Prologue: Life Shaping Events

We are all products of our life experiences. Some shape us more than others. Some totally define us. Some of us will be tested beyond what we could imagine. Some win a future for themselves, and for all who follow.

This is a story of incredible resilience.

David Kulchar was born the youngest of six children to his mother Anna on the 22^nd of May 1922. His mother will play a significant role in shaping her youngest, as will the circumstances of his times.

His mother’s story is extraordinary in its own right. Anna was in her second marriage to Frank Kulchar, having survived her first husband, Michael Varga, and father of her first four children, George, Michael, Katie and Steven. Following the death of her first husband, Anna remarried to Frank and bore two sons, Ernest and David. Michael, Ernest and David would come to serve in the US Army in the greatest conflict of the twentieth century. She would suffer the worry and hurt of any mom sending a child off to war, but her worry would be three-fold.

Anna, was born in Hungary along with both of her husbands. She was of strong immigrant stock. Here in America’s heartland of Cleveland they came to build a life for themselves, to be part of building a future, for themselves and America. They wouldn’t have thought of their futures quite this way, they were about living and building as best as they could.

In such times they lived among the Hungarian diaspora in cramped neighborhoods where the workers of America have always been found. Where immigrants had fled to. Here they hoped to escape the incessant strife and wars of a Europe that continually saw great powers jostling for control and seeking conquest on the backs of working men, while the landed and wealth played the roles of gentry and officers of great armies that would periodically lay waste to the land and lives of the common workers and farmers. So, they would withstand the discrimination from those who migrated to America before them, and would make the best life they could. America needed immigrants. Immigrants needed America.

David’s early years were spent in a lively family bustling with energy, five older brothers and an older sister made sure he was stimulated and active from an early age.

Life was good, until it wasn’t. In 1929 the stock market crashed. Fortunes were lost over night. This seemed of little importance to the Kulchar family. After all, they knew no one who owned stock, like most working families. But then the run on the banks would come, the layoffs at the foundries and then the bakeries and suddenly there was no work. Long-lines for bread. Soup lines. Suddenly life which seemed to have so much promise would become desperate and uncertain.

The oldest, George, went North to Detroit to find work. There was a promise of a new steel mill being established in a place called Ecorse along the banks of the Detroit River. A village of sorts just south of the great city, which had become famous for automotive factories.

George did find work at the new steel mill, Great Lakes Steel. At a time when everything was crashing down, there was new hope for this family. George helped the family move North. His step-father, Frank and brother Mike would also find jobs at the mill. George would be a roller, the high precision position of controlling the floor production of steel, while Frank would be an inspector, ensuring proper quality of the process, and Mike would be a hooker, using tongs to control strands of hot molten steel. These jobs were incredibly dangerous, the work was hot, dirty, and the noise was unrelenting. Workers relied on carefully choregraphed movements and hand signals to keep the steel moving and stay as safe as possible.

They bought a house on 5^th street in Ecorse Village. At just over 1000 square feet, it was crowded with eight of them, and a new baby which would make nine. Katie became pregnant, in what amounted to a minor family scandal, and Richard was born in 1930. She would not marry the father, unusual for the times. However, in what they were now calling the Great Depression it was not uncommon for men to move on in search of work, eschewing family responsibilities.

Katie worked as a servant for a prominent village family. In total, although tough times, the salaries from the mill made it possible for the family to live free of worry from starvation and homelessness. This was not the case for many of this generation. The figure that follows is from the 1930 census. Dave was age 7 at the time of the census.

George married Irene Gorundy soon after, and bought a house on two lots, with the idea of building a second house sometime in the future. This would never happen.

This relieved at least the overcrowding as Ernie and Steve, also moved in for a time with George and Irene before eventually moving on in life. Thus with 6 people in the small house life was a bit easier.

Life was possible, affordable in very tough times, they counted themselves fortunate.

But disaster would change all this in two years.

Frank, David’s pa, was killed in an accident at the mill in early 1932. It’s not clear exactly how it happened, but he was crushed by a crane.

Once again Anna found herself without a husband and with children to look after. David was 9. The disaster hit him hard, as he was old enough to understand that this was more than a personal disaster, this was confusing and life changing threat to the well-being of the family.

The family was devastated, they held on to each other during the closed-casket funeral service, at the Hungarian church of St. John’s in Delray. The service was attended by hundreds. Help and care came from everyone, but in two weeks it was over. Everyone goes back to work, or in Dave’s case back to school. It was an early lesson that the world is a dangerous place. But life goes on for the living.

While in Europe, as in America, the Great Depression raged. And in Germany, the pain of reparations from the “Great War” weighed heavily on the people. Unemployment and inflation made life unbearable. In 1932, the Nazi Party would win the largest number of seats in the Reichstag, not a majority, but enough to eventually take control. And so in1933, an Austrian-Hungarian born, Corporal in the Great War, Adolf Hitler, became the Chancellor of Germany.

Within a year he would use the levers of government power to change the Republic to an Autocratic Dictatorship with Fascist intents and dreams of conquest and racial purification.

Industrialist backed him with his plans to build one of the largest militaries the world had ever seen. The people supported him as they went back to work, and they welcomed the marshal drums, the stories he told about the German exceptionalism and the engagement and involvement of a totalitarian and society. His popularity soared as factories were built, highways were built, and great monuments to an Aryan Race were built to proclaim their superiority. Soon it was to be followed by conquests that were rapid, total and complete.

As this was happening in Europe. Franklin Delano Roosevelt would be elected president of the United States. Being sworn into office in 1933, he would embark on some of the greatest social change ever. He would usher in a New Deal, where by there would be a social net to protect those who become unemployed, disabled and/or unable to work due to age. Banks would be regulated. People will be fed and jobs would become more plentiful until another recession hits in 1938.

The interest and intent of the nation would be one of development and growth, not conquest. Those seeking racial purification will be ever present but will be pushed into the background. After all, this was a nation of immigrants. These people from everywhere in the world and of all races and religions would build a great nation. Fighting our way out of economic tragedy and environmental ruin through legislation and regulation will be the focus. His government would lead a nation toward a modern industrial and agriculture future. The military services would receive little funding, and by 1940, the standing US Army would be about a tenth of the size of Germany’s. Poland, France, even Portugal would have more modern and larger armies.

The stage is set for two very different cultures to come together in a terrific clash. The American working class born out of resilience and personal creativity and initiative versus a culture born out of dependency on the directives of a charismatic leader and a philosophy and mythology of Aryan superiority.

The story must be told about the average American boys unexpectedly finding themselves warriors for their country at a time the country needed millions of such average, but extraordinary and exceptional men. Men who would stand for freedom and liberty and would suffer horrors unimagined.

Chapter 1: December 1937, A Cold Steel Town

Cold resiliency, intractable odds, a destiny, and a legacy. These are the winter wars of a teen in the icy cold of a steel town battle for supremacy of White Street in the December winter, 1937. An unforeseeable prologue. David calls out to Billy, “We got them on the run” as he chugs another icy-snowball at the boys from Fourth St… racing to the snow bank two houses to the East.

Billy calls out, “let’s push them back!”

Jack, huffing from the exertion of cutting quickly across the street to a stored ammo of ice-balls, yells, “Davey… you have the speed, get up to the corner, we’ll get them boxed in.”

In doing so, the boys from Fourth realize they are losing and beat a hasty retreat from their White Street incursion… and now White Street is the province of the Fifth St. boys thanks to speed, strategy and a supply of ammo.

Mom from around the corner calls out “Dávid, gyere be ide, nem játszhatsz egész nap! … “Az Isten szerelmére, a 15 éves korodra!”

“Jack, I need to go, mom’s calling me, I have some work to do, she says I can’t play all day! … and more specifically… for Christ’s sake, I’m 15 years old!”

“I never have an idea what your mom is saying, what a language! The only words I understand and care to hear is chicken paprikash… if she has any to share, let me know!”

“Jack, nice try, but if you want something you’ll need to help with the deliveries”…

“Naw, I’m heading home.”

“Me too” says Billy, “I need to study for school.”

Billy and Jack, trudge off to their homes, and whatever chores might await them.

This cold steel town is doing better than some in the middle of a depression, but not great. His brothers are getting laid off, and hours are being cut at the mill. Furthermore, people moving up from the South, looking for work are taking jobs from existing residents, as they will work for whatever scraps they can get.

Dave gets his sled and gathers the wash mom cleaned, ironed folded and put in clean laundry bags. He begins trekking across the snowy streets to the crunch of his boots with a cold wind stinging his face, he looks to the gray skies and says to no-one “it didn’t seem that cold when we were playing.”

He heads up 5^th Street to Southfield. Turning East away from the afternoon sun, he feels the wind coming from the river. At the viaduct for the railroad that crosses above the road, he heads down and the sled is nearly chasing him only to find that on the uphill side he is working hard to pull the sled up the icy sidewalk. His galoshes are slipping, but they are better than nothing. At the top of the hill, the wind again announces its presence. He pulls his scarf tighter across his face against the sting. Another two blocks and he turns right on High St.

Per mom’s instructions he drops the laundry at the Baklarz home and collects a quarter from Mrs. Baklarz as a tip… it feels good to have some change in his pocket. Moving on, he retraces his steps to the Baklarz market to deliver the clean and folded aprons, and pick up the chicken ma told him not to forget, and to get last.

Around back, Johnny Baklarz opens the door and lets him in from the bitter cold.

“Davey, you look like you could use a hot chocolate, let me get one for you. Have a seat, we’re not busy now… I think the cold is keeping people home.”

Johnny wipes his hands on a bloodied apron and pours a cup for Dave and himself from the kettle on the burner in the back.

Dave takes his mittens off… the scent of chocolate is wonderful, the warmth in his hands a welcome relief from the cold as he takes a sip of chocolate goodness.

“Johnny, you had a great football career through high school, I thought you might play in college, or at least go to college, but here you are working at your folks’ market?”

“I’d like to, I had plans to be at Michigan State studying Forestry… and Arizona State showed an interest in me for football, but times are hard. My family needs me to work here at the market. Half our customers buy food on credit, so we cannot afford to pay wages for someone to do my job. I gotta be here until people have jobs and money to pay their tabs.”

Musing further, Johnny says “I believe these tough times are going to end, the history of the world is full of difficult times as our history teacher Mr. Jackson taught. Our generation will have to innovate, build, create and likely fight for a future that will be better.”

“I’ll tell you though, if things turn around, I’d really love to go to Arizona and get out of Michigan and these cold winters and gray skies… what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sports might be a way out of here, they do give some scholarships, if you can afford to live on campus… I know college will be difficult for your family with three brothers and a sister”…

“Well actually four brothers, but my oldest brother, George, is out of the house and working at the mill, thankfully, as he has a family of his own. But as you know pa died a few years back. My brothers Steve and Ernie got laid off at the mill last month, probably like many of your customers. My brother Mike had his hours cut so that he’s only working part-time at the mill.”

“Yeah, that is right, we’ve heard from most of Ecorse. Everyone is either looking for employment or more hours where they are. A few weeks ago, Roosevelt talked about the unemployment crisis in his fireside chat. He said that the surge in work at places like the mill over the last few years just led to over production and excessive inventories… the subsequent cut backs, hit towns like ours hard.

“Yeah, I listened to the speech. I like how he makes even bad news sound like it something we can overcome. But that doesn’t put food on the table. We have a big household and times are hard. My mom does laundry, as you know, to supplement and my sister is now working as a lived-in for one of the few wealth families in the area.”

“Dang, the hot chocolate is good. I really appreciate it.”

“Well, it’s nice to have someone to chat with, it has been a least two hours since anyone came into the store today… so tell me Davey, what are your plans?”

“I expect I’ll be enlisting after high school, there’s no family business and getting in with the mill or an auto factory seems nearly impossible. I could work at Wild Bill’s I suppose. I’ve helped there with some auto repairs, but I just don’t know if there’s enough work?”

“Hey, Johnny, what do you think about what happened in last year’s Olympics, with all the marching and chest beating about Aryan superiority – and then Owen’s showed them in track, and our boys embarrassed them in rowing… maybe the Fascists are going to make trouble, if for no other reason than we kicked their butts.”

“That was cool, but I don’t think they have their sights on us, but you never know.”

“You know I watched you during practice this last fall. You are a little small for football, but you are fast, you are smart, what about track? I won state championship in shotput, but Ecorse High could use some more speed on the team this coming spring.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll give it a try.”

“Here…” as he tosses a book to Dave… “read this book about the “Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World”, it includes in the first chapter the battle of Marathon, it is interesting! The Marathon race in the Olympics gets its name from this battle. I think you’ll find it interesting. Also, it tells us a lot about how the world has been changed through great battles. Mr. Jackson gave me the book last spring, I don’t think he expects it back.”

“Johnny, that’s swell, I’ll read it and sign up for track this spring. I hope someday you get a chance to play at Arizona, or anywhere. I’m sure you would like to see more of this world. Maybe, you’ll be famous, and not just for cutting meat here in this market.”

“Thanks a lot kid… now drink up, I gotta get back to my famous meat cutting… and take this chicken your mom asked for, on credit like the rest of the city.”

Dave, put the mug on the counter, tucked the book in his coat, and put on his mittens before leaving. He dragged his sled behind him carrying a paper-wrapped chicken.

He brazenly headed right up through 4^th St. as the sun was starting to descend behind the trees and homes along the street, the gray getting darker, like the charcoal colors that seem to fit so well a steel town in tough times.

Turning down White street he retraced his way through the battle ground of the play fight from earlier, wondering what the future might hold… he was fast, and track seemed a good way to get noticed … the girls might make greater notice of a jock with a letter on his jacket.

The wind picked up and blew cold, once again stinging his face. “Dang it’s cold, I hope mom has got some soup on the stove.”

Chapter 2: January 1938, To Work

Ma, calls for a family meeting around the dinner table. Mike, Steve, Ernie (who everyone called Bones but Ma) and Dave. Katie had moved to her live-in maid job, and George was across the street with his new young family. To know one’s surprise, Ma was the unquestioned lead in any discussion. She was tough, no bullshit kind of person who said what she meant and meant what she said.

Anna starts in her native language… “You boys have had it too easy. Layoffs, hours cut, these are no good excuses. You must bring money to the family. We don’t have enough money to cover the rent, heating costs and we are behind on our bills with Baklarz and everyone else who gives us credit. I’ve asked your brother George for help enough, he has his own family and two young ones. The $500 we got from the Mill on pa’s passing is long gone, we do not have enough money. There is only so much laundry available for me to do, as other families have had their hours cut and cannot pay.”

“Mike, your hours are cut, then you must find more work.”

“Steve, you only had the job for a short time and you are laid off. You need another job.”

“Ernest both you and David, you are old enough now that you need have jobs. School will have to wait.”

Mike replies, “ma, I’ve been thinking about the Michigan Air National Guard. I can sign up and work weekends to make some more money. It’s not that much, but it makes up for some of the hours that have been cut… but it doesn’t make sense for Bones to quit school, he only has 6 more months left to graduate.”

Ma says, “I don’t like it either, but school doesn’t matter if there’s no food to eat.”

Steve interjects, “I agree with Mike. Bones should finish school, and Dave should too… I’m sure I can find something soon.”

Ma replies, “You better get your ass out there looking, you cannot be spending time with your buddies and girls.”

Ernie pleads, “ma, I gotta finish school. It will improve my chances of finding work, and it’s just a few months more.”

Dave, knowing that he must say something… “I agree Bones needs to finish, and I want to continue. I’m doing well in my course work and I want to run track too. But I can pick up some work at the auto shop.”

David continuing, says “Ernie, it makes sense for you to finish school. People are not buying new cars, so they need to make their cars last longer and so there is more repair work than before. I’ve been hanging around the auto shop and will see if I can work there. Bill will pay me per job. I’ve rebuilt some transmissions for him, and he’s paid me $5 for doing so, maybe I can get more of that work if I quit school.”

Ma renders final judgements… “David, yes take that work. You can go back to school when times are better. Ernie, finish school. Mike sign up for the Guard, but also take any extra hours that are available. Get with your brother George and see if he can pull you into additional work at the mill, he has been there a long time, and has a boss man job. Steve, I know you’ll find something. You must. We all must work together.

—

Dave went to Bill Hines of Wild Bill’s Auto. He was under a ’32 Ford…

“Yeah kid, what do you want?”

“I know business is picking up for you, and I’d like to know if I was here more, could you use me for more transmission rebuilds, or other engine work?”

“You are pretty handy, and did good work on the few jobs I’ve given you, but what about school?”

“I’m going to drop out of school. I need to work, I need to contribute to the family purse.”

“Well, I think that’s a bad idea for you, but I could use capable help. I got yokels coming in here every day looking for work but most don’t know a socket wrench from box wrench… Okay. I’ll pay you by the job, don’t get the idea of a regular wage. If I have work for you, you’ll get paid. If not, you don’t.”

“Deal.”

With that Dave, went to the administration office first thing the next morning and withdrew from school. The office said, others have had to do the same thing this year, and suggested he think of it as a suspension of his schooling.

Mike, joined the Michigan Air National Guard and Steve took a month or two before he found a job swinging a hammer for a construction crew, doing repair work and add-ons for people who are expanding their houses to allow for lodgers to somehow make ends meet.

Ernie finished school in the summer of 1938 and joined Steve to work as a roofer on some of the construction activities the company was undertaking. Later Ernie would also join the Michigan Air National Guard to augment his pay and follow in the footsteps of older brother Mike.

Chapter 3: Fall 1939, A World at Change

Germany Attacked Poland, and overran its modern Army in less than four weeks. Britain, France had declared war. Japan was attacking Chinese cities. The world was erupting.

Detroit was gearing up for increased production of steel and war materials. After all, war materials and products could be very profitable.

The Michigan Air National Guard increased tempo of training at the Wayne County Airport. They were specializing in aerial observation and artillery spotting, as part of the 107^th Observation Squadron, transitioning from the O-38 two seat bi-plane to a mono three-seat O-47A and B versions. Allowing for the addition of a rear-gunner along with a pilot and a camera/observation second seat. Windows at the bottom of the fuselage allowed for ground observation. Private Ernie Kulchar, (Bones) was training as a gunner in the O-47.

Corporal Mike Wargo, was smart, and an easy-going sort. He loved to fly, and had invested in an O-38 the guard had retired so he could fly when not on duty. He was the son of Michael Varga and Anna. His name was Varga, but that was changed to Vargo in school. His nature was to not care about such things, so he didn’t argue with the administration at Ecorse School One, kitty corner from their family home. Later the Air Guard clerk at enlistment change it from Vargo to Wargo on his enlistment form. Again, as was his nature, he decided it didn’t matter what name they chose to stitch on his uniform.

Sgt. Dan Bergan called over to Wargo and Private Falco, “I need you to set up a line of 5 smoke pots wired to this control panel at 20-yard intervals proceeding South from the control trench, with the first 50 yards away. Pull the wire, carry the pots out there and set the electronic fuse. We are running an artillery spotting simulation this afternoon.”

Corporal Wargo said, “We’ll get right on it. Are the control switches powered off”?

“Yes,” replied Bergan.

Mike said to Falco. “Put that cigarette out, there’s no smoking around the smoke pots. Let’s go, we’ll set the pots first at their locations before wiring the pots as a safety precaution.”

With that they stepped off 50 yards to the South and placed the first of five smoke pots. Then the next 20 yards, and so on until all 5 smoke pots were in position. While simultaneously dragging the five activation wires dropping them at each station. Starting with the furthest.

Mike said, “Falco, pull the canister top and expose the flash chemical, and strike it so we can insert the fuse.”

Mike following Falco, inserted the fuse into the mixture and immediately the smoke pot went off with a loud bang, putting out an incredible plume of smoke and burning both of them severely. Mike screamed, and Sgt. Bergan noticed immediately that they were in trouble. Mike’s shirt was on fire. His head, arms, chest were immediately burnt and blistering badly. Falco was rolling on the ground trying to put out the fire covering his upper torso.

The fires burned out just as an emergency standby crew with the truck they could use as an ambulance arrived… the extinguisher deployed added to the confusion but did put out the ambers on the ground that were threatening the South end of the airfield. Gently the crew got both Falco and Mike into the back of the truck and started to the field medical center. The medic on call, seeing the burns told them to keep them on the truck and take them directly to Eloise Hospital just over 5 miles North. He went back into the building and called the hospital to let them know they had burn victims on the way.

Mike held his arms away from his body, not sure which hurt more his chest or his head… shock setting in made him feel light headed and queasy. Looking next to him, Falco didn’t look much better. Neither of them had anything that resembled a shirt on, their skin was blistering, and red. A silly thought came to mind, it looks like some kind of tomato thrown on a charcoal grill. The chemical smell of the smoke pot faded and was replaced by the sickly smell of burnt skin. Each bump along the dirt road was agony.

Mike remembers being put on a gurney and wheeled into the hospital emergency room, but then blanked out. He awoke a day later with less pain than he could have expected. The morphine drip was doing its trick. By now, his brother Steve and ma, Anna, were there when he woke.

Mike, seeing the light dressing on his upper body, said, “what the heck happened”?

Steve said, “from what I hear from your commanding officer, the smoke pot you were setting up went off. Some guy named Falco was helping you, and he’s in the next room with similar burns.”

Ma said (in Hungarian), “Christ Mike, you shouldn’t be playing with fire! You don’t need to be in the Army. I brought you some balm to use”… exasperated, Anna added to no one in particular, and to everyone, “you boys are going to be the death of me.”

Steve said, “Its pig’s lard and beeswax with orbáncfű

(St. John’s Wart).”

Mike said, “leave it for the doctors… but, I have a feeling they have other ideas for treatment.”

Mike and Falco spent the next two weeks in the hospital recovering. Both were released to continue convalescing at home for a minimum of another 4 weeks. Mike thought, well, looks like ma get to user her balm after all.

True enough, Anna had a batch made for Mike when he walked through the door. Surprisingly, Mike found the salve soothing and he really believed that he healed faster than he might have otherwise.

Looking in the mirror a couple weeks later he was upset to see that his hair was only coming back as very fine fuzz in small patches. This sure didn’t help his otherwise handsome features… he mused “maybe there’s something I can use to grow my hair back”?

David, passing by his brother and with an abundance of wavy black hair, said “I’ll donate some to you brother. How do you want it”?

Mike said, “thanks smart ass. I wish it was that easy.”

Ernie piped in, “the guys at the guard are always asking about you. When will you be back?”

Mike said, “tell them I’m coming back soon. Should be another week or two. Besides, I think I’ll be getting my wings in the coming year, and maybe promotion to sergeant with them.”

Ernie, said, “I have no doubt brother. The Army is recruiting pilots. There are not enough of them. And it is clear there is a war coming. The Germans ran over Poland and now are posturing to attack France and the British Expeditionary force for declaring war on them. Seems stupid to me. After all, should France and England worry about Poland.”

Dave replied, “look man, someone needs to stop the fascists. Throughout history, every time an all-powerful leader with racist nationalistic rhetoric like Hitler arises, it leads to wars of conquests. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t think he has plans to stop at Poland.”

Mike replied, “Well, if he decides to mess with the USA, we’ll be ready. But I don’t think he will, as we kicked their asses in the Great War… for now, I want to get back to flying. I love it, and I’m pretty good at it… Davey, you want to go for a ride when I get back?”

Dave said, “No thanks brother, I’d rather keep my feet on the ground, or even better, my butt on a motorcycle.”

Chapter 4: Spring 1940, Back to School

Dave has been working for two years at Wild Bill’s. He’s made some money, and the family had recovered. Overall, the economy is recovered from the Great Depression of 1929-1933 and then the recession of 1937-1938. The recovery was aided by explosive growth in steel production to meet the demands of rearmament and the purchases of Britain, who needed war materials. Later, with Land-Lease the steel industry would hit unbelievable production capacity to meet the insatiable demand for weaponry by the US Army, the British, and the Russians. All steel was being used for military purpose, almost nothing was allocated for car production, so business was very good for Wild Bill. People needed to extend the life of their vehicles.

It’s January 4, and Dave, working too many hours at the shop, was becoming a bit careless. The sting of a fan belt tore the tip of his finger down to the first knuckle. Wrapping his hand in a bandage, he rode his bike through the winter cold, bleeding less that he had expected. Even though cold, he dared not put a glove on the damaged hand.

Ma said, “what’s the matter with you? Don’t you know what you are doing by now ügyetlen alak

(roughly translated to klutz)!”

Ma calling out to Steve… “get me the Palinka (homemade apricot brandy) from the top shelf.”

Unwrapping the hand, she looked it over, nodding, she took a drink of the brandy and then poured it over the wound …

Dave, pulled back… “SZAR!… SHIT!”… “That stings.”

Ma, says “that means it’s working… where’s the rest of your finger?”

“I don’t know, the macska (cat) got it and ran off.”

With that they all started laughing… Dave, said “give me a bit of the Palinka”, and they passed the brandy around… Steve, happy to have a snip before dinner too.

Ma said to Steve, “go in the cellar and bring me some utifu (plantain broadleaf) we stored from the garden.”

She smashed the leaves and applied it to the freshly cleaned stump and wrapped it with a handkerchief… “there, it will be as good as new”… laughing she added … “just a wee bit shorter.”

Passing the brandy around, they all laughed.

At dinner, the conversation was of course about Dave’s stubby finger, but also his inability to work for the next several weeks or more.

Mike said, “well maybe it makes sense to get back to school, after all you can’t work for a while. I’m working fulltime as a machinist at Briggs auto parts factory, making good money. Steve and Ernie are working a lot as well. In addition, I have the extra pay from the Michigan Air National Guard, which just increased with my promotion to sergeant.

Ernie said, “yeah, Steve and I are building these Quonset hut homes like crazy near the old mill where they are building an ammunition factory along Mill street in where the old foundry was, and we have lots of work right now. I think we could even get back into the steel mill if we want, and either way, I I’ll join the Guard as well and get some weekend pay too.”

Steve says, “the war production effort shows no sign of slowing, I’m going to the mill to try and get my old job back as a hooker. We should have no problem making money. I just worry that this war is going to explode in more violence now that Poland has fallen and the Huns are threating Britain, Belgium and France… might just be a good time for ‘stubby’ to go back to school.”

Ma in agreement says “yes, this is good. Davey needs to go back to school.”

Dave in reply, “well I’ll go to the administration office tomorrow and see what they say, but I’d like to stay close to the car business as well, I love cars and motorcycles.”

Mike said, “well cheers to that… just keep the rest of your fingers ‘stubby’, especially if you want to work on cars for a living.”

Over the next few weeks, Anna bathed Dave’s wound with homemade chamomile tea and applied a salve made from simmered marigold petals and lard. The thickened mixture once cooled was applied to the wound like a salve.

Davey, her youngest was a favorite of hers and she loved that treating his finger gave her extra time to sit with him for a bit longer than he would normally. They talked about the world events and the future. She worried about the future and the prospect of war, so many wars had been proffered across the plains and mountains of Austria-Hungary. She prayed her sons would not be made part of this recurring madness.

Dave for his part was anxious to get back to school. In the admin office, he sat down with Mr. Jackson.

Mr. Jackson was pleased to see him, “well David, it is great to see you, I was disappointed that you quit school. You are bright and the track team could really use you.”

“I know Mr. Jackson, but two years ago we really needed the money, and we wanted to give Ernie a chance to finish school, so I worked. But I’m ready to come back. I can’t work anyway at least for another month”… with that he held up left hand showing his finger wrapped tight with the cloth his mom had applied that morning. “I caught it in a fan belt and lost the tip of my finger.”

“Does it hurt much?”

“Not really, if I keep it elevated, but throbs like a drum if I let it hang down.”

“I suggest you don’t do that then.”

“Not to worry, sir.”

“Well glad to have you back to school, here is the class listings for the semester. I suggest these classes” which he marked off on the syllabus.

Continuing, Jackson said, “But in addition, there is an apprenticeship program starting with Henry Ford in Dearborn that would give you an opportunity to train as an electrician and work part-time while continuing your education. The program extends beyond the high school year, but I think you’d be a good candidate and should look into it.”

“Thank you, sir, it really sounds like a great program.”

“Okay then, here’s an application fill out and bring it back.”

—

A few days later Davey submitted his application for the apprenticeship program with the hope that this would be a real ticket to the future, as he slipped back into the school life.

He was the new kid in class, as his former classmates were in their last semester, but then again, there were plenty of new kids having moved into the area with families to help build the “arsenal of democracy” the term coined by Franklin Roosevelt. The Detroit area would convert its auto manufacturing capability toward building tanks and bombers. Its steel manufacturing would fuel the expansion, and so too the foundries, which once shaped bed springs and such, would become ammunition factories. The area was bustling with activity and new arrivals.

Davey’s finger healed and he would show off three fingers and ask his classmates, “you know how much this is?” They would invariably answer “three”, and he would say, nope, “Two and a half.”

Instead of working every day, school seemed easy, and spring track brought an opportunity to compete. He was fast and improving. He liked that he was as old as the seniors and his body had matured and his stamina was great, so he could run with the seniors and became a star on the track team. And the girls were starting to notice too. He didn’t mind that he was a bit older than his female classmates, it seemed to give him an advantage. Besides he was blessed with the good looks of a movie star, and a quiet boyish personality, that was hard not to love.

At the end of April in a match with Wyandotte, he had won his race easily and he was hanging out, feeling full of himself with spring in the air. He started up a conversation with a beautiful redhead who was cheering for the Wyandotte boys… “those boys don’t stand a chance, no matter how much you cheer… what’s your name?”

“Well aren’t you full of yourself? I’m Millie, who are you?”

“Dave, I won the 2-miler for Ecorse.”

“I saw, not bad for a scrawny boy.”

“I’m tougher than you think.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m here with my girls, we rode over and we’ll be heading back soon.”

“Not if a take your bike.” As he mounted her bike and rode away… “now you’ll have to stay.”

Surprisingly quick, she chased after him, and he had to put some effort into peddling to stay ahead.

“You’re an Ecorse asshole” she yelled after him.

“I’m tougher than you think” he replied.

After a few minutes he returned, and giving her the bike, he asked, “what do you think, you want to see me again?”

“Yeah, when I run you over on this bike.”

“Aww, don’t be that way… just having some fun.”

“I still think you are an Ecorse Asshole.” She said but this time with a smile and wink.

“Well, be safe riding home, and maybe I’ll see you again?”

“Well, maybe.”

—

In early May, Mr. Jackson pulled David into his office… closing the door, he said “David, you have been accepted into the apprenticeship program at Henry Ford in Dearborn. You’ll have an opportunity to learn how to be an electrician while working with them. I think they’ll have you working on the production line producing tank armor. You’ll have to get yourself to the plant each day. If you accept, you start on Monday, June 3^rd. The program runs through the summer and continues on a part-time basis during the school year. With this program, you should be on track to graduate with the 1942 class. What do you say?”

“Wow, this is swell! I’ll definitely take advantage of this program. I really appreciate all your help. Oh, and by the way, I have the book ‘Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World” that Johnny Baklarz gave me a few years ago, he said it was yours… would you like it back?”

Laughing he said “no I don’t need it back, but it was nice that you remembered it… did you read it?”

“Yes, I found it fascinating.”

“Well, hopefully you won’t need the lessons of those battles in your future. For me, I fought my war, and it was brutal. I saw friends die, many wounded, and those who survived, forever changed. I fear for your generation, as too much of history is being repeated. The Germans have pushed the Brits to the edge of the continent, they must find a way out of the mess at Dunkirk. The French too appear to be on the verge of defeat. I’m afraid this war is not going to end without our involvement. Best of luck to you David. Do what you can to learn a trade and become valuable to your country and yourself, beyond carrying a rifle.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jackson. I feel like maybe the planets are aligning for me.”

Chapter 5: June 1940, Apprenticeship Program

What a celebration! A long table, with family enjoying a sunny lunch on a clear second day of June. The family just back from church services at St. John’s, the church built and attended by Delray’s Hungarian immigrant community. This immigrant community, like so many others, have provided the needed workers over the past 30 some years to the booming industrial base of Detroit. These work-hard, play-hard people, know how to live with great appreciation for their adopted homeland. They have chased prosperity across an ocean, finding their way deep into the industrial heartland of America.

The flowers bordering the garden blooming, the tomatoes, green but looking plump, the cucumbers and watermelon on their way to ripeness. A barrel of Stroh’s for the occasion and burgers and dogs on the grill, and of course stuffed cabbage, perogies and other mouth-watering dishes on display.

The flag waving with pride on the front porch, just visible from the table set up in the front-side yard. Well not really a table, rather some boards kept in the garage placed on saw horses and covered with table cloths.

The gypsies just arriving with their musical instruments, that oldest brother George invited for the occasion. Well truth be told, he didn’t need much of an occasion to invite the gypsies to play and to tap a keg of Stroh’s.

Dave looks along the table realizing in this moment more than others that he is blessed with family. He, being the youngest, has enjoyed the affection and attention of mom, and beyond the teasing, the support and advice of four older brothers and a sister.

Ma, and Katie are flying around, putting food on the table gathered from the kitchen. Mike is tending a charcoal grill with dogs and burgers sizzling and smoking.

The ladies finally all sit down, mom next to Katie, who is next to Alex, who is getting cozy with sister Katie, and next to him is Richard, her son, age 9 and not the son of Alex, will this ever work out, who knows. Next to Richard is MaryAnn, age 8, the daughter of Irene and George, who occupy the other end of the table. George is sipping on a beer in his right hand and puffing on a cigarette in his left.

George is his oldest brother who first found a job with Great Lakes Steel and then helped ma and pa to move up from Cleveland along with his brothers and Katie. He helped Katie with her surprise pregnancy, and helped pa get a job. Then helped ma get through the devasting accident that killed pa in the mill. So much is owed to my brother and his dedication to ma and all of us.

Brother’s Steve, Mike and Bones are together on the North side of the table. Mike and Bones looking sharp in their Michigan Air National Guard uniforms. Bones with the double chevrons of a corporal, and Mike the three upper and two lower of a Tech Sergeant and on his chest the well-earned pilot wings. Mikey, George’s son, age 5, sitting on my lap.

We are not wealthy, but we have survived what people have been calling The Great Depression, we survived tragedy and scandal and now we are, what some would call, comfortable.

All the brothers are working. George, still has an important position as a roller at the mill, Steve got his job back in the mill. Mike is working as a machinist, and Ernie a roofer. The area is buzzing as the factories are at full throttle and workers need housing. Even Irene is working at an ammunition factory that opened up over on Mill St at the old foundry. And tomorrow I go to work at Ford’s while getting paid to learn to be an electrician.

There is a great opportunity for prosperity, and yet the cloud of war overhangs every discussion.

At St. John’s, the older folks were all in a chitter. They being acutely aware, their home country, a former part of the Austria-Hungarian empire, would soon be a target of Nazi Germany’s desire. From the talk, it seems they believe a feckless Hungarian government will likely ally with Germany to appease them … and it will probably fail, just as the Brit’s appeasement, nearly two years prior, has failed. The conversation from church was spilling over into this afternoon’s festivities, with nearly everyone believing war’s cannons will boom over Hungary, and our Army and Navy will be called to defend democracy and ensure freedom from tyranny.

Dave, glancing again at the flag waving in the light breeze, is thinking: “these are heady and exciting times, big things are happening. I’m thankful for Mr. Jackson’s push to get me into the apprenticeship program at Ford’s.”

His day dream, is interrupted when Katie’s Richard pulls MaryAnn’s hair and in quick response, she slugs him and they start racing around the table, MaryAnn trying to get in another lick… Mickey, George’s young son sitting on Dave’s lap, trying to get a sip of his beer, decides to clamber down and join the melee… and now they are all running around the table, even Blackie, the dog who has been sleeping quietly is now up and joining in the chase.

Sister Katie, grabs Richard by the collar and disrupts the whole shenanigans. Sitting him in his seat, this gave MaryAnn a chance to get one more punch to his arm as she settles into hers, and Mickey decides someone should be playing with the dog as he runs off to the yard chasing the dog.

The table erupts with laughter, creating a pause in the serious conversations about war and the future, just as the gypsies are warming up their instruments.

George, looking sharp in his white shirt, suspenders holding up his pleated, baggy pants, raises his mug in toast to Davey… “Congratulations to Davey, he may be the youngest of us, but he could well be the best of us. The apprenticeship program is a great honor, and will lead to future prosperity!”

“Now let us drink up, eat up, and start the music”… “Come on Irene, let’s dance”…

And so, the party begins!

The kids, join in immediately and Katie grabs her fiancé Alex to join Irene and George already bouncing off the improvised plywood dance floor placed over the grass lawn. Cars going by honk at the partiers for the pure fun of it, as neighbors are wandering over to join in too.

Mike, Steve and Bones with their beers seem to be having a serious conversation over by the grill, despite the music and merriment.

Davey, grabs his ma’s hand, dragging her onto the makeshift dance floor to the music of the chardash which is beginning to move from its slow initial and dramatic phase, into a faster pace. Soon the musicians will bring it to it’s inevitable lively twirling experience.

Davey’s speed and agility are matched by no one, as the music picks up tempo, but ma did her best to keep up, showing she’s got some great moves despite their 40-year age difference. Davey was clapping and impressed as always, with ma’s strength and endurance. Yes… these are moments which must be remembered.

Grabbing a dog off the grill that Mike has been tending, as well as, a beer, Davey wipes the perspiration off his forehead and joins the conversation which now moves to one end of the table.

Steve says, “the man of the hour… sit here… getting a chance to join the program at Ford’s is amazing, it’s quite the opportunity. I’d like to do something like that. Maybe I’ll get a chance later, for now, I’m thrilled to get the work at the mill. The hooker job is damn hot and difficult but it’s nice to be making some better money than construction.”

Dave, says “hey Bones, can you share one of those smokes.”

“Sure, here you go.”

Mike, just stepping away from the grill with a burger, and sitting with Dave, Steve and Ernie saying “Yes, maybe you can get a chance to become an apprentice machinist, I’ll look out for such opportunities at Briggs, especially if I get pulled into the Army Air Corp. but there are lots of people looking for these programs.”

Bones says, “Don’t forget about me, I don’t want to be a roofer for longer than need be.”

Mike says, “Yeah, I know, but this fall you and I are going to be in the Army from what I’m hearing in the guard.”

Steve, says “well the draft board gave me a 4-F rating due to my eyesight… so I’ll keep working at the mill until something better pops up.”

Bones changing the subject some, “Davey, how are you getting to the bus station for Ford’s tomorrow morning?”

“Well, Mike how about you give me a ride as you leave early to Briggs? I expect you are going up on Fort St. to get to Mack Ave. Can you drop me on the way, at the bus station in Lincoln Park?”

“Yep, that sounds good. Just be ready to leave by 6:30.”

“I’ll be up and ready to go by 6!”

“Sure, you will.” Mike replies with a knowing smile.

—

At 6 the next morning, the Stroh’s from yesterday and the toasting of Palinka around the table was doing a number on Dave’s head as Mike rounded him from bed and pushed him rudely through an abbreviated morning routine so they could leave in time for Dave to catch the 7AM bus.

Dave, quite sure he slept through the bus ride to Dearborn, filed off the bus with all the other workers… and managed to find the new employees’ line.

Dave handed over his application acceptance letter, and was ushered through the paperwork and an orientation before being put in a classroom of young men looking equally anxious and excited.

After class, he was shown to a production line where he measured armor thickness, prepared reports and tracked overall progress of the production line under the supervision of Robert Randle.

He said, “Call me RR… do what I need done, and you will get a chance to work on the line sensors and electronics as your education proceeds.”

Dave replied, “Thank you sir.”

One afternoon that summer, as Dave had grown in responsibilities and he was picking up more of the electrician duties in addition to production flow monitoring. He and RR sat down over lunch and talked about the events of the day as they had a few times before.

“RR, what do you think about this ‘Atlantic Charter’ that Churchill and Roosevelt just signed?”

“Dave, in one way I think it is great, it defines an ideal state of existence between nations, especially the rights of self-determination, no nation should forcibly take over the territory of another, and there should be freedom of the seas.”

“Why only in one way?”

“Because it is in essence declaring war on the ideas of Fascist conquest, and declaring that the seas shall be open to commerce. The Nazi’s are not going to stop until they take over all countries of Europe and certainly will not allow the military equipment, food and energy resources free passage to Britain.”

“This is no different than 1916, our ships will be torpedoed, and men will die, and we will be dragged into this war directly. This is a stick in the eye of Hitler, and Roosevelt knows what he’s doing, this creates the environment for us to enter the war. I think he wants it.”

“But RR, the Nazi’s certainly don’t want war with us, we beat them in the last war, right?”

“Dave, I was there. It was not like they portray in the movies. The Germans were tough and we were green. We fought but we were under equipped and beat them back, only because they had been at war for nearly four years and they were exhausted of men and material. But it was bloody and awful… and we are not ready today.”

“My brothers are in the Air National Guard. They feel that war is coming and they expect to be mobilized, and the draft is getting men ready now even though we are not at war.”

“I know what that means. I was young once, and full of piss and vinegar, thinking we were going to be ready in no time to go kick the Huns ass… it just doesn’t work that way.”

“We should’ve kept a professional Army, not try to raise one overnight. I have a buddy from the Great War who is now a company commander and participated in the 2^nd Army maneuvers last summer in Wisconsin. He tells me it was a disaster. The idea was to stress-test the Army against the type of fast-moving success the Germans were having in Europe. The results were abysmal. Equipment was in short supply and often did not work. Trucks were painted with the word ‘TANK’ on the side. Some riflemen carried sticks labeled ‘rifle’. The National Guard troops proved to be out of shape and operated poorly against the US Army as an opposing force. Trucks broke down and there were no repair teams even contemplated. Radios failed. Written messages took too long to get from command to front lines, and there were too few phone lines installed fast enough. Officers performed poorly, failing to respond to fast changing situations and most commanders stay away from the front.”

“Well, I’m sure this can be fixed.”

“Dramatic changes need to be made, command structure should be changed, the leadership should be younger more aggressive commanders, the logistics chain needs dramatic upgrades in equipment and planning. We are not yet prepared for war. Just like last time.”

“Maybe they need you back in the Army?”

“Hell no, they need young men, not guys like me. Besides, I’ve led men in battle, and I don’t think I have the stomach any longer to see men permanently maimed, to see men die, and to have to write letters home to their mothers.”

“You are too young to be drafted … my advice is don’t enlist, stay with your training here and build a future that doesn’t involve shipping to Europe as a cog in a war machine … now speaking of machines, let’s get back to the production line, these machines will only run so long without our attention.”

“Yeah, I guess we are the cogs in these machines… I’m ready to get back to it.”

Chapter 6: Spring 1941, Life is Good

Life is indeed good. School is going well, the electrical apprenticeship 9 months in, is exciting. Dave is making measurements and reporting on critical parameters of production at the Dearborn factory. He studies on the bus ride to work two days a week. He’s ‘kicking it’ in track, and the girls are starting to really notice him, with his athletic posture, easy smile and fun-loving nature. Going to bed, tired from the track meet that day, but happy with the win, and the new records he’s set. What could be better for a young man soon to be 19, or so he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

But dreams are not always cooperative. Dreams are a journey in space and time. They take you where they want to take you, they make you realize that all things change, and life when it is good, is really good, when not, it can be a nightmare. In this nightmare he found himself freezing, hungry and in pain, wishing for home for warm food, a girl to talk to, but feeling hopelessly lost. He was in a hell unimagined, a nightmare he was sure, yet he could not quite shake the feeling it was somehow very real in some other space and time. He rose and dressed in the clothes he left at the foot of the bed, well really just a cot, for there’s not a lot of room for much more.

Stiffly walking off the sore from the race yesterday, and following the scent of some fried eggs and bacon grease, he ambles into the kitchen. His brother, Steve was sipping coffee, just finishing his breakfast. The warmth of the kitchen, the smell of food was a sharp contrast to the nightmare so recently visited upon his soul.

“Davey, congrats heard you won the mile and cross-country race yesterday against Wyandotte … Ma left early to get some laundry from Mrs. Kovac, and I think another family, so you want me to make you some breakfast?”

“Sure, I’m hungry”… “and hey I’d like to talk to you about the future.”

Steve says, “Whattya got on your mind?”

“I have another year of school, and the apprenticeship at Ford’s is going well, but from all I see, there’s a war coming, Roosevelt announced the Land-Lease, which means we have picked a side and are providing weapons to Britain, the Nazis are in North Africa, I saw their flag in Paris on the newsreels at the Ecorse theater and the draft is underway. Mike and Ernie are in the Army already and training in Louisiana. What are we going to do? What will I do?”

Steve says, “you are too young to be drafted. You have to be 21 for the draft and out of school. I don’t see the problem.”

Dave replies, “well when the time comes, should I enlist, or wait for the draft?”

Steve asks, “scrambled or fried?”

“Scrambled is good by me, and a cup of joe too.”

“Look, you have time to figure this out. Just enjoy for now… Hey, I got a letter from Mike. He said that he and Bones are doing pretty good in Louisiana… Found that the food is kind of exciting, with some interesting spices, and the locals sound really different than we do.”

“It was good that Mike bought that used J2 cub and took pilot training through the New Deal program for civilian pilot training… he is getting further training as an Army fighter pilot. Bones is getting weapons training, they are going to send him to Florida for more training. The rumors point to them doing a coastal mission looking for German U-boats which are threatening shipping.”

Steve goes on, “I wish I could get in on this, but they won’t take me because of my eyesight, but if I could I would serve. In the meantime, my job is making sure there’s steel for the war effort. The mill is running full steam, and I’m happy to get back in after those layoffs in 1937. Also, I’ve got a good woman I’m going to marry. I hope Mike and Bones can get leave and come to the wedding.”

Dave says, “the steel you are producing is being put to good use as armor in the production line I’m working. We are both contributing in important ways. When again is the wedding”?

“April 5, just over a month from now.”

“Cool, I’m sure it will be a great party.”

“Yeah, Mary has a big family too. It should be quite the shindig.”

“I’m sure it will be better than the christening party for Katie’s Barbara-Jean and George and Irene’s David last week.”

“Well we are going to spend some real money on this, not just a lunch party at the church hall. We plan to have a full band, in addition to the gypsies who will play during dinner.”

“Cool. I’m looking forward to it.” Then changing the topic Dave asks, “Steve, what do you think about the war, and if we are going to have to do more than just provide materials to the Brits.”

Steve dishing eggs out onto a plate with some bacon and a piece of bread says, “the Huns might be unstoppable based on what they did in Poland and France, and the Japs are moving across China and taking advantage of the Brits and French having to fight the Nazis. This is why all of the Detroit area is on fire with production growth. I don’t know what is going to happen, but it would seem to be prudent to be prepared.”

David while stuffing his face with eggs and bacon replies, “Mr. Jackson our athletic director and history teacher talked about his service in the Great War, he says our generation is going to be put in a similar situation as his. The history of the world is shaped by epic battles and campaigns … he says we need to be prepared and trained, they were too green when they went to France in 1917. This was the same thing that RR told me at Ford’s. They say it is only through the weight of numbers and fighting spirit that we beat back the Huns and the fact that they were exhausted by years of war before we got there. Our generation should learn from the past and do this better. Hey, by the way, these eggs are good, a little skimpy on the bacon there… but thank you.”

“You’re welcome, bacon is expensive, and your skinny ass doesn’t need much anyway” and Steve goes on with… “I agree with your Mr. Jackson and RR, this storm is coming and we all are going to be involved, but enough of that, who are you seeing now? Any girls in your target sites soldier?”

Smacking his lips as he wipes the grease off his plate with bread and finishes the last bite of eggs, Dave says… “as a matter of fact there’s a girl out of Wyandotte who is a knockout. I see her once in a while, I once took her bike for a joy ride. I think I have her attention. I’m hope to see her this evening at the Friday Evening Hop… the Ernest Cooper Band is playing and they are great.”

“That’s cool, what’s her name?”

“Millie.” “I hope they play ‘In the Mood’ cause, I’m in the mood!”

“I bet you’re in the mood… well, have a great time ‘Romeo’, just don’t get hooked up right now, you have this apprenticeship program and a changing world ahead of you.”

Steve heading to the door says, “I need to get to work and you need to get to school… but first clean up the kitchen for Ma, she ain’t gonna be happy if you leave it a mess!”

“Hey, this isn’t just my mess”

“It is now.” As Steve made a quick exit.

After cleaning the kitchen, he washed up… put his hair in a nice wave, held in place and shiny with Brylcreem, and donned his letter sweater before stepping out the door to school.

Chapter 7: April 1941, Wedding

It’s spring and love is in the air. The family celebrating new babies. Irene and George had David, named for the youngest of Anna’s boys. Katie and Alex had Barbara-Jean, both born in January. The family was a buzz with the duo Christening at St. John’s in Delray in late February and the party afterwards.

Steve Vargo proposed to Mary Szerda in February and she said yes! Scheduling around the availability of family, the engagement would be short. It was to be an early April wedding.

Steve was registered for the draft but due to eyesight he was listed as 4-F and would not be drafted unless there was a significant change in criteria. One never knew what the near future would hold, and Steve was in love and it was a perfect time to gather the family to celebrate. By 1944, extremely near-sighted draftees were being drafted to meet the mounting losses and the expected casualties of planned invasions.

Mary was petite and beautiful, her family also part of the community of St. John’s and so this would be a big wedding, a community wedding, as most were. Part of the culture, part of the immigrant community. Oddly though they did not think of themselves this way. They were Americans first, Byzantine Catholics second, and their Hungarian heritage a distant third.

Mike and Bones were training for deployment as Submarine Hunters in Louisiana. They were now part of the US Army Air Corp, 107^th Observation Squadron. Their service in the US Army became official in October 1940. The both applied for leave and were able to get leave. The country was not at war yet, and a brother’s wedding seemed like a suitable reason for the brothers to get leave to return to Detroit for the wedding.

This was going to be the last time they would be all together for at least a couple of years. They could not know this at the time for sure, but Anna didn’t need gypsy fortune tellers to figure this out.

Ma was thrilled, all her family together… she refused to think beyond the events of the day, beyond the joy of family, of grandbabies, of a new daughter in-law.

From left to right, Dave Kulchar, Mike Vargo, Katie Horvath, Barbara-Jean (being held by Katie), David Varga (Being held by George Varga), Mike (Micky) Varga, Alex Horvath, Irene Varga, Steve Lukatosh, Anna Kulchar, Maryann Varga, Ernie Kulchar (Bones) Steve Vargo, Richard Vargo, and the bride, Mary Vargo.

Chapter 8: December 1941, War!

Sunday morning, 7 December 1941… Dave is waking from a deep sleep. He’d been out the night before at a Dance and hung out with the guys afterwards comparing notes on the girls they danced with. Dave being a bit older than most of the guys and a track star no less. He was a main attraction for many of the girls. He danced with a half-dozen of the best looking. Given his choice, he’d sure would like get to know Betty better… but also, he realized this was only because Millie wasn’t visiting from Wyandotte. He still had a crush on her and wish she had been available, but rumor was that she was otherwise engaged and involved with some guy named Bill. Oh well, he wasn’t going to let that get in the way of his plan to ask Betty to the Christmas party at George and Irene’s next weekend. Certainly, there might be some chance to steal some alone time with Betty and get to know her better. At the dance there were too many prying eyes and listening ears.

Rising and getting cleaned up for church, he looked out on a light dusting of snow. Thinking it should be a good day today. Ma had prepared a chicken and there would be Chicken Praprikash and cabbage noodles and some Hungarian sausage for lunch after church.

They all climbed into the 1937 Ford, A tight fit, as Mike and Bones were home on leave. Mike drove, with Ma and Bones in the front seat, and Dave, Steve, Richard and Katie in the back bench. Richard sat on Dave’s lap to make it all work. The drive to DelRay was 20 minutes, as the roads were pretty quiet and the dusting of white made the world seem quite peaceful and clean.

As usual, the church services were excruciatingly long, featuring rhythmic chanting, and long prayers, all of which was in Hungarian. The incense, which would probably bother most who are not used to it, had a calming effect on Dave. It was as if the incense was for the purification of the world, part of chasing the odors of a nervous and yet distracted congregation. Very much like the world outside, where the fires of war raged across the world and here we profited from the conflagration with only a slight worry that it might yet catch hold here. And yet it hadn’t. After all, the last two and half years the news has been horrible, but we remain safe. Maybe the incense and prayers were working, it was chasing away the evil, it was somehow protecting this enclave of industrious people in the heartland of America who were oceans away from chaos and calamity.

After liturgy, gathering in the hall for coffee and donuts and the chatter of many, the kids, Maryann now almost nine, played as usual with Richard and Mickey. George, attentive to Irene, pregnant and looking like she was about to pop, got her a coffee and donut. In the meantime, Katie slipped away to visit with the Horvath’s and butter up to Alex and his family. As usual Mike, Steve, Ernie and Dave crowded together to joke about their Saturday evening adventures, and talk about the Lions 21 to 3 victory last Sunday against the Chicago Cardinals. Making plans for the day, they concluded the only game available on the mutual network feed would be the Brooklyn Dodgers vs. the New York Giants, broadcast from the Polo Grounds. Starting at 2:00, it was perfect for an after Sunday dinner relaxation with a Stroh’s.

Dinner was the usual great fare, with everyone employed, the table was laden with food, and everyone got their fill and then some. The chatter continued as it had at the church hall. It ranged from the production increases at the mill, to the work on the Ford production line, and the number of quick assembled homes being built to handle the tens of thousands coming into the Detroit area every month. Of course, there was also the gossip about who’s dating whom, who is in trouble with their family or the law, all the things that are part of any large family dinner. The discussion regarding the war was mostly about how unlikely it seemed our involvement would be now, over where it was, not very many months ago.

Mike was saying “It was really stupid of Germany to invade Russia, they are bogged down and winter is making their offensive a nightmare. I doubt we need to worry much about them as they seemed to have made a colossal error.”

George, replies “That is right, they seemed to have abandoned plans to invade England and are tied down in the East, and the Japs are thousands of miles of ocean away…. I worry for our families that remain in Hungary and some of the people I know who have family in Ukraine where the Germans are laying waste to Eastern Europe.”

Ernie says, “well we’ve been federalized and the Guard is now part of the 107^th Observation Squadron for over a year. The training in Louisiana earlier this year was pretty good. I’m glad they moved us back here for now. But for now, I’m going to enjoy the time we have at home. I’m going to aerial gunnery training in January. I think it could be fun. I just hope this is a skill I’ll never need to use for real.”

Mike replies, “Amen brother, and although I like that they’ve giving me more training as a pilot, I don’t like the idea of low-level observation flights over a battlefield. They’ve made it clear how dangerous such missions are as it requires flying a straight line to get useful imagery.”

Dave says, “I’m turning on the radio, the game is starting.”

With that they listened to the kickoff and the chatter died down, so that all could hear.

At 2:26 PM an announcement interrupts the first quarter of the Dodgers – Giants Football game:

“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this important bulletin from the United Press. Flash: The White House announces Japanese airplanes have attacked Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Hawaii.”

“Jeepers!” Dave, the first to speak, “Why Hawaii?”

Mike with a hand to his mouth says, “Hawaii has a major naval base and air station.”

“How could they cover two thousand miles of open ocean to attack us?” to no one in particular asks George.

The ladies distracted from kitchen duties came rushing in… “What happened?” said Katie.

Bones says, “the Japs attacked us.”

“What does this mean?” Asks Katie.

Steve replies, “It can only mean war with Japan. Maybe it was a minor attack.”

The buzz continues for the next half-hour until at 3:00, CBS anchor John Daly returned with a more urgent update:

“The White House has just issued a further statement on the Japanese attack in the Hawaiian Islands. The text of that statement reads as follows: ‘The Japanese attack on the Hawaiian Islands has caused heavy damage and a loss of many lives.’ This statement, just released by the presidential press secretary, Stephen Early, brings the first indication of the gravity of the surprise raid.”

By 4:00, network bulletins began reporting attacks spreading across the Pacific:

“Flash from United Press: The War Department reports that an unidentified transport ship, believed to be a charter ship carrying lumber, has been torpedoed approximately 1,300 miles west of San Francisco. Meanwhile, the White House confirms that heavy firing is now under way in Manila in the Philippine Islands.”

At 6:30, long after the football game which no one could even remember, Katie said “let’s tune into NBC to see if Mrs. Roosevelt will have anything to say on her program ‘Over our Coffee Cups’… Just as Dave got the radio tuned, they heard the thin but unwavering voice of Elanor Roosevelt:

“I am speaking to you tonight at a very serious moment in our history. The Cabinet is convening and the leaders in Congress are meeting with the President. The State Department and Army and Navy officials have been with the President all afternoon. In fact, the whole Government has been facing the fact that a modern war has been brought to our own shores.”

Knowing she would be speaking to her usual audience of women as well as the men of the nation, she went on to encourage normalcy, despite anxiety, and courage and confidence in the face of the trials to come:

“You cannot escape anxiety. You cannot escape a clutching of the heart at what the future may bring, but we must face what we must face. We must go about our daily business, whatever it may be, and we must do it to the best of our ability… I have complete confidence in the courage and capability of all our people, and together we will go through any trials that may come.”

“I remember well the days of World War I. I remember the anxieties, the heartaches, and the constant feeling that tomorrow might bring news that would change our lives forever. But we came through then, and we will come through now.”

“To the young people of this nation, I say: this is your time. You will bear the brunt of what is to come. But I know your courage, I know your devotion to this country, and I know that you will face whatever comes with a steady heart and an unyielding spirit. We must all stand together now.”

“We are fighting for the right to live in a world where freedom and justice are not just words, but realities for everyone. Let us go forward with faith, with courage, and with an absolute determination that freedom will not perish from this earth. Good night.”

—

Katie and Irene explained the full scope of the speech and the implications to Anna. She understood before they said anything, but she wanted to know more, to understand more. She understood what would be asked of her, she understood with ‘absolute determination that freedom will not perish from this earth’ … she knew this thing, this absolute determination, it was in her soul, and part of her DNA, but she wouldn’t have called it that. She called it ‘szándék’, purpose and will.

She went to Mike, first and hugged him tight, then to Ernie, and did the same, knowing these, her boys, would be going to war. She did not understand completely how this would work, but she knew from history that this would be a struggle of body and soul to be able to live in freedom from tyranny. She knew tyranny, she knew suffering and she wished this cup would pass, but understood that when it came time for wars to be fought, it is young men that do this thing, and it is mothers who will worry and pray, and so she would.

—

The next day Franklin Roosevelt asked congress to declare war on the Nation of Japan, calling December 7^th 1941 ‘a day which will live in infamy’.

This was followed 4 days later with Germany in support of it’s Axis allay Japan declaring war on the United States of America.

We were in it now.

Chapter 9: Summer 1942, Graduation and More

In May, Bones walks in on a Friday evening. George had picked him up from the bus station. Arriving home on leave he hugs his mom, Katie, Richard and Dave. Shakes the hand of Alex. Katie and Alex had finally married in a quiet small ceremony at St. John’s in April, but there is much tension in the family as Richard is twelve now with a developing mind of his own and there is difficulty between him and his step-father.

Dave says “Great to see you Bones, how did you wrangle leave at this time and so soon after the wedding?”

“Well my unit is flying out in a week, so I got a chance to come home and see everyone before we go.”

“They tell you where?”

“Just that we are going to England, the specific base is to be kept a secret, but I don’t get how they are going to keep it a secret when our full bomb group of 64 B-17s fly into the base. They might as well put out a press notice. But that’s the Army for you.”

Dave laughing, “yeah that sure seems silly.”

Ma, hugging Ernie, asks “my son, what is your job, are you working on the planes?”

“Ma, no I’m a gunner. I will fly on the missions and provide the bite from the middle of the plane to any fighters that find their way in to the formation.”

“I don’t like this. You are going to be shot at.”

“Ma, that’s the job. We are trained, and we have a job to do.”

Dave asks, “so you’re not worried?”

“Naw, we fly in formation and we are bristling with guns. They tell us if we fly in a box formation, there is no way enemy fighters are going to reach us, we’ll pump them full of lead with our 50 Caliber guns before they can get close enough to hit us. I’d say I’m more worried about Flak, than fighters. With flak, its’ just the luck of the draw. But we fly pretty high and the odds of flak finding us at speed at that altitude seems low. Besides, I’ve always been lucky.”

“Besides, it could be a while before we see action. I expect we’ll get to see some of England before all the capability to launch raids are available and ready to go.”

Dave says, “Bones I see they gave you another stripe.”

“Yes, the promotion to sergeant helps with a bit more pay.”

“I heard from Mike that they are offering him a commission.”

Ernie replies “yes, but he said he was going to turn it down, he’s happy to be a ‘flying sergeant’ and when the war is over he’ll be able to stay in the service and transition back to Michigan with the Air National Guard. Officers are likely to lose their commission when the war ends and would have to leave. He loves the flying and would like to stay with the service. He thinks that with the fire power we are bringing into the war and with the Nazi’s bogged down in Russia the war maybe short in Europe. I’m not so sure, but hopeful.”

“Hey, how is school and the job at Ford’s going?”

“Good, I graduate in a few weeks, but can stay on to the apprenticeship program and working the armor production line it seems.”

“What about the draft, since they changed it to include 18-year-olds, don’t you expect to be inducted?”

“Well, right now they classified me as 2-A because I’m a student and more importantly I’m in an apprenticeship program for electronics. I suppose they need more people with these skills … so, I’m going to continue to get an education while I can. As well as contribute to the war effort.”

“Great. Stay with it.”

Ma interjected, “yes, we don’t need any more of you boys in the Army.”

“Hey, let’s go over to George’s, he said he was going to have the gypsies tonight. You know how he rolls up the carpet and makes room for dancing… We should all go, enough of this war talk, we have this time to have fun, I plan to do so … also I want to see little Dave. I’ve been gone so long by now he must be walking … maybe even dancing.”

Katie says, “yeah that sounds great. That boy is a pistol, already running around like his name sake here.”

With that they packed up and walked to the corner and crossed White Street to the sound of music just getting going as George and Irene had already moved the furniture and had the windows open as the Gypsies were playing lively music.

Bones smoked a cigarette on the walk over, appreciative of the family and fun, but apprehensive about what was to come. Presenting a brave face to ma is one thing, convincing yourself of your youthful immortality is totally another thing.

—

In two weeks, Bones was on the flight to England, staying as warm as possible, bundled in a heavy wool lined flight jacket, gloves and hat. Happy that the open windows where their 50 cal. Machine guns would normally be exposed were boarded up for the flight across the Atlantic. The refueling stops in Canada, and then Newfoundland were welcome chances to stretch legs, warm up a bit and have a bite to eat before renewing their journey. Arriving into England, where they would make their home, and from where they would fight a desperate battle for liberty, they were tired and numb but excited. They are the 8^th Air Force, 97th Bombardment Group.

Over the next two months they outfitted the planes, and made a few practice runs to include take off and landings and rendezvous for forming up into their combat box formations, before sliding into bombing run formation over target. Now within range of enemy aircraft, they flew armed and ready, even if they did not have bomb loads yet.

Bones was busy. The crew was becoming close, they had developed a friendship, and although the captain and the first officer were officers and technically shouldn’t mix with the enlisted men of the crew, they did. They knew they would be dependent on each other as well as the maintenance crew that made sure their plane was in tip-top operational shape. They played ball together, challenging other crews. They made the sprawling base at RAF Grafton Underwood their home. Located in the middle of England, Northwest of London.

The beautiful countryside was a pleasure to witness from the open bay of the waist gunner. Nice, of course, when no one was shooting at you. The small space between the two waist gunners required a delicate dance to keep from bumping into each other. Bones became good friends with Charlie Magyar … a fellow second-generation Hungarian, whose name ironically means Hungarian. Charlie was from Cleveland and knew some of Bones’ Cleveland cousins. This, and the cramped quarters, made it all seem so much more like home… they would chatter some in Hungarian, to get a feel of home, and maybe, just a little, to annoy the other crewmates. They had their own language. Bones was excited to share with home, in a letter that all is good and all he knew about Magyar from Cleveland.

Their captain, was Johnny Sutcliff, from Atlanta. He had a good old boy Southern drawl, that took some time to get used to, especially over the intercom network they all tied into while in flight. But over time they all learned to speak a bit of Southern, it just became part of the tapestry of the crew. You couldn’t be together as much as they were without picking up something from each of other. They named their plane ‘Southern Drawl’… and it seemed a good joke to everyone, as they made sure to use the accent they picked up from Captain Johnny when they talked to other crews.

Everyone called Bones, Bones rather the sergeant Kulchar … it seemed to fit as he was skinny and wiry, and when he pitched on the ball field, it looked like all kinds of bones coming at you before the ball arrived out of that crazy windup.

So far, the training was going quite normal. One of the crews had a rough landing and cracked up their landing gear, and they got bounced around, but everyone survived.

By July, everyone was anxious to get on with the real reason they were there, so they could win this war and get home.

Come August, they would be flying real missions.

—

At home, David was graduating, but it seemed secondary to him to the apprenticeship program at Ford’s. The program was being accelerated to meet the requirements of the war effort. David expected to earn his Electricians Journeyman card by the spring of 1943, instead of 1945 as would be a normal timeline for peacetime apprenticeship. He was now spending more time at Ford’s than he was in high school. Track that spring had become far less important. He had his records in track, and he was proud of them, but the world was becoming far more serious.

The true nature of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and the extent of the losses brought a seriousness to everything they were doing, every life event. The nation cheered the Doolittle raid in mid-April on Tokyo. It was a great moral victory! But now in May the battle of the Coral Sea brought home the nature of the violence that would be the Pacific theater, and the simultaneous surrender of the Philippines to Japanese forces, made clear this would not be easy or quick.

Graduation was a muted affair. After church, dinner on the lawn was interrupted by a rain storm. It seemed the world was dark and turning darker. Mike was in Louisiana still flying anti-submarine patrols in the gulf and along the Eastern seaboard of Florida. Bones was in England. Dave was now 20 and subject to the draft if it were not for his apprenticeship providing him 2-A classification. While Steve, was 4-A and unable to be inducted due to his eyesight. George the oldest was 36 and therefore beyond the draft age of 35. So thankfully three of the brothers remained home.

Ma, Katie and Irene still prepared a graduation feast and they all celebrated Dave’s graduation and they celebrated once again the apprenticeship program that kept him home for the foreseeable future.

The factories were humming in Detroit. The steel town was growing, providing the armor needed for the defense of Democracy. Young men were now dying in far flung places, places that required a world atlas to find and provide a relative idea on the distance being navigated in this World-wide-War. Meanwhile the military was growing at a pace that seems unimaginable.

Mike sent a letter of congratulations, and a note to say that he and the 107^th Observation Squadron would be shipping out to England in a few weeks.

Ma was worried, but hoped that Mike and Ernie would find themselves together in England. Somehow knowing they might be together made it seem more palatable.

George, holding their newest child, Dave, said “well we are all doing well, and everyone is healthy, and Davey has completed his education and is on his way to being an electrician. Congratulations Dave, we are all very proud of you! Cheers!”

Chapter 10: August 1942, Deployment and First Mission

It was a raining on the day Mike shipped out. At least for ma, in Ecorse it was raining the day his squadron boarded a ship in Louisiana and began its perilous journey to England. She could only imagine that it was raining where he was at as well. He was 32, and although she was thankful he had stayed with her to help with the household after Frank had passed, she worried that he might never find the right girl and have a family. She worried that he was leaving for England on a ship in treacherous waters, having heard the news of the many ships and lives lost to German U-boats… for this was a terrible time in the Gulf and the Atlantic. She worried for Ernie, who would soon be flying bombing missions. She worried for Davey, could her baby stay out of this war? She worried for all of mankind, and so she prayed. She prayed for all of her sons, but especially on this day for Mike. It seemed that life was tenuous, but she trusted her prayers, she trusted that they mattered and would keep catastrophe at bay, because the consequence of not trusting was impossible. The consequence of being faithless was too much to contemplate. Too much to imagine.

Mike’s squadron at this time, with the new name of the 107^th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron, had already started out out in the Gulf of Mexico and around Florida. They left in the very early hours of the day, when it was dark and the moon was nothing more than a sliver in the sky. Not as perfect as a moonless night, but infinitely better than a full moon night.

They were following a path they knew well for it is where they were just recently hunting German U-Boats. They’d feel much better if they had never found any, but they had, and sadly very few were sunk. Mike imagine them out there, looking right at him as he stood at the railing feeling the soft summer breeze and the motion of the ship and the vibration and hum of the engine. Black out running conditions meant he couldn’t enjoy a cigarette on the deck. Somehow, he felt safer on the top deck than in the lower decks of the crowded ship. He knew it made little difference if attacked, but as a pilot, he always felt better when prepared, and when he had thought of an escape, no matter how unlikely the prospects may be.

Mike felt no better about this deployment than ma for sure. He would rather have stayed stateside flying low and hunting U-Boats. They had the capability of firing back, but their bite was limited to anti-aircraft guns mounted on their deck. A fast-moving maneuvering fighter made the probability of a lucky shot limited. Besides as he was the hunter, the German subs would dive if they could to escape attack.

He would rather be the hunter than the hunted. In this case he felt like the hunted, like a sitting duck on a tin can. When flying missions, he had some semblance of control, at the moment it all felt out of control.

At the rail, Lt. Peck joined him. George, 6 years younger than Mike, and newly designated squadron commander. He was going places in this Army Air Corp. It was clear his job was to move the unit to England. Others would take over later. But for the moment he was the boss.

Peck, says, “Wargo, you turned down the commission offered you, and you said you didn’t want the promotion to Flight Officer, can you tell me why, what is your thinking?

“Sir, look, I’ve been in the 107^th for years now. I’ve bunked with and been a part of the NCO’s club for a long time. These are my guys, my brother and I came in together when we were Federalized, he has been transferred to the Ninth Air Corp, but he and I will be part of this unit in Michigan after the war. I sleep in the same tents, mess in the same hall and I want to go to war with them. The young officers, no offense, coming in to the service don’t have the flight skills, the navigation and reconnaissance experience I do, and most of you are interested in moving up and out of this unit. I want to be here. These are my people… steel and auto factory guys. Hard working, hard playing. Besides, in the air, I’m in command of my own aircraft, and rank doesn’t mean a thing. I like that I hang with the guys who maintain our aircraft. So as long as you need me, I’ll fly as a sergeant sir.”

“Well Wargo, you can fly with the best, that is for sure. We all can learn from you. I respect your decision and I’ll make sure that your folder reflects your desire. This unit needs you, your country needs you.”

“Sir, thank you! But can I ask, what is the situation with our aircraft?”

“When it’s just the two of us, there’s no need for that ‘sir’ stuff… From what I’ve been told our A-20s are being redirected to the Soviet Union. The war on the Eastern front is in desperate need of light attack bombers, and our planes are being converted back to support this need. I think we really are going to need agile fighters. We need to be able to evade the German Luftwaffe. Their Me109s and Fw190s are quite fast and maneuverable.”

“Thanks, about the ‘sir’ thing… but it doesn’t bother me to give respect to the bar on your shoulder… I hope we can get some of those Spitfires the RAF is flying, I think they would be better suited than our Thunderbolts for aerial reconnaissance and for evading any German fighter’s we encounter.”

“Yeah, I agree, but what I really hope for is the P-51 which is in development. There is talk about a recon version called the F-6. Those might be available sometime next year.”

“George, just keep me in a pilot’s seat and I’ll deliver good recon. I believe our mission will shorten the war.”

“Mike, I feel fortunate to get this time with the 107^th, and to meet you and the other guys from Michigan… now I’m heading inside.”

“Thank you sir!”

“What did I say about that sir thing?”

They both laughed.

Alone again at the rail, and taking his hat off as the wind picked up. He felt his thinning hair. Hair he was at one time was proud of, but since the accident a few years ago, the hair only grew back in patches on his head… this brought his focus and thoughts to his family. Family was everything. The unit was one sort of family, but now he worried for his ma, who now had two sons in danger. He worried for Bones, for his last letter indicated that attack missions were to start very soon, and even though a B-17 bristled with guns, he knew flak didn’t care how many guns were on a plane. If it found you, it was unmerciful. Somehow, worry about U-Boats faded into the recesses of his mind.

At this very moment, it was an August 17 morning in England, and Bones was climbing into the Southern Drawl, with his nine other crewmates. It was a cool, but humid August morning with dew on the fields glistening, and the cold aircraft feeling damp. It looked like a great, clear day to fly. In the plane he pulled on his flight jacket and gloves, knowing the weather at altitude would be much colder, like 100 degrees colder, than this pleasant morning in central England. The butterflies in his stomach told him something very different was happening. The rumble of the engines starting, the comms check, the check and recheck of his weapon was all familiar but the feeling was decidedly different. Captain Sutcliff’s southern voice over the intercom had a calming effect. He made it sound like just another training mission. But it wasn’t.

Lumbering off of the runway, the great plane, loaded with bombs gained altitude in the dense August air. Having a moment to think, Ernie thought of ma, of his family, of the girl he’d got to know in too-little time before deployment. He, had a feeling of comfort, knowing they all are safe. His brother was or would be soon on his way to England. He hoped that he would get a chance to see him in a few weeks.

Looking out over the pastoral landscape, he thought about how amazing it was to be part of something so big, and how deceiving the world in front of him was. This was no different than looking out over the farm land of Michigan, but it was different. He was warm in his flight suit yet a cold chill went down his spine realizing that this time the mission was real. The crew had gone quiet. The usual chatter gone, as everyone retreated into their own thoughts. As he’d been taught, he muttered the Lord’s Prayer. He hadn’t thought that this is something he would do. He and his sister and brothers had been raised within the church and faith was central to their being, but he viewed it something of an obligation to ma, something of an add-on to their culture, to the fabric of being Byzantine Catholic in a Hungarian enclave, not as something particularly useful. But there it was, coming through at a time he knew by instinct to be dangerous and he had a desire to be comforted by a higher power. This was his first day really on the job so to speak. He had a year to go before he could find his way home.

After a half-hour of circling and gaining altitude, the great plane formed up with the rest of the 18-plane combat flight formation. Forming a box at least 800 feet wide 400 feet deep and 400 feet in altitude they knew they were an effective combat machine. In addition, they had an escort of RAF spitfires. Just as Ernie had told his ma, everyone protecting each other.

Arriving over German occupied France there was almost no anti-aircraft flak, and no harassment from Luftwaffe fighters, they lined up to drop their bomb load and successfully delivered the first attack by B-17 Bombers against the Rouen-Sotteville railroad marshalling yards in German-occupied France. This was a complete surprise to the un-prepared Germans. Three German fighters managed to scramble and get to the formation to harass them on their return flight, but they gave up when they encountered heavy firing from these grouped bombers. Something they had never seen before.

An uneventful flight, a successful mission. Bones and crew celebrated. Instinctually they knew it really couldn’t be this easy, but just like a football game against a lesser opponent, a win is a win, and the English beer tasted good that evening!

—

As the ships approached the Eastern Seaboard, they formed up with others leaving other ports to make a sizeable convoy with Navy Destroyers as escorts. Mike’s North Atlantic portion of the cruise was substantially rougher than the passage across the Gulf and around Florida. The experienced merchant seamen, were happy to see the rough waters of the North Atlantic, for this made it substantially more difficult for German U-boats to spot them and line up torpedo attacks in the swells and troughs of rough seas. But not so much for their passengers. Mike and his crewmates from the squadron were pretty green around the gills and more than one meal was lost to the sea. Being a pilot, Mike thought he would handle the motion just fine, but it’s not the same as the swoops and turns of a fighter plane, the long rolling waves created a different sort of torment to the belly. He imagined what it must have been like for his ma and pa in the tin buckets they came across the Atlantic in to America’s shores forty years ago, and then he went right to the railing to add his contribution to the sea.

Arriving into the port of Greenock Scotland safely, to the relief of all on board, the process of unloading left to the expert longshoremen of the royal navy and merchant marine, the grateful passengers were given an evening in the harbor town to grab a bite to eat and some good Scottish beer before they would board their train to their new home at RAF Membury. Mike was happy to spend some time with his squadron mates taking in a bit of the local life of bars, where despite the on-going tragedy of war, they were cheering the new arrivals to the fight and singing their sailor songs.

Mike, soon at RAF Membury, and only 100 miles from where Bones was stationed, would find himself suddenly with next to nothing to do. Their planes were supposed to be on another ship, but they went to Russia instead. The set up the photography development section and pitched their tents, got both the officer’s club set up and the enlisted men’s club in just a few days. Then nothing.

With some free time, Mike bought a bicycle from a local farmer, and spent some time exploring the local area. England was a pleasant place, not really what he expected from the newsreels showing the density of London as it was burning from repeated attacks over the last couple of years from the Germans. The countryside and small villages were pleasant. Plenty of young moms and tending to their lives as their men were mostly off to war, unless they were back recovering from injuries.

His sojourn through the countryside lasted only a couple of weeks. Soon he was being checked out in the Supermarine Spitfire. These are sleek looking aircraft with good climb rate and maneuverability. The training birds were not yet outfitted with the cameras that would provide vital intelligence to the war planning. But they were a pleasure to fly, far more nimble than the A-20s they shipped off to the Russians. Very soon, they would be flying reconnaissance missions… being maneuverable was vital if they get jumped, but flying straight and level for good camera work was the real danger to these upcoming missions.

These were the same type of planes protecting his brother’s B-17 flight squadron, flown by the brave and victorious RAF fighters. They had won the battle of Britain the previous two years and they were excited to take the fight to Huns.

The boys were now in the fight. Ma, worried and waited for weekly letters to know they were okay… and for extra insurance she lit two candles every Sunday, and prayed.

Chapter 11: November 1942, Bloody War

The bloodiest battles of 1942 were being fought in the Pacific Theater. The news reports of the battle for Guadalcanal were horrifying. The Japanese were fighting to the last man, inflicting horrendous casualties. The Sea and Air battle in the Coral Sea associated with an attempt to keep the Japanese from retaking the critical airfield on Guadalcanal added to the carnage.

In North Africa, the Allies landing was opposed viciously by the Vichy French forces that sided with the Germans. Expecting that they would not fight, the Americans and British were surprised. It took several days before Vichy French forces agreed to lay down their weapons. Hitler was furious. He ordered ‘the taking’ of the rest of what was then called the Free French region and tasked his best general, Erwin Rommel, to push the Allies out of North Africa.

For Bones and Mike these were concerning, but these were far away battles, fought in another part of the world. Mike had begun reconnaissance flights over German occupied France, and to a limited extent the Belgium/German border. He flew most days when the weather was clear. The intel provided on troop and weapon movement and damage assessment was of vital importance to Bomber command. Having good target information and most importantly damage assessments is very important. Knowing a bombing raid was successful meant there was no need for another dangerous mission to the same target. These reconnaissance flights were two-aircraft missions, one to fly low and steady to get good images the other to protect from enemy aircraft that might otherwise pounce on a single aircraft flying low over targets. Mike and his wingman, Randy took turns flying cover for each other. Most mission flights were relatively uncomplicated as they often surprised the Germans because two low-level planes are not easily spotted by the coastal watchers. But there was always the chance of a fighter patrol jumping them. Their mission was to take pictures, not get into a shootout with the Germans, so the occasioned dogfights were short, as short as they could be. They would break it off, and try later whenever they could.

In contrast, Bones found out life for B-17 Crews was very tenuous. The Germans figured out how to wait until Spitfires were beyond their range, as well as, how to pick off aircraft from the combat box. They often swarmed, and where they could they came in with the sun behind them. Another, often used technique, was to fly into the nose of the formation. This created incredible closing velocity, and the B-17s at this time lacked forward facing guns from which to defend against these head-on attacks.

German fighters would also attack from above, diving through a formation. They were fast, small targets, difficult to hit, and the lumbering B-17s were a very large target subject to great damaged by their cannon fire. It usually took many hits to bring an aircraft down, due to the sturdy build of the multi-engine bomber. But this was very dangerous to crew members, for even if the aircraft survived, the crew were too often wounded or killed. When the fighters broke off, the flak started. The flak had grown thicker and more accurate as Bomber Command extended their reach into the German industrial centers. This was the German homeland and it was fiercely protected. The German fighters would attack again once the bomber squadron completed their bombing run and were returning beyond the reach of flak. The bombers were harassed continuously on each mission. The probability of a crew making it through a year was now considered an impossible tour duration. The Army Air Corp leadership recognizing mounting losses and sick-bay visits by crew who would shake uncontrollably and had to be taken out of flight duty until they could recover, decided they needed to come up with a mission-based tour of duty, it wasn’t time that mattered, but how many times they could handle such high-risk situations. At the moment it was 50-mission tour, it would be lowered to 25-mission tour in a few more months. At even this low number, the relatively unprotected waist gunner’s chance of survival through a mission tour was around 21% in 1942 and 43.

Mike managed to get leave to go see his brother just North of his base for Thanksgiving. He hoped a ride on a truck moving mail and supplies up to RAF Grafton Underwood. It was only a three-hour bumpy drive.

Bones was given some time off as well to meet with his brother. By this time, they were both veterans, and had seen both death and disaster.

Exhausted, they decided to stay on base and take advantage of the food and local community which were invited on base to participate and make the men displaced from home feel more at home.

Mike said, “Well how many missions in are you?”

Bones replied, “Just 8 missions in to the tour, there’s been poor weather over much of Europe and each mission is like a lifetime… the first mission was a breeze, but the Jerrys caught on fast and they have been making life miserable. Some missions we come back with only half the number of planes that we left with. And the ones that do make it back are quite often shot up and require significant repair or they are simply scrapped for spare parts. Our crew is on its second B-17, and already four of the crew are replacements.”

With a long pause, and a tear in his eye, he gulped and continued “my buddy Charlie, you know Magyar from Cleveland was killed last week… cannon fire went right through my side of the plane and hit Charlie in the back, it blew a hole out the other side of his body the size of a basketball. There was nothing anyone could do. I just wish I had got the Me109 before he could’ve fired that shot.”

“Damn Bones, that is tough. He’s the guy you told me knew our cousins.”

“Yeah, I’ve written ma, because I told her I had someone we knew with us, and we could speak to each other in Hungarian. I know that gave her comfort, but that was a big mistake, because I know now she’s going to worry more.”

“Shit, Bones, what about you? That has to make you worry too.”

“Yeah, you’d think so, but it has done something different to me. I came away mad as hell. I want us to win and kick the Jerries’ ass. Sometimes I don’t care for my own safety, I have my routine, my ‘Lord’s Prayer’ before every mission, and I feel like I’m in a different time and space, like I can see a future, and I know I’m going to be okay. I don’t know how to explain, but I just don’t worry. I may never get the image of crewmates being blown apart out of my mind, but I will not let it break me. I just get mad. How about you?”

“You know Bones, it is different for me. There are only two of us on a mission and we are very busy, navigating to the right target, looking out for each other, and taking our pictures and hightailing it out of Dodge. The dangers are real, but we are so busy, I don’t have time to think about catching some random flak, or being jumped by Jerry fighters. We do our mission and scoot. We’ve gotten into a couple of scraps, but we don’t stay engaged. There are times I’d like to, just to get the buggers, but that’s not what we are there to do. We are there to make your jobs with Bomber Command more effective. So far, the 107^th has been extremely lucky. We’ve only had one killed by enemy fire and one mechanical failure, and he was able to bail out and made it home. Not exactly sure what happened to Smitty, who was KIA…he was a good man. Maybe flak got him, who knows. I’m really sorry for your loss Bones. It sounds like Charlie was a good man.”

“Yeah, thanks. But now what about ma? You know this news about Charlie is going to scare her. I don’t want to do that again, so from now on, I’m not going to share such connections with crewmates, hell, I just don’t want to get close to these guys. Being a teammate is a beautiful thing in practice and training, but in the real thing, it can tear your heart out.”

“Well for me, I’m good with my single seater… I hear you guys are shipping out?”

“Yeah, they are moving us to North Africa now that they’ve secured a couple of bases there. That’s going to be quite the change, I hear it is quite dry there, it will be a break from this dang cold and humid environment. Maybe I’ll get a chance to work on my tan!”

“For sure, this English climate has been pretty dank and dreary of late. But this weather here and on the continent means fewer mission flights.”

“I’m afraid there will be fewer breaks flying out of North Africa. The heat of the desert is not likely to matter when we get to altitude. You know Mike, the temperature gets to -50 or -60. I have to keep massaging my mask in order to keep the valves from freezing shut. We remove all the grease from the guns, because the grease freezes at altitude. When that happens, we can’t swivel the guns to target attackers. The cold is relentless. None of us use the electronic heated suits because if the electrical gets knocked out we’ll freeze to death in no time. The heavily fleece lined leather suits are not enough, but less risky than the “blue bunny” suits. Less to go wrong. This war is hell. This is a frozen hell.”

“Bones, it is for sure. For the moment, I’m thankful you are okay, and that we can be here together even if it is just a day.”

“Mike, let’s do what we can to win this damn war, for all the guys that have been lost, especially Charlie and Smitty, and so that others may not have to come here to fight.”

“Amen brother, let’s get some grub, and a couple of beers!”

—

Back home, Ma, sitting with Steve and Dave, was reeling over the news about the Magyar boy and the dangers for both Ernie and Mike. It was early and Thanksgiving turkey wasn’t yet in the oven, but would be soon, but she couldn’t stop shaking.

“I’m so worried for my boys” she was saying, and “I pray you two are not going to have to go.”

“I still don’t think they’ll change the rules for someone with my eyesight mom, so I’ll be here with you.”

Dave replied, “ma, I don’t know what will happen, they lowered the age of draftees to 18 which means I’m eligible to be drafted, but for now they are keeping the rule for those like me who are in electrician apprenticeships to be exempt from the draft. I can’t see that changing as increasingly the planes and tanks and other weapon systems require electronics. I know you are worried, but Mike and Bones, they know how to take care of themselves, they’ll be okay.” Saying this as a way of comforting ma, and giving his own thoughts some assurance.

“Ma, Dave’s right, they’ll be fine… we have much to be thankful for today… do you want me to help you write a letter to Charlie’s family in Cleveland?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure what to say.”

“Say, the same as you would if you saw them at church, that you pray for his soul and that Christ might comfort them in their time of grief… for it is the highest form of sacrifice to give one’s life in the battle against evil and in the defense of the innocence.”

Ma said “Steve, this is beautiful, please write that for me in our language.”

Chapter 12: Spring 1943, We Have a Long Way to Go

The battle for North Africa is nearly complete. The Jerries are on the run and the Allied forces are closing in on them in Tunisia. Tunisia would give the Allies a jumping off point for invading Sicily and the Italian mainland. At the Casablanca conference, the Allies called for the unconditional surrender of the Axis powers. It was very apparent that there would not be a negotiated peace, and therefore the European continent would have to be taken back by force. There was no world where Nazi Germany could live with the British or American democratic republics or for that matter with Communist Russia. The German 6^th Army had surrendered that winter at Stalingrad. Millions of casualties on both sides were a precursor to the next couple years of brutal war. Things were not much better in the Pacific. The island hoping campaign meant tragic amphibian landings on island after island. This was going to be a long hard fight. No one expected a surrender. The fight would be existential.

The demand for war materials was increasing at an alarming rate, but even more concerning was the casualty rate for the infantry attacking entrenched and defending troops of the Japan for each island invasion, and the loses in North Africa strained the ability for America to train and replace the losses of soldiers. More planes, tanks, and ammunition could be made, but it took a long time to grow men to the age of service and train them to be effective warriors. General George Marshall, reviewing the detailed planning and casualty estimates based on the experienced gained in recent campaigns, concluded that massive numbers of infantry would be needed to successfully invade the European continent and the Japanese homeland. Major invasions would need to take place on opposite sides of the world at the same time. This type of war planning was something very new, and very challenging.

The Army was tasked to restructurie its training to shorten the induction and pre-combat training, the draft boards were getting more stringent, and young men who were given the opportunity to study math and sciences and those learning critical trades such as machinist and electricians were being called to service. At the same time, women were taking over critical defense industry positions as men were drafted to serve.

In the Kulchar family, Katie went to work in the ammunition factory on Mill street, where Irene worked until young Davey was born. Richard, her son and MaryAnn, Irene’s daughter pulled a wagon through the village to gather scrap metal and rubber for the war effort. Her husband Alex was working on the assembly line at Willow Run where B-24 Liberator Bombers were being built on an enormous production line. Eventually that factory would achieve an astounding production rate of one bomber per hour. Steve and George worked in the steel mill producing a continuous flow of steel needed for every imaginable war industry. In the evenings they participated in monitoring blackout rules and watching for possible saboteurs as part of their home guard duties. They knew that, if reachable, the Detroit area would be a prime industrial target for Axis powers.

Dave, of course, continued to support the production line at Ford’s producing key armor elements as he learned to become an electrician, but as his 21^st birthday was approaching in May, he knew it would be time to consider enlistment rather than being drafted. He’d have to have to have an uncomfortable conversation with ma very soon.

Anna went to see the Gypsy fortune tellers in Delray, Irene would drive her there when she could. They would tell her that her sons were in danger, but were unhurt. This was worth as much as a letter, for there was an intrinsic faith in the magic of the Tellers. The fortune tellers told Anna, the future would be good, that they will be home, but there would be more difficulties ahead. Anna and Irene would make a visit to St. John’s after and light candles for the boys, and also, in hopes that the Teller was right. It was sort of like belts and suspenders. You can never be too careful.

Everyone had a part to play.

In England, Mike was still flying reconnaissance flights over German occupied France, he had one kill in his Spitfire when he was flying cover for his wingman and an Me109 wouldn’t get off of his wingman as he was making a camera run. They broke and tried to run, but this Me109 wanted a fight. Turning back on him, while his partner Randy, protecting the film turned away. Mike got a lucky break that the 109 turned after Randy and came across his guns in the process. He hit him with a burst of 20mm cannon fire that completely obliterated his engine. At such relatively low altitudes, there was no escape, the 109 cart-wheeled into the countryside and exploded. His adrenalin was pumping hard as he eliminated the threat… only to feel extra tired as they approached the base at Membury.

Mike felt the weight of that kill. The exuberance normally expected of pilots getting their first kill, was not there. He was older, he had seen accidents, and death. This was another pilot who lost his life. Maybe if he was younger the ‘kill’ would have been something of trophy to carry. For Mike, he felt he was just doing his job, and it was too bad the German pilot was in the way getting that job done. It could be nothing more. Mike did not write of this ‘victory’ to ma. It was not something he wanted to share.

They heard they would soon get the P-51 Mustangs Lt. Peck had talked about. He was looking forward to what was rumored to be a more powerful fighter, with greater range, but he knew he’d miss his highly maneuverable Spitfire.

Bones in North Africa was settled in and now flying missions for the 12^th Air Force to finish off the Germans in Tunisia and then missions to Sicily, the Italian mainland and into Southern Germany. Counting on the Lord’s prayer for fortitude before each mission, he had two kills of enemy fighters, which in his mind helped avenge the death of Charlie, but so many others were still to be avenged. Somehow Southern Drawl II continued to fly missions when planes nearby had been knocked out of the sky.

Sometimes Bones could see parachutes of the crewmembers and sometimes there was nothing, or a fatally wounded plane fell out of the formation and into the clouds where it was impossible to witness crew survival. Often, he was too busy tracking German fighters… and once in the flak fields, when the attacking fighters had backed off to avoid the friendly fire flak, Bones, like everyone, was trying to make themselves as small as possible. Small pieces of shrapnel from nearby flak explosions would travel right through the skin of the bomber with sometimes too often deadly consequences. A couple weeks earlier they had lost an engine due to flak. Fortunately, especially after the bomb load is released, the aircraft can easily make it home on three of the four engines. If need be, it was possible to limp home on just two of the four engines. The time it took to repair the Southern Drawl II, extended the time it would take to complete the mission tour, but these breaks were much-needed. They all needed time away from the nerve rattling, freezing cold, highly dangerous bomber crew missions.

The advantage to flying missions out of North Africa was that the threat from flak over Italy and Southern Germany was much less than flying out of England into France and North Germany. The number of fighters they encountered were also fewer. Bones and his squadron mates had a much higher chance of survival. This was offset by the US Army Air Corp keeping the number of missions for a tour to 50. Whereas the crews flying out of England needed only half as many missions to complete a tour and get the opportunity to return stateside for duty training recruits.

Bones and the four crewmembers remaining from the original ten were nearing the end of 25-missions. They were only half-way. It seemed like an impossible task. Bones had seen too many bunks empty the night after their daylight missions. He had stopped learning the names of the replacements brought in to the squadron. He was not a drinker, but began drinking to sleep at night, if only for a few hours before waking in a cold terror, shaking. He told no one. But everyone looked the same to him, no one was sleeping. You could not go through this and think of yourself as okay. If asked however, there was only one answer, I’m okay. The best way to deal with the stress for Bones was to sleep when he could, keep his routine as faithful as possible, and simply assume you were already dead. The attitude was “it’s just a matter of time.”

What he wrote to ma was that it was going great. He wrote of the Morocco food he had chance to sample, he wrote about the African sun and the occasioned dust storms, he wrote about seeing the Mediterranean Sea and how blue and beautiful it was from the air. He wrote about the dog he named Blackie in honor of George and Irene’s Blackie that had become part of the entourage that hung out at the mess hall and the enlisted men’s club. He wrote about everything but what he was going through, for all ma could tell, it sounded like her son Ernie was on a vacation in North Africa.

But Anna knew. She knew the happy talk was different from the newsreels at the movies. She could understand casualty reports in the newspaper, the list of local boys who were killed or wounded… and she knew her son, and after what happened to that Magyar boy, that he was sparing her the anguish of a mother with two boys at war. It just didn’t work. She prayed, she lit candles, she cried at night, then she got up in the morning and got to work on the laundry, planned dinners, made the sugar rations and ration of eggs and meat work for the family. What else could she do? This is what a mother must do.

It seemed like such a long way to go… for everyone!

Chapter 13: Summer 1943, Enlistment

Dave, now 21 and no longer protected by age nor the 2-A draft classification due to the apprenticeship program, realized he was running out of time. Induction was coming through the draft or enlistment. His brothers were serving, everyone he knew his age was serving. It was time. If enlisting, maybe his mechanic skills or training as an electrician would give him a chance to serve in the Signal Corp or possibly the Motor Pool of the Army.

On Sunday, July 4, after church, Dave gathered with some of the remaining friends not already in the service due to age or exclusions near the waterfront. It was beautiful weather along the Detroit river. The war seemed far away as they shared a smoke, threw a ball around, and drank some beer. Swing and jazz numbers were coming from Murry’s car radio. It helped put everyone in a good mood.

Everyone had been working hard, and it was good to forget about the news for a bit. All had friends and brothers and cousins overseas fighting or training for this eventuality. The last thing this young crowd wanted to think about was the future, but it seems the future is inescapable, it chases relentlessly.

Millie, from Wyandotte was there, sitting on the hood of a car, she looked amazing. But so too was her guy, Bill. He was talking about enlistment before draft. Dave and Bill commiserated that this is probably the best thing to do, but with no true commitment to the idea.

Dave had driven the Harley Davidson motorcycle he had bought from a buddy already deployed overseas. It needed work, but Dave was handy and had it in tip top mechanical condition, even if the chrome and leather might be a bit worn.

Having some cash in his pocket from working at Ford’s made the summer along the river front more fun. There were some carnival rides set up in the park along the river. One could almost imagine that the world was a peaceful joyful place. Betty was happy to see him, and join him on the tilt-a-whirl and shared a beer and a snack. But Dave also kept an eye on Millie, thinking she’s the one that got away.

Betty and Dave, along with four other friends put down a blanket on the park grass as the evening was rolling on. There would be no fireworks display, as it was prohibited. After all gunpowder was needed for the war effort, and somehow explosive celebrations seemed uncool.

Jack brought a guitar out, and others moved closer with their blankets and beer. They started out with “Pistol Packin Mama” … everyone singing out loud, and laughing…

“Oh, she kicked out my windshield and she hit me over the head
She cussed and cried and said I’d lied and she wished that I was dead”

And everyone getting into the chorus:

“Oh, lay that pistol down, babe, lay that pistol down
Pistol packin’ mama, lay that pistol down”

Jack followed up with “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition”

including the lyrics:

“Yes, the sky pilot said it
Ya gotta give him credit
For a sonofagun of a gunner was he

Shouting Praise the Lord, we’re on a mighty mission
All aboard, we ain’t a-goin’ fishin’
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition
And we’ll all stay free”

The lyrics cause Dave to think about Bones and Mike… Betty noticed his gaze faded into the distance of the river running dark as summer sunlight faded.

The next song hit close to home even more so… they all sang along was “Coming in On a Wing and Prayer” … including the lyrics:

“One of our planes was missing
Two hours overdue
One of our planes was missing
With all its gallant crew
The radio sets were humming
They waited for the word
Then a voice broke through the humming
And this is what they heard

Coming in on a wing and a prayer
Coming in on a wing and a prayer
Though there’s one motor gone
We can still carry on
Coming in on a wing and a prayer”

“What a show! What a fight!
Yes, we really hit our target for tonight!
How we sing as we limp through the air
Look below, there’s our field over there
With our full crew aboard
And our trust in the Lord
We’re coming in on a wing and a prayer”

“How we sing as we limp through the air
Look below, there’s our field over there
With our full crew aboard
And our trust in the Lord
We’re coming in on a wing and a prayer”

The songs moving all of them, for they all had someone they were thinking of as the lyrics to these war songs washed over them. Dave thinking of Bones and Mike. He knew now, that he needed to do his part too.

As the evening wore on, Dave’s mood changed, he became more intense, less attuned to the party atmosphere. He did like Betty, even if she might not be the ‘one’… he told her that he has something important to do in this world, and that he was going to enlist. It was time. It was getting dark, so Dave didn’t notice the tears glistening in her eyes as she kissed him goodbye. Asking him to stay safe.

Dave, got on his motorbike and drove home to hear the latest news on the radio, and to think. Not so much about what to do but how to tell ma.

—

On this July 4^th in England, Mike enjoyed a beer with his squadron mates, and discussed the war effort. There would be no fireworks here either, unless it was as a result of a Luftwaffe attack. July 4^th was a muted affair here as in the states.

The observation flights were beginning to focus more on costal defensive positions and logistical sites of rail stations, switching yards, bridges in France and Belgium. It was similar to the flights over Dieppe prior to the invasion attempt the previous year. They all felt it was something of a dress rehearsal, or a testing of capability and response for a future invasion of the continent. Everyone knew it needed to be done, but when and how? In five-days, they would find out it was to start with an invasion of Sicily.

For now, they talked about tactics and results. Flying in low below radar, two plane teams. The lead doing navigation and operating cameras, the second flying cover. The low-level flight lead to ground fire taking pieces out of many planes. A lucky shot would mean nearly certain death at these low levels. If hit, they talked about gaining altitude to bail out.

They needed to avoid dogfights at all costs in order to complete their mission and get the film back to support intelligence operations. The first flight absolutely dependent on the cover of their wingman. By now they had lost 5 pilots KIA. Overall, they were highly successful and their survival rate was so much better than the bomber crews and escort fighters. They had a well-earned sense of pride for the value they delivered to the US Army Air Corp, yet they felt the intensity was building for something more.

—

In North Africa, Bones and his crewmates were playing a game of pickup baseball. It was hot as hell, but dry. They played without shirts and didn’t mind the heat. They all had had too much time nearly freezing to death at 25,000 feet. The intense heat and searing sun were something they could remember the next time they were at cruising altitude over the Mediterranean. Their plane was down for maintenance and repairs, so they had a couple days break. A couple days to be young men again. To play games, to joke and be alive with life, before they would once again be part of the killing machine that was the B-17 bomber and its crew. The massive load of bombs, they thought of as delivering over a target, without much thought about the consequences for the people on the ground. It made no sense that any country would bring war to their nation when the consequences could be enormous waves of bombers with highly explosive ordinance. It was impossible to reconcile. It was impossible to reconcile that these young men playing a game would in a couple of days again deliver such destruction.

—

On Monday, after the pounding in his head from a bit too much of Detroit’s finest Stroh’s beer. and a weak breakfast of some left over perogies and bread. Dave, asked his mother to come away from her ironing so he could speak to her.

In careful, but clear Hungarian, he laid out the case for enlistment, knowing she would not want to hear it. But also, knowing, as Steve had told him; “she would support him no matter what he wanted to do.”

“Ma, I have to go. I’ve turned 21 and they will draft me in any case, but more than this, I want to do my part. Mike and Bones have been fighting this war and I’m so proud of them, but I need to do my part too. I think with my experience as mechanic and training in electronics that I could be serving in the motor pool or the signal corp. There is a high probability I will not be in the front lines. I’m sorry ma, but I have to go, please understand.”

As tough as she wanted to be, and pretended to be, there was a soft spot in her heart for her youngest. The one who was smart, and quick with a word and ready with a smile. He was too handsome, too persuasive and she would do whatever she could to support his dreams and his purpose.

Exasperated, she sighed, then she cried. He cried too. There would now be three sons in this war. The darkness out of Germany, she had seen before; as it always seems to be … And for her, it always seemed that the Hungarians would pay a big price in these wars of conquest… It did not matter if it was from the home country or from the adopted country of America, the working boys, her beautiful boys would be asked to sacrifice.

Consoled somewhat with the convenient story, that he would likely be a mechanic working well behind the front lines, she accepted, as all mother’s must accept, that it was his choice.

Like so many other mothers she would pray and light candles each Sunday for his and his brothers safe return. With this she said “I know you must do this. I know it is important, but I love you and wish the world would not ask this of you. I wish it would not ask of me to give three of my sons to this war, to this God-awful war! Wars change people David, it changes everyone, you must do what you can to stay alive and stay true to yourself. Krisztus veled”… “Christ be with you” as she kissed him.

“I know ma, I know. I will survive this, you’ll see, and so will Mike and Bones.”

Drying the tears from his eyes, he walked down the street to George and Irene’s home on White Street, the site of previous childhood battles and gypsy celebrations, to ask Irene for a ride to the enlistment station on Fort Street, maybe just for the company, for he could have taken his motorcycle despite the threatening rain clouds in the Eastern sky.

—

Irene, happy to be out and away from the kids as Katie was home from the ammunition factory, for this was a holiday watched Richard, MaryAnn, Mickey and Dave… as they are always a handful. But the recruitment center was open. The government knew, somewhat cynically, that after Independence Day there would be an increase in enlistments.

The weather was calm, the expected rain was still far off, so she rolled down the window and relaxed. She was thankful there were a few other young men in line before Dave. Another half-hour or so away from home would be good thing. Many in line looked like recent graduates from what she could see from the curb.

A thought came to her slow, but sure like a tide rising, that these young men were likely to find themselves in great danger. Sure, there was the excitement of the uniform, the marching, the training. But in this tide of thought she remembered the parades she watched while on her father’s shoulders of young men in wheel chairs, missing legs, those marching with an arm sleeve folded up where an arm should have been. Yes, as the thought proceeded, those may have been the lucky ones. The ones who came back, even if disfigured. The thought came like a cold sweat on a warm day, it chilled her as she thought of Davey and Mike and Bones too. All of them serving. What might, this do to her mother-in-law, Anna, so brave and tough, but still a mother. What if her Mickey was old enough to march into an enlistment center, how would she handle it?

On the drive home, they were quiet. Dave lost in thoughts about what the Army would be like. Could he be something like the warriors he had read about? Would he do well enough on the aptitude test to land a job that would provide lasting value, or would he find himself on the front-lines? It now seemed very real and close, as he had committed himself to get on a bus in a couple of weeks to camp. Fear for how his life was about to change, and yet excited for the adventures to come…

And Irene driving quietly, lost in her own thoughts. Not being able to shake the feeling of fear which came over her, and the memory of the Great War veterans.

—

It promised to be a hot August 2nd day, but the morning was still cool and there was still some dew on the grass when it came time to say goodbyes. He hugged ma. Ma hugged back like she was never going to let go. Her baby going off to war, a war that seemed to get worse by the day, a war for which there was a belief that America would win, but it was a very nervous belief, and besides it would only matter if her boys survived the terror of it all.

Steve said, “I’m proud of you brother,” as he took him away from ma’s clutches and gave him his own but more abbreviated hug.

The rest of the family already off to work. Steve stayed back to make sure ma would be okay, and to give Dave a ride to the bus station.

Steve picked up Dave’s bag and said, “well we best be on our way or you’ll miss that train.”

Chapter 14: August 1943, 70^th Infantry Division

The US ARMY was planning the future of the war in the summer of 1943. They had significant lessons to consider from the Pacific island amphibious invasions against an entrenched Japanese Army, Operation Torch invasion of North Africa, and the Operation Husky invasion of Sicily over the previous month.

Operation Husky required 160,000 Allied personnel. In the Pacific the Army was scaling up for Operation Cartwheel in the Solomon Islands with something like 400,000 troops.

Already the US Army was 6,500,000 personnel, whereas just three years earlier the active Army personnel was 269,000. The losses in August of 1943 were approximately 7,000 killed, wounded or captured. The scale of the growth was astounding, the scale of loss even more so. The material demands for weapons, vehicles, uniforms, food, and ammunition was nearly unimaginable.

The planners realized they were nowhere near where they needed to be. The invasion of the Europe and Japan would demand a huge scale up in material and men. The Army needed to reorganize, to add not just thousands of men, but millions. They needed newly formed divisions in the structure of the Army. Each would have to be seeded from existing divisions. The 70^thInfantry Division, the “Trailblazers” was one of these divisions formed in August 1943 with a pool of officers and NCOs from the 91^st Division. Camp Adair in Oregon was built out rapidly to handle this New Division of 15,000, mostly new recruits. This is where Dave would land.

Steve dropped Dave off at the Michigan Central Station in Detroit… Telling him “be careful and keep your head down!”

Dave said, “I will, take care of ma, I know this is tough for her.”

“Will do kiddo!”

—

The trip to Camp Adair was difficult. Along with several hundred others, Dave boarded a special train commissioned by the War Department.

The trip should have been two days, but it was five days and nights. The need to prioritize shipment of raw materials and weapons meant that troop trains were repeatedly sidetracked for higher priority trains.

Dave traveled to Chicago where other cars were added to the train and filled with more recruits from throughout the mid-west. The numbers were surprising to Dave, and everyone was packed in. The cars were hot and stuffy, as August in the Midwest is hot and muggy and there was no air conditioning other than what an open window could bring when the train was moving. A kitchen car served the men along the journey, which included frequent stops to allow for higher priority traffic, as well as, much-needed physical exercise and fresh air for the men.

In Chicago, Dave was transferred to an aging Pullman car… throwing his travel bag in the rack above, he slid into the seat with five others. Three facing east and three facing west instead of the usual tourist travel of two and two. It was tight. He introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Dave Kulchar.”

The guys across and the one closest to the window each grunted hi, and said their names, but showed little interest in interrupting their ongoing conversation.

The guy next to Dave, who he was shoulder to shoulder to, said “Pleased to meet you Dave, I’m Stan Lambert… where you heading?” He asked with a laugh.

“I recon, the same as you, Camp Adair in Oregon, and from there only God knows.”

“Well, Dave. I hope God does know, because I doubt the US Army knows. Looks like they are sending troops to the Pacific, to North Africa, now to Sicily. Our guys are fighting everywhere. I can’t guess where we’ll end up.”

“Dang, Stan, it is hot as hell in here. I hope this train gets moving and maybe we can get some air in this cabin.”

“Amen to that!”

With that, the train lurched as it started on the move, like an answer to a prayer.

The cotton shirt stuck to the cotton tee shirt which stuck to him… the discomfort was something, but he imagined it was less than the challenges his brothers were facing, and with something of a premonition, Dave wondered if the chill that went down his back was the winter he would know sometime soon… or was it sometime past? In a world of constant change, the football field was a hot training ground this time of year, and yet so cold and hard in November games, the track was cold in January practice, and by the June matches it was so very hot. One felt hot because we know cold, cold because we knew hot.

The old train car was loud on the track, it was hard to have a conversation, so Dave and Stan, dosed off, bouncing off each other occasionally, only to be awaken by the coolness of rain coming through the window vented at the top to let air in.

With the noise, no one noticed the start of a thunderstorm now also rocking the train. It was only couple hours in and the train was slowing and pulling off on an obvious side track. Finally, it was a bit quieter.

“Stan said, where are you from?”

“I’m from Ecorse Michigan a steel town just downriver from Detroit. How about you?”

“Farmlands in Nebraska… we are Cornhuskers!”

“Cool, what did you do before enlistment?”

“I worked on the family farm. Up early, get the morning chores done, go to school and then afternoon chores. It always seems there was something to do, except after the fall harvest. Then it was football and girls! How about you, you look like you are bit older than some of us?”

“Yeah, I worked for a couple of years as an auto mechanic during the recession and went back to school once industry picked up to meet the demands of the war effort and my older brothers had work. My family needed me to work when I could, then I got to finish school. I was pretty handy… well not that handy,” showing Stan his stubby finger… Also, I went to Ford’s in the electrician’s apprenticeship.”

“Did you get your electrician’s card”?

“No, I needed a couple more years in the program, but the draft was coming and I thought I’d have a better chance of getting into a good job with the Army if I enlisted instead of drafted. They did away with the 2A classification, and it was just a matter of time before I’d be drafted. Besides, my brothers are serving, and I know I need to do my part to help bring this war to an end… I can’t let them have all the fun.”

“Wow, how many brothers, and where are they serving?”

“I have two brothers, working the steel mill producing the raw steel we need, I have a sister working the ammunition factory, her husband is working the B-24 assembly line in Detroit and I have a brother serving in the 107^th Squadron flying a Spitfire as a sergeant, and another brother flying with the Ninth Air Corp as a waist gunner on a B-17 crew out of North Africa. I guess you might say we are all involved in some way. I need to do my part… Pa died years ago, and Ma is left to worry about all of us, it is tough on her.”

“Dave, I like that you complete the whole story of your family. I don’t think enough people realize that everyone is involved in the war effort. There is no scenario where we can win this war without everyone being engaged. I think too many people don’t realize that this war is being fought in both the Pacific and in Europe and at home. They only pay attention to a piece of the picture. I know for us, the demand for food production is higher than it ever has been. Our family has never been busier because I too have a brother serving in the Pacific as a marine and everyone has to pick up the slack on our farm, as well as, all our neighbor farms when the young men are pulled into the fight. Now it is going to be even tougher for ma and pa and my sisters to keep up with the farm duties with me gone.”

“You, know I hadn’t quite thought about it that way. My brothers and I get paid by the Army, so we can send money home, so even if we are not working in the factory, ma and my family have money coming in without having to take on a bigger load, where for your family everyone has to pick up your chores… of course”…Dave continued, smiling… “unless you were chasing girls and instead of doing your chores?”

“Hahaha, I can tell you kiddo this cornhusker did his chores, how do you think I got this beefy?”

“I don’t know… maybe too much of that good home cooking? I have a feeling the Army might re-align our dietary expectations.”

They had a laugh as the orderlies were handing out ham and cheese sandwiches down the aisle and the train once again lurched forward and started rolling toward the mountains and valleys of Oregon… munching on a ham and cheese on white bread they both went silent as the train clacking picked up and they each found themselves thinking about their future.

That evening, they found that they had to share a sleeper. Two men on the bottom shelf a single lucky guy getting the top shelf. It was hotter and stuffy on top, but the top-shelf didn’t need to share space. Stan and Dave did their best to give each other room on the lower shelf. Dave used to the tight living quarters at the small house on Fifth Street was less stressed than Stan who was beefier. Also, Stan grew up in a large farm house and was used to having elbow space.

They chatted a bit about football and girls and a little of nothing until Billy ‘on the top shelf’ said, “will you two kids pipe down!”

Stan replied, “sure thing top-shelf Billy”… with that both Dave and Stan chuckled and turned as best they could away from each other.

—

After five days of eggs and coffee in the morning, ham and cheese at lunch and some sort of stew at dinner. And days of doing nothing except sweating, some cards games that were difficult to organize, and reading or chatting. There was exercise two or three times a day, and waiting for hours on side-rails for more important freight. The message was clear; they were not really important freight, nor did it seem to matter that there was no diversity of diet.

Sleeping arrangements were adjusted and traded for the first night, until everyone settled into the routine that makes the night bearable. Stan and Dave decided to stay together. The devil you know versus the one you don’t I suppose.

Some of these guys wouldn’t have hazarded the notion, that this would someday, in the near future, seem like posh conditions.

Climbing out of the mid-west and beyond the plains of the west and into the mountains, the air through the windows was a bit fresher and cooler, they all had a sense they were getting close to their destination.

—

Pulling into the rail yard at Camp Adair Oregon, it was readily apparent that this was a whole nother world. The bustling, building, marching, the energy was astounding. It made the large Ford Factory Dave was used to seem quaint and somber by caparison. He was immediately excited about the prospect of being part of something big… and to get off the damn train.

Stepping off, he hit the gravel carrying his light bag with a couple changes of dirty clothes he went through on the train and his train kit with personal hygiene items. Just like a thousand other recruits who were also carrying their kits and being told to line up to march toward the camp.

He finally saw what will be home for the foreseeable future. Large parade ground, what appeared to be an obstacle course off to the right bordered in the distance by forest, and mountains further out. To the left, rows up rows of white buildings and gravel, neatly framed with rocks around each building and tent’s in neat rows. Behind him the train was unloading mail and supplies and preparing to leave. Making room for another train of recruits no doubt.

On the parade grounds, there were hundreds of recruits already marching, each with a sergeant barking orders in front of their respective squads. It looks a bit like a parade… how hard can this be?

In no time, they came to a large building with the words Induction and Reception Center stenciled across the entrance.

Inside they are shuffled about twenty at a time through check stations. First, confirming name, age, home town and address. Second, specific skills and interests… Dave indicates first choice, mechanic/electrician, second artillery, third infantry… later he discovers, no one gets their first choice, and most don’t get their second choice.

In short order, he is told to strip, examined by a doctor, or medic, who knows? Told to turn his head and cough while he’s tested for hernia… and otherwise assaulted. A barrage of immunizations, shots in both arms for typhoid, smallpox, and whatever… Weight 145, height 5 foot 8 inches… then a haircut. Well not a haircut, a complete shave so all he feels is stubble across his scalp where his once beautiful wave of Brylcreem-coiffed hair shined black. Then, he is handed two sets of scratchy wool uniforms, hat and boots, and shuffled back out into the August sunshine to be marched to a barracks just two blocks away. The remarkable efficiency of the process leaves him reeling.

“Go find a bunk, store your civvies and personal articles and put your work uniform on, you have exactly three minutes” … “Now Go”.

Dave, grabs a top bunk about midway, Stan grabs the lower bunk.

In what seems like no more than 2 minutes they are lined up in front of their bunks and the drill sergeant is berating their appearance.

He takes a recruit nearest to the door, and proceeds to explain, in no uncertain terms, how to wear the uniform, how to stand at attention, what stand-at-ease is and what the storage locker and bunk should look like. “Got it?”

“Yes sir” came the enthusiastic response from the boys assembled…

“Don’t say ‘sir’ to me! I work for a living, you reserve ‘sir’ for officers”… “Your affirmative answer to me, is: Yes, Drill Sergeant”

“Yes, drill sergeant” came the response from the room.

“Louder!!”

“Yes, drill sergeant!!”

In a moment they were doing calisthenics and short-distance runs, learning to move in 12-men units called squads, and in the evening learning who and how to salute, the insignia of officers and importantly the Articles of War.

On the second day they are ushered into a class room with recruits from other barracks to take the AGCT… 140 questions in 40 minutes. Impossible to finish… which must be the intent, Dave feels overwhelmed by the test, even though with advice from RR at Ford’s he had studied for the competency test. Even with the prep work, he was now worried.

Within a week, the recruits were starting to shape up and look like soldiers, even if they really don’t yet have a clue what that means. Everyone, was a bit gung-ho, looking the part, and excited to be doing something important for their country and themselves in very uncertain times. And now they are finally handling a rifle, non-stop it seemed. Learning how to walk guard duty, how to maintain personal hygiene, the Army way! First-aid training, and now 5-mile conditioning marches carrying rifle and pack.

These boys, enlisted from farm and city, grew up in tough times, they are lean and prepared, so this was all good fun, and hard work, which they don’t mind. They had always worked hard and played hard. This is what they volunteered for, and now they were eating more calories than most had in their life, even if it was a bit low on the flavor scale.

Drill sergeant Clark, stiff and imposing, holding a clipboard, called out “Kulchar, front and center, you will be the lead for Platoon 1, which includes Bailey, Kulwacki, Stewart, Truckowski, Roberts, and Lambert.”

“You will make sure they are on-time where they need to be, and that they all make it through each of the training sessions. No excuses!”

“Yes, drill sergeant!”

Similarly, the rest of the barrack recruits were grouped into platoon two, three and four.

That night, Stan from the lower bunk says “Look at you, you’ll be given orders in no time, the sergeant recognized your leadership potential right away.”

Dave replies, “I think it’s that I’m the fastest through the obstacle course… this is easy compared to football practice and long-distance running… but there is so much to learn… for now, I’m exhausted. Good night Stan”

“Good night Dave”

With that, Dave trying to shutout the cacophony of men snoring, grunting and farting rolled over and despite the noise, thought of Millie and her young lithe body and imagined how it might look under that knit blouse and poodle skirt. The noise seems to have grown louder since they arrived, but sleep, none the less comes faster than ever despite the noise and the desire to think of Millie.

The next day, the results of the Army test are available. Each are called into the office to hear the results. Not everyone is enthusiastic when they come out.

“Kulchar, get in here!”

Walking in, Dave salutes the officer behind the desk and gives a side glance to the drill sergeant, acknowledging him.

“Recruit, you scored 116, this puts you solidly in Grade II. You might be officer material, and based on your special aptitude and math scores and experience as an auto mechanic, as well as the electrician training you are a candidate for a technical track. Last month you would have been recommended for training in radio and radar. But the Army has decided that, regardless of aptitude test scores, we need infantry. You might have opportunity in the future to consider additional career paths, but for now soldier you are now part of the US Army Infantry.

“Sir, Yes Sir!”

“Recruit dismissed!”

Returning to the mess hall, Dave grabs a cup of coffee and finds Stan. “Well, Stan, how did you score?”

“I had a 92, looks like I’ll be sticking with the infantry. How about you?”

“I don’t think it mattered a damn what you scored. They said I had a score of 116, but I’m like everyone here infantry.”

“Dang, that was a good score, wonder why we take this test if it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Stan, who knows. I think some of it is checking the boxes on a form.”

—

It’s the end of the third week, and between the hours of exercise, obstacle course and distance marches, time is spent learning the bolt action M1903 Springfield Rifle, and all the positions from which firing should take place and how to strip it, clean it and carry it. Furthermore, they had their first exposure to the gas mask, including a brave walk through a room full of tear gas to build necessary experience and confidence with the use of the mask. But damn… everyone wants a chance to prove themselves with live rounds on the range.

On Monday of the fourth week, as they file out of the mess hall they are issued tents, one for each bunk pair. Taught to pack it, deploy it, and how to allocate space for body and field gear… as they are ushered out to the training grounds for a week in the field.

Monday night, was a cool night for a summer in Oregon, as the sun set and taps was sounded it was a pleasure to crawl into the tent and settle in for the night. It was the first quiet night in three weeks. Instead of an orchestra of 22 others, so close and personal in the barracks, Dave was hearing only Stan’s light snoring interrupting sweet dreams of Millie, as he began to dose off….

Revelry played loud, breaking through a very pleasant dream… “what damn timing… geez.”

Rising, dressing quick, and hustling out to roll call and then the chow line. This morning it’s slop… porridge or oatmeal, not quite sure what to call it, but not what Dave would call breakfast, served from a tent kitchen just a 100-yards away. It didn’t matter, hungry soldiers need calories, and this seems an efficient solution. Eating quick and making a necessary stop at the latrine, Dave was ready for what would be coming next.

Today would be exciting, they would get to do live-fire on the range, enough of the stripping and cleaning and practicing shooting positions… finally an opportunity to find out if they can hit a target.

Dave, called Platoon 1 together, at the start of the obstacle course as ordered by the drill sergeant, and passed on the good news. “We are going through the obstacle course with our rifles this time and then we are to run to the range. First platoon there takes the lead on the range. Let’s be the first through the obstacle course and first to the range. We will show those guys who are the best!”

“Hooah!” was the response in unison.

Dave, lined his team up and took the lead and told Stan to bring up the rear through the obstacle course… he knew he could count on Stan, who was strong and athletic to help anyone struggling over the wall at the end of the obstacle course, the thing he most worried would slow his team.

The drill sergeant, said to the four platoons lined up and waiting, “Okay girls, get set, and GO!”

Dave, knowing he was the fastest in the barracks, moved gracefully and fast through the obstacle course, intentionally putting pressure on the other teams and pulling his team along by setting an example of speed and grace.

At the end, he watched anxiously the rest of his platoon showing a bit of gap at the end.

“Come on platoon one” … Come on Stan”, but Stan was already helping Roberts over the wall.

They dropped over nearly simultaneously… the platoon winded, but all present, Dave says “Let’s go, double-time platoon.”

As soon as he was a hundred yards out, he realized he made a mistake, leaving Stan and Roberts to bring up the rear resulted in them being more winded than Dave and the rest.

Willing his team along, Dave picked up the pace, expecting his team to move. No way was he going to lose to platoon 3, probably the second best of the barracks platoons.

Pushing ahead, Dave was now at least 10 yards ahead of even Kulwacki. Kulwacki was a high school cross-country runner from Chicago… Dave was disappointed he was falling behind him… dang, he was determined his platoon would be number one to the range.

Arriving at the range, the range chief, another drill sergeant, says to Dave, “okay recruit you are first, but where is your platoon?”

Sputtering a bit, Dave pushes out… “drill sergeant, they are following me.”

“Recruit, why wouldn’t you keep your platoon together?”

“Drill sergeant, I was trying to set a positive example, and bring my platoon in first place!”

“Recruit, you need to learn! You never leave your platoon behind, you have just lost your position as platoon leader.”

“Yes, drill sergeant”… Dave says dejectedly.

As Platoon 1 arrived into the range, Drill Sergeant, calls out “Lambert!”

“Yes, drill sergeant”

“You are now leader of Platoon 1.”

—

That evening, Dave smarting, and realizing he really did want to be a leader. Told Stan, “I messed up today.

Stan replied, “yeah Dave, I know, there is no way I can keep up with you and I was winded after the obstacle course… You are a natural leader, but you need to understand the capabilities of the team. You can’t expect a lineman like me to keep up with a wide receiver.”

“Man, you are so right.”

Chapter 15: September 1943, Company B

Now, officially through their initial four-week training, the newly inducted privates were assigned to companies within regiments of the Division. Given their axe head shaped insignia with the axe head, pine tree and snowy mountain they were now officially members of the Trailblazers. They were each given duty assignments. Stan was assigned to the I Company of the 275^th Infantry Regiment, and Dave was assigned to B Company of the 275^th. The units were a long way from being filled out.

The complete organization of this newly inaugurated division included a Headquarters, and three infantry regiments, in addition to the 275^th there were also the 274^th and the 276^th, as well as four artillery battalions, and Combat Engineer and Medical Battalions, as well as troop of Calvary Reconnaissance (Mechanized), and of course Headquarters troops. The HQ had special troops, including Counter-intel, Signals Company, Military Police Platoon, Quartermasters and Division Band.

It would take a year or more to complete the staffing and training of this fifteen thousand troop division. A few hundred or so officers and NCO’s were the initial staff of the division. Dave and Stan would be joining a very new outfit the size of the division was about 1500 when they received their Trailblazer insignia.

The experienced troops were absolutely critical to getting the division organized and on a good footing. New recruits like Dave and Stan hardly knew what it was to be a soldier and would have to learn much. They in turn would train the others that would flow into the division as the Army continued its massive effort to recruit and draft the manpower they knew they would need to invade the European continent and bring the war one island at time to the Japanese home islands.

The 70^th Division would add around two thousand every month for the next year.

The training was intense. The physical demands of hiking, setting up, tearing down, digging defensive positions, operating as coordinated units, simulated warfare, had to be done over and over again. Learning as infantry to operate in 12-man squads, move and fire, cover and move again. Weapons training was intense. Learning both the new standard infantry rifle the M-1 Garand and the Browning Automatic Rifle, a light machine gun that was a critical weapon for infantry. The BAR is heavy and suited for someone with great physical endurance.

In September, Oregon was entering the rainy season. The ground was wet and muddy and the hills of the training area made for a grueling experience. Keeping everything clean and operable became a never-ending chore. 12-hour days turned into 14-hour days when you included the two hours spent cleaning rifles, boots, and everything that you had touched during the day, and if you were done with this, you might have a moment to write home, if you didn’t get tagged for guard duty. Then the next day, do it all over again.

Gradually the civilian experience was being drummed out of the recruits.

Dave, wrote home to ma, “The army is swell mom, we spend hours each morning in tactical drills or marching. I don’t mind any of this, as it is like play time as a kid, and the marches are no worse than track or football practice, except that it is always wet and muddy here. The afternoon, I go to class. I’ve learned a lot about map reading, and tactics which we then take into the field to practice. The food is okay… nothing like your dinners, but by time I eat, I’m famished. I think I put on a couple of pounds. So, don’t worry. I’m eating enough. There are new guys coming in every day. It is impressive how the Army has organized the induction of these new draftees. They work right into the schedule we are operating too. I guess the good news is that we are not going to go anywhere soon, there is so much we are learning and so many men are coming in. Well, I’m about spent for the night and they are going to turn the lights out soon. Say hi to everyone, make sure Steve kickstarts my motorcycle once every few weeks. I hope and pray you are okay and so too are Bones and Mike. Love you.”

At home, ma was okay, but now praying more than ever, lighting three candles each Sunday after liturgy. Comparing notes with the other mothers with sons in the service. Having three serving seemed excessive, to most everyone. They all had someone to provide translation of the strange places, actions and activities of a war they only partially understood as everything was translated into Hungarian by the next generation. They understood that their home country, the country of their birth, was experiencing this war in a way quite perverse from their new-found home nation. Anna’s family in Hungary and many others had cousins swept up into the war on the side of Germany. They were fighting in and alongside the Wehrmacht, and they were dying in large numbers. The letters finding their way to the community of Hungarians in Detroit area were telling of disaster on the Western Front. The Hungarian Second Army was destroyed by the Red Army in Russian. A hundred thousand of men were killed or captured.

There was no love lost for the Russians, nor the Germans. This community knew better than most that war was ugly, but why were they always caught in the middle of such violence? It didn’t matter to the mothers which side their families were fighting for, it mattered only that they were dying or disappearing. Anna was learning that the war is and was far more violent than she was hearing from her boys.

—

On September 11, the 70^th Division celebrated “Organization Day. With the arrival of new recruits and fillers from other units, the division was officially filled out sufficiently to begin operating as a US Army Division. Thus, began a formalized basic training program. Dave as new to the Army as he was, was ahead of many others coming in just weeks after him. For the next fourteen weeks the Division would conduct a basic training program. It would include for the 275^th an initial three-day administrative bivouac in the rugged and very wet hills just west of the camp.

Dave, and company carrying full packs marched for 8 hours, with a couple breaks along the way, they were tired when they were told where to pitch their tents, how to set up guards and defensive positions. They were learning what it meant to be in the field. It was raining all day, not a hard downpour, but an insidious constant, get everything wet and muddy rain. Clothes soaked through, the rain dripped from the lip of the helmet in front of his face, like some sort of rhythmic reminder that he was not at home anymore. The march was steadily uphill it seemed, the ground wet and slippery. His boots chafed and he longed for his running shoes. The pack which weighed half his weight kept sliding from one side to the other with the uneven terrain. He now understood why the sergeant was so insistent that they pack properly and mount the pack purposefully… certainly “next time I’m going to spend more time making sure the pack is properly secured.”

Around noon, they stopped for a lunch. Dropping to the ground, Dave dug out one of the 6 cans he was carrying for his daily rations, and his mess kit. Using his poncho, he created a small mud free space on the ground. He elected the meat and vegetable hash. Pulling off the tiny key from the bottom of the can, he found the small metal tab and began winding the metal strip around the key to open the can. Lifting the lid, he dug into the mix of meat and vegetables. Considering the B-unit with biscuits and coffee, he elected to put it aside, as there seemed to be no point in getting two things wet at the same time. The rain in dripping off his helmet was hydrating the meat and vegetable mix, which was fine with him. Surprisingly it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t the same as a hot meal from the barracks but it served the purpose.

Striking up a conversation with private Dan Rossi, Dave says, “this isn’t like mom’s cooking, but it ain’t all that bad either, I picked the meat and vegetable hash, what did you choose”?

Dan, replies, “I went with the meat and beans, you might want to stay upwind of me this afternoon.”

“Thanks for the warning! Even though this is damn uncomfortable, I must say I like being outdoors, I can’t believe how different this is from Michigan… we don’t have much in the way of mountains at home, just hills.”

“These aren’t much of mountains, the Alleghenies where I’ve hiked in Pennsylvania, now those are mountains… I hope we get to see more of Oregon mountains, we can see Mount Hood, but the Cascades are quite a distance from Camp. I’m not sure we’ll get there on any of these exercises, but it would be cool.”

“Hey are you going to open one of those other cans?”

“Yeah, I think this is enough for a meal, but do you want to share the contents of one of these B-units”?

Dave says, “sure, what are you thinking”?

“Let’s share the biscuits and lemonade.”

“Okay” and with that Rossi dug out and opened the can labeled biscuits and lemonade.

Dave, having finished his meal, held his poncho over him and Rossi to form a tent and keep the rain off of the biscuits. The package of lemon powder and package of Domino Sugar spilled out on Rossi’s poncho.

Rossi tore the package of lemon powder open and poured it into his tin cup and then the sugar and added water from his canteen a little at time, stirring the mixture. The fresh lemon scent came alive in the area under the poncho to the delight of both Dan and Dave. The taste of the lemonade was surprisingly good, the biscuits not so much, they were dry and didn’t have much salt or flavor for that matter. But the hard candies in the can were a treat. They both decided to leave the candies for the next stage of the hike. Rossi kept the lime candy, and Dave pocketed the Orange candy.

They munched on the biscuits and sipped the lemonade.

Dave said, “this reminds me of the lemonade and donuts after church on Sunday’s, but without the chatter of the women gossiping, and the boys arguing over sports teams and results.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean… but where I’m from, the conversations always got around to the war and the difficulties with rationing of fuel and sugar.”

“Same here, I was just thinking about earlier times. Before the war had a way of making its way into every conversation. I have two brothers serving. Mike is flying reconnaissance flights in a fighter out of England and Bones, my brother Ernie, is a gunner on a B-17 flying missions out of North Africa.”

“Holy shit, that’s gotta be hard on your ma.”

“Yeah, she was against me enlisting, but like I told her, I need to do my part too, and I would’ve been drafted anyway.”

“I told my ma and pa the same, but for them, I’m their only child. They are worried about me… and I think they are even more worried they will not have grandchildren if anything happens to me.”

“Well, these biscuits are pretty hard, just keep a couple of them in your underwear if we are deployed, it will protect your ‘legacy’ if you get shot there” … with that they both broke out in laughter.

Chapter 16: December 1943, Tide is Turning

Christmas approaching in North Africa was far different than Christmas in England, or Oregon or for that matter a world away from Michigan.

It is nearing the holidays, as we crawl across Thanksgiving, and we are blessed with a meal of turkey, potatoes, gravy and corn, we start missing the wealth of family. We know the season of Christmas is coming, and the pull to be with family is only getting stronger. Yet the demand of Generals for progress, the plans of Colonels for attack, the drive of Captains to the mission and the bark of Sergeants to perform are what the Army sounds like. The heart-longing for family. Reality feeling heavier at this time of the year than it does in the spring or the summer, the world seems somehow more evil and cold in December when families are strewn across the globe.

At home, mothers and families pray for a quick end to the war, might it be over by Christmas, can my boys come home? But they know this is not possible, they know beyond hope there’s only prayer, and they fear that no one is listening to prayer.

The tide of war has changed in 1943 and as the year is coming to an end there is progress, but at great costs. The costs were to a great measure growing, and this made the journey appear all the more arduous and long.

In England, Mike witnessed the first P-51s flying long range bomber escort into Germany. They had finally arrived. The first 8 for the 107^th were being outfitted with cameras and would be designated as F-6s. In the meantime, he was flying his Spitfire doing reconnaissance missions over occupied France. Word from the brass was that the big three meeting in Tehran had finally agreed to set a date for the “Operation Overlord” the invasion of Northern Europe. Mike knew nothing much more, but found missions over the coastal areas were increasing.

Mike had become good friends with Randy. Randy Rosenberg from New York had little in common with Mike, but they became dependent on each other. Randy enlisted out of college into the Army Air Corp and was eager for a commission. Mike didn’t care about a commission. Randy had a New York accent and spoke passionately about the Yankees, while Mike had a Midwest calm and bias for the Detroit Tigers. As an NCO, Mike didn’t frequent the Officer’s club, but rather the Enlisted men’s lounge. He found that having a tight relationship with the ground crew did have perks. His plane always got extra attention. This was extended to Randy’s plane as well, as they were in the air highly dependent on each other.

Randy and Mike both understood the mission was to get photographs and hightail it home. But Randy at the age of 22 was excited to go after German fighters when he had a chance. Mike at 33, and far more experienced took the lead in the air, and Randy, though out ranking Mike, followed his direction and orders. He called him pops.

Randy and Mike took advantage of the sunshine when they could in normally dreary England and as they were walking the perimeter of the base this brisk but sunny December day… Randy says “hey pops, you’ve been doing this for a long time, don’t you want to get in one of those new Mustangs and take it to the Germans… those guys that have been mauling our bombers for the last year and a half… I mean, you are a great pilot and those Krauts wouldn’t stand a chance with you on their tail.”

Mike replied, “You know, we are performing a vital mission flying reconnaissance and you haven’t seen it, but I’ve trained also to spot for artillery, and when the time comes we’ll have that role in France and you’ll see what devastation looks like with accurate artillery aided by effective tactical reconnaissance. We will have our chance to take it to them.”

“Yeah, but your brother is flying in those B-17s, wouldn’t it mean something to be protecting him, and the boys like him? I know for me, I’ve been hearing that Jews in Germany and throughout Europe are being gathered into work camps and many have been killed. I’d sure like to knock some of those Nazis out of the sky.”

“Randy, my brother just moved from North Africa to Italy, but even when he was here, I always figured that providing good target identification and following bomb damage photography we were reducing the number of missions required and this would both bring about an end to the war sooner, as well as, save many lives. Same thing for Jews in Europe, they are best served if we get this war over faster by collecting intel.”

“I get it pops, but jeez, I’d like a hunting license.”

“Trust me, you’ll get your chance when we are directing tactical munitions on target, even now, as we are working with attack squadron Thunderbolts, to tear up the troops and weapon trains in France, we are the hunters. In fact, we are the ones telling our boys where to aim.”

“I guess… we do make a good team. I’ll follow you anywhere pops!”

“We’ll get a chance to fly those Mustangs soon. They are supposed to be able to outfly the Spitfires. I’m looking forward to get into the cockpit of those birds.”

—

Bones was settling into new digs in Foggia Italy, which was cool, and also seeing to the outfitting and checkout of the new B-17G, the latest version of the Southern Drawl. The old one which served the crew well, was tired and well worn. There were so many patches on the skin of the plane as to make it seem almost inconceivable he was still alive and fighting. Too many had fallen, and all the engines had been replaced, except the inboard port engine, which somehow like Bones had managed to dodge the flak and bullets that otherwise destroyed nearly everything and everyone else.

Bones talking to Dan Colton, “man, I’m glad to see this nose gun. It should help us tremendously with the new Southern Drawl.”

Dan replying in a southern drawl he was born with, and maybe exaggerated a bit to endear himself to the captain, “your right Bones, but I gotta say, the improvements in fighter escort are also important and the shorter flights we have out of Italy are contributing to us living longer. I like living longer my friend.”

“Yeah, me too. But the flak protecting the oil fields in the Balkans is getting too damn accurate. We are losing more guys to flak than anything else, and there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do about it.”

“Well, my flak vest has caught a few scraps of iron, and the extra, vest we put on the floor has also caught some shrapnel.”

“I suppose.”

“I’ll tell you Dan, it’s much better than it was when I started in ’42. And I’m not sure how the new M3 will work out, but I intend to wear the new helmet. It has flaps to allow room for our headphones.”

“Yeah, I’m with you, I’d wear a turtle armor suit if could get one.”

“Well, let’s make sure these guns are set up right and we get the grease off of them so they don’t freeze in flight.”

“Amen, brother.”

—

“Kulchar, front and center!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Congratulations soldier, you’ve completed your basic infantry training, and are being promoted to Private First Class, you may now wear the stripe on you uniform. Well done.”

“Thank you, sir.”

—

“Hey Rossi, sarge said I have a pass this weekend, I’m going to take a bus into town and see the sights. Did you get a pass too?”

“Yeah Dave, but I won the lottery and I’m getting a 10-day holiday furlough… so I’ve got a chance to get home and see the family. But the catch is that I ship out right afterward to Italy.”

“No way, that’s FUBAR.”

“I got tapped as a replacement. Twenty of us from our regiment have orders.”

“Dang man. I thought we’d work this thing though together.”

“Yeah, me too. I guess they need replacements in the 45^th. I don’t like the feeling of replacing some poor dogface whose war is over, but at least I get some leave before I have to board the ship… Take care of yourself Kulchar, and don’t take any wooden nickels.”

“You too Rossi, keep your head down, and remember where to keep those biscuits!”

“Amen!”… with this, they shook hands and this became a hug as it seemed improbable they would see each other anytime soon, if ever.

—

Anna was preparing for Christmas liturgy, she was sad for her missing sons, but happy her growing family would be together for evening mass, and for the morning celebration and meal. The news although better, was still not good. There seemed to be no end to this war. Only now it seemed that everyone talked of the tide turning. The Germans fighting a retreat in the East, from the monstrous Russians. Hungarians feared the Russians as much as they did the Germans. There was always some war of conquest ravaging the homeland. Migrating to America didn’t seem to yield protection for her boys, but at least home, this home in this steel town was seemingly safe from marauding armies.

Putting the long arc of European wars out of her mind, she focused her thoughts on the list of things to do for tomorrow morning. The stockings for the little ones. Grandchildren are the greatest gift from God, a blessing to be called ‘Nagymama’. She thinks about what of her gifts put aside for tomorrow she would give to each of Richard, MaryAnn, Mickie and now the toddler David… named in her thoughts for her youngest, Davis… yes, we changed it to David, but it will always be Davis to her… and now her thoughts wander back to the war… at least Davis is not overseas. He’s in Oregon, which sounds like as far away as Italy and England. Her boys… are they safe? Are they lonely? She thinks, “if I could just hug them for Christmas!”

In prayer she asks “Szűz Mária, please look after my boys, as you looked after your only son, in the mean shelter, in another time of great strife, please from one mother to another, I need your help!”

Chapter 17: February 1944, Operation Argument

The news describes the bloody assault of Monte Cassino over the last several weeks of January, and also the Anzio Landing in Italy, an attempt to go around the German Gustav Line to capture Rome. At least this was the plan. But instead the troops are pinned down on the beaches of Anzio. The forces assaulting the 6^th Century Benedictine monastery at the top of Monte Cassino to deny the Germans this observation post, are making no progress fighting uphill and the casualties continue to mount. The year, which began with the excitement of major moves by the allies, was turning into a slog. The casualties were high. This was nothing like the end, it was probably not even the beginning of the end, maybe just the end of the beginning.

The Russians had finally broken out of Leningrad, ending a siege that lasted nearly two and a half years and killed over a million civilians, and the war was moving into Ukraine were the Russians were devastating the German Army. Progress, at least, on the Eastern Front.

Dave, was thinking of Rossi. Dave knew he would be on that bloody beach at Anzio. He knew Rossi would keep his head down, but digging into the beach sand under withering fire from the Germans emplaced in the surrounding hills would be brutal. The thought made the training seem all the more important, all the more prescient, as someday soon he might find himself trapped and trying to dig in against Kraut 88s and machine gun fire.

It had only been two months since promotion to private first class, but already his role in training new recruits had become more involved. So many of the more senior enlisted were being pulled out of the division to be deployed as replacements, that those who caught-on early were now being hoarded by the Trailblazers to be sure to have the resources to train the stream of draftees coming off of trains every week.

Dave was talking to Sergeant Donald, “Sarge, we don’t seem to be making any progress as a unit. Just as we start operating as an effective platoon, moving and operating as a unit, we lose too many guys. We get these new draftees and guys coming out of the Universities as part of the Army specialize training program, and they know nothing about how to operate as a soldier. They are mostly out of shape and they all need extensive weapons training… how are we going to become a real fighting division, regiment, company or even a platoon”?

“Kulchar, you are not wrong to worry. We have a tough job here, this training gets monotonous especially when we are not advancing in terms of coordinate fire, and multi-unit maneuvers, but this is the role the Army needs us to perform right now. I’ve recommended you for promotion to Corporal, this should be coming through next week. I need your help training these guys, and the extra stripe on your sleeve will help you, help me. You will have authority over these newbies.

“Thank you sarge.”

“Your welcome, and you can call me George, now that you are an NCO we don’t need to be formal, except when you training the newbies.”

“I get it, sarge!”

They both laughed.

“Hey, George, how about a little leave to go with the extra Stripe?”

“Yeah, you are about due. I’ll get it in the schedule for two weeks in March.”

“Thank you… I’ll bring back some of ma’s Palinka for you.”

“I don’t know what that is, but I’m sure it’s good.”

“Yep, homemade Brandy… it’s good to drink or for wound care!”

“I can’t wait!”

—

Operation Argument – the “Big Week Air Campaign was underway. Both the 8^th Air Force out of England and the 15^th Air Force out of Italy were engaged in an all-out blitz against the Luftwaffe production plants. The strategy was to ensure the allies would have air superiority when the invasion of France would come.

The Southern Drawl had just launched from the plains of Italy and as the dry desert-like landscape dotted with farms and villages fell away, Bones joined in an easy conversation with his crewmates.

Captain Sutcliff says “boys we are going to be taking it to the Jerries aircraft manufacturing today. We are amassing the biggest directed assault on aircraft production ever. We are part of making history, and shortening the war. We are going to rule the skies after we lay into the hatcheries of these Kraut Birds.”

“Boys, keep a sharp eye out for them today, they likely are going to buzzing around like bees when we whack their hive.”

Dan added in, “I bet Bones I’ll get one of them buzzards today.”

Bones, reply “yeah, what you got to put up anyway?”

“I got me some pecan pie, I’ll put it up against that Palinka your momma sent you.”

“I’ll tell you what, if I get one, and you don’t, that pecan pie is mine… if you get one and I don’t, the Palinka is yours. But if we both get one, then let’s have a party and share.”

The rest of crew chiming in, said “wait a minute what about us”?

Captain Sutcliff, says “I’ve got some Southern Comfort, and I know our number two here has some apple fritters, so I propose that today, if we get two kills, then we all share whatever we got and we have a party tonight. I’m feeling good about today boys.”

“Amen Captain,” came the chorus.

Just about then, the lead plane in the formation called out that a flock of bogeys were a 12 O’clock high, and lining up to make a run.

“Boys, they didn’t seem to learn that we got some sting in our nose, they are lining up for a frontal attack. Call them out as you see them.”

“Bogey peeling off nose to port… over to you Bones”…

“I think I got a piece of him, Johnny… heads up.”

“Dan, got another lined up… crossing above us Bones.”
“I got him… he’s going down.”

Dan said, “B-17 going down, looks like it might be ‘Dream Girl’, come-on guys get out of there”
Sutcliff said, “I see two chutes, oh and there’s a third.”

Johnny said, “heads up they are turning and making another run at us.”
“Keep pouring lead at them.”

Dan said, “I got one, he’s smoking and going down”
Bones said “That’s two for us, maybe they’ll learn to leave us alone.”
“They are leaving… get ready for flak.”

The plane was rocked by the thunder of a nearby flak burst.
“Holy shit, that was close… I nearly pissed myself”

“Better not, that’ll freeze in your suit.”

“Lining up for bomb run… Jackson, get ready.”

Jackson replying, “I got the plane, bomb doors open.”
Sutcliff, “bombardier, the plane’s yours.”

The extra wind whistles through the plane, as they near the purpose of their flight. In moments, Jackson says “Bombs away.”

With that, the plane jolts upward with the release of thousands of pounds of bombs… there is the familiar elevator feeling of sudden weightlessness… “Okay control is back to you, Cap.”

Sutcliff, “Okay, let’s turn back to home. Keep an eye out, after this flak field I expect the fighters will want another whack at us.”

Breathing the oxygen deeply, Bones clears his head for the next pass… thinking, I just need to do this a couple more times, and I can go home, my God this is no way to make a living.

Puffs of innocent looking flak, belie the steel pieces being thrown around the air… fortunately the higher altitude after bomb release has thrown off the Kraut ground crews trying to blast them out of the sky. A plane straggling at the end of the formation is hit, another one down, the crew seen bailing out at least 5 of the 10, hopefully more.

“Here they come again, watch Starboard side, Colton, heads up.”

“I see them, two of them coming right at us.”

Firing furiously, Dan is doing all he can… the first of the Me109 suicidality coming right for the large lumbering bomber… 30mm cannon fire hits the outboard engine which burst into flames, and punches holes in the fuselage. Bombardier, Jackson gets nearly cut in two by the fire… Bones gets to him first, but there’s nothing he can do, he was killed instantly. There’s blood everywhere…

“Bones get back to your gun.”

Slipping, Bones grabs on to the 50 caliber and wheels it back into the fight looking for the bastards…

Sutcliff, “Victor, extinguish that fire, and shut the fuel to Engine four.”

“I’m on it.”

Sutcliff, “Damage? Everyone check-in.”

Bones, “Bones here, Jackson is dead.”
Dan, “Colton here.”

Mike, “Johnson here.”

Steve, “Strahan here.”

Dave, “Ostrowski here.”

Sam, “Crowley, I got nicked, but okay.”
Tom, “Landry here.”

“Bones, take a look at Sam, see if you can patch him up.”

“I’m on it, Cap.”

Bones using the first aid kit, patched Sam up as best he could. The shoulder wound looked like it went right through and managed not to hit anything critical.

Southern Drawl was falling behind the rest of the flight, but did pick up a very welcome fighter escort on their way back to Foggia.

The landing went well, and Sam was pulled off first and put in an ambulance. The guys gathered around the remains of Jackson as he was carefully extracted from the plane. A very somber moment.

Sutcliff said, “God bless you Jackson, may your soul find your way to the front of the line at the pearly gates.”

Each of the crew made the sign of the cross before leaving and getting in the truck for the ride back to the tents.

There will be no celebrating tonight, but a quiet sharing of the experience, and for Captain Sutcliff, a terrible letter to write. Tomorrow, they’ll go see Crowley and find out when he’ll be going home. The damage to the Southern Drawl II means they’ll all get some time off, and for Bones, going home will have to wait.

Chapter 18: March 1944, The Tension Building

Bones, his crewmates, and Southern Drawl II were recovering from Operation Argument. Their plane and the crew would not be in condition to fly for a couple of weeks. Jackson was a well-loved member of the crew and difficult to replace. The bombardier was an officer with up to 18 weeks of training due to the complexity of the top-secret Norden Bombsight. It would be a couple of weeks before a replacement was made available and the Southern Drawl needed a new engine and much patch work. The damage was more significant once the ground crew started making repairs. The Norden Bombsight also needed replacement, as the instrument was damaged by the same cannon shot that killed Jackson.

Bones, in his down time, wrote home and to his brother Mike. In the letter home to ma, he talked of how great Italy is, and how much he loved the packages she lovingly sent. He told her about a small dog that seemed to adopt him and his tent mates. It reminded him of Blackie. How he missed the gypsy parties at George and Irene’s and just about everything except what was going on with the war. In a letter he shouldn’t have written, but he needed to write to Mike, is where he expressed what he was really feeling and dealing with:

Dear Mike,

I hope your experience is better than mine, I’ve seen too much death, too much terror in the skies. Being in the 15^th Air Force is an improvement because we encounter less resistance in the South, but it is still bad. The flak is relentless and indiscriminate. As we take the war to the German air production industry, the fighters are ever more desperate and reckless. We lost two crew members on our last mission. One dead and one wounded. Lt. Jackson was our bombardier and a really good guy, was nearly cut in half. I can’t get the image of his mangled body out of my mind.

I only have a couple more missions to go, and hopefully by time you read this I’ll be on my way home… but I have an awful feeling that I’m not going to make it. Too many nights, I wake up shaking and in a cold sweat. I’ve stopped getting close to our new crewmates. We’ve lost so many guys since we started.

I’ll tell you, if I get out of this, I want to really settle down and have a normal life. I want to marry Marge, and I hope we have many kids. In a way, I wish I had already married her, but then I think, if I don’t make it, what would that do to her. I think too, how will ma handle it if something happened to you or me. I wrote ma, but told her nothing of what we are doing and the horror of this war.

Every mission feels like a roll of the dice. Every mission is like hell froze… it’s cold and it just doesn’t ever change, like it is frozen in the time of my mind. God bless you and stay safe so we can be together with the entire family soon. Maybe in a couple of months God willing.

Bones

Mike felt sorry for his brother… but by the time he got the letter, he thought, no, rather he sensed, that his brother was done with his 50-mission tour, and would be on his way home. There was no way of knowing for sure, but if he was KIA or MIA he would have heard.

Mike was flying recurring missions over occupied France, and into Belgium and Western Germany. His mission had been to find troop movements, weapon emplacements and ammunition depots. Increasingly he was directing ground attack fighters, especially the P-47 Thunderbolts who would deliver a tremendous punch with their eight 50 caliber machine guns.

The F-6B he was flying was a version of the P-51 with cameras, but he had wing mounted 50 caliber machine guns for self-defense.

Mike didn’t want to describe the nerve rattling hazards he was experiencing, for fear the letter would get forwarded to ma if Ernie had already shipped out, or God forbid was killed. But he too had his nerves tested every mission. He was flying typically around 100 feet or so off the ground over these tactical targets. Flying low and straight made him a good target for low-altitude flak and machine guns. Heck even a lucky rifle shot could be deadly. At 350 mph at tree top level there was no room for a mistake. Clipping a tree or a telephone pole or a church steeple would be instantly deadly. A flock of birds could shatter the canopy. Even a single rifle shot that happened to hit the liquid coolant radiator would be deadly because the engine would seize in minutes without coolant.

All those years flying low over the fields of Michigan in an open cockpit biplane was good training for the missions he was flying. He learned to fly by the seat of his pants and to fly the plane well beyond the windshield. Always looking well ahead. It also helped to be lucky, and to stay out of scraps at all costs. His wingman had finally learned, they were there to take pictures and get away. Their motto was be quick and be gone, but that didn’t stop them from being jumped, and often finding themselves outnumbered when it did happen. Flying low and fast was also a way to discourage enemy fighters from pursuing them. The F-6 was faster than the Me109 and the Fw190, especially at low altitude. Also, because both Mike and Randy operated constantly in the regime of low altitude flight, they were more comfortable there than the enemy. Most times as they pulled away from attacking fighters at low altitude the pursuers would give up the chase. There was much danger at low altitude. It usually didn’t end well for those foolish enough to extend an attack.

Mike and Randy had their second kill in March. Flying low over France, they were jumped by a flight of four Fw190s which had just taken off from an airfield not far from the railyard they were tasked to surveille. The Fw190s were coming nose on toward them. It’s likely the airbase was warned by coastal spotters as Mike and Randy flew across the channel at very low altitude and wouldn’t have been picked up by radar. The 190s were probably just taking off and this became a target of opportunity not far from their runway.

Mike was flying cover for Randy as he did the low pass over the railyard. Too little, too late ack-ack was being fired from the troops guarding the railyard. Nothing they hadn’t seen before, and Randy was quickly past the yard.

Mike called out, “bogeys coming fast at 90 degrees, break right at my call.”

“Roger.”

“Break.”

Randy broke hard right as Mike swooped in from above and let off a burst of 50 cal. That stitched across the lead plane’s raised right wing as he tried to turn to port to match Randy’s turn. The Fw190 flipped and went hard into the farmland below. The trailing three fighters, turning hard were now lining up behind Mike and Randy. Randy was ahead and Mike on his tail.

Tracer’s went over Mike’s right wing, seemed like a good time to get out of there.

“Break left now!” … “let’s get out of here”

“Roger that”

They broke hard left and put some real distance from the three remaining bogeys. The maneuverability and speed of the F-6 gave them the ‘get outta Dodge’ performance they needed to get useful intel back to HQ.

“Go fast and get out”

“Amen… Let’s RTB”

Randy replied, “roger that”

Two kills, not bad for a recon team as this was not their primary role… over a beer they recounted the mission.

Mike said, “I never feel good about a kill.”

Randy replied, “I know you’ve said that before, but it’s part of the job my friend.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that poor SOB was not expecting to be in a dogfight near the end of his runway.”

“Then they shouldn’t put a base close to an obvious target.”

“Yeah, I suppose… hey nice flying there. That break was perfectly timed to create a high-profile target opportunity.”

“Well Mike, you called it out, I just made the turn.”

“That was a lucky shot at those speeds and angles, I had one go at it, and if I didn’t hit him, I was hoping it would at least cause him to consider calling off the pursuit.”

“Well his boys didn’t call it off, they came after us.”

“For sure, I saw tracers right over my right wing before we broke for home, and the ground crew were complaining they had some holes to patch.”

“Well Mike, you seemed to have a charmed existence.”

“Randy, that goes for both of us… I have a feeling that things are going to heat up, there’s enough equipment and men positioning and training in the South of England to tip this island on its side. It is clear we are getting ready for invasion. When it comes, we are going to be very busy.”

“It can’t happen soon enough for me. But certainly, they will have to wait for better weather. These low rolling clouds and the rough waves will make for a miserable experience for any invasion force.”

Mike rubbing his thinning hair, said, “I will tell you this, from what we’ve seen across the channel, our boys who will have to fight their way ashore are going to have a hell of a time. This is going to make the Anzio landing look like a cakewalk. The German’s have to know we are coming, and the amassing of weapons and defensive positions in France and Belgium easily match the build up here in England. It is going to be a nasty fight and too many young men are going to die.”

“Yeah, you are right, I suspect we’ll have a birds eye view of the carnage, maybe I shouldn’t be so anxious for this to happen soon.”

“I’m not, I’d rather see us bomb them into submission, as bad as that is, the loss of life on our side to take and hold ground is going to be something like the experience of the first world war… and I worry that my youngest brother will be one of the ones slogging it out on the ground.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be tough. But its needed. My family is from Germany. As Jews we fled long before the war started, but we have family still there, and no one has heard from them.

It is our family tradition to fear the worst. There’s been attacks on our people though out the ages, and I fear these Nazis are the worst kind of people. As a minimum, I’m sure our people are forced into slave labor. We are fighting a just war, of that we can be sure.”

“I’m sure I have family serving somewhere on the other side as the Germans have roped the Hungarians into this. It is a horrible mess. Maybe you were right at first thought, the sooner the better for all our sakes… well drink up my friend.”

“Cheers!”

“I wish there was something to really cheer about.”

—

Finally leave for two weeks. Dave boarded an East bound train on a Monday, and was fortunate to make it to Detroit in only three days. The spring air in Oregon and throughout the western part of the trip was relatively dry and cool. It wasn’t so crowded, as most travelers were going to Camp Adair, not traveling away. But their where a few guys also on leave, and a few, quite unlucky being transferred to the East. They would be replacements sent to join units already in the combat theater. He had a chance to sit with Jerry Stanley by happenstance. PFC Stanley was being transferred to the 45^th Division. The same place that Rossi went as a transfer.

Dave said, “Jerry, pleased to meet you, are you nervous about the transfer to the 45^th, they’ve had quite the time of it in Italy?”

Jerry replied, “Nice to meet you too… no, I’m not too worried, I figure we all are going to end up there some time or another. Besides, the way I figure it, they already made the landing and maybe things will be much better.”

“That’s a good way to look at it, I hadn’t quite thought about it that way. But for me, I wouldn’t like leaving the 70^th and joining another outfit, I’d feel better fighting with the guys I’ve trained with.”

“Well, I hope that works out for you, but there are new guys arriving all the time, so you’ll end up fighting with who you are thrown in with, as I see it.”

Dave, taking his cap off and running his fingers through his new growth of black lush hair, thought a minute and said, “You know you are right, we’ll all end up relying on guys we couldn’t have known for long, and we have to assume that they know the ropes and are being taught the same tactics as we have… all the more important to help get everyone up to combat ready, for even if they are pulled out as replacements, someone is going to be dependent on them.”

Dave went on, “Hey, I got a buddy that shipped out just over a month ago to the 45^th, his name is Dan Rossi. When you get there, find him. Rossi is a good egg, tell him you spent some time with Dave Kulchar and he sends his best. Dan, will help you anyway he can.”

“Thanks Dave, I will do that, I’m going to write that in my pocketbook.”

“Hey, let me see that … oh… you are documenting your Army experience, do you write every day, you know that’s against regs”?

“Yeah, well I’m not going to write anything that would be useful to the Krauts. I figure troop strength or movements are not interesting anyway to the future. I’m writing for the future. I find it interesting the people I meet, the challenges we have to overcome and the feeling of being here, being part of this experience, and I want to record it.”

“Are you a writer or something?”

“No, but I hope to be a school teacher someday and I have a feeling that kids, like I was not long ago, would be interested in what it was like to serve in the Army in these times.”

“You know, I might just start keeping a diary too. Although I probably won’t do anything interesting, certainly not like my brothers.”

“Yeah, what are your brothers doing?”

“My brother Mike is a pilot, flying tactical reconnaissance out of England, and my brother Bones, is a B-17 waist gunner flying out of Italy. Both have been at it for about a year and a half. I expect they’ll be coming home sometime this year… and hopefully by the time I get there, it will be mostly over, maybe doing mop up duty.”

“Interesting, I’m sure they have much to say about what is going on.”

“Nope, they provide no insight in their letters, but I’m sure they’ll have some stories to tell when we are all home.”

“I hope that you all get together soon and get a chance to tell your stories.”

“Me too… well I think it’s time to hit the sack.”

“Right… Let’s get the shelves down and get ready.”

“Thankfully we don’t need to share bed space like I did when I shipped out from home to Adair.”

“Yeah, it was pretty crowded when I came out as well.”

—

Dave, rolling into Detroit was grateful to see that Steve and Mary had brought ma with him to pick him up.

Dave gave ma a huge hug, lifting her off her feet. In her native language he told her “I’m doing great. It’s all been good fun, and it’s great to be home… I can’t wait to see what you’ve cooked for me!”

It was great to visit. Dave loaded up on ma’s home cooking. Most of his friend were off to war, but he’d have a chance to catch up with Betty, and have a few laughs. He also would enjoy taking his Harley for a ride, as the weather was pretty mild for March and it felt like spring was coming early, but there was tension in the air. The memory of his recent talk with Jerry, the talk with Sarge, Mike and Bones still overseas, and Rossi battling it out in Italy gave him a sense that it might just get worse before it gets better. But dang he was tired and needed a break.

Corporal David Kulchar, 70^th Infantry Division, 1944

Chapter 19: June 1944, D-Day

Mike and Randy were flying low across the channel below radar and below the mean ugly clouds and above the white capped waves, and in thirty minutes they were over the shoreline. Lining up to take a camera pass over the sleepy sea-side French villages, and more importantly the concrete gun emplacements and the shore dragons’ teeth and barb wire. Beautiful beach resorts marred by ugliness of war.

A few welcoming fires of shore ack-ack and machine guns, nothing that could get in front of the low fast flying fighters they were driving.

In two days-time, they would make another similar pass, but this time the sea was calmer by a touch, but was spotted with what looked like a thousand ships, some sporting barrage balloons, most busy disgorging smaller vessels to ferry men to a bloody hell that was once sleep beaches. The beaches were lit up with fire fights, many of the emplacements were smoldering and scarred from the impact of 14 and 16-inch navel shells. The villages were a buzz with activity, civilians trying to get away and garrisons of soldiers being pushed into the defense of the continent by their Nazi overlords.

Mike, thought, my God, what hell is this on the beaches of Normandy. It looked like a train wreck that no-one could turn away from. The sea at the shore was tinted red and there were hundreds if not thousands of bodies and equipment strewn everywhere most lapping with the waves against the shore.

Mike calls out to Randy, “It’s not our mission, but let’s take a run at the Kraut reinforcements coming up that beach road to take some stress off of our boys.”

“Roger that, you line, up and I’ll get on your wing and we’ll light them up.”

“Okay, coming around, banking left… watch for the fire from those two trucks in middle.”

“Roger”

With that they made a low pass unloading their 50 caliber machine guns right on top of the trucks, creating havoc, the men who were capable of, were scrambling to get away from the onslaught. Two of the trucks were on fire. It wasn’t going to stop the reinforcement column, but it did slow them down.

“Okay, let’s RTB.”

“Roger.”

With that they passed again over the invasion force. The Navy, our Navy took some shots at them, not expecting friendlies to be flying from Germany toward them.

“Mike, you okay, looks like you took some friendly rounds?”

“Yeah, dammit… I think I’m losing coolant.”

“Maybe you should bailout.”

“No, too low, I’m going to ditch… there are enough swabbies down there to pick me up.”

“Good luck. I’ll see you back home.”

“Thanks, you can buy me a beer when we get back.”

Mike slowed as best he could and lined up to fly with the wind, so to ride the waves instead of getting spanked by them. Just the opposite of what you’d do on land, always landing into the wind if you can.

Setting it down as slow as possible, almost at stall speed, the plane still hit the water with an incredible thud, the momentum throwing him forward, he banged his head on the instrument panel, stunned but was relatively unhurt. He pulled the lever to get the canopy open and exited before the plane could sink into the sea. By the time he was in the water, there was a skiff next to him and two sailors were lifting him out of the sea.

One of the two teen sailors said, “Hey old man, what are you doing flying that fighter?”

“Well, I just made a strafing run on Kraut reinforcement column, and then you trigger happy swabbies took pot shots at my wingman and me… Not nice!”

“Sorry about that old man, but hey we fished you out of the drink, so you’ll get to spend some time with us and enjoy U.S. Navy hospitality… so maybe knock off the swabby reference.”

“Yeah, you are right, thanks boys for fishing me out… this water is a bit chilly despite it being June.”

“That’s more like it, and yes, it is a bit chilly… good thing it’s not storming too.”

When he was helped up onto ship, he was greeted by a Lt. JG… “Welcome aboard sergeant… how did you find yourself in the water?”

Mike shivering a bit from the chill of the wind hitting his wet clothes, said “Courtesy of your over-eager gunners… I’m Sergeant Mike Wargo, I’d like to get some dry clothes and radio my unit that I’ve been plucked out of the channel.”

“We’ll get you set up… and sorry about splashing you.”

“Suggest you boys make sure who you are shooting at.”

“Well we kinda assume anything coming at us from France is unfriendly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Escorting him below for a cup of coffee and a change into dry clothes… Lt. JG asked, “what’s it look like over there.”

Mike answered, “It looks like hell on the beach, and the Jerries are moving reinforcements to the coast, my wingman and I took out a column of troops moving up, but our real mission is to take reconnaissance pictures. My pictures are now heading to the bottom of the channel unfortunately, but Randy, my wingman is by now back to base and getting his film developed.”

“Well Sergeant Wargo, you are going to get a trip to the shore where we are dropping off the third wave, and picking up wounded for the return to England. Might as well make yourself comfortable, you will be our guest for the rest of the day as a minimum.”

“Thank you, Lt.,”

Mike put on some dry Navy blues and got a cup of coffee as a medic cleaned up a small cut on his forehead.

“I’ll butterfly this sir, don’t think you need stiches.”

“Great.”

“Looks like you have some burn scars, that from another accident?”

“Yeah, many years ago I had a smoke pot blow up on me, hurt like hell and really thinned out my hair.”

“Well, I’d say you’ve been pretty lucky then.”

“That’s what I keep hearing.”

After, Mike went up on deck and the ship was unloading a wave of GI’s onto landing craft, the 150 yards to shore was enough to be beyond the range of any accurate small arms fire, but occasioned large caliber shells were singing overhead and creating fountains of water where they hit. There was a landing craft from another vessel wrecked and burning not far away. The sounds of gun fire filled the air and smoke obscured the beaches and towns ahead. The men loading into the landing craft, which were called Rhino Ferries, were strangely quiet. Get that many men together outside of church, and they were going to be loud and constantly talking. No one was talking, everyone was lost in their own space and time. Everyone in one way or another was making history today and afraid that their history was ending today.

The choregraph of Navy vessels landing men and picking up wounded and returning was impressive to see. Fighters, our guys, were flying overhead to lay in suppressing fire on the Jerries. The fire from the landing craft guns also protecting the troops disgorging from the ferries. The most dangerous part, it would seem would be that last run through the water and up the sandy beach past obstacles of steel, barbwire and mines, and unfortunately the bodies and equipment of the first two waves. But for this third wave, nearly all of them were making up the beach to the sea walls and cliffs of the shore. The invasion was not yet certain, but was looking like it might just work. God forbid if they are thrown back into the sea. It would be a mess that would make Dunkirk look like a cakewalk, and would likely mean the war would go on for years longer. Everything was on the line… and Mike was seeing it for himself, first from the air and now from near-shore.

Lt. JG. Came up next to him, “Sergeant, we will be receiving the ferries loaded with the wounded we can now extract from shore, our medics will have their hands full, would you be up to pitching in and help get the walking wounded help and something hot to drink and a bite to eat?”

“Lt. yes sir, I’d like to be useful.”

“All right, come with me and we’ll get you set up with the recovery crew.”

Mike was introduced to Ensign McCleary, who said “Welcome Sergeant, in a few minutes it’s going to get very busy as we start bringing up liters of wounded. We are going to use this deck space here to triage them. The ones that we can save with immediate surgery are going to be taken by stretcher to our operating room. To give us more room we’ve set up in the wardroom, the officer’s mess. The ones who are not critical and can be patched up are going to be moved to the mess hall. They will be treated by medics until a doctor can look at them. Some of these guys are not going to be able to be saved, for them, they will be red tagged, and likely will have an “E” on their forehead for expectant. We’ll make them as comfortable as possible but they will be treated after those we have a good chance to save. Those with an “M” on their forehead have been given morphine, probably on the beach or during Rhino Ferry transport. Those with a “T” have a tourniquet. One of the toughest jobs here is looking after the expectant… in all likelihood they are not going to make it. If you could help the “walking wounded to the mess deck and get them settle on the tables already set up. Help them get something to eat and drink before they are treated. After we get those boys situated, then if you could help Father Stannis, our chaplain, he will be set up over there… with those who have little chance, the expectants. We are being told that we should expect about a hundred casualties of men from the first two waves. The dead will have to wait until after the beaches are secure.”

“Well, Ensign, it seems like you guys are very well organized. I’m glad to be able to help. Do you have smoke you can spare? The ones I had stashed in my flight suit got all wet.”

“Sure, Sergeant… here’s a light too. Enjoy the break it won’t be long before the wounded start to arrive.”

Sure enough, just as he was finishing the much-appreciated smoke, the first ferry arrived, and the ship was suddenly very busy, all the corpsmen were very busy. Mike was caught up in the flow and before he knew it he was escorting a young GI with a bandaged head wound and his broken shot through arm in a makeshift sling. He had a stunned glazed look in his eyes.

Mike said, “we’ll get you taken care of, let me help you.”

“Thank you, I’m feeling sick.”

“I understand, lean on me, if you can’t walk we’ll get you a stretcher.”

“No, I can make it. I got myself off that beach, I can handle this.”

“Alright soldier, come this way… you want to talk about what happened.”

“The doors went down and we started moving down the ramp, when machine gun fire cut into us right away. The first three guys were cut down, they had no chance. I was far enough back that I caught a grazing shot in the head, which made my head ring like I was hit by a mule, and as I staggered out into the water, I took another one in my right arm. That spun me around, but somehow, I crawled ashore and found shelter behind one of those steel barriers. I’d say half of our guys were dead or wounded. I had lost my rifle but I grabbed another and as best I could with my left hand, and rifle mounted in the crook of the dragon’s teeth, I fired into the Kraut positions as long as I could. I doubt I hit anything, but maybe if I made them keep their heads down, some more of our guys got through. It was hell. When the next wave came in, I finally got treated by a corpsman, and put with a group in a protected area further onshore for transport. I gotta tell you, I’m pretty damn lucky to get off that beach.”

“Well soldier, I got a feeling your war is over.”

“I suppose… but I feel a need to be with my guys. Hell, I’ve come this way, and I never even saw a Kraut.”

“Maybe you’ll get another chance… you want a coffee and donut, it might be a while before the doctors get a chance to patch you up?”

“Sure chief, thank you!”

“Well, I’m an Army Sergeant.”

“No shit, how did you end up doing this job?”

“The dang, Navy shot me down as I was flying back from chewing up a Kraut column.”

“Wow, well double thank you then… hey you got a smoke?”

“Your welcome, and no, my smokes were ruined when I took a dip in the sea. Sorry, but I gotta get back to work… good luck soldier.”

“Thank you, and good luck to you too.”

Mike helped a dozen or so soldiers before joining Father Stannis with those who were dying right there on the deck. They did what they could to capture what messages those able to talk wanted to give to their loved ones, as Fr. Stannis gave last rites to all regardless of religion.

Mike saw more young men, all much younger them himself. Life oozing out of them as he made the rounds with Fr. Stannis. This was gut wrenching. The cost of war was high, and the price was paid by youth.

Mike came away distraught and thinking, dying is no easy thing. There’s no comfort dying as a hero, there’s no thought to who was winning or losing, there was no team approach to dying, it was a lonely thing, dying. Most called to their moms, some to a wife, and some to their savior. They all wanted just a little more of this life, of their life cut down too soon. Dying is no easy thing.

—

Bones was landing in the repaired and reoutfitted Southern Drawl II at the same time Mike was being fished out of the channel on June 6, 1944. It was auspicious not for the D-Day invasion, which was not yet know to the Air Corp in Italy, but because it was his 50^th mission. He and Captain Sutcliff were completing their 50^th mission, and thus their tours of duty at the same time. The rest of the crew which had by now nearly turned over entirely either through casualties, illness, or the rare transfer and promotion. First officers moving on to be captains of their own crews for example.

As they touched down, Captain Sutcliff said “Congratulations to Sergeant Ernest Kulchar, for completing your 50^thmission and earning a trip home, it has been a pleasure having you as an inaugural member of the Southern Drawl.”

Bones replied over the intercom, “Thank you Captain, and congratulations to you as well, for this your 50^th mission… you have led us through hell and back, sir.”

All the crew cheered!

On the tarmac, Captain Sutcliff said to the crew, “My treat, all of you are invited to the Officer’s club for drinks on me.”

Bones replied, “Sir, as you know enlisted are not permitted in the club.”

Sutcliff answered, “It’s our last mission, no one is going to stop us, we are going to celebrate.”

With that, they all jumped into the back of the transport truck and headed right to the Officer’s club, ignoring the protocols of officer enlisted separation, as well as, the typical post mission debriefs… Sutcliff saying, “if Major Henson wants a debrief, I think he knows where to find me.”

“Hell, yes sir, was the joint response from the crew!”

—

At nearly the same time in Oregon, Corporal Dave Kulchar was called to the Company B HQ. Captain Schmied was in his office seated behind a desk, when he was led in by Lieutenant Groffie.

Saluting smartly, Dave stood at attention.

Captain Schmied returned the salute and said “at ease soldier.”

“Yes sir.”

“You are being promoted to Sergeant, Grade 4. Your advancement in just a couple of months is a credit to your leadership skills. You will be the assistant squad leader of 2^nd Platoon, B Company.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“We are packing up and shipping out soon, heading to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri for further training.”

“Yes sir.”

“Dismissed, sergeant!”

Barely containing a smile, Dave, returned to attention, saluted and spinning on his heals left the commander’s office.

Chapter 20: July 1944, Moving Month

It was several days before Mike could get back to the 107^th Squadron. Reporting to HQ, he entered Captain Thomas’ office, saluting and standing at attention, said “Sergeant Wargo, reporting for duty, sir.”

“At ease Wargo. Have a seat.”

“Thank you sir.”

Mike Varga Musings

When Hell Froze – Draft

Prologue: Life Shaping Events

Chapter 1: December 1937, A Cold Steel Town

Chapter 2: January 1938, To Work

Chapter 3: Fall 1939, A World at Change

Chapter 4: Spring 1940, Back to School

Chapter 5: June 1940, Apprenticeship Program

Chapter 6: Spring 1941, Life is Good

Chapter 7: April 1941, Wedding

Chapter 8: December 1941, War!

Chapter 9: Summer 1942, Graduation and More

Chapter 10: August 1942, Deployment and First Mission

Chapter 11: November 1942, Bloody War

Chapter 12: Spring 1943, We Have a Long Way to Go

Chapter 13: Summer 1943, Enlistment

Chapter 14: August 1943, 70^th Infantry Division

Chapter 15: September 1943, Company B

Chapter 16: December 1943, Tide is Turning

Chapter 17: February 1944, Operation Argument

Chapter 18: March 1944, The Tension Building

Chapter 19: June 1944, D-Day

Chapter 20: July 1944, Moving Month

My Stories, Poetry, Thoughts of the day

Prologue: Life Shaping Events

Chapter 1: December 1937, A Cold Steel Town

Chapter 2: January 1938, To Work

Chapter 3: Fall 1939, A World at Change

Chapter 4: Spring 1940, Back to School

Chapter 5: June 1940, Apprenticeship Program

Chapter 6: Spring 1941, Life is Good

Chapter 7: April 1941, Wedding

Chapter 8: December 1941, War!

Chapter 9: Summer 1942, Graduation and More

Chapter 10: August 1942, Deployment and First Mission

Chapter 11: November 1942, Bloody War

Chapter 12: Spring 1943, We Have a Long Way to Go

Chapter 13: Summer 1943, Enlistment

Chapter 14: August 1943, 70th Infantry Division

Chapter 15: September 1943, Company B

Chapter 16: December 1943, Tide is Turning

Chapter 17: February 1944, Operation Argument

Chapter 18: March 1944, The Tension Building

Chapter 19: June 1944, D-Day

Chapter 20: July 1944, Moving Month

My Stories, Poetry, Thoughts of the day

Chapter 14: August 1943, 70^th Infantry Division