Thursday, after I heard the bomber in the air at 9:30-AM, a tree-trimmer arrived and climbed high in one of our trees. Hearing
again the loud approach of the B-17, it finally came into view. I pointed it out to several family members on the ground, and to the trimmer's help. Not understanding the commotion, the trimmer took off his industrial-grade hearing protectors and loudly asked, "What's all the excitement?"
Up in the treetops, the bomber was partially hidden from his view, but the engines were making
That Mighty Sound. Unfortunately, he had replaced his hearing protection
immediately after asking the question and was looking in the wrong direction!
(But finally got a glance).
Quote:
Originally Posted by NoRegrets
"...It is easy to see why we call the WWII american's the "Greatest Generation". Are the missions connected to you in any way...?"
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1) I asked permission from my BIL to relate his personal background with "Operation Manna"—
Manna being a biblical reference to "food from the sky":
Back then, he was a child standing on his Amsterdam rooftop with his mother watching the packages "fall like rain" through the overcast. (From bombers only 100' overhead!
) A big white "X" had been marked on the ground to protect the populace, but only appeared intermittantly through the overcast.
Until this week, he'd only casually mentioned this relief event until reading the full background in the B-17 book
A Mighty Fortress, by Charles Alling.
REVIEW. He handed the book to me (with
me being a non-reader-type
), and I promptly read it from cover to cover!
Footnote: After a brief stint in the Dutch army, my BIL became a naturalized American citizen and one of this country's
most-patriotic
supporters—denouncing Holland's Socialism at every opportunity—and the National-Socialists (Nazis), of course.
He and his brothers placed rocks in the treads of Nazi tanks and, for heating their home, "liberated" wood planks from Nazi barracks buildings. His youngest brother—just an infant—was raised gradually higher in his baby carriage by the collection of wood.
Did I mention that he's one of this country's most-patriotic supporters?
2) As to family-connections with bombers, my Dad was stationed in the Pacific with a PBY night-bombing squadron—"VP-11". (The British had nicknamed the PBY the "
Catalina").
He wears a worn-out "VP-11" ballcap given him years ago. If you see him in Center Harbor's "Sam and Rosie's" restaurant—or the "Moultonborough Diner"—or nearly anywhere else in Wolfeboro, please say, "Thank you for your service".
(At that time you could also ask him how to explain how he nearly changed the course of the war by pummelling Admiral William "Bull" Halsey).
As a "Black-
Cat" PBY pilot, the Navy gave him five new consecutive PBYs—with depth-charges, two Mark XIII torpedoes or four 500 or 1000 pound bombs, and 50-cal anti-aircraft guns for
night-time attacks—
each plane with a 3000-mile range! 
VP-11 was also tasked with dangerous
rescue missions.
It took a lifetime of skilful commercial and civil piloting on my Dad's part to live in Wolfeboro today, but the enemy did manage to shoot him down five times within two years back then!
One of his "Black Cat" colleague-pilots was given a public "reprimand"—
not for his nighttime shooting-up an enemy cruiser from astern—but for damaging (somewhat) a Government aircraft.
... ...That pilot had landed safely, having retrieved an enemy communications antenna from the enemy's cruiser at the same time—using a Navy PBY wingtip!
(An Admiral's tongue-in-cheek awards ceremony).
