|
|
The Eighth Air Force Historical Society
Virginia Chapter Stories and Events |
|
Story by Bill Greenwell
(added 6/17/10) American Military Cemetery, Madingly Memories of World War II, Excerpts by Jimmy Boehling Story of a WWII Combat Pilot by Lew Burke The Path to be an 8th AF, Army Corps Pilot |
Memories of World War II by Jimmy Boehling
Part I More to follow.
These heroes are dead. They died for liberty - they died for us.
They are at rest. They sleep in the land they made free, under the
flag they rendered stainless, under the solemn pines, the sad
hemlocks, the tearful willows, and the embracing vines. They sleep
beneath the shadows of the clouds, careless alike of sunshine or of
storm, each in the windowless Place of Rest. Earth may run red with
other wars - they are at peace. In the midst of battle, in the roar
of conflict, they found the serenity of death. I have one sentiment
for soldiers living and dead: cheers for the living; tears for the
dead. ~Robert G. Ingersoll |
|
Story of a
WWII Combat Pilot by Lew Burke
Why I Should Have Been Awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross Prisoner of War Bulletin (sample of bulletins that were sent to Mr. Kelley's mother while he was a prisoner of war)
The Path To Be An 8th Air Force, Army Air Corps
Pilot by Bob Noziglia Jean Knaub Hughes sent us a portion of an interview her mother
did with her dad simply called: I also am including an exert from the 91st BG about the Komet attack on Daddy's plane in which you will be able to tell that the author got some of the "language" about the mission through my father's account. The author, Lowell L. Getz had written to my mother and my sister for information about the Komet attack and Daddy's personal account.
About James R. Knaub |
James R. Knaub World War II Honoree |
Interview with James R. Knaub | |
|
|
James Randolph Knaub
My Father, My Hero In a B-17 in World War II the 91st Bomb Group is with whom he flew. He flew 30 missions with 7 in the lead plane and prayed for peace for our country again. An honorable man who never patted himself on the back, he fought a Me163B Rocket Fighter attack. He treated a wounded comrade then turned to his waist gun, And fought bravely as the Mustangs finished what he and his crew had begun. There were many brave missions, and more stories to tell about the love of his country, and devotion to family as well. He believed in our nation, our flag and her glory, I am only beginning to tell of a hero and his story. The honors, awards and the medals he wore, are a fitting tribute to the man I adore. His Distinguished Flying Cross was among many received, yet he had a quiet dignity about all he achieved. Now he is resting with "folded wings" but I won't be silent about my pride in him. Just look through the clouds in the far away sky, for to protect us again, my Hero flies. Lovingly by: Jean Knaub Hughes James R. Knaub (passed away, Presidents' Day, 2.17.1997) 91st BG (H) 323rd Squadron Radio Operator and Waist Gunner B-17s: "Outhouse Mouse," "Betty Lou's Buggy" and "Ramblin' Rebel"  
Sitting in her armchair in the living room, this aged grandmother is expected to be watching the “Food Channel” or the Lifetime tear jerker movie. But – NO – she’s tuned in the “Memphis Belle.” Her teas cools on the table beside her as her thoughts stroll back to World War II and the dramas unfolding over England’s green countryside.
Yes, I was there. First in London during the Blitz when the Luftwaffe pounded England’s cities in rubble. The later, in Bury St. Edmunds, East Anglia as a member of the ATS, the women’s section of the British Army.
We were stationed in Gibraltar Barracks, a huge training center for British Troops. Our platoon consisted largely of refugee girls from Hitler’s Nazi occupied Europe. At dawn, we were awakened by the roar of the Fortresses taking off on missions over the Continent. At night we jitterbugged at the local “Corn Exchange” to the popular tunes of the times.
The winters were long and hard. But the cold we felt in our hearts was not due to the ice and snow on the parade ground outside. We trembled at the thought of what would happen if the Nazis would be able to invade England after all. And our families back home were constantly on our minds. Were they still alive? Were they hungry, cold, sick?
But the Royal Air Force boys by night and the Eighth Air Force boys by day kept the enemy at bay. And finally turned the tide. VICTORY!
My own way gradually led back to Vienna, my former hometown. I crossed a continent in shambles, with cities reduced to rubble, and displaced persons everywhere. In Vienna I stood outside the house where I was born and grew up, and felt the emptiness all around. My family was gone, their last resting places known to none.
But life went for us went on and the years passed. There were children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. Yet, clear as crystal, the memories remained. We think of the many thousands of fine young men who gave their lives to defeat the EVIL that threatened to engulf the world.
Thank you, Mighty Eighth!
Sincerely,
Frances Nunnally
|
|
|
Story Submitted by John Pearson, March 7, 2009 In April 1945 I was a navigator on a B-17 in the 457th Bomb Group at Glatton, England. On April 5, my co-pilot, Jack Taifer, was killed during take-off on a mission. Our crew had the day off but Jack had been called out to fly the tail gunner position in a lead B-17, Miss Ida. When his plane was just about leaving the ground, the tower advised the pilot that flames could be seen coming from #2 engine. About a mile off the runway, the plane went into the ground and exploded. Only the navigator survived. My crew was flying it’s second mission after that crash. During take-off, I was standing in the nose looking out the astrodome. I just happened to glance around to my left and out the window, and saw flames shooting out of #2 engine. I immediately notified the pilot, Jerry Sharrock, by intercom and he did a swift job of feathering that engine. We were at about 100 feet, and had to circle while the rest of the planes took off before we could land. After landing we taxied to a spare B-17 where we transferred to it, then overtook the formation to complete the mission. I have returned to England seven times in recent years to attend the 457th Association reunions. We attend the Memorial Day ceremony at the American Military Cemetery at Madingly at which time I visit Jack’s grave. To this day, I am convinced that the disaster that happened to Jack Taifer and crew may have happened to us if Jerry Sharrock had not been so quick and skillful in feathering the engine. In fact, in some discussions with some other 457th members at reunions in recent years, they suspected that a saboteur was at work on the base while the planes were parked at night. Other
457th BG Links: |
|
 |
Honoring
