One Fighter Pilot’S War

By John W. Walcott

Author John W. Walcott was a citizen soldier who went through rigorous training in order to escort bombers in a P-51 Mustang fighter during World War II.

In One Fighter Pilots War, he recalls that journey in vivid detail, offering an insiders view of the military system of the time, painting a fascinating portrait of his colorful fellow cadets and the skilled instructors who delivered highly trained pilots to the theater of war. He remembers climbing into the cockpits of the Army Air Corps trainers, confronting German jets, strafing Nazi convoys and rail lines, flying escort missions with observation aircrafts and bombers alike, and working to save the crews of disabled aircraft. He also recounts the dangerous rescue of downed pilots in the mountainous Balkans. His is the story not of an ace but of one of the dedicated men and women who served every day in the war to do their part.

This memoir tells the personal story of a World War II fighter pilot, bringing to life for all generations those years of sacrifice and achievement.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491775523

John W. Walcott

John W. Walcott was born and raised in Michigan. He enlisted in the air reserves and was called up in 1943 and flew thirty-nine missions before VE Day in 1945. After the war, he completed his education and became a professor of mathematics at Oswego State University in upstate New York, retiring in 1985. After moving to North Carolina and writing this memoir, he passed away in 2003.

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ONE FIGHTER PILOT’S WAR

Copyright © 2015 John W. Walcott.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-7551-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7553-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7552-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015914470

iUniverse rev. date:  10/15/2015

CONTENTS

Preface

Introduction

1   One Fighter Pilot’s War

2   What Was Basic Training?

3   The Army And Ties With Home

4   In College At Kutztown

5   Classification And Preflight: San Antonio

6   The Altitude Chamber

7   Physical Conditioning

8   Primary Flying School: Bonham, Texas

9   Basic Flying School: Perrin Field, Sherman, Texas

10   Advanced Flying School: Eagle Pass, Texas

11   Graduation From Flying School

12   Rtu At Thomasville

13   How I Got Over There

14   And Now It All Begins

15   Life On The Ground

16   Missions Over Europe

17   Living Quarters And Roommates

18   On Leave In Rome

19   The Last Week Of 1944

20   Mission Operations

21   Mosquitos, Big Fence, And High Brass

22   Mission To Blechhammer

23   Partisans, Politics, And Rescues

24   A Dangerous Landing

25   Mission To Berlin

26   Mission To Brenner Pass

27   Winding Down And Going Home

28   Last Weeks In The Military

Afterword

About The Author

PREFACE

I want my family to know what my years in the military were like. They have heard tales about it. Perhaps this will clear up what really happened.

I am now seventy-eight years old. This all started fifty-seven years ago and went on for more than three years. This account is written from memory, my pilot’s log, and letters I sent home to my family and friends, which my mother collected and saved.

I enlisted. I was called up. I went through training. I flew thirty-nine missions in the P-51 in the Fifteenth Air Force in Italy. I came home, hung on to war’s end, and got my long-awaited discharge.

November 1999

Hendersonville, North Carolina

A.tif

1944. John Wesley Walcott.

John W. Walcott

Army Serial Number 16057823

Officers Serial Number 0-714544

INTRODUCTION

Having a combat role in a war is a transforming experience. You are forever changed, but for the better or for the worse, you never know. There are memories of tragedy, exhilaration, and comedy; of strong friendships and screwed-up messes; and of bravery, skill, and persistence in overcoming big obstacles. There are memories you would like to forget but cannot.

On the other hand, you were someone special. You flew a high-powered, marvelous mechanical creation requiring all your skill. Stress and danger were constant companions. There was also appreciation for the great opportunity you had to participate in what you believed was a just cause. In addition, you were a member of an elite group and were well aware of it then and later in life. What you were doing was what thousands of other people wished they could do. You will always take pride in your achievement.

Your mission day begins with an awakening. Time to get up, Walcott. Briefing in thirty minutes.

All gather in the briefing room. A large map of Europe is on the wall in front of you. The front lines are indicated on the map. Included are the western front and the eastern front. The day’s mission is indicated on the map with string showing your route and the target. The operations officer describes your mission, including takeoff time and the place and time of the rendezvous with the long-range heavy bombers. Code names for the various groups are given. The commanding officer says a few words about formation and what to watch for and offers notes of caution. Watches are synchronized.

You go to breakfast and then prepare for your day. Your maps and your survival kit go in your pant-leg pockets. You put your sheath knife in a leg pocket and strap on your .45 automatic pistol in its holster. You drive the half mile to the flight line in a jeep. With the help of the crew chief, you climb into the cockpit with your parachute and the life vest—called a Mae West—strapped on your upper body. The life raft is part of the parachute, and you sit on that. The seat is adjustable up and down, and you put it where it fits your physique. You fasten the seat belt and the shoulder harness, and you are ready to assume control of your machine.

There are several controls available. The control stick is in front of you between your legs. When in flight, if you pull back on the stick, you go up; if you push forward, you go down. Move it to the right or left, and you bank to the right or left. The rudder is controlled with your feet, but in flight, it is only used to counteract engine and propeller torque. While taxiing on the ground, you use the rudder to control your direction. The rudder is connected to the tail wheel, and that is what moves you left or right. Pushing on top of the rudder pedal activates the wheel brake on that side. The stick is operated with your right hand. With your left, you control the throttle, the propeller speed (rpm), and the wing flaps. There is a gun switch on the instrument panel. The trigger is on top of the control stick and is activated with your right thumb. It sounds complicated, but you are well trained at this point and only think about what you want to do, not what to pull or twist.

The P-51 carries about 450 gallons of 150-octane gasoline. In case of a crash, it makes a hell of a big fire. There are five gasoline tanks, and a selector valve is located in the cockpit. Two of the tanks are suspended below the wings and are to be used on the way to the target. Whenever trouble shows up, they are to be dropped. Since the drop tanks are used up first, after they are released, you still have the three permanent tanks almost full. That is what gave the Mustang its long range. It could fly a round-trip of two thousand miles and stay up for eight hours.

The mission of the Thirty-First Fighter Group in Italy was to escort B-17 and B-24 bombers while they bombed targets in areas held by the Axis powers and to protect those bombers from enemy fighter planes. These enemy fighters were mostly German, but there were some Italian and Hungarian planes also. These planes were all propeller driven like the Mustang but were not as good. During the latter part of 1944 and into 1945, the Germans introduced the Messerschmitt 262, which was a jet plane and faster than any propeller-driven plane. After the jet appeared, we also escorted the British Mosquito plane, which was used for reconnaissance. It took pictures of enemy installations and bomb damage from earlier bombing raids. The Mosquito could outrun anything the Germans had until they brought out the jet fighter. The Mosquito was suddenly vulnerable to the German air force and had to be escorted.

Another role of the Thirty-First was to attack so-called targets of opportunity. If any German truck convoys or trains were spotted, it was permissible to strafe and destroy them. At low altitude, you were vulnerable to antiaircraft fire. But truck convoys or trains were usually nowhere near such artillery. There was one other mission, which was very dangerous, and that was to strafe a German airfield. Numerous antiaircraft guns protected the fields, and the only safe attack was a complete surprise. I never went on such a mission, but the first mission I was assigned to fly after I arrived in Italy was an airport-strafing mission. Since I was a beginner, they sent my experienced roommate in my place. He was shot down that day but did manage to parachute safely to earth and was found by the Serbs, who controlled the countryside. They did not control the cities, main roads, or airports but succeeded in getting him back to his outfit. That is another story, which I will deal with later.

How did I get into this situation? That involves many different locations and experiences and many months of training. The change of lifestyle and the preparation resulted in the ability to handle a high-speed, powerful airplane and the adjustments in attitude that were needed to do it.

CHAPTER ONE

ONE FIGHTER PILOT’S WAR

During the summer of 1942, I was enrolled in the engineering college of the University of Michigan. I started my senior year that September but decided to enlist in the Air Corps Reserve. I had a student deferment at the time, but in those days, everybody was expected to sign up unless he had a physical handicap or had a wartime job that was considered essential. It was an all-out war effort. The Army Air Corps (the US Air Force didn’t exist then) had a recruitment campaign going and sent a team to Ann Arbor about once a month.