementoes that had traveled with my uncles from the war. None of them spoke much, if at all, about the war, and I respected their privacy. These objects were my uncles’ way of keeping that part of their past alive. They succeeded through me.

I met Edouard J. Jacques in 1968 when he was a councilman in the town of Coventry, Rhode Island, and I was the legal advisor to that council. He was twenty-two years older than me, but the age difference did not interfere with our forming a lifelong friendship.

Strangely, I never once inquired about his wartime service to our country and he never brought it up until 2004. During one of his friendly visits to my office, I asked him if he served in WWII.

I was flooded with awesome stories about his life during the tumultuous happenings of WWII and his experiences as a bombardier with the Eighth Air Force.

So, when Ed came to my office the next day in the fall of 2004, armed with a scrapbook loaded with mission maps, orders, mission descriptions, pictures of B-24 nose art, aerial photographs of Germany, and other memorabilia, I felt the old intrigue return. It was as though I was back in Grandpa Amore’s basement. Again, I was experiencing history. I never saw such a complete firsthand record of one man’s contribution to the defeat of Nazi Germany. In my hands, I held an original document, simply titled Operational Order No. 87, dated July 9, 1944, which assigned 2nd Lt. Jacques and his crew to combat. He also presented me with the original General Order 338, dated December 12, 1944, awarding him the Air Medal. Another original order, number 103 from Headquarters, 2nd Air Division, Eighth Air Force, awarded Ed the Oak Leaf Cluster for courage and skill displayed in the face of determined opposition.

In addition, there was more, much more. He had kept a Certificate of Valor, which was awarded to the men of the 458th Bomb Group, Eighth Army Air Force, signed by Walter R. Peck, brigadier general and commander of the 96th Combat Bomb Wing. A brown envelope, boldly marked Secret, was examined. It included instructions: this envelope contains secret destination orders for the above named personnel and is not to be opened until one (1) hour after departure from the continental limits of the United States….

Several original Stars and Stripes newspapers fell on my desk. One in particular, dated Wednesday, December 27, 1944, announced that Glenn Miller, the famous big band leader of the ’40s, had gone missing on a hop from the UK to Paris. Edouard had also kept some of the tools of the trade of a bombardier, including several computers—one that measured true air speed, another for altitude correction, and a third for direct conversion of slant range. There was also a device to determine true altitude and a device that plugged into the Norden bombsite. Among his treasures, Captain Jacques had his most coveted recognition, the Distinguished Flying Cross, one of the most prestigious awards given to airmen. Finally, he presented me with several booklets and papers in which he had recorded his memories of his youth, courting Marie, pilot training, marriage, bombardier training, the crews, and missions.

Immediately, I decided to do more than just enjoy these sixty-year-old artifacts. In my desire to preserve the history of these brave men, I conducted several afternoon interviews on audiotape with Ed to record his remembrances. He never ceased to amaze me with his stories and personal writings about his youth and war years. My mission was brought clearly into focus when he told me he still kept in contact with the crew of the 752nd Squadron and with the pilot of his last eighteen missions with the 755th Squadron, Fred Eisert. Ed had a special bond with the crewmen of the 752nd Squadron who flew with him on his first mission. Over the years, these men had several reunions until age and time began to curtail such meetings.

Time waits for no one. I began to plan my interviews with Ed’s crew. I had the wonderful opportunity in the fall of 2004 to interview Bob Giles from South Carolina, one of the waist gunners, and in 2011 Charles Hepprich from Connecticut, the radio operator on the lead crew. I traveled to Dayton, Ohio, on March 21, 2005, and again on February 27, 2006, to interview Fred Eisert, pilot in the 755th Squadron. On May 1, 2005, I traveled to St. George, Utah, to interview Merlin Tebbs, pilot in the 752nd Squadron. Both men were in their eighties but doing well. Ed accompanied me for these interviews, and it was a wonderful and fulfilling experience to see these comrades in arms together and to hear them relate their long-ago experiences as young airmen flying twenty-five thousand feet above Germany.

All of the interviews took at least several hours to complete. In the case of Edouard Jacques, the interviews were conducted over a three-month period consisting of at least forty hours, including at least two hours of interview with Ed’s wife, Marie. During the course of research and writing, Ed was consulted frequently to clarify or explain his writings and to provide additional information. When crewmen could not be interviewed for various reasons, the testimony of those interviewed, Ed’s booklets, and other writings brought forth their stories.

This book covers the air war as experienced by the crew of a B-24 heavy bomber of the Eighth Air Force, 96th Bomb Wing, 458 Bomb Group, 752nd and 755th Squadrons from August 1944 to May 1945. By necessity, in order to understand the reason for each mission, the ground war is briefly described. Where possible their early life is described in an effort to find a commonality among them. It is a remembrance of ordinary men doing extraordinary things in the quest to defeat the seemingly invincible Third Reich. Their story mirrors that of thousands of young Americans who have not had their events recorded and retold. None of them became famous like George McGovern, who piloted a B-24 and was a presidential candidate in 1972. His experiences were skillfully recorded by Stephen Ambrose in his book Wild Blue. Instead, these young heroes existed silently in the shadows; they came home from the war and went to work to build this great country.

This book is the story of boys from Rhode Island, Utah, South Carolina, Texas, Kentucky, New Jersey, New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Oregon, Pennsylvania, and Neumarkt, Germany. Their backgrounds are as diverse as the places from which they came. These are the stories of a son of ranchers from Utah, of immigrants from Canada and Belgium, of tobacco growers from Kentucky, of a contractor from New Jersey, of an electrician from New York City, of a farmer from Oregon, and of a butcher’s son from Germany. In interviewing some of these men, I found that while they were not similar in background or culture, they were similar in their strength of character.

I can never bring to these pages what they really felt or what courage it took to accomplish their missions. The hope is that these pages can preserve what they told me for others to read for generations to come and to give the reader a view of how their early lives contributed to making them the kind of men who courageously faced death at twenty-five thousand feet on every mission. These were the fortunate ones who returned home to their families, their wives, their children, and a grateful nation.

When we preserve and tell the story of even one man, one crew, and one plane, we honor and remember all those airmen who participated dauntlessly in defeating Nazi Germany. These are our shadow heroes!

CHAPTER 1

MEDALS AND AWARDS

On April 4, 2005, sixty years after the end of World War II, Edouard Jacques stood before U.S. Senator Jack Reed to receive medals he had earned but never received. Surrounding him were friends, family, and the members of the Coventry Town Council from his hometown. By his side stood the one person responsible for him receiving those medals, Marie, his lovely wife of sixty-one years.

Orders of the day were announced in military fashion, and Ed was presented with the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal with four Oak Leaf Clusters, the Good Conduct Medal, the European Middle East Campaign Medal with four bronze stars, the World War II Victory Medal, and the Honorable Service Lapel Button for World War II, among others. The one that seemed to touch his heart the most was the Distinguished Flying Cross, and rightly so. This award is given only to those servicemen who distinguished themselves by heroism or extraordinary achievement while in aerial flight. The achievement being recognized must be so exceptional and outstanding as to clearly set the recipient apart from his comrades or from other persons in similar circumstances. Ed still stood over six feet tall and straight as an arrow, making it hard to believe that he was eighty-three years old. A long road of sixty years connected that young man who served his country to the man who stood proudly before the crowd on that day.

Ed never asked for his medals. Rudolf Robitaille, a friend and veteran, inquired of Senator Reed about Ed’s medals, bravely earned but never received. The senator patriotically responded by arranging for the award ceremony.

Senator Reed, a West Point graduate, thanked him for his service to the United States and told the crowd that Ed was a bombardier on a B-17 bomber. Ed was fast to correct him: It was a B-24. The senator apologized, saying that he was in the Army, not the Air Force. That simple correction clearly demonstrated that Ed was very proud to have served upon that heavy bomber called the B-24, The Liberator.

Ed was asked to say a few words. With tears flowing and with a slight gravel to his voice, he began, Sixty years ago it took two thousand bombers to destroy a rail yard. Today it takes one plane from a long distance to do the same thing. I had the opportunity to fly in a fighter with my son, who was a commander in the Navy. It was very different than the plane I soloed in while in pilot training. When I look back on my war experience, it all came down to the crew, that wonderful crew that made all the difference to success or failure. After the war, I just wanted to come home to my beautiful wife. I didn’t want to wait around for medals.¹ This was typical of most of those who served in that war. Get it over, get home, and get on with life was all they wanted.

The tribute given to Ed by Senator Jack Reed was one that could have been given to every member of Ed’s wonderful crew and to all those brave and courageous fliers who flew over Germany. The senator continued: This is one of the most enjoyable opportunities I have to recognize a great American and a great aviator who served his country with distinction and valor. He came back afterwards and became a leader in his community—a man recognized for both his family and his dedication. These things are compelling to me and make me grateful that I have this job. I am proud that we had Ed Jacques serve our nation at a very daunting moment in history. He and his colleagues, men and woman, saved us from a great tyranny. They came home and gave people like me a chance. I am a child of the greatest generation. That generation continues to inspire us to do our best.²

Attention to Orders was called out. The following award is announced, the Flying Service Cross to First Lieutenant Edouard Jacques, for extraordinary achievement while serving as a bombardier on many heavy bombardment missions over enemy occupied territory and Germany. The coolness and exceptional bombing skill of this officer in the face of heavy enemy opposition has been a major factor in the successful completion of these missions. The devotion to duty and determination reflect the highest credit upon himself and the Armed Forces of the United States. Headquarters, Eighth Air Force, 23 September 1944, while in the European Operations from July 20, 1944 to 17 July 1945, First Lieutenant Jacques’ exemplary performance of duty in active aerial combat was in keeping with the finest traditions of military service and reflect great credit upon himself, the Eighth Air Force and the Army of the United States. ²³

As he stood proudly accepting his medals, were Ed’s thoughts of the war like a distant thunder? Were they just a soft rumble not quite here but definitely recognizable? It is likely that his memories were the thoughts held by anyone who had experienced a momentous world-changing event. You remember vividly where you were and what you were doing during such an event. The men who fought in World War II had an endless supply of such memories. Of course, recollections of exact dates, times, places, and names may fade but the event, the happening, does not. Flying at twenty-five thousand feet, flak abundantly splattered all over the sky, German fighters attacking constantly, and your life on the line for several tense hours at a time are events that are as real in the present for them as it was sixty years earlier.

Was Ed, in fact, remembering those war moments as he stood before the crowd? Or were his memories flashing back in time to an earlier period in his life when he had his entire future ahead of him?

Edouard J. Jacques

CHAPTER 2

PIRATES’ DEN

Ed fondly recalled the Pirates’ Den, a commandeered shed turned clubhouse in his father’s backyard that Ed and his friends used as their private space. This was no child’s playhouse. They even installed a large black kitchen stove on which they cooked. Obviously, this was no small feat for boys of twelve or thirteen years old. Ed had his gang. Of course, that word in 1933 did not have the negative connotation it holds today. Within that fellowship grew a camaraderie from which teamwork was developed, and a special caring and concern for each other was nurtured unconsciously. Ten years later, Ed would find himself with another gang, but it was called a crew, the crews he flew with on the B-24 into combat. Those attributes of teamwork, caring, and concern for the gang developed by that twelve-year-old were now life-savers in combat for Ed and his crew.

Money was hard to come by in 1933—during the heart of the Great Depression—because jobs were hard to find, especially for twelve-year-old boys. This reality did not go unnoticed by the Pirates of the Pirates’ Den. They rolled cigarettes using Bugler Tobacco and sold them for a penny each. Ed learned taxidermy from a local taxidermist, Mr. Arthur Pelletier. Ed wrote, At age twelve, I went to Phenix [a village in West Warwick, Rhode Island] to see a man who stuffed animals, birds and fish, and he was an artist at his work. His birds and animals looked life like so I had a good teacher. He showed me all the secrets of the trade and I loved it.... I continued to stuff animals until I went into the service. ³¹

The Pirates all pitched in to help Ed with the stuffed animal business. They all shared in the proceeds. We set them up on lamps in positions playing violins or guitars, Ed wrote. They looked so nice we started to sell them. We were very successful at it. ⁴² The Pirates of the Pirates’ Den would often go hunting, and the catch of the day became the next stuffed trophy. Bats were a favorite target, and they made splendid attractions hanging from the ceiling of the Den. Eventually, it became sort of a town museum of stuffed critters for the amazement of neighbors, family, and friends.

Ed fondly recalled his buddies of the Pirates’ Den: The oldest was Timothy Fontaine who later became a mechanic, his brother, Wilfred Fontaine, who did well for himself and retired well off, Edward Grandchamp, his brother, Robert Grandchamp, called ‘Pop Eye,’ he was a year younger than us, he did most of our errands, and Herman Autote whose father was a manager of a grocery store. He was helpful in obtaining goods for us that were no longer sellable.³

All the members of the Pirates’ Den knew how to swim. That is, all except Ed, who explained how they taught him to swim: One day, we all went to the dam behind Falvey Laundry in Hope, R.I. They guided me out (in the river) about twenty-five feet and showed me how to swim back to the wall on the side of the dam. I felt like a hero, so I went back during the week. The water was flowing full speed. I went out twenty-five feet and hit water over my head. I panicked and went under. I was rescued by an older boy who saw me sinking and flailing my arms in fright. He picked me up so my head would be above the water. It scared me so much I never went back into any water. I always had that feeling of panic I experienced as a youngster.⁴

While in pilot training as a cadet, he had to take water survival training. After all, he would probably have to fly over water at some point. Ed had to do something to avoid the water test: We had to jump into the water and take off our pants and tie the bottom of the pant leg. Then we had to pump air into them with our hands while floating in the water. I panicked at the thought, and I knew I could not do it. Being a cadet officer, I walked away from the group unnoticed and somehow managed to come back only when the exercise was over. I was so relieved that water survival training was over. I was given a passing grade.⁵

Ed’s success at stuffing and selling his unusual works of art occasionally got him into trouble. A dead mouse was resurrected through Ed’s skill as a taxidermist, but when he brought it to school and placed it in the corner of a room, things became a little unnerving. A janitor, thinking it to be a live mouse, spent a long time attacking it with a broom only to have the mouse seem as healthy as it had been when he made his first attack. Ed’s attempt to stuff a skunk caused him even more trouble than the mouse incident. While skinning the animal, Ed cut into the body and hit the anal scent gland, releasing that wonderful odor for which skunks are famous. It was the skunk’s revenge. Within a short time, the smell permeated throughout the entire house. Mom was less than happy with him. She yelled: Edouard! What in the world have you done? We will have to burn the house down to get rid of that stink. He threw the skunk out of the second floor window, not daring to carry it through the house and face his mother’s well-deserved wrath. It took days before Ed got rid of the smell from his room and from his person.

The smell followed him even to church, where Ed was an altar boy. As Ed and his fellow servers went about their business, the priest stopped the procession dead in its tracks. He wanted to know who smelled so bad. A lineup followed, and the priest approached each boy. When he came to Ed, he told him that he did not have to stay for the service that morning. Ed never again attempted to stuff a skunk. Ed literally got skunked. He continued to develop his skills in taxidermy throughout his teenage years.

He recalled one incident in particular that stood out: "At high school [West Warwick High School], a student brought in a dead squirrel which was pregnant. I cut her open and there were three little babies inside the size of your thumb. I wanted to preserve