Well, then

B-29 Superfortress

 Well, then…

My father began every story with those words.  He’d lean back in the kitchen chair—where most stories were told—and tilted his John Deere cap to the side. Well, then...

Me and Sweetman were on a long run over the China Hump…you know what that is, dontcha?  Well, that is a flight over Burma and China to Japan.  We dropped bombs on towns there... Well, then. 

It took close to, oh say 24 hours to fly there and back. We'd stop over in China to unload food supplies for the hungry Chinese. Then take off to fly low over the waters, so low that we could see the white caps on the waves.  I betcha we coulda reached out to grab some sea water. 

Flew low to conserve fuel.  Plane was heavy.  Man, it was heavy with fuel tanks and artillery.  Me and Sweetman were bay gunners.  The closer we got to Japan, Japs would be buzzing around us like hornets.  Me and Sweetman would shoot at 'em, heavy guns and loud.  Now and then, we’d say, “I got one…”

Well, then.  This story is about a rule we had on the bomber.  The first one who had to pee would have to clean the latrine.  Nasty, bad job.

Ol’ Gandy had to go bad.  The rest of us were pent-up about the mission, we couldn’t have peed for nothing.  But Gundy had to go.

But the latrine?  He decided he’d open the bomb bay doors just a little and pee down them.  Worked just fine.

Then we heard the navigator Ol' Shelton say somethin’ like.  “What’s this?  Yellow sea water?”  He smacked his lips, wiped his face.  “Tastes funny.”

We never told him what it was.  Don’t think he’da like it.

Top row (rt. To lt.): Charles T. Roc, Charles H. Donald, Ronald M. Gandy, Louis E. Peck (my dad), John Sweetman

Middle Row: Capt. William O Ezell (pilot), Lt. Hump Halsey (co-pilot), Arthur M. Shelton, Merril Williams

Front: James D. Waring, Robert Quick

Well, then Dad would stand up, straighten his cap, and go out to do chores.

Some stories don’t need an end.  Others do.

Got me one...

B-29 Superfortress

Flying over China, Bud stared over the wing of B-29, nicknamed “Bomber Betty”.  Darkness draped over the mountains below, hiding the aluminum of crashed planes, called "Tin Can Alley".

The pilot, Capt. Ezell eased down low over the China Sea, conserving on fuel, riding below radar.  The white caps of the water below flew along with the plane.

Japan was twenty minutes away.

Ezell began the ascent to high above the waters, high enough to drop the payload.

Bud stretched legs and arms, a hard job for a tall man, a bay gunner in the bomber.  He gave the other bay gunner a shout.  “Hey, Sweetman!  Get up, time to go to work.”

Dark handsome Bud in center, 468th division, 1944

Sweetman replied with some expected profanity, and both checked their guns on the ready.

Ten...five minutes to Japan.  

That was when the Japanese fighters buzzed out from the clouds, fast mosquitoes darting around, above, and below...ack-ack-ack tracers...tail gunner swirling to hit the darting planes.

Bud and Sweetman aimed, fired, aimed again...again...again.  I got one…yep, I got me one…

The bombs were released, target hit, damage confirmed, flames billowing.  Time to go home.  Time to fly low over the water, to use every drop of fuel needed to make it back to China. 

Landing is a relief, after 24 hours in the air.

I got one…yep, I got me one….

My father Bud was one of the B-29 crew that flew in supplies to the starving Chinese people.  The Japanese had prevented supplies by barricading the coast lines.  My father was mainly involved in bombing runs over Japan.  I believe he and the crew flew 24? missions, some back to back.    

Well, then...

B-29 Superfortress

 Well, then…

My father began every story with those words.  He’d lean back in the kitchen chair—that is where most stories were told—and tilted back the John Deere cap.

Me and Sweetman were on a long run over the China Hump…you know what that is, dontcha?  Well, that is a flight over Burma and China to Japan.  We dropped bombs on towns there.  But... Well, then. 

It took close to 24 hours to fly there and back.  Had to fly low over the waters, so low that we could see the white caps on the waves.  I betcha we coulda reached out to grab some sea water. 

We flew so low to conserve fuel.  Plane was heavy.  Man, it was heavy with the fuel tanks and the artillery.  Me and Sweetman were the bay gunners.  The closer we got to Japan, the Japs would be buzzing around us like hornets.  Me and Sweetman would shoot at them, heavy guns and loud.  Now and then, we’d say, “I got one…”

Well, then.  This story is about a rule we had on the bomber.  The first one who had to pee would have to clean the latrine.  Nasty, bad job.

Ol’ Gandy had to go bad.  The rest of us were pent-up about the mission, we couldn’t have peed for nothing.  But Gundy had to go.

But the latrine?  He decided he’d open the bomb bay doors just a little and pee down them.  Worked just fine.

Then we heard the navigator Ol' Shelton say somethin’ like.  “What’s this?  Yellow sea water?”  He smacked his lips, wiped his face.  “Tastes funny.”

We never told him what that was.  Don’t think he’da like it.

Top Row (rt. to lt.): Charles T. Rock,  Charles H. Donalds,  Ronald M. Gandy,
Louis E. Peck (my dad),  John Sweetman

Middle Row:  Capt.Willam O. Ezell (pilot), Lt. Hump Halsey (co-pilot),  Arthur M Shelton, Merril Williams

Front:  James. D. Waring,  Robert Quick

Then Dad would stand up, straighten his cap, and go out to do chores.  

Dad loved to tell stories, but only certain stories.