Personnel

                                                         TRUE SHORT STORIES OF WW II 

                                                                      as told by 

                                                                    David Weinke



INTRODUCTION: Around the periphery o fcataclysmic events, ie WWII, there always are a good number of interesting stoires to be told. Hre are some of those, all of which happened to me



                                                         THE TALE OF TWO SOLDIERS:



London, 1943, Liverpool Street Station:



The Norwich train idles into the station, waiting for it its usual quota of passengers.  The carriages must be at least 50 years old, no corridors, and only two doors opening to the outside, one on each side.  But, any kind of of rail equipment that will move is being used. Enter two maiden ladies, prim and proper, with their little hats perched on their heads and they sit erect, one next to the other.  Following a "Colonel Blimp" with a walrus mustache and a bowler hat.  Next, tow American soldiers, infantry types who have imbibied too freely of many pints of beer-but that can be overlooked since they are probably on their last furlough before being fed into the "grinder".  And then of course, me.



The train rattles along: Elmsdorf, Coleshester, Swansee. The two soldier lads begin having a rather animated converstation.  It's obvious that they need some kind of toilet facility.  Meanwhile the "Brits" stare stoically ahead, pretending not to notice that anything is amiss. Finally after much rolling of the eyes, and wiping of the brows, a decision is made. One of the fellows opens the door and stands in it, while the other soldier stands behind him with his overcoat opened to protect the first from prying eyes of whomever.  Then they reverse positions.  When all is finished, they resume their places on the cushions, wrap their arms around one another and instantly fall asleep.  The ladies "tsk tsk" the colonel "humphs" and I smile………..



                                                                     CRASH



It was a cloudy, grey afternoon, just another day in the war business. All of us were doing what we were suppose to be doing. Steinfeld, my buddy and I were lollygagging about, not having gotten any new crews to trian on the Harwell trainers or to help sharpen their Morse Code skills. We were fat and happy, Life was good.  The aircrew guys, new crews mostly , were flying a practive mission, grinding around the airdrome trying to make even tighter formations.  It follows that the tighter the formation the less chance the German fighters have of getting inside and blasting away.  They were using a short runway, maybe because of the wind, I can't remember, but at any rate the landing sequence had begun, and the B-17's were landing in a regular manner.  When planes use a short runway they must touch down early to get a nice long rollout so that they are able to stop at the end. 



When, WHAM!!!!!!!!!!! An earthshaking explosion occurred. Our tin hut school , which was located only a few yaards from the runway rocked.  WHAT happened?!!!!!!What the Hell?! My gawd, what was that all about? Everybody tumbled out the door.  Pieces of debris flew all over the sky. It was incredible, 2 planes had collided at the end of the runway!  Somebody landed long, and couldn't stop.  Twenty guys inside theat tangled mess of metal.  In a minute or two, the two crews began to climb out of the wreckage.  Of course we all ran over to help if we could, but there didn't seem to be anything we could do.  Red flares were to tell the remaining planes NOT TO LAND!



Meanwhile, about fifty of us, gawkers all were milling around the pile of junk that two perfectly good airplanes had become. Maj Rovegno, the group engineering officer, had driven out in his jeep and had parked it close by.  All the aircrew guys had been hauled off to the station hospital, where it was discovered that there was little wrong with anyone, except a lot of residual fear, Discussions began as to what to do now? When suddenly somebody looked up the runway, only to see a third plane bearing down on all of us! Red flares shooting up from the caravan. Everyone started running like hell to get out of there!!! The good Major tried to fire up his jeep, but to no avail and he too took to his feet. I began to run just as fast as I could. As I am doing this, I took a quick look behind me just in time to see the one plane smash into the other two!  I could see into the cockpit and actually saw the pilot as he stared straight ahead. His eyes big and round. 



I have never seen anyone more frightened.  Another explosion, a hellish noise and oce again debris flying all over the sky.  This time though, I'm in the midst of all of it.  Big sheets of sheet metal gently drifting down. The plane has broken in two at the radio room where it usually does if it's going to and a body went flying out through the opening and landed nearby. I ran over to ti and much to my surprise there  was a radio operator I knew, Art Spenoff.  Art was an older guy, almost 28, imagine that. There he sat,strapped in his chair that had broken loose, saying over and over "Never again, I'm never going to do this again, NO MORE FLYING FOR ME!"  He apparently had been in another plane accident.  I tried to sooth him by saying everything would be okay, but he just glared at me and told me to go to HELL!  As it turned out he wasn't hurt much at all, and he went on to fly many missions. 



So there were 3 B-17's runined, 30 guys in them and no one killed or even hurt very badly.  Remember, the next time you notice it's boring, dreary, cloudy day and you are just plugging away on your job, you must be nearer thatn you think to an adventure.  



This accident occurred in 1944 while I was serving with the 100th Bomb Group, 8th Air Force, England





                                                                      ENGINE TROUBLE



Occasionally our side flew diversionary missions.  The RAF and the Canadians and problably other would fly missions other than to the primary target to draw the German Fightersaway from the main stike force, Thus the word diversion. Sometimes when returning from these types of missions these planes would land at our base and the crews would find an empty bed to sleep in.  So it was not unusual to find someone in the hut fully clothed with only his shoes off, sound asleeep when you go up in the morning.  This day, however the mission must have been longer than usual because when I went to work, I noticed a large number o fplanes in a traffic pattern waiting to land-all of them RAF planes of various types. So when I arrived on the job I snapped on the RT to hear what was going on with the landing procedure. 



It seemed like an endless grinding around and around and I could easily imagine those guys mightily, fatigued after several hours of flying wanting to get on the ground. Suddenly, I heard a voice announce that he was declaring an "emergency" because he had only 2 engines!  Well that surely stirred up the lads in the control tower. They instantly stopped the landing pattern to let the supposed disabled plane to land immediately!  In a moment a 'Whimpy", Wellington, WHICH ONLY HAS 2 ENGINES made a sharp bank and came in for a beautiful landing. There was an astute pilot if ever there was one!



Wow. What curses and other nasty sounds came over the RT, but the deed was done. The Wimpy was on the ground , the crew was happy, and as to any discinplinary action that might be meted out-who cared?  What can I say about all of this? Just another exciting day in the life of an airman during the great unpleasantness.