Monday, May 25, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
Glider Pilot, Flight Officer-Charles E. Skidmore Jr
Charles Edward Skidmore, Jr.
WWII Glider Pilot - Flight Officer
A Concise Biography
By Leon B. Spencer - Michael G. Skidmore
Charles Edward Skidmore, Jr., was born in Columbus, Kansas, on Saturday, 17 January 1920. His birthplace, a small town in Cherokee County, was located in the southeast corner of the state. Joplin. Missouri lay just to the east. That same month Babe Ruth was traded by the Boston Red Sox to the New York Yankees for the largest sum ever paid for a player at the time, and the United States Senate voted against joining the League of Nations. Chuck, as he would be called, was the first of two sons born to his parents, Charles Edward Skidmore, Sr., and Henrietta Geneva (Gallagher) Skidmore. His father was born in Baxter Springs, and his mother in Columbus. The Skidmore’s were Catholic by faith. Chuck’s younger brother, William Dale Skidmore, was not born until 25 May 1923, a little over three years later.
Young Skidmore attended grammar school in Columbus, completing the eighth grade in 1933. In 1934 he entered Cherokee County Community High School in the same town, graduating from there in 1937. Then it was off to college. Chuck attended Coffeyville Junior College in Coffeyville, Kansas, from 1937 to 1939, and then transferred to the University of Kansas at Lawrence, where he earned his undergraduate degree in journalism in 1941.
In late 1940, prior to World War II, Skidmore took and passed the written examination for flight training as an aviation cadet in the US Army Air Corps. He would not receive his letter of acceptance from the Air Corps until 14 January 1941. On that date, the War Department, Office of the Chief of the Air Crops, notified him to report to the Induction Station at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, on 10 July for enlistment. He was instructed to bring enough civilian clothes for three months, as the Air Corps only supplied coveralls and flying equipment. At the time of his induction he was living with his parents in Columbus at 235 West Elm Street. On 11 July 1941, 21 year old Charles E. Skidmore, Jr. Skidmore was sworn in at Fort Leavenworth as an aviation cadet. The proud new inductee stood 5 feet 8 inches in height, weighed 165 pounds, and had brown eyes and hair. His medical records noted that he had a ruddy complexion, a common classification.
Chuck was subsequently ordered to King City, California, on 15 July 1941. The following day he began primary flight training at the Civilian Flying School at Palo Alto Airport, Inc. under contract to the Air Corps. During his nearly ten weeks of primary training he accumulated 60 hours of flight time in a Ryan PT-21 primary trainer, passing all the flight requirements and successfully completing his ground school courses. Skidmore departed King City for Moffett Field, California, for basic training on 29 September 1941, arriving there the following day. Moffett Field was located 3 miles north of Mountain View in Santa Clara County. There he flew Vultee BT-13, a 450 horsepower basic trainer. Before completing his flight training he was “washed out” for failing to meet certain flight requirements and was given a check ride, which he failed. He was
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promptly given an honorable discharge from the Air Corps at Moffett Field on 3 November 1941 and returned to civilian life.
Shortly after World War II began, Chuck’s parents moved to 1100 Taylor Street in Topeka, Kansas, and later to 604 West 8th Street in that city. For reasons known only to him, Skidmore listed Topeka as his home town on his military records during World War II. On 30 December 1941, he enlisted in the Army Air Corps for the second time at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, this time for bombardier training. He was ordered to the Air Crew Replacement Training Center at Ellington Field, Texas, for his initial training. His training continued there until 24 February 1942, at which point he was transferred to Victorville Army Air Field, California, for advanced training. He began training there on 28 February 1942 as a member of an 80 man class. He failed to satisfactorily complete the course and was eliminated as a trainee. He was honorably discharged for the second time on 25 April 1942. Shortly thereafter, Skidmore heard about the Army Air Force Glider Program, and its search for eligible volunteers for glider pilot training.
Never one to be discouraged or outdone, Chuck applied for glider pilot training and was accepted as a Class “A” aviation student in late June 1942. Class “A” students were those who had previous flying experience as a pilot and had earned a private pilot’s license or had 200 glider flights. Skidmore had earned his private pilot’s license on 14 June 1941 through the aviation cadet program. A second category, Class “B” students, were those with no previous flying experience as a pilot. On 13 July 1942, for the third time in a year, Chuck enlisted in the Army Air Force at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, this time as a private. Eleven days later, on 24 July 1942, for reasons unknown, he was ordered to Sherman Field at Fort Leavenworth. He remained there until 24 August 1942 when he received movement orders transferring him to the Lockbourne Army Air Base, Ohio, 9.5 miles southeast of Columbus, Ohio, for pre-glider training.
The glider school at Lockbourne could not accommodate additional students; so on 7 September 1942, Chuck and his classmates were relocated to the glider pilot student pool at Randolph Field, Texas. The Army Air Force Glider Program was in its infancy and not enough training facilities were in place to train all the glider pilot students in the pipeline. As a result, they were frequently held at the Glider Pilot Replacement Pool at Randolph Field until a new flying school opened. Skidmore remained at Randolph until 6 October 1942 when orders finally came through transferring him to the 21st AAF Glider Training Detachment at Pittsburg, Kansas, for pre-glider training. McFarland Flying Service, a civilian flying school under contract to the Army Air Corps provided the flight training and conducted the ground school for students. The instructors were all civilians. Only the check pilots were military. The school at Pittsburg was under the jurisdiction of the Commanding General, Gulf Coast Air Forces Training Center at Randolph Field, Texas, and was located just a few miles from Chuck’s birthplace.
Skidmore received 30 hours of pre-glider flight training at Pittsburg, completing his flying requirements on 2 November 1942. Most students referred to the flight training there as “dead stick” training. The connotation resulted from the type of flying conducted. The glider student would take off and climb to a designated altitude, switch off the engine and land the aircraft without power as though it were a glider. The Class “B” students in his class received 40 hours of elementary flight training and 15 hours of “dead stick” landings. Both “A” and “B” students practiced “dead stick” landings day and night to improve their judgment and spot landing proficiency. Chuck’s class was held at Pittsburg until 5 December 1942 because there were no openings in a basic
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training school. To pass the time the students were given close order drill, daily calisthenics and classroom instructions in military discipline and hygiene.
On that date, Skidmore and his classmates departed Pittsburg by train for Lubbock, Texas. Upon their arrival they were assigned to the 1st AAF Glider Training Detachment. They had hardly settled in before being told that Lubbock was not equipped to provide basic glider training. Yet again everyone was left to cool their heels, and morale began to suffer. After what seemed like an eternity a class opened at Vinita, Oklahoma, in early January 1943. A very disillusioned group of student glider pilots arrived in Vinita by train circa 3 January 1943 and were assigned to the 27th AAF Glider Training Detachment. The following day they were assigned to Class 43-3. Because no military facilities were available the students were billeted in the courthouse annex in town, a single story brick building that had been converted into an open bay barracks to accommodate 200 students. The student mess hall was a converted café in town. On 4 January 1943, Chuck and his classmates were promoted to staff sergeant, which helped their morale considerably.
Basic glider training at Vinita was conducted by Burke Flying Service under contract to the Army Air Force. Ironically, the airfield was located next to an insane asylum, a coincidence that elicited a chuckle from the students. Glider students at Vinita received 30 hours of flight training in the Frankfort TG-1A, a civilian glider known as the “Cinema II,” and the three-place military TG-5, an Aeronca Defender that had been converted into a glider. Flight training took place at the airport, 3 miles north of the town. Chuck recorded 4 hours and 13 minutes in the TG-1A and 25 hours and 56 minutes in the TG-5 while at Vinita. He successfully completed the flying and ground school training on 3 February 1943. Four days later, on 7 February, he and his classmates were off to South Plains Army Flying School at Lubbock, Texas, for advanced glider training
While he was at Vinita it was not uncommon for gliders to be released prematurely because of broken tow ropes. When this occurred the student pilot simply looked for an open field large enough to accommodate the glider and landed there. On day, while awaiting his turn to fly, Chuck noticed one of his classmates being towed off on a solo flight. The flight was brief because hardly had the glider become airborne than the tow rope broke. Because of the low altitude the pilot could only continue straight ahead and land, which in this case was on the grounds of the insane asylum. The student exited his glider and walked around it looking for damage. About this time an elderly inmate arose from a nearby bench and walked over to the glider. After looking over the motorless craft he said, “Where’s your engine?” The student responded by saying, “We fly without one.” At this point the old man pointed towards the asylum and said, “Come on in brother.” His meaning was obvious.
On 1 April 1943 he was assigned to Class 43-8 and the next day began advanced flight training in the big 15-place Waco CG-4A glider. He logged 48 minutes on his first flight with an instructor. Gliders at Lubbock were towed by twin-engine Lockheed C-60 Lodestars. Skidmore completed his flight and classroom training on 27 April 1943, having logged a total of almost 16 hours and 22 landings in the CG-4A, almost half of it as first pilot. He was discharged as a Staff Sergeant on 29 April for the purpose of accepting an appointment as flight officer on 30 April 1943. The flight officer rank was new in the Army Air Corps, and was equivalent to a junior grade warrant officer. The pay was the same as a second lieutenant, with an additional 20% of base pay
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for overseas duty. The insignia of rank was an oval bar, the top surface of which was Bristol blue with a gold border around the edges and across the center of the bar. Flight officers were addressed as “Mister” rather than by their rank. Of course, glider pilots also received hazardous duty pay, i.e., flight pay, which amounted to 50% of ones base pay.
Skidmore looked resplendent in his officer’s pinks and greens on graduation day. He was in high spirits as he marched across the stage in the base theater, saluted the school commander, and was presented with his sterling silver glider wings. He was now officially a glider pilot, a member of a very unique group of fliers, and proud of it. Paragraph 59 of Personnel Orders No. 7, dated 15 April 1943, officially rated him a glider pilot, effective 30 April 1943, and Paragraph 60 of the same order required him to participate in regular and frequent flights upon entry into active duty. From that date forward, when someone asked him what the “G” in his wings stood for, he usually answered, “Guts.”
On 30 April 1943, special orders were issued transferring newly promoted Flight Officer Skidmore to Louisville, Kentucky, with assignment to the 27th Base Headquarters and Air Base Squadron at Bowman Field. Officially, the base was known as the Glider Pilot Combat Training Unit (GPCTU), but unofficially it was called the “Home of the Winged Commandos.” Chuck would undergo additional flight training at Bowman and would be introduced for the first time to ground combat training. Because of the lack of CG-4A gliders for tactical training it was necessary for glider pilots to train in light aircraft. His first flight at Bowman was on 11 May 1943 in an Aeronca L-3C in which he logged three hours, half of it as first pilot. Dead stick spot landings were practiced regularly, frequently over two sets of 50-foot barriers placed close together to teach glider pilots the technique of short field landings. The object was to just clear the first barrier, land the glider, and stop it before reaching the second barrier. When glider pilots weren’t flying they were taking 20 mile hikes with full field packs, practicing hand-to-hand combat and learning ground fighting tactics.
For the next six months the daily flying routine was practice, practice and more practice. After days of rigorous infantry training glider pilots were in the best physical condition of their life. On the light side, during his tenure at Bowman, Chuck met and began dating Norma Lee Emery, who lived in New Albany, Indiana, just across the Ohio River from Louisville. She lived at home with her parents, George Joseph Emery and Grace (Baxley) Emery, in New Albany. After a short courtship, Chuck and Norma Lee were married in New Albany on 3 August 1943, just days before her seventeenth birthday on 29 August. The new bride was radiant in her wedding outfit. The newlyweds set up housekeeping in the home of Norma Lee’s parents at 708 East 11th Street in New Albany.
One of Chuck’s close friends at Bowman Field was Flight Officer Leon B. Spencer, called Spence, from Montgomery, Alabama. They were members of the same training flight at Bowman and were frequently seen together. Shortly after Chuck and Norma Lee were married, they shared some of their evenings with Spencer at the Red Devil Inn, just across the road from Bowman Field, or taking in a movie. For reasons known only to her, Norma Lee always referred to him as Spencer B. Unfortunately, unpredictable events would result in the friendship being short lived. Each would lose track of the other as a result, and it would be many years before they made contact again.
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Between July and September, Chuck was involved in two flying incidents, one of them involving his friend, Spencer. The first incident occurred on 23 July 1943 when Chuck and Flight Officer James V. McNally, flying together, were participating in a low level tactical training flight in an Aeronca L-3C. McNally, who was flying the aircraft, struck an auxiliary power line damaging the aircraft to the extent that he had to make a forced landing in a corn field. Both wings of the aircraft, the propeller, the landing gear and the engine were damaged, and the cockpit windscreen was broken. Fortunately, neither McNally nor Skidmore were injured. The accident review board determined that the accident was 100% pilot error, and was duly noted on McNally’s next performance report.
Two months later, on 10 September 1943, Skidmore was involved in a second aircraft incident. This time his friend, Spence, was involved. That morning a flight of 30 light aircraft took off from Bowman Field in trail on a round-robin flight to Lexington, Kentucky, and return. It was listed on the training report as a simulated glider combat mission. Both legs of the flight were flown at 700 feet. The Bowman to Lexington leg was uneventful, but on the return flight tragedy struck. During a left turn di-rectly into the sun, two aircraft in the middle of the formation collided, doing major damage to both aircraft. The aircraft flown by Flight Officer Robert Sutherlin went into a flat spin and crashed in the field below. He died from blunt force trauma when his aircraft impacted the ground. The other pilot, Flight Officer Harold Roth, faired no better. He was able to exit the aircraft and pull his ripcord, but was too low to the ground for his main parachute to deploy. He was killed instantly on impact with the ground. His aircraft crashed nearby and burned.
Skidmore was flying near the tail end of the formation and did not actually see the two aircraft collide but sensed something had happened when his friend, Flight Of-ficer Spencer’s aircraft, suddenly left the formation and dove towards a field below. Chuck followed Spencer down and saw that two planes had crashed in the field ahead of him. One of the aircraft was burning. As he watched Spencer’s plane buzz the field he saw it suddenly pitch down and crash into the ground, hitting a fence and then a ditch before coming to rest. Chuck pulled back on the stick to gain altitude and instantly saw a clear field he could land in just ahead. He said in a 1 September 1993 letter to Spencer that he was so shook up when he landed that he couldn’t find the aircraft brakes. Luckily his aircraft rolled to a stop before colliding with anything. He jumped out and ran towards the adjacent field where he had seen Spencer’s plane crash.
As he ran he noticed that two other aircraft had landed in a nearby field. When he reached Spencer’s plane he observed two young men trying to extricate him. He said later that Spencer was unconscious and moaning. The wing fuel tanks of the aircraft had ruptured and soaked Spencer and the aircraft interior with aviation fuel, and there was the ever present danger of fire. Chuck nudged his way in and took over the rescue operation with the help of the two other glider pilots that had landed. The aircraft engine was lying partially on Spencer’s legs and right foot, pinning him in the aircraft. It was a painstaking task to free him without causing further injury.
As the trio worked to hoist the engine, one of them glanced up and noticed two men standings just inches behind them with cigarettes dangling from their lips. He asked the guys to please back off and put out the cigarettes but they ignored him. Chuck recounted later how he drew the Colt .45 caliber weapon from the
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holster he was wearing and that did the trick. The guys backed away without another word. After thirty minutes or so they succeeded in raising the engine enough to free Spencer’s legs and removed him from the aircraft still unconscious. He was placed on a blanket that someone had provided. Shortly thereafter a military ambulance carrying a doctor arrived from Bowman Field. The doctor examined Leon, started an IV to prevent shock, and helped load him in the ambulance. Skidmore accompanied his friend back to Bowman Field in the ambulance.
Leon’s injuries included a brain concussion, a crushed right foot, lacerations and puncture wounds all over his arms and legs, and abrasions galore. He remained semiconscious for two days, suffered partial amnesia for several years, and was a patient for eleven months in three different military hospitals. After being released from the base hospital at Bowman on 15 November 1943, he was transferred across town to Nichols General Hospital. He was a patient in the orthopedic ward there until 28 March 1944 when he was transferred the US Army Convalescent Hospital in Nashville, Tennessee. He was released from there on 5 August 1944 and placed back on flying status.
Skidmore completed his training at Bowman, now called the Glider Crew Training Center, in mid-October 1943. On 21 October, 1st Troop Carrier Command issued orders assigning Chuck and 227 other Bowman Field graduates to the 38th Troop Carrier Squadron at Camp Mackall in Hoffman, North Carolina. Everyone departed the following day by rail, bus and private conveyance, each granted five days leave before reporting to their new duty station on 29 October. Their reassignment orders specified that friends or relatives were prohibited from either accompanying or joining them at their new base. Everyone was certain that upon completion of tactical training they would be headed overseas. Chuck’s wife, Norma Lee, remained at her parent’s home during his absence. For the next several weeks Chuck underwent intensive combat training, usually hauling glider troopers, airborne weaponry, or vehicles of the 101st Airborne Division from nearby Fort Bragg, North Carolina.
On 26 November 1943, his combat training at Mackall completed, orders were issued transferring Skidmore and a large contingent of glider pilots based there to the 439th Troop Carrier Group temporarily based at nearby Pope Field, North Carolina. When he reported to the 439th he was assigned to the 91st Troop Carrier Squadron, which promptly divided the glider pilots into 50-man flights for training purposes. Skidmore was assigned to Flight “C.” Many of the C-47 pilots had little or no experience towing gliders so they practiced day and night doing just that until mid-January when the Group began to prepare for overseas movement. Much of their training while at Pope Field was conducted at nearby Laurinburg-Maxton Army Air Base, North Carolina.
In early February 1944 the air echelon of the 439th was ordered to Baer Field, Fort Wayne, Indiana, the aerial port of embarkation, arriving there on the 14th of the month. The ground echelon would follow by ship to England. The advance parties of the 439th and two of its squadrons, the 91st and 92nd, departed Baer Field in their C47 transports o/a 19 February 1944. Flying a circuitous route they arrived at Balderton Airdrome in England on 21 February 1944. The remaining two squadrons, the 93rd and 94th, did not arrive at Balderton until 6 March. The airdrome was located 2 miles south of Newark, England in the midlands. Skidmore and the ground echelon of the 439th TC Group and its four squadrons left New York aboard the U. S. S. George Washington, an Army troop transport, on 28 February 1944. After eleven days at sea the ship arrived at Liverpool, England on 10 March 1944. From there they traveled by rail to Balderton
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where they would remain until 26 April 1944. On that date the group was relocated to the airdrome at Upottery, England.
After the Group arrived in the United Kingdom the training continued unabated in preparation for the invasion of the continent. Several maneuvers were held to further hone the skills of the C-47 and glider pilots. About a month before the D-Day invasion of Normandy, France the 439th was relocated to Taunton in southern England. On 3 June everyone was herded into barracks and hangars that were surrounded by barbed wire. Everyone knew that they would soon be facing the enemy. Finally, the day that every Allied soldier looked forward to arrived. Chuck said that you could feel the tension in the air. He would not fly the D-Day mission on 6 June 1944, but would fly in glider trooper reinforcements of the 101st Airborne Division the following day, D-Day +1.
Everyone flying the mission on 7 June was awakened at 4:00 a.m. by the CQ (charge-of-quarters). When they arrived at the mess hall for breakfast they were surprised to see that fresh eggs were being served. No one had seen a fresh egg since they arrived in England, so they were duly surprised. The next thing they were served was a
huge piece of chocolate cake. The combination was unusual but not unappetizing. They took what they were given and joked about it.
When Chuck, who was flying copilot, and the pilot arrived at their glider they climbed aboard carrying their parachutes. Glider troopers were already seated on both sides of the cabin. They lay their parachutes on the cockpit seats, and prepared to sit down. At that point a burly airborne infantry lieutenant stuck his head between the two pilots and announced, “There’s no use of you two fastening on those parachutes because we’ll never let you use them anyway.” Chuck explained to the lieutenant that the parachutes were used only as a seat cushion and to prove his point, he didn’t even bother to drape the straps over his shoulder. The CG-4A cockpit seats were purposely built low so they could accommodate the Air Force S-1 and S-5 seat pack parachute.
The two hour and fifteen minute flight to Normandy was uneventful until they arrived near the landing zone at 600 feet. Just as the pilot released the glider from the tow plane a burst of machine gun fire from the ground passed through the cockpit floor missing Chuck’s head by no more than a foot, and stitched the right wing from end to end. Had the burst arrived a split second earlier he would have caught it right in the face. To the consternation of both pilots they noticed that the Germans had flooded their landing zone. The pilot had no choice but to land on the water. Fortunately, it was only about three feet deep. As the glider settled on the water, Skidmore removed his flak vest, tore a large piece of fabric off the side of the cockpit and rolled out into the water. He and the pilot headed for the nearest hedgerow for protection.
Once on the ground, so to speak, the glider infantrymen quickly located the source of the ground fire. It turned out to be a bunker containing about a dozen conscripted Polish soldiers with a German sergeant in charge. After the glider troopers from several gliders, including Skidmore’s, directed a hail of rifle and bazooka fire at the bunker the resistance ceased. Then a single shot was heard inside the bunker, followed by laughter. Soon the Poles emerged with their hands held high in surrender. They weren’t about to fight the Americans. They simply shot the German sergeant.
Chuck, the pilot, and the troopers in their glider took refuge in a thatched roof farm house. They were surprised to find an American paratrooper with a broken leg in
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one of the beds. He had jumped the night before and had fractured his leg when he fell though the thatched roof of the farm house. A young French girl was caring for him, so he just lay there waiting for the war to come to him. Chuck wondered afterwards if he made it back home okay.
By nightfall, Skidmore said that he and the pilot began looking for a safe place to catch a few winks. They came upon several other Americans busily digging holes in a small field, so they likewise began digging in the same area. “Hey, you guys can’t dig there,” said one of the Americans. “Why,” we asked. “Because we’re starting a temporary American cemetery here,” was the reply. They were burying several dead American paratroopers. That did it. They went elsewhere. For the next 24 hours they spent some time with a 105mm artillery crew, providing perimeter guard, and then with a communications outfit.
For the next two days there was considerable confusion since there were no distinct battle lines, and the war consisted of a number of small skirmishes between Americans and Germans. But the troops had moved off the beach and the Americans appeared to be winning the skirmishes. Chuck and most of the surviving glider pilots began to assemble at the 101st command post. On the third day they made the 3 mile trek to Utah Beach where the beachmaster assigned them the job of guarding German POWs (Prisoners-Of-War). Later that day, glider pilots and POWs were loaded aboard an LCI (Landing Craft Infantry) and then onto an LST (Landing Ship Tank) for the trip back to England.
A little excitement occurred while they were on the LST. It was anchored next to an American oil tanker that subsequently attracted the attention of a German E-boat (similar to an American PT boat). The E-boat launched a torpedo that struck the oil tanker below the water line and it exploded. There was only one survivor, a man and his dog. Moments later a British ground attack aircraft fired on and sank the E-boat. Chuck said that it was much like watching a newsreel to watch the incident unfold before your eyes.
Miraculously, the German commander of the E-boat was rescued by crewmen from Skidmore‘s LST. He had a severe leg wound. Chuck helped carry him to the operating table below deck where an American medic tended to the wound. When the medic indicated that he wanted to cut apart the officer’s sealskin trousers, the latter exploded with anger. The medic retorted, “If he wants them all that bad, let him keep them.” So Chuck and the medic, with the help of the German removed his trousers. It must have been dreadfully painful, but the German never uttered a word. He sat stoically as the medic tended to his wound.
In another instance while on the LST a German POW caught his ring on a nail while descending the ship’s ladder. The ring tore into the flesh so badly that the same medic had to take a surgical saw and remove the ring. He did it without a painkiller, which for some reason the German refused. Once again, the pain must have been terrible, but there was not a peep out of the prisoner. The Germans were obviously well disciplined when it came to pain, thought Chuck. When the LST landed in England the prisoners were turned over to the British military. As he stepped off the ship Skidmore gave thanks that he had survived his first combat mission against the enemy.
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On 5 July 1944, in accordance with General Order No. 33, Chuck and the other glider pilots of the 439th TC Group who flew the Normandy mission were awarded the Air Medal for meritorious service in combat and a bronze arrowhead to the European-African-Middle Eastern medal for a combat glider landing. He was subsequently awarded the Croix de Guerre medal (a unit citation) by the French for the liberation of France. The 439th Group received a Distinguished Unit Citation from the Supreme Allied Commander, General Dwight D. Eisenhower, for distinguished performance in Normandy. Following World War II, Chuck received further WWII recognition from the French. His name was permanently inscribed on the Wall of Liberty at Normandy by The Battle of Normandy Foundation.
Training continued at Upottery until 8 September 1944 when the 439th was alerted to move to Juvincourt, France (ALG A-68) as the vanguard of the 50th Troop Carrier Wing. The movement of equipment and personnel took several days, but the air echelon returned to England the following week to take part in the invasion of Holland scheduled to begin on 17 September 1944. Chuck flew the D-Day mission in a CG-4A as pilot, departing from Balterton Airdrome. He said later that the mission was strange from the very beginning and almost humorous.
The day of the mission he was driven out to his glider in a jeep. During his preflight check he noted that his load was a ¼ ton jeep trailer that was covered with a tarpaulin. Skidmore asked the loadmaster what was in the trailer and he told him 800 pounds of land mines. He was told not to worry because it would take the weight of a sizeable vehicle to detonate them. Small consolation, Chuck mused. Three gliders troopers of the 82nd Airborne Division were also included in his load.
Chuck waited outside of his glider for some time for his copilot who never appeared. When he queried the crew chief he smiled and said that the Colonel Young had decided against using two glider pilots on this mission. Just prior to his glider being pulled into position for hookup a fourth soldier suddenly showed up at the glider. He wore full combat dress and was carrying a Thompson submachine gun. He climbed over the jeep trailer and sat down in the copilot’s seat. Chuck was surprised to see that it was Warrant Officer Walter F. Domanski, the assistant engineering officer of the 91st TC Squadron. After a brief conversation Chuck learned that he was an unofficial passenger, in essence, a stowaway.
The four hour flight to Holland was boring and tiring, Chuck said, but would admit later that it was pretty hairy after passing over the Dutch coast. A tow plane just ahead of him went down in flames after being hit by ground fire. He watched for parachutes but saw none as the plane plummeted to earth. He said that he felt his heart racing and he began sweating so profusely that beads of water were showing inside his watch crystal. Near the end of the 90 mile overland portion of the flight his glider began to take ground fire from a windmill but fortunately no one was hit. Moments later he received the green light from his tow plane and released his glider. Turning to the left he quickly spotted his landing zone. As he circled towards the field below more ground fire was directed at his glider. As he made his approach he saw another tow plane go down trailing fire. In an effort to evade the enemy fire coming up at him he dove towards the ground, quickly picking up speed. One of the glider troopers aboard sensed that he was exceeding the usual rate of descent and panicked. He climbed over the trailer, rapped on Chuck’s steel helmet and shouted, “Slow this S.O.B. down!”
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Not knowing quite how to fly the glider and defend himself at the same time, Chuck did the best he could under the circumstance… he flew the glider. The trooper suddenly shoved him in the back which caused the glider to begin dropping even faster. Fortunately, W/O Domanski came to his rescue. He shoved his Tommy gun into the soldier‘s shoulder and said, “If you don’t get back in the back I’ll slow you down permanently.”
Since the trooper had left his weapon in the back of the glider, and probably because he sensed that discretion was the better part of valor, he beat a hasty retreat to the back of the CG-4A. Chuck landed the glider in the proper landing zone, the glider didn’t fair so well. The giant beets growing on the landing zone pretty much destroyed the bottom of the glider. Chuck helped unload his glider and moments later a jeep arrived to tow the trailer. Within several days he was back in France. In October, November and December 1944, Chuck flew resupply missions to Holland as copilot aboard the squadron’s C-47s. On 4 December 1944, he was awarded an oak leaf cluster to the Air Medal and the Distinguished Unit Badge for his participation in Operation “Market.” He was also awarded the orange lanyard by the Dutch. Belatedly he was also awarded the Willemsorde, the Netherlands highest award.
The Holland mission was the last combat mission Chuck flew. The strain of combat had taken a toll on his nervous system. He began to have flashbacks of his close calls in France and Holland. On one occasion German soldiers passed within a few feet of him as he lay in an apple orchard on a pile of canvas bags used to drop supplies from the air by B-17s. On another occasion he watched the reflection of war from a glassed-in porch of Dutch home and become so entranced that he didn’t notice the bullets coming his way until the glass shattered. Luckily he was not hit, but he had bad dreams about the incident later.
Since October 1942 he had logged 377 hours and 45 minutes of pilot time in powered aircraft and gliders, 6 hours and 15 minutes of it in combat. In May 1945, shortly after cessation war in Europe, he was physically disqualified by the flight surgeon from further overseas flying duty. He languished in France until 26 September 1945 when he was assigned unattached to the AAF/ET Reinforcement Depot there. From France he was transported to the port of debarkation at Antwerp, Belgium. Prior to departing the ETO he was awarded seven battle stars to his EAME medal. The Army troop transport lifted anchor on 3 October 1945 and headed for the U.S.A. Ten days later, on 13 October, the ship docked in New York and he was transported to the Reception Center at Camp Shanks, New York. Orders were issued transferring Skidmore to the Separation Center at Camp Atterbury, Indiana. He departed New York that afternoon by rail.
Four days later, on Wednesday, 17 October 1945, Special Order No. 251 was issued at Camp Atterbury authorizing Skidmore 2 months and 20 days of terminal leave, and releasing him from active duty effective 9 January 1946. He was also officially placed in the inactive reserve. Chuck departed Camp Atterbury and headed for Topeka, Kansas, to see Norma Lee and his parents. It had been 19½ long months since he had seen them and he was eager to get home. His homecoming was all that he hoped it would be. He was able to hold Norma Lee in his arms again, could sleep late in the mornings and taste home cooked meals again. Life was good but he was still plagued by a persistent nervous anxiety.
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After visiting with his parents, Norma Lee and Chuck went to live, at least temporarily, with her parents at 708 East 11th Street in New Albany, Indiana. He landed a job with a local newspaper there for $32 a week. On 7 January 1946, while still on terminal leave from the Air Force Chuck became ill and was admitted to Nichols General Hospital in Louisville, Kentucky, just across the river. Doctors there diagnosed his problem as psychoneurosis (emotional maladaptation due to unresolved unconscious conflicts). The unexpired portion of his terminal leave was suspended. A week later, on 14 January, he was transferred to Newton D. Baker General Hospital in Martinsburg, West Virginia, for treatment. Doctors at Martinsburg declared him mentally fit on 6 March 1946 and issued orders transferring him back to the reception center at Camp Atterbury for reassignment. Orders were issued there transferring him to the 800th AAF Base Unit at Greenville, South Carolina, effective 17 March 1946. He remained at Greenville for further evaluation until 3 July 1946 when he was officially released from active duty.
Chuck and Norma Lee returned to Topeka, Kansas, where he reenlisted as a Master Sergeant in the Army Air Force for three years at Forbes Army Air Base in Topeka on 22 July 1946. His date of rank was listed as 31 April 1943. He listed his permanent home address as 604 West 8th Street, Topeka, Kansas, his parents’ home address. He was assigned to Headquarters and Headquarters Squadron, 314th Troop Carrier Wing at Sewart Army Air Base, Smyrna, Tennessee, for duty as a historical technician (MOS 274)1. His first assignment was to bring the unit’s history up to date from the end of World War II. For his diligence and perseverance he was given a superior performance rating. On 27 November 1946, Chuck was temporarily assigned to the 1100th AAF Base Unit at Fort Totten, New York, for the purpose of bringing the history of the Atlantic Division of the Military Air Transport Service (MATS) up to date. He completed the history in three months, often working 16 hour days. This was a challenge since the Atlantic Division stretched from Iceland to the Panama Canal. He was lauded by the command for his stellar performance.
In April 1947, as part of his historical duties, he was tasked with writing the history for an Air Force Reserve Unit in Louisville, Kentucky, and in January 1948, an-other reserve unit in Indianapolis, Indiana. In 1947, on 26 July, the Army Air Force became the U. S. Air Force and was placed on an equal footing with the Army and Navy. Shortly thereafter the olive drab uniform changed to Air Force blue. In between writing the histories of the two reserve units, Norma gave birth to their first child, Joseph Dale Skidmore, who was born in Fort Knox, Kentucky, on 7 December 1947. Parents and grandparents were elated with their new son and grandson respectively, and doted over the infant. Chuck remained with the 314th until his three-year enlistment expired on 31 May 1949. He promptly reenlisted for three additional years the following day, remaining with the 314th until 15 August 1950, when he became a recruiting supervisor (AFSC 73370) with the Recruiting Service Group in Topeka, Kansas. He was promoted to first lieutenant in the USAF Inactive Reserves in January 1950. His next post as a recruiter was in Lawrence, Kansas. Subsequently, he and his family would move to Hutchinson, Kansas, where Norma Lee gave birth to their second son, Michael George Skidmore, on 8 December 1950. He continued his recruiting duties until 2 June 1952 when his enlistment ended.
Chuck reenlisted for the third time since the end of WWII on 3 June 1952, and continued his tenure as a recruiter at Forbes Air Force Base, Topeka, Kansas. The Skidmore’s third child, and first daughter, Kathryn Lee Skidmore, was born there on
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1 October 1952. At the time the family was living at 909 Michigan Avenue. On 28 December 1952, he was transferred to 3500th Personal Processing Center at Waco, Texas, as a recruitment supervisor. On 1 September 1953, after serving three years as a recruiter, Chuck, was transferred to Headquarters, 3530th Pilot Training Wing at Bryan AFB, Texas, located 6 miles west of Bryan, as a historical technician. Two days later he also became an information supervisor (AFSC 72170) in the same unit. For the next two years he wrote the history of Bryan AFB, activated in 1943 during World War II. He was frequently the recipient of the Flying Training Air Force (as it was called then) award for the best quarterly history. His histories were always rated either “excellent” or “superior”. On 2 June 1955, while at Bryan AFB, Chuck’s three year enlistment expired, and he reenlisted the following day, this time for six years.
Just a few days after his reenlistment, on 17 June 1955, he was transferred to the 784th AC&W Squadron at Fort Knox, Kentucky, as an information technician. The family packed their belongings, loaded them in the family vehicle, and headed east. They rented a house near the base at 1909 Taffeta Drive in Valley Station, Kentucky. Four months later, on 8 October 1955, Norma Lee gave birth to their fourth and last child, Linda Sue Skidmore, in Louisville, Kentucky. Skidmore was promoted to captain in the USAF Inactive Reserve on 1 January 1956. The family packed up and moved again on 9 July 1957. This time, Chuck was assigned to Headquarters, 815th Air Base Group at Forbes Air Force Base as an information technician. They found a place to live at 319 Woodruff Avenue in Topeka. Nine months later, on 16 April 1958, orders were issued transferring him to Fort Mason, California, but he would be there for only two weeks. Overseas shipping orders were issued on 1 May 1958, assigning Skidmore to the 2710th Air Base Wing at Tachikawa, Japan. Their household belongings were stored and the family accompanied him to the Far East aboard MSTS ship, the USS Frederick Dunston. The voyage took two weeks. The family took a taxi to Tachikawa and was scared out of their wits by a reckless Japanese driver. After signing in Chuck was told that base housing was not available so they were temporarily quartered on the guest house on base. Two weeks later they moved to a house Chuck rented in Kunitachi. In a 6 July 2007 e-mail from Chuck’s son, Mike, he said that when rain and wind storms came through Japan his dad would use cargo straps to tie the roof down. During monsoon season the island was hammered with strong winds and rain.
Sergeant Skidmore was assigned to the 2710th Air Base Wing (subsequently changed to the 6100th Air Base Wing) as NCOIC of Information Services. In addition to his principal job of supervising the preparation of the base history, he also edited the base newspaper, The Marauder. It was judged third best in the Air Force and was the only one of the top three published overseas. He worked closely with Dr. Lulu Garrett, the base historian. In his spare time he edited four other English language news publications in the Tokyo area and worked frequently as master of ceremonies at American Clubs. On 2 June 1961, while at Tachikawa, Chuck’s enlistment expired. He reenlisted for the last time on 3 June for three years.
In April 1962, he received orders returning him to the states. His new assignment, effective 18 May 1962, was to Headquarters, North Atlantic Communications Region, Air Force Communications Service, at Westover Air Force Base, Massachusetts. The family returned to the states from Yokota Air Base aboard a Boeing 707. Skid-more’s duty assignment at Westover was NCOIC of Information Services. The family moved into quarters on base at 14A Webb Street. During his tour of duty at Westover, Chuck worked part-time on weekends for a local newspaper, the Springfield Evening
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News. He wrote feature stories for the newspaper, gaining valuable writing experience in the process. His job involved interviewing a number of state officials, including Ted Kennedy, President John Kennedy’s brother.
Fifteen months later, on 23 July 1963, Chuck was transferred to Forbes Air Force Base for the fourth time. This time he was assigned to the 815th Combat Support Group, Strategic Air Command. His new job was NCOIC of Information Services. The family moved into a house at 5133 West 32nd Street in Topeka. During the 1961-63 period Skidmore’s primary duty was writing and editing the base newspaper. His superiors rated him an exceptional airman of great value to the service. In September 1963, two months after arriving at Forbes he submitted his request for retirement. The request was approved by the Pentagon and on 31 March 1964 he was relieved from active duty and retired as Warrant Officer W-1, effective 1 April 1964. It was not possible to retire him as a Flight Officer, the highest wartime grade he had held, because it was a temporary wartime rank that had been abolished after the war. WO W-1 was an equivalent grade. Skidmore had served his country faithfully and honorably for 22 years, 3 months and 7 days. He listed his mailing address as 946 Chester Avenue, Topeka, Kansas.
Chuck never let grass grow under his feet. Prior to retiring he had applied for the job as managing editor of a metals trade journal, Midwest Industries Magazine, located at the Gage Center in Topeka. The magazine was one of the leading publications of its type in the Midwest, serving Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, Colorado and Nebraska. Skidmore was hired after competing with 34 other applicants, and reported to work on 30 April 1964. The job required extensive travel to conduct interviews with leading industrialists in Kansas City, Wichita, Oklahoma City, Tulsa and Denver. During his tenure there, Chuck performed every facet of the trade magazine business including interviewing, writing, editing, and doing his own photography work. While the family was in Topeka, their oldest son, Joe, graduated from high school there in June 1965. In late 1966, Skidmore submitted his application for a GS-11 US Civil Service position as historian of the 6100th Support Wing at Tachikawa Air Base, Japan. He gave his home address as 5133 West 32nd Street, Topeka, Kansas 66614. His application was approved on 16 March 1967. Accordingly, he submitted his resignation as managing editor of the magazine effective 1 April 1967.
The Skidmore family stored their household goods, packed their suitcases and said their goodbyes to their parents and friends. This would be their second trip to the Orient. They traveled aboard a Boeing 707, deplaning at Yokota Air Base, Japan, on Saturday, 7 May 1967. They were transported to Tachikawa Air Base by government vehicle where they spent the next two nights in the guest house. Monday morning Chuck reported to his new boss, Lt. Colonel Henry Liljedahl, Information Officer of the 6100th Support Wing. The colonel explained his duties as wing historian. His principle job was to supervise the history inputs from the units assigned to the wing. A secondary function was to provide guidance and advice where needed to those persons writing the histories. The family was assigned quarters in an off-base American village that was actually part of the base. The housing area was surrounded by a high fence. Two years later, in June 1967, the Skidmore’s second son, Mike, graduated from Yamato High School in Tokyo,
The family remained at Tachikawa until 15 July 1969 when Chuck’s position was taken over by a historian with more seniority from the disbanded 315th Air Divi-
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sion. The Air Force transferred Skidmore to Misawa Air Base, Japan, located on the northern tip of Honshu Island. He was assigned to the 475th Tactical Fighter Wing as a writer-editor (printed media) with the History Division. The involuntary move resulted in a reduction in grade from GS-11 to GS-9, but with no loss of pay. The Skidmore’s oldest daughter, Kathy, returned to the states in 1969 to live with her grandmother, Henrietta Skidmore. She graduated from Hayden Catholic High School there in June 1970. The rest of the family remained at Misawa Air Base until 31 March 1971 when Skidmore accepted a position as historian at Taipei Air Station, Taiwan as a GS-11.
At Taiwan he was assigned to the Historical Office of 327th Air Division. The following year, on 1 April 1972, a reorganization of the 327th AD resulted in Chuck being reassigned to the 6213th Air Base Squadron as historian. Soon thereafter he received a letter of appreciation from Major General Donald H. Ross, commander of the 327th Air Division for getting the 374th Tactical Air Wing back on track. More accolades came Skidmore’s way on 23 January 1973 when he received yet another letter, this one from Major William B. Sandmann, Deputy Command Historian, rating his two-volume history of the 327th Air Division as excellent for the period 1 January to 30 June 1972. In 1972 Skidmore turned down a GS-12 position at Langley Air Force Base, Virginia, in favor of remaining in Taiwan for an additional year. Linda, the Skidmore’s youngest daughter, graduated from high school in Taipei. After almost six years in the Orient, the Skidmore family returned to the states in May 1973. Chuck was assigned to the Research Division at Headquarters, Strategic Air Command, Offutt Air Force Base, Omaha, Nebraska, as a GS-11historian, effective 5 June 1973. The family moved into a house at 337 Spruce Street in Omaha.
While based in Omaha he researched and wrote multi-volume histories of SAC units. In the process he organized material and monographs and presented a synthesis in narrative form accompanied by supporting documents. Not long after arriving back in the United States, Norma Lee became disoriented and began showing signs of senile dementia. She was examined by a doctor who diagnosed her problem as early Alzheimer’s disease. Norma Lee was treated by a local psychiatrist but continued to regress. In August 1974, Chuck was reassigned to the 2803rd Air Base Group, Aerospace Guidance and Metrology Center, at Newark Air Force Station, Ohio, as a historian and writer/editor. The air station was located 35 miles east of Columbus. Knowing that he would be unable to properly care for Norma Lee, Chuck talked over the situation with his children. With great reluctance they agreed that their mother would be better off in an adult care facility where she could get the proper treatment. They selected a Lutheran senior’s home in Omaha at which the government would pick up the cost, lessening the financial burden on the family.
During Skidmore’s tenure at Newark he met a Korean lady, MiKyong (Jeannie) and they fell in love and wished to marry. Not knowing how his children would react to him divorcing their mother, Chuck asked for their approval. After much agonizing they agreed. Their mother’s doctor told them that her mental state would only get worse. When Norma Lee was told about the divorce she seemed to take it in stride, especially since she probably didn’t remember her marriage to Chuck. He and Jeannie were married circa 1984 according to his son, Mike. They set up housekeeping at 199 Lees Drive, Southeast, in Hebron, Ohio 43025. On 10 January 1977, at age 55, Chuck completed the requirements for an MA degree at Central Michigan University at Mount Pleasant, Michigan, and was awarded a diploma.
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In 1980, Skidmore was assigned to the Directorate of Metrology at Newark with the responsibility of developing a wide variety of periodicals designed to keep Air Force components up-to-date on the latest developments in the Air Force Metrology and Calibration (AFMETCAL) Program. He also assisted in the preparation of briefings for Air Force major commands and base level units. For his outstanding performance he was recognized with the presentation of the AFLC (Air Force Logistics Command) Significant Achievement Award.
Chuck was rarely bothered with health issues, but in July 1984 a cyst developed on the right side of his throat and was surgically removed. The biopsy was negative, but two months later the cyst returned and was removed again at nearby Licking Memorial Hospital. This time the cyst was found to be cancerous. Skidmore had never been a smoker and considered himself a health nut, but the unexpected had happened. Squamous cell carcinoma was no laughing matter. His odds were not good. He and his wife, MiKyong (or Jeannie), traveled to the Air Force Cancer Center in San Antonio, Texas, where he underwent nine hours of surgery in which both tonsils were removed. They were found to be cancerous, a very rare condition. Chuck spent three months in the hospital. During follow-on treatments, he endured 6,500 rads of radiation, near the limit for human endurance.
When he and Jeannie returned to Newark in January 1985, he weighed 136 pounds, down from 165. He was required to return to San Antonio monthly for checkups and treatments. That same year he decided he could no longer pay full time and attention to his job so he decided to retire, this time for good. He submitted his retirement request on 18 April 1985. He was allowed to repay $2,000 to the federal government so that he could retire as a GS-11 with 40 years total service. His retirement request was approved and he officially retired on 30 April 1985. Without most of his salivary glands, Skidmore has a constant dry mouth, and almost no sense of taste. For two years he traveled to the Institute of Health in Washington, DC, to participate in a test program to determine the possible benefits of pilocarpine, a species of tropical shrub, in the treatment of persons with the dry mouth problem. The results were marginal. Further tests at the Air Force Cancer Center showed that his cancer was in remission.
Retirement and sedentary living wasn’t in Chuck’s genes. Even with his medical problems he just changed from a paying job to volunteerism for the next 15 years. At various times he served as president of the St. Leonard’s Catholic Church Council in Heath, Ohio; published a monthly 12-page church newsletter; tended the church garden almost daily during the summer; was a member of the Red Cross board; published a quarterly Red Cross newsletter; was past commander of the local VFW post and later adjutant; was commander of the Military Order of the Cootie - a VFW honor organization several times; volunteered at New Beginnings, the battered women’s shelter; and
was secretary of the Air Force Association in Newark. There were many other less time consuming jobs too numerous to mention. He said in a 4 March 1989 article that appeared in The Advocate, a Newark, Ohio, newspaper, that volunteerism ran in the family. He stated that he remembered his grandmother gathering clothing and food for the needy before government welfare programs were available.
In January 1992, Skidmore developed prostate cancer and underwent surgery to remove the prostate. But he was a survivor, living for nine more years of a rather active
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life. He passed away on Tuesday, 1 May 2001, at age 81, at the Selma Markowitz Care Center operated by Hospice of Central Ohio. The VFW held services at 9:45 a.m. followed by a Memorial Mass of Christian Burial was held at 10:00 a.m. on Saturday, 5 May, at St. Leonard Catholic Church with the Reverend Michael Reis officiating. Interment was in Riverside National Cemetery, 22495 Van Buren Boulevard, Riverside, California 92518. There is a marker on his grave. He was survived by his wife, MiKyong, his former wife, Norma Lee, four children, and five grandchildren.
In July 2007, the Skidmore children are scattered about the country. The oldest son, Joe, age 59, is divorced. His marriage produced no offspring. He works as a nurse supervisor in a hospital ER in Los Angeles, California. During the Vietnam War he served in the US Army with an armored division as a medic, 13 months of it in Vietnam in 1969-70; Mike, age 56, also a divorcee, has one son, age 28, who lives in Tulsa and is unmarried. Mike worked in the purchasing department of Shell Oil Company’s Credit Card Department in Tulsa for 27½ years, but lost his job in 2000 when the company outsourced the work. He presently works as a forklift operator for a third party company that that runs a Kimberly-Clark warehouse handling bathroom products in Tulsa. He lives in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. As a member of a military family he said that he moved ten times and attended eight schools while growing up; Kathy, age 54, lives in Omaha, Nebraska, has three children, and works fulltime. Her husband owns a small garage there. Kathy talks to her mother on the telephone daily and visits her at least once a week. Linda, age 51, has one son and lives in Reading, Pennsylvania.
Note 1: The Military Occupational Specialty 274 was changed to Air Force Specialty Code 72171
Note 2: This biography was compiled by former WWII glider pilot Leon B. Spencer of Prattville, Alabama, a wartime friend of Chuck Skidmore, Jr., and his wife, Norma Lee, with the considerable help of their son, Michael G. Skidmore.
WWII Glider Pilot - Flight Officer
A Concise Biography
By Leon B. Spencer - Michael G. Skidmore
Charles Edward Skidmore, Jr., was born in Columbus, Kansas, on Saturday, 17 January 1920. His birthplace, a small town in Cherokee County, was located in the southeast corner of the state. Joplin. Missouri lay just to the east. That same month Babe Ruth was traded by the Boston Red Sox to the New York Yankees for the largest sum ever paid for a player at the time, and the United States Senate voted against joining the League of Nations. Chuck, as he would be called, was the first of two sons born to his parents, Charles Edward Skidmore, Sr., and Henrietta Geneva (Gallagher) Skidmore. His father was born in Baxter Springs, and his mother in Columbus. The Skidmore’s were Catholic by faith. Chuck’s younger brother, William Dale Skidmore, was not born until 25 May 1923, a little over three years later.
Young Skidmore attended grammar school in Columbus, completing the eighth grade in 1933. In 1934 he entered Cherokee County Community High School in the same town, graduating from there in 1937. Then it was off to college. Chuck attended Coffeyville Junior College in Coffeyville, Kansas, from 1937 to 1939, and then transferred to the University of Kansas at Lawrence, where he earned his undergraduate degree in journalism in 1941.
In late 1940, prior to World War II, Skidmore took and passed the written examination for flight training as an aviation cadet in the US Army Air Corps. He would not receive his letter of acceptance from the Air Corps until 14 January 1941. On that date, the War Department, Office of the Chief of the Air Crops, notified him to report to the Induction Station at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, on 10 July for enlistment. He was instructed to bring enough civilian clothes for three months, as the Air Corps only supplied coveralls and flying equipment. At the time of his induction he was living with his parents in Columbus at 235 West Elm Street. On 11 July 1941, 21 year old Charles E. Skidmore, Jr. Skidmore was sworn in at Fort Leavenworth as an aviation cadet. The proud new inductee stood 5 feet 8 inches in height, weighed 165 pounds, and had brown eyes and hair. His medical records noted that he had a ruddy complexion, a common classification.
Chuck was subsequently ordered to King City, California, on 15 July 1941. The following day he began primary flight training at the Civilian Flying School at Palo Alto Airport, Inc. under contract to the Air Corps. During his nearly ten weeks of primary training he accumulated 60 hours of flight time in a Ryan PT-21 primary trainer, passing all the flight requirements and successfully completing his ground school courses. Skidmore departed King City for Moffett Field, California, for basic training on 29 September 1941, arriving there the following day. Moffett Field was located 3 miles north of Mountain View in Santa Clara County. There he flew Vultee BT-13, a 450 horsepower basic trainer. Before completing his flight training he was “washed out” for failing to meet certain flight requirements and was given a check ride, which he failed. He was
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promptly given an honorable discharge from the Air Corps at Moffett Field on 3 November 1941 and returned to civilian life.
Shortly after World War II began, Chuck’s parents moved to 1100 Taylor Street in Topeka, Kansas, and later to 604 West 8th Street in that city. For reasons known only to him, Skidmore listed Topeka as his home town on his military records during World War II. On 30 December 1941, he enlisted in the Army Air Corps for the second time at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, this time for bombardier training. He was ordered to the Air Crew Replacement Training Center at Ellington Field, Texas, for his initial training. His training continued there until 24 February 1942, at which point he was transferred to Victorville Army Air Field, California, for advanced training. He began training there on 28 February 1942 as a member of an 80 man class. He failed to satisfactorily complete the course and was eliminated as a trainee. He was honorably discharged for the second time on 25 April 1942. Shortly thereafter, Skidmore heard about the Army Air Force Glider Program, and its search for eligible volunteers for glider pilot training.
Never one to be discouraged or outdone, Chuck applied for glider pilot training and was accepted as a Class “A” aviation student in late June 1942. Class “A” students were those who had previous flying experience as a pilot and had earned a private pilot’s license or had 200 glider flights. Skidmore had earned his private pilot’s license on 14 June 1941 through the aviation cadet program. A second category, Class “B” students, were those with no previous flying experience as a pilot. On 13 July 1942, for the third time in a year, Chuck enlisted in the Army Air Force at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, this time as a private. Eleven days later, on 24 July 1942, for reasons unknown, he was ordered to Sherman Field at Fort Leavenworth. He remained there until 24 August 1942 when he received movement orders transferring him to the Lockbourne Army Air Base, Ohio, 9.5 miles southeast of Columbus, Ohio, for pre-glider training.
The glider school at Lockbourne could not accommodate additional students; so on 7 September 1942, Chuck and his classmates were relocated to the glider pilot student pool at Randolph Field, Texas. The Army Air Force Glider Program was in its infancy and not enough training facilities were in place to train all the glider pilot students in the pipeline. As a result, they were frequently held at the Glider Pilot Replacement Pool at Randolph Field until a new flying school opened. Skidmore remained at Randolph until 6 October 1942 when orders finally came through transferring him to the 21st AAF Glider Training Detachment at Pittsburg, Kansas, for pre-glider training. McFarland Flying Service, a civilian flying school under contract to the Army Air Corps provided the flight training and conducted the ground school for students. The instructors were all civilians. Only the check pilots were military. The school at Pittsburg was under the jurisdiction of the Commanding General, Gulf Coast Air Forces Training Center at Randolph Field, Texas, and was located just a few miles from Chuck’s birthplace.
Skidmore received 30 hours of pre-glider flight training at Pittsburg, completing his flying requirements on 2 November 1942. Most students referred to the flight training there as “dead stick” training. The connotation resulted from the type of flying conducted. The glider student would take off and climb to a designated altitude, switch off the engine and land the aircraft without power as though it were a glider. The Class “B” students in his class received 40 hours of elementary flight training and 15 hours of “dead stick” landings. Both “A” and “B” students practiced “dead stick” landings day and night to improve their judgment and spot landing proficiency. Chuck’s class was held at Pittsburg until 5 December 1942 because there were no openings in a basic
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training school. To pass the time the students were given close order drill, daily calisthenics and classroom instructions in military discipline and hygiene.
On that date, Skidmore and his classmates departed Pittsburg by train for Lubbock, Texas. Upon their arrival they were assigned to the 1st AAF Glider Training Detachment. They had hardly settled in before being told that Lubbock was not equipped to provide basic glider training. Yet again everyone was left to cool their heels, and morale began to suffer. After what seemed like an eternity a class opened at Vinita, Oklahoma, in early January 1943. A very disillusioned group of student glider pilots arrived in Vinita by train circa 3 January 1943 and were assigned to the 27th AAF Glider Training Detachment. The following day they were assigned to Class 43-3. Because no military facilities were available the students were billeted in the courthouse annex in town, a single story brick building that had been converted into an open bay barracks to accommodate 200 students. The student mess hall was a converted café in town. On 4 January 1943, Chuck and his classmates were promoted to staff sergeant, which helped their morale considerably.
Basic glider training at Vinita was conducted by Burke Flying Service under contract to the Army Air Force. Ironically, the airfield was located next to an insane asylum, a coincidence that elicited a chuckle from the students. Glider students at Vinita received 30 hours of flight training in the Frankfort TG-1A, a civilian glider known as the “Cinema II,” and the three-place military TG-5, an Aeronca Defender that had been converted into a glider. Flight training took place at the airport, 3 miles north of the town. Chuck recorded 4 hours and 13 minutes in the TG-1A and 25 hours and 56 minutes in the TG-5 while at Vinita. He successfully completed the flying and ground school training on 3 February 1943. Four days later, on 7 February, he and his classmates were off to South Plains Army Flying School at Lubbock, Texas, for advanced glider training
While he was at Vinita it was not uncommon for gliders to be released prematurely because of broken tow ropes. When this occurred the student pilot simply looked for an open field large enough to accommodate the glider and landed there. On day, while awaiting his turn to fly, Chuck noticed one of his classmates being towed off on a solo flight. The flight was brief because hardly had the glider become airborne than the tow rope broke. Because of the low altitude the pilot could only continue straight ahead and land, which in this case was on the grounds of the insane asylum. The student exited his glider and walked around it looking for damage. About this time an elderly inmate arose from a nearby bench and walked over to the glider. After looking over the motorless craft he said, “Where’s your engine?” The student responded by saying, “We fly without one.” At this point the old man pointed towards the asylum and said, “Come on in brother.” His meaning was obvious.
On 1 April 1943 he was assigned to Class 43-8 and the next day began advanced flight training in the big 15-place Waco CG-4A glider. He logged 48 minutes on his first flight with an instructor. Gliders at Lubbock were towed by twin-engine Lockheed C-60 Lodestars. Skidmore completed his flight and classroom training on 27 April 1943, having logged a total of almost 16 hours and 22 landings in the CG-4A, almost half of it as first pilot. He was discharged as a Staff Sergeant on 29 April for the purpose of accepting an appointment as flight officer on 30 April 1943. The flight officer rank was new in the Army Air Corps, and was equivalent to a junior grade warrant officer. The pay was the same as a second lieutenant, with an additional 20% of base pay
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for overseas duty. The insignia of rank was an oval bar, the top surface of which was Bristol blue with a gold border around the edges and across the center of the bar. Flight officers were addressed as “Mister” rather than by their rank. Of course, glider pilots also received hazardous duty pay, i.e., flight pay, which amounted to 50% of ones base pay.
Skidmore looked resplendent in his officer’s pinks and greens on graduation day. He was in high spirits as he marched across the stage in the base theater, saluted the school commander, and was presented with his sterling silver glider wings. He was now officially a glider pilot, a member of a very unique group of fliers, and proud of it. Paragraph 59 of Personnel Orders No. 7, dated 15 April 1943, officially rated him a glider pilot, effective 30 April 1943, and Paragraph 60 of the same order required him to participate in regular and frequent flights upon entry into active duty. From that date forward, when someone asked him what the “G” in his wings stood for, he usually answered, “Guts.”
On 30 April 1943, special orders were issued transferring newly promoted Flight Officer Skidmore to Louisville, Kentucky, with assignment to the 27th Base Headquarters and Air Base Squadron at Bowman Field. Officially, the base was known as the Glider Pilot Combat Training Unit (GPCTU), but unofficially it was called the “Home of the Winged Commandos.” Chuck would undergo additional flight training at Bowman and would be introduced for the first time to ground combat training. Because of the lack of CG-4A gliders for tactical training it was necessary for glider pilots to train in light aircraft. His first flight at Bowman was on 11 May 1943 in an Aeronca L-3C in which he logged three hours, half of it as first pilot. Dead stick spot landings were practiced regularly, frequently over two sets of 50-foot barriers placed close together to teach glider pilots the technique of short field landings. The object was to just clear the first barrier, land the glider, and stop it before reaching the second barrier. When glider pilots weren’t flying they were taking 20 mile hikes with full field packs, practicing hand-to-hand combat and learning ground fighting tactics.
For the next six months the daily flying routine was practice, practice and more practice. After days of rigorous infantry training glider pilots were in the best physical condition of their life. On the light side, during his tenure at Bowman, Chuck met and began dating Norma Lee Emery, who lived in New Albany, Indiana, just across the Ohio River from Louisville. She lived at home with her parents, George Joseph Emery and Grace (Baxley) Emery, in New Albany. After a short courtship, Chuck and Norma Lee were married in New Albany on 3 August 1943, just days before her seventeenth birthday on 29 August. The new bride was radiant in her wedding outfit. The newlyweds set up housekeeping in the home of Norma Lee’s parents at 708 East 11th Street in New Albany.
One of Chuck’s close friends at Bowman Field was Flight Officer Leon B. Spencer, called Spence, from Montgomery, Alabama. They were members of the same training flight at Bowman and were frequently seen together. Shortly after Chuck and Norma Lee were married, they shared some of their evenings with Spencer at the Red Devil Inn, just across the road from Bowman Field, or taking in a movie. For reasons known only to her, Norma Lee always referred to him as Spencer B. Unfortunately, unpredictable events would result in the friendship being short lived. Each would lose track of the other as a result, and it would be many years before they made contact again.
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Between July and September, Chuck was involved in two flying incidents, one of them involving his friend, Spencer. The first incident occurred on 23 July 1943 when Chuck and Flight Officer James V. McNally, flying together, were participating in a low level tactical training flight in an Aeronca L-3C. McNally, who was flying the aircraft, struck an auxiliary power line damaging the aircraft to the extent that he had to make a forced landing in a corn field. Both wings of the aircraft, the propeller, the landing gear and the engine were damaged, and the cockpit windscreen was broken. Fortunately, neither McNally nor Skidmore were injured. The accident review board determined that the accident was 100% pilot error, and was duly noted on McNally’s next performance report.
Two months later, on 10 September 1943, Skidmore was involved in a second aircraft incident. This time his friend, Spence, was involved. That morning a flight of 30 light aircraft took off from Bowman Field in trail on a round-robin flight to Lexington, Kentucky, and return. It was listed on the training report as a simulated glider combat mission. Both legs of the flight were flown at 700 feet. The Bowman to Lexington leg was uneventful, but on the return flight tragedy struck. During a left turn di-rectly into the sun, two aircraft in the middle of the formation collided, doing major damage to both aircraft. The aircraft flown by Flight Officer Robert Sutherlin went into a flat spin and crashed in the field below. He died from blunt force trauma when his aircraft impacted the ground. The other pilot, Flight Officer Harold Roth, faired no better. He was able to exit the aircraft and pull his ripcord, but was too low to the ground for his main parachute to deploy. He was killed instantly on impact with the ground. His aircraft crashed nearby and burned.
Skidmore was flying near the tail end of the formation and did not actually see the two aircraft collide but sensed something had happened when his friend, Flight Of-ficer Spencer’s aircraft, suddenly left the formation and dove towards a field below. Chuck followed Spencer down and saw that two planes had crashed in the field ahead of him. One of the aircraft was burning. As he watched Spencer’s plane buzz the field he saw it suddenly pitch down and crash into the ground, hitting a fence and then a ditch before coming to rest. Chuck pulled back on the stick to gain altitude and instantly saw a clear field he could land in just ahead. He said in a 1 September 1993 letter to Spencer that he was so shook up when he landed that he couldn’t find the aircraft brakes. Luckily his aircraft rolled to a stop before colliding with anything. He jumped out and ran towards the adjacent field where he had seen Spencer’s plane crash.
As he ran he noticed that two other aircraft had landed in a nearby field. When he reached Spencer’s plane he observed two young men trying to extricate him. He said later that Spencer was unconscious and moaning. The wing fuel tanks of the aircraft had ruptured and soaked Spencer and the aircraft interior with aviation fuel, and there was the ever present danger of fire. Chuck nudged his way in and took over the rescue operation with the help of the two other glider pilots that had landed. The aircraft engine was lying partially on Spencer’s legs and right foot, pinning him in the aircraft. It was a painstaking task to free him without causing further injury.
As the trio worked to hoist the engine, one of them glanced up and noticed two men standings just inches behind them with cigarettes dangling from their lips. He asked the guys to please back off and put out the cigarettes but they ignored him. Chuck recounted later how he drew the Colt .45 caliber weapon from the
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holster he was wearing and that did the trick. The guys backed away without another word. After thirty minutes or so they succeeded in raising the engine enough to free Spencer’s legs and removed him from the aircraft still unconscious. He was placed on a blanket that someone had provided. Shortly thereafter a military ambulance carrying a doctor arrived from Bowman Field. The doctor examined Leon, started an IV to prevent shock, and helped load him in the ambulance. Skidmore accompanied his friend back to Bowman Field in the ambulance.
Leon’s injuries included a brain concussion, a crushed right foot, lacerations and puncture wounds all over his arms and legs, and abrasions galore. He remained semiconscious for two days, suffered partial amnesia for several years, and was a patient for eleven months in three different military hospitals. After being released from the base hospital at Bowman on 15 November 1943, he was transferred across town to Nichols General Hospital. He was a patient in the orthopedic ward there until 28 March 1944 when he was transferred the US Army Convalescent Hospital in Nashville, Tennessee. He was released from there on 5 August 1944 and placed back on flying status.
Skidmore completed his training at Bowman, now called the Glider Crew Training Center, in mid-October 1943. On 21 October, 1st Troop Carrier Command issued orders assigning Chuck and 227 other Bowman Field graduates to the 38th Troop Carrier Squadron at Camp Mackall in Hoffman, North Carolina. Everyone departed the following day by rail, bus and private conveyance, each granted five days leave before reporting to their new duty station on 29 October. Their reassignment orders specified that friends or relatives were prohibited from either accompanying or joining them at their new base. Everyone was certain that upon completion of tactical training they would be headed overseas. Chuck’s wife, Norma Lee, remained at her parent’s home during his absence. For the next several weeks Chuck underwent intensive combat training, usually hauling glider troopers, airborne weaponry, or vehicles of the 101st Airborne Division from nearby Fort Bragg, North Carolina.
On 26 November 1943, his combat training at Mackall completed, orders were issued transferring Skidmore and a large contingent of glider pilots based there to the 439th Troop Carrier Group temporarily based at nearby Pope Field, North Carolina. When he reported to the 439th he was assigned to the 91st Troop Carrier Squadron, which promptly divided the glider pilots into 50-man flights for training purposes. Skidmore was assigned to Flight “C.” Many of the C-47 pilots had little or no experience towing gliders so they practiced day and night doing just that until mid-January when the Group began to prepare for overseas movement. Much of their training while at Pope Field was conducted at nearby Laurinburg-Maxton Army Air Base, North Carolina.
In early February 1944 the air echelon of the 439th was ordered to Baer Field, Fort Wayne, Indiana, the aerial port of embarkation, arriving there on the 14th of the month. The ground echelon would follow by ship to England. The advance parties of the 439th and two of its squadrons, the 91st and 92nd, departed Baer Field in their C47 transports o/a 19 February 1944. Flying a circuitous route they arrived at Balderton Airdrome in England on 21 February 1944. The remaining two squadrons, the 93rd and 94th, did not arrive at Balderton until 6 March. The airdrome was located 2 miles south of Newark, England in the midlands. Skidmore and the ground echelon of the 439th TC Group and its four squadrons left New York aboard the U. S. S. George Washington, an Army troop transport, on 28 February 1944. After eleven days at sea the ship arrived at Liverpool, England on 10 March 1944. From there they traveled by rail to Balderton
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where they would remain until 26 April 1944. On that date the group was relocated to the airdrome at Upottery, England.
After the Group arrived in the United Kingdom the training continued unabated in preparation for the invasion of the continent. Several maneuvers were held to further hone the skills of the C-47 and glider pilots. About a month before the D-Day invasion of Normandy, France the 439th was relocated to Taunton in southern England. On 3 June everyone was herded into barracks and hangars that were surrounded by barbed wire. Everyone knew that they would soon be facing the enemy. Finally, the day that every Allied soldier looked forward to arrived. Chuck said that you could feel the tension in the air. He would not fly the D-Day mission on 6 June 1944, but would fly in glider trooper reinforcements of the 101st Airborne Division the following day, D-Day +1.
Everyone flying the mission on 7 June was awakened at 4:00 a.m. by the CQ (charge-of-quarters). When they arrived at the mess hall for breakfast they were surprised to see that fresh eggs were being served. No one had seen a fresh egg since they arrived in England, so they were duly surprised. The next thing they were served was a
huge piece of chocolate cake. The combination was unusual but not unappetizing. They took what they were given and joked about it.
When Chuck, who was flying copilot, and the pilot arrived at their glider they climbed aboard carrying their parachutes. Glider troopers were already seated on both sides of the cabin. They lay their parachutes on the cockpit seats, and prepared to sit down. At that point a burly airborne infantry lieutenant stuck his head between the two pilots and announced, “There’s no use of you two fastening on those parachutes because we’ll never let you use them anyway.” Chuck explained to the lieutenant that the parachutes were used only as a seat cushion and to prove his point, he didn’t even bother to drape the straps over his shoulder. The CG-4A cockpit seats were purposely built low so they could accommodate the Air Force S-1 and S-5 seat pack parachute.
The two hour and fifteen minute flight to Normandy was uneventful until they arrived near the landing zone at 600 feet. Just as the pilot released the glider from the tow plane a burst of machine gun fire from the ground passed through the cockpit floor missing Chuck’s head by no more than a foot, and stitched the right wing from end to end. Had the burst arrived a split second earlier he would have caught it right in the face. To the consternation of both pilots they noticed that the Germans had flooded their landing zone. The pilot had no choice but to land on the water. Fortunately, it was only about three feet deep. As the glider settled on the water, Skidmore removed his flak vest, tore a large piece of fabric off the side of the cockpit and rolled out into the water. He and the pilot headed for the nearest hedgerow for protection.
Once on the ground, so to speak, the glider infantrymen quickly located the source of the ground fire. It turned out to be a bunker containing about a dozen conscripted Polish soldiers with a German sergeant in charge. After the glider troopers from several gliders, including Skidmore’s, directed a hail of rifle and bazooka fire at the bunker the resistance ceased. Then a single shot was heard inside the bunker, followed by laughter. Soon the Poles emerged with their hands held high in surrender. They weren’t about to fight the Americans. They simply shot the German sergeant.
Chuck, the pilot, and the troopers in their glider took refuge in a thatched roof farm house. They were surprised to find an American paratrooper with a broken leg in
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one of the beds. He had jumped the night before and had fractured his leg when he fell though the thatched roof of the farm house. A young French girl was caring for him, so he just lay there waiting for the war to come to him. Chuck wondered afterwards if he made it back home okay.
By nightfall, Skidmore said that he and the pilot began looking for a safe place to catch a few winks. They came upon several other Americans busily digging holes in a small field, so they likewise began digging in the same area. “Hey, you guys can’t dig there,” said one of the Americans. “Why,” we asked. “Because we’re starting a temporary American cemetery here,” was the reply. They were burying several dead American paratroopers. That did it. They went elsewhere. For the next 24 hours they spent some time with a 105mm artillery crew, providing perimeter guard, and then with a communications outfit.
For the next two days there was considerable confusion since there were no distinct battle lines, and the war consisted of a number of small skirmishes between Americans and Germans. But the troops had moved off the beach and the Americans appeared to be winning the skirmishes. Chuck and most of the surviving glider pilots began to assemble at the 101st command post. On the third day they made the 3 mile trek to Utah Beach where the beachmaster assigned them the job of guarding German POWs (Prisoners-Of-War). Later that day, glider pilots and POWs were loaded aboard an LCI (Landing Craft Infantry) and then onto an LST (Landing Ship Tank) for the trip back to England.
A little excitement occurred while they were on the LST. It was anchored next to an American oil tanker that subsequently attracted the attention of a German E-boat (similar to an American PT boat). The E-boat launched a torpedo that struck the oil tanker below the water line and it exploded. There was only one survivor, a man and his dog. Moments later a British ground attack aircraft fired on and sank the E-boat. Chuck said that it was much like watching a newsreel to watch the incident unfold before your eyes.
Miraculously, the German commander of the E-boat was rescued by crewmen from Skidmore‘s LST. He had a severe leg wound. Chuck helped carry him to the operating table below deck where an American medic tended to the wound. When the medic indicated that he wanted to cut apart the officer’s sealskin trousers, the latter exploded with anger. The medic retorted, “If he wants them all that bad, let him keep them.” So Chuck and the medic, with the help of the German removed his trousers. It must have been dreadfully painful, but the German never uttered a word. He sat stoically as the medic tended to his wound.
In another instance while on the LST a German POW caught his ring on a nail while descending the ship’s ladder. The ring tore into the flesh so badly that the same medic had to take a surgical saw and remove the ring. He did it without a painkiller, which for some reason the German refused. Once again, the pain must have been terrible, but there was not a peep out of the prisoner. The Germans were obviously well disciplined when it came to pain, thought Chuck. When the LST landed in England the prisoners were turned over to the British military. As he stepped off the ship Skidmore gave thanks that he had survived his first combat mission against the enemy.
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On 5 July 1944, in accordance with General Order No. 33, Chuck and the other glider pilots of the 439th TC Group who flew the Normandy mission were awarded the Air Medal for meritorious service in combat and a bronze arrowhead to the European-African-Middle Eastern medal for a combat glider landing. He was subsequently awarded the Croix de Guerre medal (a unit citation) by the French for the liberation of France. The 439th Group received a Distinguished Unit Citation from the Supreme Allied Commander, General Dwight D. Eisenhower, for distinguished performance in Normandy. Following World War II, Chuck received further WWII recognition from the French. His name was permanently inscribed on the Wall of Liberty at Normandy by The Battle of Normandy Foundation.
Training continued at Upottery until 8 September 1944 when the 439th was alerted to move to Juvincourt, France (ALG A-68) as the vanguard of the 50th Troop Carrier Wing. The movement of equipment and personnel took several days, but the air echelon returned to England the following week to take part in the invasion of Holland scheduled to begin on 17 September 1944. Chuck flew the D-Day mission in a CG-4A as pilot, departing from Balterton Airdrome. He said later that the mission was strange from the very beginning and almost humorous.
The day of the mission he was driven out to his glider in a jeep. During his preflight check he noted that his load was a ¼ ton jeep trailer that was covered with a tarpaulin. Skidmore asked the loadmaster what was in the trailer and he told him 800 pounds of land mines. He was told not to worry because it would take the weight of a sizeable vehicle to detonate them. Small consolation, Chuck mused. Three gliders troopers of the 82nd Airborne Division were also included in his load.
Chuck waited outside of his glider for some time for his copilot who never appeared. When he queried the crew chief he smiled and said that the Colonel Young had decided against using two glider pilots on this mission. Just prior to his glider being pulled into position for hookup a fourth soldier suddenly showed up at the glider. He wore full combat dress and was carrying a Thompson submachine gun. He climbed over the jeep trailer and sat down in the copilot’s seat. Chuck was surprised to see that it was Warrant Officer Walter F. Domanski, the assistant engineering officer of the 91st TC Squadron. After a brief conversation Chuck learned that he was an unofficial passenger, in essence, a stowaway.
The four hour flight to Holland was boring and tiring, Chuck said, but would admit later that it was pretty hairy after passing over the Dutch coast. A tow plane just ahead of him went down in flames after being hit by ground fire. He watched for parachutes but saw none as the plane plummeted to earth. He said that he felt his heart racing and he began sweating so profusely that beads of water were showing inside his watch crystal. Near the end of the 90 mile overland portion of the flight his glider began to take ground fire from a windmill but fortunately no one was hit. Moments later he received the green light from his tow plane and released his glider. Turning to the left he quickly spotted his landing zone. As he circled towards the field below more ground fire was directed at his glider. As he made his approach he saw another tow plane go down trailing fire. In an effort to evade the enemy fire coming up at him he dove towards the ground, quickly picking up speed. One of the glider troopers aboard sensed that he was exceeding the usual rate of descent and panicked. He climbed over the trailer, rapped on Chuck’s steel helmet and shouted, “Slow this S.O.B. down!”
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Not knowing quite how to fly the glider and defend himself at the same time, Chuck did the best he could under the circumstance… he flew the glider. The trooper suddenly shoved him in the back which caused the glider to begin dropping even faster. Fortunately, W/O Domanski came to his rescue. He shoved his Tommy gun into the soldier‘s shoulder and said, “If you don’t get back in the back I’ll slow you down permanently.”
Since the trooper had left his weapon in the back of the glider, and probably because he sensed that discretion was the better part of valor, he beat a hasty retreat to the back of the CG-4A. Chuck landed the glider in the proper landing zone, the glider didn’t fair so well. The giant beets growing on the landing zone pretty much destroyed the bottom of the glider. Chuck helped unload his glider and moments later a jeep arrived to tow the trailer. Within several days he was back in France. In October, November and December 1944, Chuck flew resupply missions to Holland as copilot aboard the squadron’s C-47s. On 4 December 1944, he was awarded an oak leaf cluster to the Air Medal and the Distinguished Unit Badge for his participation in Operation “Market.” He was also awarded the orange lanyard by the Dutch. Belatedly he was also awarded the Willemsorde, the Netherlands highest award.
The Holland mission was the last combat mission Chuck flew. The strain of combat had taken a toll on his nervous system. He began to have flashbacks of his close calls in France and Holland. On one occasion German soldiers passed within a few feet of him as he lay in an apple orchard on a pile of canvas bags used to drop supplies from the air by B-17s. On another occasion he watched the reflection of war from a glassed-in porch of Dutch home and become so entranced that he didn’t notice the bullets coming his way until the glass shattered. Luckily he was not hit, but he had bad dreams about the incident later.
Since October 1942 he had logged 377 hours and 45 minutes of pilot time in powered aircraft and gliders, 6 hours and 15 minutes of it in combat. In May 1945, shortly after cessation war in Europe, he was physically disqualified by the flight surgeon from further overseas flying duty. He languished in France until 26 September 1945 when he was assigned unattached to the AAF/ET Reinforcement Depot there. From France he was transported to the port of debarkation at Antwerp, Belgium. Prior to departing the ETO he was awarded seven battle stars to his EAME medal. The Army troop transport lifted anchor on 3 October 1945 and headed for the U.S.A. Ten days later, on 13 October, the ship docked in New York and he was transported to the Reception Center at Camp Shanks, New York. Orders were issued transferring Skidmore to the Separation Center at Camp Atterbury, Indiana. He departed New York that afternoon by rail.
Four days later, on Wednesday, 17 October 1945, Special Order No. 251 was issued at Camp Atterbury authorizing Skidmore 2 months and 20 days of terminal leave, and releasing him from active duty effective 9 January 1946. He was also officially placed in the inactive reserve. Chuck departed Camp Atterbury and headed for Topeka, Kansas, to see Norma Lee and his parents. It had been 19½ long months since he had seen them and he was eager to get home. His homecoming was all that he hoped it would be. He was able to hold Norma Lee in his arms again, could sleep late in the mornings and taste home cooked meals again. Life was good but he was still plagued by a persistent nervous anxiety.
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After visiting with his parents, Norma Lee and Chuck went to live, at least temporarily, with her parents at 708 East 11th Street in New Albany, Indiana. He landed a job with a local newspaper there for $32 a week. On 7 January 1946, while still on terminal leave from the Air Force Chuck became ill and was admitted to Nichols General Hospital in Louisville, Kentucky, just across the river. Doctors there diagnosed his problem as psychoneurosis (emotional maladaptation due to unresolved unconscious conflicts). The unexpired portion of his terminal leave was suspended. A week later, on 14 January, he was transferred to Newton D. Baker General Hospital in Martinsburg, West Virginia, for treatment. Doctors at Martinsburg declared him mentally fit on 6 March 1946 and issued orders transferring him back to the reception center at Camp Atterbury for reassignment. Orders were issued there transferring him to the 800th AAF Base Unit at Greenville, South Carolina, effective 17 March 1946. He remained at Greenville for further evaluation until 3 July 1946 when he was officially released from active duty.
Chuck and Norma Lee returned to Topeka, Kansas, where he reenlisted as a Master Sergeant in the Army Air Force for three years at Forbes Army Air Base in Topeka on 22 July 1946. His date of rank was listed as 31 April 1943. He listed his permanent home address as 604 West 8th Street, Topeka, Kansas, his parents’ home address. He was assigned to Headquarters and Headquarters Squadron, 314th Troop Carrier Wing at Sewart Army Air Base, Smyrna, Tennessee, for duty as a historical technician (MOS 274)1. His first assignment was to bring the unit’s history up to date from the end of World War II. For his diligence and perseverance he was given a superior performance rating. On 27 November 1946, Chuck was temporarily assigned to the 1100th AAF Base Unit at Fort Totten, New York, for the purpose of bringing the history of the Atlantic Division of the Military Air Transport Service (MATS) up to date. He completed the history in three months, often working 16 hour days. This was a challenge since the Atlantic Division stretched from Iceland to the Panama Canal. He was lauded by the command for his stellar performance.
In April 1947, as part of his historical duties, he was tasked with writing the history for an Air Force Reserve Unit in Louisville, Kentucky, and in January 1948, an-other reserve unit in Indianapolis, Indiana. In 1947, on 26 July, the Army Air Force became the U. S. Air Force and was placed on an equal footing with the Army and Navy. Shortly thereafter the olive drab uniform changed to Air Force blue. In between writing the histories of the two reserve units, Norma gave birth to their first child, Joseph Dale Skidmore, who was born in Fort Knox, Kentucky, on 7 December 1947. Parents and grandparents were elated with their new son and grandson respectively, and doted over the infant. Chuck remained with the 314th until his three-year enlistment expired on 31 May 1949. He promptly reenlisted for three additional years the following day, remaining with the 314th until 15 August 1950, when he became a recruiting supervisor (AFSC 73370) with the Recruiting Service Group in Topeka, Kansas. He was promoted to first lieutenant in the USAF Inactive Reserves in January 1950. His next post as a recruiter was in Lawrence, Kansas. Subsequently, he and his family would move to Hutchinson, Kansas, where Norma Lee gave birth to their second son, Michael George Skidmore, on 8 December 1950. He continued his recruiting duties until 2 June 1952 when his enlistment ended.
Chuck reenlisted for the third time since the end of WWII on 3 June 1952, and continued his tenure as a recruiter at Forbes Air Force Base, Topeka, Kansas. The Skidmore’s third child, and first daughter, Kathryn Lee Skidmore, was born there on
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1 October 1952. At the time the family was living at 909 Michigan Avenue. On 28 December 1952, he was transferred to 3500th Personal Processing Center at Waco, Texas, as a recruitment supervisor. On 1 September 1953, after serving three years as a recruiter, Chuck, was transferred to Headquarters, 3530th Pilot Training Wing at Bryan AFB, Texas, located 6 miles west of Bryan, as a historical technician. Two days later he also became an information supervisor (AFSC 72170) in the same unit. For the next two years he wrote the history of Bryan AFB, activated in 1943 during World War II. He was frequently the recipient of the Flying Training Air Force (as it was called then) award for the best quarterly history. His histories were always rated either “excellent” or “superior”. On 2 June 1955, while at Bryan AFB, Chuck’s three year enlistment expired, and he reenlisted the following day, this time for six years.
Just a few days after his reenlistment, on 17 June 1955, he was transferred to the 784th AC&W Squadron at Fort Knox, Kentucky, as an information technician. The family packed their belongings, loaded them in the family vehicle, and headed east. They rented a house near the base at 1909 Taffeta Drive in Valley Station, Kentucky. Four months later, on 8 October 1955, Norma Lee gave birth to their fourth and last child, Linda Sue Skidmore, in Louisville, Kentucky. Skidmore was promoted to captain in the USAF Inactive Reserve on 1 January 1956. The family packed up and moved again on 9 July 1957. This time, Chuck was assigned to Headquarters, 815th Air Base Group at Forbes Air Force Base as an information technician. They found a place to live at 319 Woodruff Avenue in Topeka. Nine months later, on 16 April 1958, orders were issued transferring him to Fort Mason, California, but he would be there for only two weeks. Overseas shipping orders were issued on 1 May 1958, assigning Skidmore to the 2710th Air Base Wing at Tachikawa, Japan. Their household belongings were stored and the family accompanied him to the Far East aboard MSTS ship, the USS Frederick Dunston. The voyage took two weeks. The family took a taxi to Tachikawa and was scared out of their wits by a reckless Japanese driver. After signing in Chuck was told that base housing was not available so they were temporarily quartered on the guest house on base. Two weeks later they moved to a house Chuck rented in Kunitachi. In a 6 July 2007 e-mail from Chuck’s son, Mike, he said that when rain and wind storms came through Japan his dad would use cargo straps to tie the roof down. During monsoon season the island was hammered with strong winds and rain.
Sergeant Skidmore was assigned to the 2710th Air Base Wing (subsequently changed to the 6100th Air Base Wing) as NCOIC of Information Services. In addition to his principal job of supervising the preparation of the base history, he also edited the base newspaper, The Marauder. It was judged third best in the Air Force and was the only one of the top three published overseas. He worked closely with Dr. Lulu Garrett, the base historian. In his spare time he edited four other English language news publications in the Tokyo area and worked frequently as master of ceremonies at American Clubs. On 2 June 1961, while at Tachikawa, Chuck’s enlistment expired. He reenlisted for the last time on 3 June for three years.
In April 1962, he received orders returning him to the states. His new assignment, effective 18 May 1962, was to Headquarters, North Atlantic Communications Region, Air Force Communications Service, at Westover Air Force Base, Massachusetts. The family returned to the states from Yokota Air Base aboard a Boeing 707. Skid-more’s duty assignment at Westover was NCOIC of Information Services. The family moved into quarters on base at 14A Webb Street. During his tour of duty at Westover, Chuck worked part-time on weekends for a local newspaper, the Springfield Evening
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News. He wrote feature stories for the newspaper, gaining valuable writing experience in the process. His job involved interviewing a number of state officials, including Ted Kennedy, President John Kennedy’s brother.
Fifteen months later, on 23 July 1963, Chuck was transferred to Forbes Air Force Base for the fourth time. This time he was assigned to the 815th Combat Support Group, Strategic Air Command. His new job was NCOIC of Information Services. The family moved into a house at 5133 West 32nd Street in Topeka. During the 1961-63 period Skidmore’s primary duty was writing and editing the base newspaper. His superiors rated him an exceptional airman of great value to the service. In September 1963, two months after arriving at Forbes he submitted his request for retirement. The request was approved by the Pentagon and on 31 March 1964 he was relieved from active duty and retired as Warrant Officer W-1, effective 1 April 1964. It was not possible to retire him as a Flight Officer, the highest wartime grade he had held, because it was a temporary wartime rank that had been abolished after the war. WO W-1 was an equivalent grade. Skidmore had served his country faithfully and honorably for 22 years, 3 months and 7 days. He listed his mailing address as 946 Chester Avenue, Topeka, Kansas.
Chuck never let grass grow under his feet. Prior to retiring he had applied for the job as managing editor of a metals trade journal, Midwest Industries Magazine, located at the Gage Center in Topeka. The magazine was one of the leading publications of its type in the Midwest, serving Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, Colorado and Nebraska. Skidmore was hired after competing with 34 other applicants, and reported to work on 30 April 1964. The job required extensive travel to conduct interviews with leading industrialists in Kansas City, Wichita, Oklahoma City, Tulsa and Denver. During his tenure there, Chuck performed every facet of the trade magazine business including interviewing, writing, editing, and doing his own photography work. While the family was in Topeka, their oldest son, Joe, graduated from high school there in June 1965. In late 1966, Skidmore submitted his application for a GS-11 US Civil Service position as historian of the 6100th Support Wing at Tachikawa Air Base, Japan. He gave his home address as 5133 West 32nd Street, Topeka, Kansas 66614. His application was approved on 16 March 1967. Accordingly, he submitted his resignation as managing editor of the magazine effective 1 April 1967.
The Skidmore family stored their household goods, packed their suitcases and said their goodbyes to their parents and friends. This would be their second trip to the Orient. They traveled aboard a Boeing 707, deplaning at Yokota Air Base, Japan, on Saturday, 7 May 1967. They were transported to Tachikawa Air Base by government vehicle where they spent the next two nights in the guest house. Monday morning Chuck reported to his new boss, Lt. Colonel Henry Liljedahl, Information Officer of the 6100th Support Wing. The colonel explained his duties as wing historian. His principle job was to supervise the history inputs from the units assigned to the wing. A secondary function was to provide guidance and advice where needed to those persons writing the histories. The family was assigned quarters in an off-base American village that was actually part of the base. The housing area was surrounded by a high fence. Two years later, in June 1967, the Skidmore’s second son, Mike, graduated from Yamato High School in Tokyo,
The family remained at Tachikawa until 15 July 1969 when Chuck’s position was taken over by a historian with more seniority from the disbanded 315th Air Divi-
Charles E. Skidmore, Jr. - A Biography, Cont’d Page 14
sion. The Air Force transferred Skidmore to Misawa Air Base, Japan, located on the northern tip of Honshu Island. He was assigned to the 475th Tactical Fighter Wing as a writer-editor (printed media) with the History Division. The involuntary move resulted in a reduction in grade from GS-11 to GS-9, but with no loss of pay. The Skidmore’s oldest daughter, Kathy, returned to the states in 1969 to live with her grandmother, Henrietta Skidmore. She graduated from Hayden Catholic High School there in June 1970. The rest of the family remained at Misawa Air Base until 31 March 1971 when Skidmore accepted a position as historian at Taipei Air Station, Taiwan as a GS-11.
At Taiwan he was assigned to the Historical Office of 327th Air Division. The following year, on 1 April 1972, a reorganization of the 327th AD resulted in Chuck being reassigned to the 6213th Air Base Squadron as historian. Soon thereafter he received a letter of appreciation from Major General Donald H. Ross, commander of the 327th Air Division for getting the 374th Tactical Air Wing back on track. More accolades came Skidmore’s way on 23 January 1973 when he received yet another letter, this one from Major William B. Sandmann, Deputy Command Historian, rating his two-volume history of the 327th Air Division as excellent for the period 1 January to 30 June 1972. In 1972 Skidmore turned down a GS-12 position at Langley Air Force Base, Virginia, in favor of remaining in Taiwan for an additional year. Linda, the Skidmore’s youngest daughter, graduated from high school in Taipei. After almost six years in the Orient, the Skidmore family returned to the states in May 1973. Chuck was assigned to the Research Division at Headquarters, Strategic Air Command, Offutt Air Force Base, Omaha, Nebraska, as a GS-11historian, effective 5 June 1973. The family moved into a house at 337 Spruce Street in Omaha.
While based in Omaha he researched and wrote multi-volume histories of SAC units. In the process he organized material and monographs and presented a synthesis in narrative form accompanied by supporting documents. Not long after arriving back in the United States, Norma Lee became disoriented and began showing signs of senile dementia. She was examined by a doctor who diagnosed her problem as early Alzheimer’s disease. Norma Lee was treated by a local psychiatrist but continued to regress. In August 1974, Chuck was reassigned to the 2803rd Air Base Group, Aerospace Guidance and Metrology Center, at Newark Air Force Station, Ohio, as a historian and writer/editor. The air station was located 35 miles east of Columbus. Knowing that he would be unable to properly care for Norma Lee, Chuck talked over the situation with his children. With great reluctance they agreed that their mother would be better off in an adult care facility where she could get the proper treatment. They selected a Lutheran senior’s home in Omaha at which the government would pick up the cost, lessening the financial burden on the family.
During Skidmore’s tenure at Newark he met a Korean lady, MiKyong (Jeannie) and they fell in love and wished to marry. Not knowing how his children would react to him divorcing their mother, Chuck asked for their approval. After much agonizing they agreed. Their mother’s doctor told them that her mental state would only get worse. When Norma Lee was told about the divorce she seemed to take it in stride, especially since she probably didn’t remember her marriage to Chuck. He and Jeannie were married circa 1984 according to his son, Mike. They set up housekeeping at 199 Lees Drive, Southeast, in Hebron, Ohio 43025. On 10 January 1977, at age 55, Chuck completed the requirements for an MA degree at Central Michigan University at Mount Pleasant, Michigan, and was awarded a diploma.
Charles E. Skidmore, Jr. - A Biography, Cont’d Page 15
In 1980, Skidmore was assigned to the Directorate of Metrology at Newark with the responsibility of developing a wide variety of periodicals designed to keep Air Force components up-to-date on the latest developments in the Air Force Metrology and Calibration (AFMETCAL) Program. He also assisted in the preparation of briefings for Air Force major commands and base level units. For his outstanding performance he was recognized with the presentation of the AFLC (Air Force Logistics Command) Significant Achievement Award.
Chuck was rarely bothered with health issues, but in July 1984 a cyst developed on the right side of his throat and was surgically removed. The biopsy was negative, but two months later the cyst returned and was removed again at nearby Licking Memorial Hospital. This time the cyst was found to be cancerous. Skidmore had never been a smoker and considered himself a health nut, but the unexpected had happened. Squamous cell carcinoma was no laughing matter. His odds were not good. He and his wife, MiKyong (or Jeannie), traveled to the Air Force Cancer Center in San Antonio, Texas, where he underwent nine hours of surgery in which both tonsils were removed. They were found to be cancerous, a very rare condition. Chuck spent three months in the hospital. During follow-on treatments, he endured 6,500 rads of radiation, near the limit for human endurance.
When he and Jeannie returned to Newark in January 1985, he weighed 136 pounds, down from 165. He was required to return to San Antonio monthly for checkups and treatments. That same year he decided he could no longer pay full time and attention to his job so he decided to retire, this time for good. He submitted his retirement request on 18 April 1985. He was allowed to repay $2,000 to the federal government so that he could retire as a GS-11 with 40 years total service. His retirement request was approved and he officially retired on 30 April 1985. Without most of his salivary glands, Skidmore has a constant dry mouth, and almost no sense of taste. For two years he traveled to the Institute of Health in Washington, DC, to participate in a test program to determine the possible benefits of pilocarpine, a species of tropical shrub, in the treatment of persons with the dry mouth problem. The results were marginal. Further tests at the Air Force Cancer Center showed that his cancer was in remission.
Retirement and sedentary living wasn’t in Chuck’s genes. Even with his medical problems he just changed from a paying job to volunteerism for the next 15 years. At various times he served as president of the St. Leonard’s Catholic Church Council in Heath, Ohio; published a monthly 12-page church newsletter; tended the church garden almost daily during the summer; was a member of the Red Cross board; published a quarterly Red Cross newsletter; was past commander of the local VFW post and later adjutant; was commander of the Military Order of the Cootie - a VFW honor organization several times; volunteered at New Beginnings, the battered women’s shelter; and
was secretary of the Air Force Association in Newark. There were many other less time consuming jobs too numerous to mention. He said in a 4 March 1989 article that appeared in The Advocate, a Newark, Ohio, newspaper, that volunteerism ran in the family. He stated that he remembered his grandmother gathering clothing and food for the needy before government welfare programs were available.
In January 1992, Skidmore developed prostate cancer and underwent surgery to remove the prostate. But he was a survivor, living for nine more years of a rather active
Charles E. Skidmore, Jr. - A Biography, Cont’d Page 16
life. He passed away on Tuesday, 1 May 2001, at age 81, at the Selma Markowitz Care Center operated by Hospice of Central Ohio. The VFW held services at 9:45 a.m. followed by a Memorial Mass of Christian Burial was held at 10:00 a.m. on Saturday, 5 May, at St. Leonard Catholic Church with the Reverend Michael Reis officiating. Interment was in Riverside National Cemetery, 22495 Van Buren Boulevard, Riverside, California 92518. There is a marker on his grave. He was survived by his wife, MiKyong, his former wife, Norma Lee, four children, and five grandchildren.
In July 2007, the Skidmore children are scattered about the country. The oldest son, Joe, age 59, is divorced. His marriage produced no offspring. He works as a nurse supervisor in a hospital ER in Los Angeles, California. During the Vietnam War he served in the US Army with an armored division as a medic, 13 months of it in Vietnam in 1969-70; Mike, age 56, also a divorcee, has one son, age 28, who lives in Tulsa and is unmarried. Mike worked in the purchasing department of Shell Oil Company’s Credit Card Department in Tulsa for 27½ years, but lost his job in 2000 when the company outsourced the work. He presently works as a forklift operator for a third party company that that runs a Kimberly-Clark warehouse handling bathroom products in Tulsa. He lives in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. As a member of a military family he said that he moved ten times and attended eight schools while growing up; Kathy, age 54, lives in Omaha, Nebraska, has three children, and works fulltime. Her husband owns a small garage there. Kathy talks to her mother on the telephone daily and visits her at least once a week. Linda, age 51, has one son and lives in Reading, Pennsylvania.
Note 1: The Military Occupational Specialty 274 was changed to Air Force Specialty Code 72171
Note 2: This biography was compiled by former WWII glider pilot Leon B. Spencer of Prattville, Alabama, a wartime friend of Chuck Skidmore, Jr., and his wife, Norma Lee, with the considerable help of their son, Michael G. Skidmore.
9-10-1943 Training Accident - Bowman Field
Mike:
I will give you hereinafter a complete rundown on my aircraft accident at Bowman Field and the part that your dad played.
On Friday, 10 September 1943, 30 light aircraft took off in trail from Bowman Field, Louisville, Kentucky, on
a round robin flight to Lexington, Kentucky. It was to simulate a glider mission, but wasn't all that realistic in my opinion. We flew both legs of the round robin at 1,500 feet. The flight to Lexington was uneventful.
However on the return leg disaster struck. Two glider pilots flying ahead of me collided during a left turn, doing major damage to both aircraft and they spun towards earth. The two pilots, Flights Officers Harold Roth and Robert Sutherlin, managed to exit their airplanes, but we too close to the ground for the parachutes to open. Only the pilot chutes popped out. Both Roth and Sutherlin died from blunt force trauma on impact with the ground.
I was flying in the second aircraft behind the two and saw the whole event unfold. As the two planes were
spinning to earth I peeled off and followed them down hoping to see them recover and land. I saw both Roth and Sutherlin bail out but in the excitement I didn't see whether the chutes opened or not. As I buzzed the field about 20 feet above the ground hoping to see that both pilots were okay, I reached up and grabbed what I thought was the throttle, but instead I grabbed the elevator trim tab. As I showed it forward the aircraft plowed into the ground at 120 mph.
I was flying and aircraft type that I hated. It was the new Taylorcraft L-2A with the recently introduced push-pull elevator trim tab mounted just above the throttle. The knob on it looked exactly like the throttle knob. I
had complained previously that the aircraft was dangerous. If you pushed forward on the trim tab the nose
dropped sharply and if you pulled back on it the nose of the aircraft rose. It was the only light aircraft that used that system which was eventually scrapped in favor of the crank type elevator trim tab after a rash of crashes.
Of course, the accident was classified as pilot error. I told you erroneously that I hit a power line which was incorrect. I went back and reviewed my records and I guess I was thinking about the aircraft accident your dad and James McNally were involved in.
When you dad saw my aircraft crash he peeled and landed in a nearby field, as did two other guys. Your
dad rushed over to my aircraft to see if I was alive. The impact had pushed the hot engine into my lap and both overhead gas tanks had ruptured and soaked me with aviation fuel. For reasons known only to God the plane
didn't catch fire. Of course, I was unconscious, and remained so for two days from a concussion when me head hit the instrument panel. The landing gear was wiped out and the tail section was bent upward and ended up on top of the fuselage just aft of the cockpit. The aircraft was totaled.
When your dad and the other two glider pilots arrived they found people standing near the aircraft smoking.
We all were armed with Colt .45 caliber M1911A automatics. Chuck drew his weapon so I was told and ordered
the crowd that had gathered out of the immediate area. Two farmers had been trying to extract me from the cockpit unsuccessfully. The engine had me pinned down. It took your dad and his helpers about half an hour to get me out of the aircraft. They laid me on the ground away from the aircraft. Someone had phoned Bowman Field and requested an ambulance. When the ambulance arrived the doctor that accompanied the ambulance
Examined me and started an IV to prevent shock. He stabilized me and I was then placed in the ambulance. Your dad accompanied me to the hospital in the ambulance. I was covered with cuts and abrasions and some deep penetrating wounds in my legs. I had amnesia for six months. I couldn't remember a thing about the accident.
Just a week or so later my squadron in which your dad was also a member was transferred to Laurinburg-
Maxton Army Air Base for tactical training in gliders. I remained in the station hospital at Bowman for three
months flat of my back, and was then transferred to Nichols General Hospital in Louisville. I remained there
for six months while they tried to reconstruct my crushed right foot with additional surgery. After Nichols General Hospital I was transferred to a rehabilitation hospital in Nashville, Tennessee, for two months. All total I was in the hospital for 11 months. I walked with a limp for five years, but I was returned to flying status in September 1944, but I still had to go through tactical training at Laurinburg-Maxton AAB before going overseas. I completed tactical training in February 1945, but by that time the war was essentially over. The
last glider mission was in March 1945. From LMAAB I was sent to Sedalia, Missouri, and Blytheville, Arkansas where I instructed C-47 and C-46 pilot to fly the Waco CG-4A. I finally got overseas in late 1945
And ended up flying copilot on B-17s photographing Europe and Africa.
And so ends my tale.
Leon Spencer
June 14, 2007
I will give you hereinafter a complete rundown on my aircraft accident at Bowman Field and the part that your dad played.
On Friday, 10 September 1943, 30 light aircraft took off in trail from Bowman Field, Louisville, Kentucky, on
a round robin flight to Lexington, Kentucky. It was to simulate a glider mission, but wasn't all that realistic in my opinion. We flew both legs of the round robin at 1,500 feet. The flight to Lexington was uneventful.
However on the return leg disaster struck. Two glider pilots flying ahead of me collided during a left turn, doing major damage to both aircraft and they spun towards earth. The two pilots, Flights Officers Harold Roth and Robert Sutherlin, managed to exit their airplanes, but we too close to the ground for the parachutes to open. Only the pilot chutes popped out. Both Roth and Sutherlin died from blunt force trauma on impact with the ground.
I was flying in the second aircraft behind the two and saw the whole event unfold. As the two planes were
spinning to earth I peeled off and followed them down hoping to see them recover and land. I saw both Roth and Sutherlin bail out but in the excitement I didn't see whether the chutes opened or not. As I buzzed the field about 20 feet above the ground hoping to see that both pilots were okay, I reached up and grabbed what I thought was the throttle, but instead I grabbed the elevator trim tab. As I showed it forward the aircraft plowed into the ground at 120 mph.
I was flying and aircraft type that I hated. It was the new Taylorcraft L-2A with the recently introduced push-pull elevator trim tab mounted just above the throttle. The knob on it looked exactly like the throttle knob. I
had complained previously that the aircraft was dangerous. If you pushed forward on the trim tab the nose
dropped sharply and if you pulled back on it the nose of the aircraft rose. It was the only light aircraft that used that system which was eventually scrapped in favor of the crank type elevator trim tab after a rash of crashes.
Of course, the accident was classified as pilot error. I told you erroneously that I hit a power line which was incorrect. I went back and reviewed my records and I guess I was thinking about the aircraft accident your dad and James McNally were involved in.
When you dad saw my aircraft crash he peeled and landed in a nearby field, as did two other guys. Your
dad rushed over to my aircraft to see if I was alive. The impact had pushed the hot engine into my lap and both overhead gas tanks had ruptured and soaked me with aviation fuel. For reasons known only to God the plane
didn't catch fire. Of course, I was unconscious, and remained so for two days from a concussion when me head hit the instrument panel. The landing gear was wiped out and the tail section was bent upward and ended up on top of the fuselage just aft of the cockpit. The aircraft was totaled.
When your dad and the other two glider pilots arrived they found people standing near the aircraft smoking.
We all were armed with Colt .45 caliber M1911A automatics. Chuck drew his weapon so I was told and ordered
the crowd that had gathered out of the immediate area. Two farmers had been trying to extract me from the cockpit unsuccessfully. The engine had me pinned down. It took your dad and his helpers about half an hour to get me out of the aircraft. They laid me on the ground away from the aircraft. Someone had phoned Bowman Field and requested an ambulance. When the ambulance arrived the doctor that accompanied the ambulance
Examined me and started an IV to prevent shock. He stabilized me and I was then placed in the ambulance. Your dad accompanied me to the hospital in the ambulance. I was covered with cuts and abrasions and some deep penetrating wounds in my legs. I had amnesia for six months. I couldn't remember a thing about the accident.
Just a week or so later my squadron in which your dad was also a member was transferred to Laurinburg-
Maxton Army Air Base for tactical training in gliders. I remained in the station hospital at Bowman for three
months flat of my back, and was then transferred to Nichols General Hospital in Louisville. I remained there
for six months while they tried to reconstruct my crushed right foot with additional surgery. After Nichols General Hospital I was transferred to a rehabilitation hospital in Nashville, Tennessee, for two months. All total I was in the hospital for 11 months. I walked with a limp for five years, but I was returned to flying status in September 1944, but I still had to go through tactical training at Laurinburg-Maxton AAB before going overseas. I completed tactical training in February 1945, but by that time the war was essentially over. The
last glider mission was in March 1945. From LMAAB I was sent to Sedalia, Missouri, and Blytheville, Arkansas where I instructed C-47 and C-46 pilot to fly the Waco CG-4A. I finally got overseas in late 1945
And ended up flying copilot on B-17s photographing Europe and Africa.
And so ends my tale.
Leon Spencer
June 14, 2007
The Death of General Don F. Pratt
THE DEATH OF GENERAL DON F. PRATT
A D-Day Glider Casualty
Compiled by Major Leon B. Spencer, USAFR Retired
The tragic glider crash that took the life of Brigadier General Don Forester Pratt, on D-Day, 6 June 1944, dealt a severe blow to the 101st Airborne Division’s invasion plans. As assis-tant division commander his leadership was sorely needed that day. The events leading up to his crash in Normandy have long been suspect. At least a dozen accounts have been written about the General’s death, most of them laced with inaccuracies. In the summer of 1995 I set out to try and uncover the truth. After months of research and first hand interviews with those who were there that day, here is what they say really happened fifty-two years ago. The story begins in England.
Aldermaston (AAF Station 467), an English airfield west of London in Berkshire, was the scene of frenzied activity on 4 and 5 June 1944. All furloughs had been canceled and American personnel were restricted to the base. Operation Overlord, the long awaited Allied invasion of German-held France was about to begin, and elements of the American 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions were to lead the way. Personnel of the American 434th Troop Carrier Group and the 101st were busy preparing for the first glider serial, code-named “Chicago,” scheduled for the early morning hours of 6 June. Fifty-two Douglas C-47 Skytrain tow planes and a like number of Waco CG-4A gliders were to participate in this serial. Much of the 4th was spent loading and parking the gliders on each side of the runway in long lines The tow planes were lined up on the runway in such a manner that the lead plane could pull its glider from the line on the left, the second from the line on the right until the last glider headed down the runway behind the last tow plane. No time would be lost in launching the aircraft.
An alternating band of three white and two black stripes, each two feet wide, had been hastily painted on the wings and fuselage of both tow planes and gliders to identify them to Al-lied ground, sea and air forces. Everything was in readiness several hours before the sched-uled departure. All along the long line of aircraft small groups of men stood talking. Other groups lay sprawled under the aircraft wings, some with their eyes closed, sleeping or pretend-ing to sleep. The boarding order came about midnight. As the glider troops boarded the gliders the sky was dark and overcast, and there were periods of intermittent rain. Shortly after arriv-ing at their respective aircraft the glider troops had been given Dramamine tablets as a precau-tion against airsickness. It was expected that the circuitous 2 plus hours’ flight would get pretty bumpy over the English Channel. They were also given a luminous button to pin under the lapel of their jackets for identification purposes, and a metal cricket to be used as a means of signaling other members of their group in the darkness. One click of the cricket was to be answered by two clicks.
At precisely 0119 hours the lead aircraft roared down the runway towing General Pratt’s glider, “The Fighting Falcon.” A big white “1” was painted on each side of the nose section. Al-legedly, the “Screaming Eagle,” insignia of the 101st, was painted just aft of the nose section on the pilot’s side and an American flag painted on the copilots side. Following the Falcon down the runway at 30-second intervals were fifty-one other tow plane/glider combinations. Forty-four of the gliders carried personnel of the Airborne 81st Antiaircraft and Antitank Battalion
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 2
and sixteen 57-millimeter antitank guns. These field guns would be used to support the lightly armed parachute infantry regiments that had jumped into Normandy earlier. Two gliders car-ried engineers of the 326th Airborne Engineer Company and a small bulldozer; two carried per-sonnel and equipment of the 101st Airborne Signal Company, plus staff members of the divi-sional headquarters; three carried medical equipment and supplies of the 326th Airborne Medi-cal Company. In addition to General Pratt, the lead glider carried Lt. John L. May1, the Gen-eral’s aide-de-camp, and the General’s personal jeep. The combined payload of the “Chicago” glider serial” consisted of 148 airborne troops and their equipment, 16 field guns, 25 vehicles, a small bulldozer, 2½ tons of ammunition, and 11 tons of miscellaneous equipment and supplies. Shortly after takeoff one glider broke loose from its tow plane and landed four miles from the base. Unfortunately, the aborted glider was carrying critical long-range command and control radio equipment that was needed by the airborne troops. The glider was retrieved and subse-quently made it to Normandy, albeit a bit late.
Seated at the controls of General Pratt’s glider was the unflappable Irishman, Lt. Colo-nel Michael C. “Mike” Murphy, a native of Lafayette, Indiana, and the senior US Army Air Force glider pilot in the European Theater. Murphy was in England on temporary duty from the states to supervise the final training of glider pilots for the Normandy invasion. His home base was Stout Field, Indianapolis, Indiana, where he was assigned to the Operations Division at Headquarters, First Troop Carrier Command. He was not originally scheduled to participate in the D-Day Normandy mission, but talked General Paul Williams, Commanding General of the Ninth Troop Carrier Command, into letting him fly General Pratt’s glider. Murphy wanted to get a first-hand look at the performance of glider pilots in combat. Prior to being called to ac-tive duty he operated his own flying service in Findlay, Ohio, so he was equally qualified as a power pilot. He frequently participated in air shows, thrilling pre-war crowds with spectacular aerobatics. He once built an airplane with landing gear on the top and bottom of the airframe, and was the first pilot to take off and land upside down.
In the copilot’s seat beside Murphy was Second Lieutenant John M. Butler, attached to the 53rd Troop Carrier Wing. Lashed-down behind them was General Pratt’s jeep. The vehicle carried the General’s command radio equipment and several extra 5-gallon Jerry cans of gaso-line. Pratt was seated in the front passenger seat of his jeep reading some last minute dis-patches by flashlight. He was wearing his parachute, Mae West life vest, and metal helmet. He had originally been scheduled to lead the seaborne element of the division into Normandy, but had persuaded General Maxwell Taylor, Commander of the 101st Airborne Division, to let him fly in by glider so he could get into battle sooner. He would have preferred to have parachuted with the first element, but was not jump qualified, so he had chosen to go in by glider. The War Department Report of Death, dated 24 June 1944, confirms that Pratt was not on flying status. The General’s aide-de-camp was seated on the small glider jump seat behind the jeep. He was holding in his lap a briefcase full of top secret documents and maps, and was heavily armed with a .30 caliber M1A1 Thompson submachine gun and a .45 caliber M1911A1 Colt automatic.
The pilot of the No. 2 glider in the “Chicago” serial, First Lieutenant Victor B. “Vic” War-riner2, a native of Deansboro, New York, watched Pratt’s glider as it was towed down the run-way and wondered why it took so long for it to become airborne. At the time the moonlight was bright despite occasional rain flurries. After what seemed like an eternity Pratt’s glider slowly rose into the air. Warriner, a member of the 72nd Troop Carrier Squadron, was not aware that the general’s staff, fearful for his safety, had ordered armor plating installed beneath the gen-eral’s jeep and under the pilot’s and copilot’s seats for protection against enemy flak and ground fire. Murphy would not learn of the armor plating until just before takeoff. With this
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 3
considerable extra weight, plus the additional weight of the jeep radios and extra gasoline, the glider was probably over the safe load limits, but of greater import was the fact that the center of gravity had been altered significantly. Murphy said the glider was overloaded by 1,000 pounds, and handled like a freight train.
Warriner’s glider carried Captain (Dr.) Charles O. Van Gorder3, a surgeon, and member of the 1st Airborne Surgical Team, 3rd Auxiliary Surgical Group, attached to the 326th Airborne Medical Company, 101st Airborne Division. The eight-man surgical team was composed of three surgeons, an anesthesiologist, and four enlisted surgical technicians. Accompanying Captain Van Gorder was three of the four enlisted surgical technicians, Sgt. Allen E. Ray, Sgt. Francis J. Muska and Sgt. Ernest Burgess. As a safety precaution the remaining surgeons were transported singly in other gliders. The 3rd Auxiliary Surgical Group had been created as a World War II experiment to see if there would be any advantages in having a surgical team attached to a fighting force so that wounded soldiers could be treated right on the battlefield, rather than having to be transported to the rear to evacuation hospitals. In keeping with this new concept a front-line field hospital would be set up in Normandy in Chateau Columbieres, a large, 400 year old, country home near LZ (Landing Zone) “E.”
In addition to the medical personnel, Warriner’s glider also carried a two-wheeled jeep trailer filled with enough sterile medical supplies for seventy-five surgical procedures, plus 5 or 6 five-gallon Jerry cans of gasoline strapped to the sides of the trailer. These would be used to fuel the jeep that would tow the trailer. I learned from family members that the officer-in-charge of the surgical team, Major (Dr.) Albert J. Crandall, was in Chalk No. 10 glider and the fourth surgical technician, T/5 Emil K. Natalle4, was in Chalk No. 4 glider. The Chalk No.’s of the gliders that transported Captain (Dr.) Saul Dworkin, a surgeon, and Captain (Dr.) John S. Rodda, an anesthesiologist, are not known.
The lead glider, “The Fighting Falcon,” destined to become the most famous glider of World War II, was built by the Gibson Electric Refrigerator Company of Greenville, Michigan, under contract to the US Army Air Force. The company halted its production of electric refrig-erators and started building CG-4A cargo gliders shortly after the war started. It was one of several companies that had no previous experience building gliders. Before World War II ended Gibson would build 1078 CG-4A gliders, and become the fifth leading supplier of this type air-craft. In early 1943 the public school children of Greenville decided that they wanted to help with the war effort. They agreed to sell War Bonds and Stamps so they could purchase one of the Gibson gliders and donate it to the Air Force. During their month long sales campaign in April 1943 they sold $72,000 in war bonds and stamps, enough to buy not one, but four Gib-son gliders. However, only one would be named. For their contribution to the war effort the children were awarded the US Treasury Department’s Distinguished Service Award, the first time this award had ever been given to a group of children.
The Falcon was christened and turned over to the US Army Air Force on May 19, 1943, following a much publicized dedication ceremony at Black Athletic Field in Greenville, attended by high-level government and local officials It was subsequently disassembled, packed in five huge wooden crates, and loaded on two railroad flat cars. Approximately 2 June, two weeks after its dedication, it left Greenville headed for Tobyhanna Army Depot in Pennsylvania, where it was stored until it and a number of other gliders were moved by rail to a mid-Atlantic port for transit by ship to England. The exact date of its arrival on English soil is unknown, but we do know from extant records that in April 1944 it was uncrated and assembled by work crews of the 26th Mobile Reclamation and Repair Squadron (Heavy) at Crookham Common (AAF Station 429), Berkshire, England. The assembly crew was surprised when they saw the painted letter-ing on the side of the fuselage. After learning of The Fighting Falcon and its unique history,
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 4
General Paul Williams decreed that it would be the lead glider in the D-Day invasion of Nor-mandy in recognition of the Greenville school children’s patriotic spirit.
On 3 June 1944, three days before D-Day, Colonel Murphy decided to replace the origi-nal Falcon with a CG-4A equipped with the frontal crash protection device, the Griswold Nose. After all of the publicity photographs were taken the original Gibson-built Falcon was shunted back to position No. 45 in the 52 glider “Chicago” serial. Murphy then ordered a hasty paint job on the replacement glider to make it look like the original Falcon. Flight Officer Robert (NMI) Butler5, a glider pilot from Battle Creek, Michigan, was selected to fly the original Falcon. Oddly, and quite by coincidence, there would be a glider pilot with the surname “Butler” in the cockpit of both the original and substitute Falcon. Robert Butler and his copilot, Flight Officer E. H. “Tim” Hohmann, were both members of the 74th Troop Carrier Squadron. Their glider load was a British 57 mm anti-tank gun, plus its three-man crew and several cloverleafs of 57 mm shells.
The original Falcon landed safely in Normandy on D-Day. Robert Butler said that be had Hohmann deploy the deceleration parachute just before the wheels touched down, which slowed the glider some. Skidding along the ground on its nose the glider struck a knoll further slowing its forward progress. One hundred feet later it rolled to a stop. Robert Butler and Tim Hohmann both survived the war. I submitted questionnaires to them in 1997 seeking first hand information about their flight into Normandy on D-Day. They both responded and both told me that there was no damage to the glider. Tim Hohmann lived in Glenview, Illinois, for many years. He passed away on 26 March 1998 at age 79. In August 2006, 90-year old, Robert Butler was living in Palm Desert, California, and was in reasonably good health. He still remembers a great deal about the Normandy invasion.
Once airborne the tow plane/glider combinations circled the airfield while forming in groups of four, echelon to the right, and lining up in trail. When the last combination had taken off and formed, the lead aircraft turned towards the English Channel and headed for Normandy. According to Colonel William B. Whitacre, Commanding Officer of the 434th Troop Carrier Group and pilot of the C-47 towing the Falcon, the moonlight was then bright enough to see the outline of trees and fields below. Whitacre’s copilot was Major Alvin E. Robinson. Brigadier General Maurice M. Beach, Commander of the 53rd Troop Carrier Wing, was a pas-senger aboard the aircraft but did not take a turn at the controls according to Major Robinson. At least one Michigan newspaper reported that General Beach flew the aircraft, but this was not the case.
Colonel Murphy said that the armada flew at 2,000 feet across the Channel, lowering to 1,500 feet as they approached the Cotentin peninsula from the west. The glider train flew be-tween the German-occupied British Channel Islands of Guernsey and Jersey to avoid enemy fire. This was the same route taken earlier by the paratroopers. Captain Van Gorder looked out a window of his glider and marveled at the sight. As the tow planes made wide sweeping turns he could see the blue formation lights on top of the wings stretching like a ribbon for miles. Just after passing the coastline of the peninsula the formation dropped down to 600 feet and maintained that altitude to the glider LZ. Things were quiet and peaceful until the German gunners woke up and opened up on the formation about halfway across the twenty plus mile peninsula. The formation was under fire from there to the cutoff point. Van Gorder, in the No. 2 glider, said he watched the tracers make lazy arcs in the night sky and associated them with the Independence Day fireworks displays back home. It was an awesome but deadly sight, he said.
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 5
As the formation continued across the peninsula Pratt’s glider took some small arms hits, but no serious damage was done. Murphy said that it sounded like popcorn popping as the slugs passed through the taut glider fabric. It was learned later that the No. 2 glider, flying beside Pratt’s glider, took ninety-four small arms hits in the tail section, but no one inside was hit. As the gliders approached the LZ the sky became cloudless. As the formation passed just west of LZ-E, near the little French town of Hiesville, and some 7.5 miles inland from Utah Beach, Murphy saw the green release light flash on in the astrodome of Whitacre’s C-47. Ac-cording to Murphy’s watch the time was about five seconds past 0400 hours. They were right on schedule. As he hit the glider release knob he heaved a sigh of relief. He and Butler were arm and leg weary from trying to keep the unstable glider in level flight for over two and a half hours.
Warriner’s glider, on Murphy’s right, received the release signal simultaneously with Murphy. He was puzzled when he saw the No 1 glider make a steep climbing turn to the left, and disappear from sight in the darkness. The standard practice, dictated by Murphy and the 1at Troop Carrier Command, was to turn and maintain level flight until the glider slowed to normal glide speed before descending. Murphy had violated his own mandated rule for a good reason. He wanted to gain as much altitude as possible so he could determine the best way to handle the unstable glider before starting his descent. Satisfied that he could control the un-wieldy glider he started down. He said later that the moon was shining and that he could see the outline of the fields below. As the glider began its descent he was able to make out his landing zone. It was a thousand to twelve hundred feet in length, slopped downhill and was surrounded by tree-studded hedgerows. The Poplar trees growing on the hedgerows were 40 to 60 feet tall, not 30 to 40 feet as briefed. As Murphy began his landing approach, the No. 2 glider was preparing to touch down just ahead and off to his right. Unplanned circumstances would result in the No. 2 glider landing before Pratt’s glider.
In view of the heavy load it was carrying, the final approach speed of the No. 1 glider was somewhat above the normal tactical speed of 70 mph. Murphy said that he touched down on the first third of the field at 80 mph. He immediately pushed the glider down on its nose and jumped on the brakes to stop the glider quickly. To his astonishment the glider’s forward speed didn’t appear to diminish at all. A fully loaded CG-4A could normally be stopped in 200 to 300 feet. That morning the ill-fated substitute Falcon continued to slide on the slick, dew covered pasture grass for about eight hundred feet before crashing into a hedgerow. Some sources say at 50 mph, but Captain Van Gorder said that Colonel Murphy told him that he hit the hedgerow at a higher speed than that.
Warriner, whose glider crashed into the same hedgerow some 150 feet or so away, said that the ground literally shook when Pratt’s glider slammed into the hedgerow. Miraculously, the momentum of the No. 2 glider was halted by a Poplar tree, 18 inches in diameter that ended up between the pilot’s and copilot’s seats, but caused no casualties. Warriner told the author that when his glider came to rest his face was pressed against the tree. The Normandy hedgerows were earthen dikes from four to five and a half feet in height, covered with tangled hedges, bushes and trees, large and small, some 70 feet tall. They established the boundaries of a farmer’s field and were formidable barriers. Only a tank with a bulldozer blade could penetrate them.
Colonel Murphy found himself hanging half in and half out of the smashed nose sec-tion, his torso restrained by his seat belt. He looked down and saw that his lower limbs were entangled in the bent and twisted metal tubing of the glider’s nose section. Both legs were bro-ken, one severely, and his left knee was badly injured, but he was still conscious. Lt. May,
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Pratt’s aide was stunned and bruised, but was otherwise unhurt. He told Lt. Warriner some-time later that when he realized that the glider was going to hit the hedgerow he placed himself
back of the jeep and let it absorb the impact of the crash. It turned out to be a wise move. Moments after the glider came to an abrupt halt, Murphy glanced across the cockpit and saw the badly mangled body of his copilot crammed into the floor section of the cockpit and knew instinctively that he was dead. The glider had struck a large hedgerow tree on that side. The impact with the immovable earthen bank had jarred every bone in Murphy’s body. He was giddy for a few minutes but did not lose consciousness.
As his head cleared somewhat Murphy said he was alarmed to see several German vehi-cles that he said were tanks, poised just across the hedgerow, no more than fifteen feet or so away. He froze for fear that they might shine a light on him. From their vantage point further down the hedgerow, Lt. Warriner and Captain Van Gorder saw the same tracked vehicles. Van Gorder also described them as tanks, but Warriner said that they were tracked armored recon-naissance vehicles. All of them agreed that there were German soldiers seated on the sides of the vehicles with rifles across their laps. The lead vehicle stopped in front of Murphy’s glider and two soldiers jumped off. They entered his wrecked glider with flashlights, poked around for a few minutes, got back on their vehicle, and hastily departed. Murphy, trapped in his seat, played dead, as did Lt. May. Perhaps the continuous roar of the low-flying tow planes overhead and the frequent din of crashing gliders scared them off. As a precautionary measure, Murphy remained still for several minutes after the Germans had departed. He then began to try and free his legs from the twisted metal tubing. The extraction was slow and painful. Once free, he lowered himself to the ground hanging on to the smashed glider framework. He tried to stand but his legs collapsed under him and he fell into a shallow ditch. While he was laying there Lt. May walked up and said that he feared the General was dead. He had tried to find a pulse, he said, without success.
Captain Van Gorder, after checking on the condition of the passengers in his glider, hurried over to the No. 1 glider a short distance away. The doctor said he didn’t expect to find anyone alive, but found Colonel Murphy dragging himself along a ditch brandishing his pistol and Lt. May standing guard beside the wrecked glider clutching a submachine gun. When Van Gorder started to examine Murphy, the latter stated that he thought his legs were broken. A preliminary examination revealed that indeed he had sustained a compound fracture of the fe-mur in one leg and had suffered a simple fracture of one of the bones in the lower part of the other leg. He also suffered a severe injury to his left knee. He refused a morphine injection to ease the pain. Van Gorder said that Murphy told him he wanted to remain alert so he could shoot Germans. He said in a 1956 letter to Dr. Albert Crandall that he did some shooting where he thought it would help.
Lt. May asked the doctor to check on General Pratt, which he did. He had to remove his gear in order to get through the twisted metal fuselage of the glider which was bent almost U-shaped. While he was doing this, the General’s aide rounded up some glider troopers to stand guard over the glider. Van Gorder found the General slumped in the passenger seat of his jeep with his chin resting on his chest. His seat belt was still fastened and he was wearing his steel helmet. A cursory examination revealed that the general had suffered a broken neck, very likely from whiplash. The violent forward motion of his head on impact with the hedgerow had probably severed his spinal cord, Dr. Van Gorder said. Since he was seated on his parachute his head would have been raised four or five inches. It is possible that his helmeted head had slammed into one of the metal cross members of the glider airframe breaking his neck on im-pact with the hedgerow. In either case he had probably died instantly. Pratt was the second
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 7
American airborne general to die in combat since the war began. General Charles Keerans of the 82nd Airborne Division lost his life in Sicily.
On reflection, General Pratt’s chances of survival on D-Day were slim to none. Too many factors militated against his glider landing safely. It was overloaded; its center of gravity
had been altered making it unstable and hard to handle; it landed downwind with a reputed 27 mph tailwind; the landing speed was higher than normal because of the extra weight; the field it landed in sloped downhill; and the tall pasture grass was covered with slippery dew. It was a miracle anyone survived. War Department Battle Casualty Report, dated 19 June 1944 indi-cated that there was no investigation into the general’s death.
After examining Lt. Butler, Captain Van Gorder informed Colonel Murphy that his copi-lot had died from blunt force trauma on impact with the tree. After exiting the glider the doctor returned to splint Murphy’s legs as best he could. As he was administering to his patient he looked up and saw a figure walking across the field towards him. It was Major (Dr.) Crandall, the leader of the surgical team, who was a passenger in the No. 10 glider. He had landed nearby and was looking for the rest of his surgical team. By dawn Crandall had rounded up a jeep, and had located the Chateau Colombieres. With the help of other surgical and medical team members he began setting up the field surgical hospital. He returned to Pratt’s glider several hours later to pick up Captain Van Gorder.
According to pages 241and 242 of Gerald Astor’s book, “June 6, 1944,” about mid-morning on D-Day, Lt. Beaver, platoon leader, and Bill Lord, members of the 82mm mortar pla-toon, 3rd Battalion, 508th Parachute Regiment, 82nd Airborne Division, came upon a glider that had crashed against a big tree. Inside they found the body of a one-star general, but didn’t know who he was. Later they were told it was General Pratt, assistant division commander of the 101st Airborne Division. I question this encounter, since Col. Murphy and Lt. May were still in the area at mid-morning and they made no mention of them.
Later that day, according to Cornelius Ryan’s book, “The Longest Day,” the general’s body was removed from the glider by a small group of airborne officers who wrapped him in a parachute and buried him near the crash site. There was no official salute of guns during the solemn burial, but the sound of American and German field guns and small arms fire re-sounded in the area. In the late afternoon of D-Day, Lt. Warriner, the pilot of the No. 2 glider, said that he returned to the site of Pratt’s crashed glider. He said he did so out of morbid curi-osity. He saw that that the general’s body had been removed, but noticed his steel helmet with the one white star on the front was still laying on the floor of the glider. He picked it up and thought for a moment about keeping it, but put it down where he found it, immediately feeling better. During his brief visit to the glider he said that he noticed the armor plating under the jeep, but he didn’t examine the cockpit area.
The above scenarios by Corneliua Ryan and Lt. Warriner are in conflict with the Graves Registration Form No. 1, dated 3 July 1944, on file at Arlington National Cemetery. Arlington, Virginia. It notes that Pratt’s body was not buried at Hiesville until 2100 hours on 8 June 1944, so he could not have been buried on D-Day and his body would have still been in the glider when Lt. Warriner visited the glider on D-Day. Lt. Warriner insisted to me that the gen-eral’s body was not in the glider when he visited it. Perhaps both parties are wrong about the dates. Pratt’s Grave Registration Form No. 1 notes that the following personal effects were found on the body before burial; eyeglasses and case, cigarette case, picture case, wallet con-taining one dollar and 1500 French Francs. It also notes that an Andrew Hill was buried on his right at Hiesville.
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 8
At 1900 hours on 3 July 1944, the general’s body was exhumed and reburied at Blos-ville, France. The reburial form states that there were no personal effects on the body at the time of the reburial. Pratt’s body was exhumed for the second time in 1948 and returned to the states for burial in Arlington National Cemetery. He was formally interred there on 26 July 1948 with full military honors in Section 11, Site 707 SH. His gravesite was marked with a standard military headstone.
Because of the unsettled battlefield conditions Murphy remained in the ditch near his glider until he was picked up by a jeep in the afternoon and driven to the chateau. When he arrived, Monsieur and Madame Robert Cotelle, owners of the Chateau, offered Colonel Murphy their bedroom during his short stay there. A photograph of Mrs. Cotelles standing beside Mike Murphy appeared in an unknown publication in France in 1977 during Mike’s visit to the site of his crash. The accompanying article notes that the two were reunited in France after 33 years.
Because of the sheer number of critically wounded Americans, Germans and French ci-vilians it was 0200 or 0300 hours the following morning before Colonel Murphy was taken to the makeshift operating room where his fractures were reduced. He said he remembered that the room smelled like it did back home when they butchered hogs. Following the surgery he said that sodium pentothal took over until 1000 hours the next morning. When he awakened, he said that General Maxwell Taylor, commander of the 101st Airborne Division, was in his room. The general wanted to confirm the glider plans for D+1, 2, and 3.
Murphy remained at the chateau from Tuesday until Friday morning, 9 June, before be-ing evacuated. He was placed in one of three field ambulances and driven to the Normandy beachhead. Fortunately for him, just before midnight that same day a German bomber dropped two large HE (High Explosive) bombs on the chateau causing severe damage. Eleven persons were killed and fifteen wounded. Six of the dead were medical personnel. Captain (Dr.) Van Gorder came close to losing his own life during the bombing. One of the bombs fell where he would have been had he not left his tent to get a cup of hot chocolate.
On the way to the beach, the ambulances were fired upon by snipers, and were stalled in one spot for close to an hour while airborne personnel cleared the area. At the beach Mur-phy was put aboard a DUKW-353 amphibious vehicle for transport to an LCT (Landing Craft Tank) standing offshore. The DUKW driver was unable to locate the LCT so Murphy and the other wounded aboard were returned to the beach where they were made comfortable by med-ics and the Red Cross. When he later heard that the chateau had been bombed, Murphy said that he was indeed blessed with the luck of the Irish.
In Colonel A. E. Robinson’s memoirs he states that he and Colonel Whitacre picked up Lt. Col. Mike Murphy at an airstrip just back of Utah Beach, probably late Friday, 9 June, and flew him to Preswick, Scotland, where he was transported to England and admitted briefly to the 53rd General Hospital in the United Kingdom. He was then airlifted to the states where he was admitted temporarily to the AAF Convalescent and Regional Station Hospital at Mitchel Field in New York, remaining there only two days. He was subsequently flown to Indianapolis, Indiana, where he became a patient at Billings General Hospital, near his home base, Head-quarters, First Troop Carrier Command. Colonel Murphy was among the first D-Day casualties to be returned to the United States.
For the next six months he underwent a number of operations on his legs to repair ex-tensive vein damage caused by the s hattered bones in his legs. Much of the damage was suc-
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 9
cessfully repaired, but he would be hampered for the rest of his life by painful circulation prob-lems in his legs. By Christmas 1944 he was able to hobble around on two very stiff legs, and was still battling considerable edema. He said in a 15 June 1945 letter to Major Crandall that his injured knee joint restricted the range of motion in his left leg by 30%.
No record has been found to indicate that Murphy ever complained to his superiors about the heavy armor plating installed in his glider without his knowledge or approval. After his release from active duty in 1946 he was employed by the Ohio Oil Company (subsequently the Marathon Oil Company) of Findlay, Ohio, as manager of the aviation department. He worked for the company for twenty-six years, receiving a number of prestigious flying awards. Mike passed away quietly in Findlay, Ohio, on 11 April 1981. He was 74 years old and had lived a full and fruitful life.
T/5 Emil K. Natalle, one of the surgical technicians of the 1st Airborne Surgical Team, visited the Falcon on the 10th or 11th of June. His glider, No. 4 in the Chicago serial, piloted by Flight Officer Arthur H. Vogel of the 74th Troop Carrier Squadron, overshot LZ-E and landed in an adjacent field. During his visit to Pratt’s glider Emil said that he observed armor plating in the nose of the glider, but did not notice any in the cargo area. He stated that the armor plat-ing in the cockpit area was semi-circular in shape and conformed to the interior nose of the glider. An examination of the metal structure of the cockpit suggests that such a metal plate would be impossible to install and would make the glider extremely nose heavy, and probably unflyable. Metal plates could have been installed under the seats.
Sometime after D-Day, Flight Officer James J. “Red” Malloy, the glider engineering offi-cer of the 72nd Troop Carrier Squadron, informed Warriner that he knew about the protective armor plating installed in the glider, but after fifty-two years Warriner couldn’t recall the de-tails. It is puzzling that the Commanding Officer of the 434th TC Group, Colonel Whitacre, would permit the General’s glider to be overloaded to the extent that it was, unless he too was unaware of the metal plating. Sergeant Homer Pabst of the 458th Air Service Squadron, 318th Repair Group, was alleged to have been in charge of the crew that installed the armor plating. It was said to have been ¼ inch thick and was installed in the cargo section, but did extend somewhat into the cockpit area.
Thus ends the tragic story of the substitute Falcon and the untimely death of General Don F. Pratt. Though many accounts have been written about the general’s demise I believe mine to be the most complete and accurate to date. This version is based on the eye-witness testimony of glider pilots, airborne personnel, and medical personnel, who landed near the Fal-con on D-Day, and revelations made by Mike Murphy about the mission in a letter to Dr. Van Gorder, dated 12 June 1956.
By January 2006, the headstone of General Pratt in Arlington National Cemetery had deteriorated badly. The normally smooth, polished marble of the headstone has dissolved away by the effects of air pollution and acid rain in the Washington, DC area. It is in far worse con-dition than similar government headstones from the Civil War in other parts of the country, and should be replaced.
F - I - N - I - S
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Footnote 1: George E. “Pete” Buckley, a WWII glider pilot assigned to the 74th Troop Carrier Squadron, 434th Troop Carrier Group, and official historian of that unit, phoned me on 18 March 2000 in response to a letter I had written to him. He told me that there were two CG-4A gliders that flew into Normandy on D-Day, 6 June 1944, with the name, “The Fighting Falcon,” painted in the sides of the fuselage. Buckley’s glider was Chalk #49 in the Chi-cago serial.
Footnote 2: This research paper was compiled by Leon B. Spencer of Prattville, Alabama, a former WWII glider pilot, on 26 November 1996. Some minor additions were made on 19 December 1999, 31 December 2002, and 4 January, 10 February and 30 July 2006 due to newly learned information. This research paper was first published in the June 1997 issue of the Silent Wings newspaper, the voice of the National WWII Glider Pilot Association, with the title, “Normandy D-Day CG-4A Glider Crash Claims Life of General Don. F. Pratt.” It also appeared by per-mission in the November-December 1997 issue of The Screaming Eagle, a newspaper published by the 101st Air-borne Division Association, and in the March 1998 issue of the Voice of the Angels, a newspaper published by the 11th Airborne Division Association.
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Note 1: Lt. May’s name may have been Lee J. May. He was sometimes referred to in publications as Lee May.
Note 2: Victor B. Warriner, former glider pilot, who was released from active duty as a major on 20 October 1946, passed away in Fort Worth, Texas on 17 May 1999.
Note 3: On D-Day, 6 June 1944, thirty-one year old Captain (Dr.) Charles O. Van Gorder had already served in the North African Campaign. He was a graduate of the University of Tennessee Medical School. After the war, he and former Captain (Dr.) John S. Rodda, a member of the Normandy invasion surgical team, built a hospital in the small
community of Andrews, North Carolina and he remained there until his death on 28 November 2002, at age eighty-eight.
Note 4: Former T/5 Emil K. Natalle of Perry, Iowa, passed away there on 5 December 1998. He corresponded with the author frequently.
Note 5: Ninety-one year old former 2nd Lieutenant Robert (NMI) Butler, the pilot of the original Fighting Falcon, was living in Palm Desert, California, in July 2006. He continues to correspond with the author. In 2005 he visited the Kalamazoo Aviation History Museum in Kalamazoo, Michigan, with his family to see the fully restored CG-4A glider bearing the name,“The Fighting Falcon.” The Fighting Falcon Military Museum in nearby Greenville, Michigan, also has on display a partially restored CG-4A bearing the name, The Fighting Falcon.”
A D-Day Glider Casualty
Compiled by Major Leon B. Spencer, USAFR Retired
The tragic glider crash that took the life of Brigadier General Don Forester Pratt, on D-Day, 6 June 1944, dealt a severe blow to the 101st Airborne Division’s invasion plans. As assis-tant division commander his leadership was sorely needed that day. The events leading up to his crash in Normandy have long been suspect. At least a dozen accounts have been written about the General’s death, most of them laced with inaccuracies. In the summer of 1995 I set out to try and uncover the truth. After months of research and first hand interviews with those who were there that day, here is what they say really happened fifty-two years ago. The story begins in England.
Aldermaston (AAF Station 467), an English airfield west of London in Berkshire, was the scene of frenzied activity on 4 and 5 June 1944. All furloughs had been canceled and American personnel were restricted to the base. Operation Overlord, the long awaited Allied invasion of German-held France was about to begin, and elements of the American 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions were to lead the way. Personnel of the American 434th Troop Carrier Group and the 101st were busy preparing for the first glider serial, code-named “Chicago,” scheduled for the early morning hours of 6 June. Fifty-two Douglas C-47 Skytrain tow planes and a like number of Waco CG-4A gliders were to participate in this serial. Much of the 4th was spent loading and parking the gliders on each side of the runway in long lines The tow planes were lined up on the runway in such a manner that the lead plane could pull its glider from the line on the left, the second from the line on the right until the last glider headed down the runway behind the last tow plane. No time would be lost in launching the aircraft.
An alternating band of three white and two black stripes, each two feet wide, had been hastily painted on the wings and fuselage of both tow planes and gliders to identify them to Al-lied ground, sea and air forces. Everything was in readiness several hours before the sched-uled departure. All along the long line of aircraft small groups of men stood talking. Other groups lay sprawled under the aircraft wings, some with their eyes closed, sleeping or pretend-ing to sleep. The boarding order came about midnight. As the glider troops boarded the gliders the sky was dark and overcast, and there were periods of intermittent rain. Shortly after arriv-ing at their respective aircraft the glider troops had been given Dramamine tablets as a precau-tion against airsickness. It was expected that the circuitous 2 plus hours’ flight would get pretty bumpy over the English Channel. They were also given a luminous button to pin under the lapel of their jackets for identification purposes, and a metal cricket to be used as a means of signaling other members of their group in the darkness. One click of the cricket was to be answered by two clicks.
At precisely 0119 hours the lead aircraft roared down the runway towing General Pratt’s glider, “The Fighting Falcon.” A big white “1” was painted on each side of the nose section. Al-legedly, the “Screaming Eagle,” insignia of the 101st, was painted just aft of the nose section on the pilot’s side and an American flag painted on the copilots side. Following the Falcon down the runway at 30-second intervals were fifty-one other tow plane/glider combinations. Forty-four of the gliders carried personnel of the Airborne 81st Antiaircraft and Antitank Battalion
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 2
and sixteen 57-millimeter antitank guns. These field guns would be used to support the lightly armed parachute infantry regiments that had jumped into Normandy earlier. Two gliders car-ried engineers of the 326th Airborne Engineer Company and a small bulldozer; two carried per-sonnel and equipment of the 101st Airborne Signal Company, plus staff members of the divi-sional headquarters; three carried medical equipment and supplies of the 326th Airborne Medi-cal Company. In addition to General Pratt, the lead glider carried Lt. John L. May1, the Gen-eral’s aide-de-camp, and the General’s personal jeep. The combined payload of the “Chicago” glider serial” consisted of 148 airborne troops and their equipment, 16 field guns, 25 vehicles, a small bulldozer, 2½ tons of ammunition, and 11 tons of miscellaneous equipment and supplies. Shortly after takeoff one glider broke loose from its tow plane and landed four miles from the base. Unfortunately, the aborted glider was carrying critical long-range command and control radio equipment that was needed by the airborne troops. The glider was retrieved and subse-quently made it to Normandy, albeit a bit late.
Seated at the controls of General Pratt’s glider was the unflappable Irishman, Lt. Colo-nel Michael C. “Mike” Murphy, a native of Lafayette, Indiana, and the senior US Army Air Force glider pilot in the European Theater. Murphy was in England on temporary duty from the states to supervise the final training of glider pilots for the Normandy invasion. His home base was Stout Field, Indianapolis, Indiana, where he was assigned to the Operations Division at Headquarters, First Troop Carrier Command. He was not originally scheduled to participate in the D-Day Normandy mission, but talked General Paul Williams, Commanding General of the Ninth Troop Carrier Command, into letting him fly General Pratt’s glider. Murphy wanted to get a first-hand look at the performance of glider pilots in combat. Prior to being called to ac-tive duty he operated his own flying service in Findlay, Ohio, so he was equally qualified as a power pilot. He frequently participated in air shows, thrilling pre-war crowds with spectacular aerobatics. He once built an airplane with landing gear on the top and bottom of the airframe, and was the first pilot to take off and land upside down.
In the copilot’s seat beside Murphy was Second Lieutenant John M. Butler, attached to the 53rd Troop Carrier Wing. Lashed-down behind them was General Pratt’s jeep. The vehicle carried the General’s command radio equipment and several extra 5-gallon Jerry cans of gaso-line. Pratt was seated in the front passenger seat of his jeep reading some last minute dis-patches by flashlight. He was wearing his parachute, Mae West life vest, and metal helmet. He had originally been scheduled to lead the seaborne element of the division into Normandy, but had persuaded General Maxwell Taylor, Commander of the 101st Airborne Division, to let him fly in by glider so he could get into battle sooner. He would have preferred to have parachuted with the first element, but was not jump qualified, so he had chosen to go in by glider. The War Department Report of Death, dated 24 June 1944, confirms that Pratt was not on flying status. The General’s aide-de-camp was seated on the small glider jump seat behind the jeep. He was holding in his lap a briefcase full of top secret documents and maps, and was heavily armed with a .30 caliber M1A1 Thompson submachine gun and a .45 caliber M1911A1 Colt automatic.
The pilot of the No. 2 glider in the “Chicago” serial, First Lieutenant Victor B. “Vic” War-riner2, a native of Deansboro, New York, watched Pratt’s glider as it was towed down the run-way and wondered why it took so long for it to become airborne. At the time the moonlight was bright despite occasional rain flurries. After what seemed like an eternity Pratt’s glider slowly rose into the air. Warriner, a member of the 72nd Troop Carrier Squadron, was not aware that the general’s staff, fearful for his safety, had ordered armor plating installed beneath the gen-eral’s jeep and under the pilot’s and copilot’s seats for protection against enemy flak and ground fire. Murphy would not learn of the armor plating until just before takeoff. With this
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 3
considerable extra weight, plus the additional weight of the jeep radios and extra gasoline, the glider was probably over the safe load limits, but of greater import was the fact that the center of gravity had been altered significantly. Murphy said the glider was overloaded by 1,000 pounds, and handled like a freight train.
Warriner’s glider carried Captain (Dr.) Charles O. Van Gorder3, a surgeon, and member of the 1st Airborne Surgical Team, 3rd Auxiliary Surgical Group, attached to the 326th Airborne Medical Company, 101st Airborne Division. The eight-man surgical team was composed of three surgeons, an anesthesiologist, and four enlisted surgical technicians. Accompanying Captain Van Gorder was three of the four enlisted surgical technicians, Sgt. Allen E. Ray, Sgt. Francis J. Muska and Sgt. Ernest Burgess. As a safety precaution the remaining surgeons were transported singly in other gliders. The 3rd Auxiliary Surgical Group had been created as a World War II experiment to see if there would be any advantages in having a surgical team attached to a fighting force so that wounded soldiers could be treated right on the battlefield, rather than having to be transported to the rear to evacuation hospitals. In keeping with this new concept a front-line field hospital would be set up in Normandy in Chateau Columbieres, a large, 400 year old, country home near LZ (Landing Zone) “E.”
In addition to the medical personnel, Warriner’s glider also carried a two-wheeled jeep trailer filled with enough sterile medical supplies for seventy-five surgical procedures, plus 5 or 6 five-gallon Jerry cans of gasoline strapped to the sides of the trailer. These would be used to fuel the jeep that would tow the trailer. I learned from family members that the officer-in-charge of the surgical team, Major (Dr.) Albert J. Crandall, was in Chalk No. 10 glider and the fourth surgical technician, T/5 Emil K. Natalle4, was in Chalk No. 4 glider. The Chalk No.’s of the gliders that transported Captain (Dr.) Saul Dworkin, a surgeon, and Captain (Dr.) John S. Rodda, an anesthesiologist, are not known.
The lead glider, “The Fighting Falcon,” destined to become the most famous glider of World War II, was built by the Gibson Electric Refrigerator Company of Greenville, Michigan, under contract to the US Army Air Force. The company halted its production of electric refrig-erators and started building CG-4A cargo gliders shortly after the war started. It was one of several companies that had no previous experience building gliders. Before World War II ended Gibson would build 1078 CG-4A gliders, and become the fifth leading supplier of this type air-craft. In early 1943 the public school children of Greenville decided that they wanted to help with the war effort. They agreed to sell War Bonds and Stamps so they could purchase one of the Gibson gliders and donate it to the Air Force. During their month long sales campaign in April 1943 they sold $72,000 in war bonds and stamps, enough to buy not one, but four Gib-son gliders. However, only one would be named. For their contribution to the war effort the children were awarded the US Treasury Department’s Distinguished Service Award, the first time this award had ever been given to a group of children.
The Falcon was christened and turned over to the US Army Air Force on May 19, 1943, following a much publicized dedication ceremony at Black Athletic Field in Greenville, attended by high-level government and local officials It was subsequently disassembled, packed in five huge wooden crates, and loaded on two railroad flat cars. Approximately 2 June, two weeks after its dedication, it left Greenville headed for Tobyhanna Army Depot in Pennsylvania, where it was stored until it and a number of other gliders were moved by rail to a mid-Atlantic port for transit by ship to England. The exact date of its arrival on English soil is unknown, but we do know from extant records that in April 1944 it was uncrated and assembled by work crews of the 26th Mobile Reclamation and Repair Squadron (Heavy) at Crookham Common (AAF Station 429), Berkshire, England. The assembly crew was surprised when they saw the painted letter-ing on the side of the fuselage. After learning of The Fighting Falcon and its unique history,
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 4
General Paul Williams decreed that it would be the lead glider in the D-Day invasion of Nor-mandy in recognition of the Greenville school children’s patriotic spirit.
On 3 June 1944, three days before D-Day, Colonel Murphy decided to replace the origi-nal Falcon with a CG-4A equipped with the frontal crash protection device, the Griswold Nose. After all of the publicity photographs were taken the original Gibson-built Falcon was shunted back to position No. 45 in the 52 glider “Chicago” serial. Murphy then ordered a hasty paint job on the replacement glider to make it look like the original Falcon. Flight Officer Robert (NMI) Butler5, a glider pilot from Battle Creek, Michigan, was selected to fly the original Falcon. Oddly, and quite by coincidence, there would be a glider pilot with the surname “Butler” in the cockpit of both the original and substitute Falcon. Robert Butler and his copilot, Flight Officer E. H. “Tim” Hohmann, were both members of the 74th Troop Carrier Squadron. Their glider load was a British 57 mm anti-tank gun, plus its three-man crew and several cloverleafs of 57 mm shells.
The original Falcon landed safely in Normandy on D-Day. Robert Butler said that be had Hohmann deploy the deceleration parachute just before the wheels touched down, which slowed the glider some. Skidding along the ground on its nose the glider struck a knoll further slowing its forward progress. One hundred feet later it rolled to a stop. Robert Butler and Tim Hohmann both survived the war. I submitted questionnaires to them in 1997 seeking first hand information about their flight into Normandy on D-Day. They both responded and both told me that there was no damage to the glider. Tim Hohmann lived in Glenview, Illinois, for many years. He passed away on 26 March 1998 at age 79. In August 2006, 90-year old, Robert Butler was living in Palm Desert, California, and was in reasonably good health. He still remembers a great deal about the Normandy invasion.
Once airborne the tow plane/glider combinations circled the airfield while forming in groups of four, echelon to the right, and lining up in trail. When the last combination had taken off and formed, the lead aircraft turned towards the English Channel and headed for Normandy. According to Colonel William B. Whitacre, Commanding Officer of the 434th Troop Carrier Group and pilot of the C-47 towing the Falcon, the moonlight was then bright enough to see the outline of trees and fields below. Whitacre’s copilot was Major Alvin E. Robinson. Brigadier General Maurice M. Beach, Commander of the 53rd Troop Carrier Wing, was a pas-senger aboard the aircraft but did not take a turn at the controls according to Major Robinson. At least one Michigan newspaper reported that General Beach flew the aircraft, but this was not the case.
Colonel Murphy said that the armada flew at 2,000 feet across the Channel, lowering to 1,500 feet as they approached the Cotentin peninsula from the west. The glider train flew be-tween the German-occupied British Channel Islands of Guernsey and Jersey to avoid enemy fire. This was the same route taken earlier by the paratroopers. Captain Van Gorder looked out a window of his glider and marveled at the sight. As the tow planes made wide sweeping turns he could see the blue formation lights on top of the wings stretching like a ribbon for miles. Just after passing the coastline of the peninsula the formation dropped down to 600 feet and maintained that altitude to the glider LZ. Things were quiet and peaceful until the German gunners woke up and opened up on the formation about halfway across the twenty plus mile peninsula. The formation was under fire from there to the cutoff point. Van Gorder, in the No. 2 glider, said he watched the tracers make lazy arcs in the night sky and associated them with the Independence Day fireworks displays back home. It was an awesome but deadly sight, he said.
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 5
As the formation continued across the peninsula Pratt’s glider took some small arms hits, but no serious damage was done. Murphy said that it sounded like popcorn popping as the slugs passed through the taut glider fabric. It was learned later that the No. 2 glider, flying beside Pratt’s glider, took ninety-four small arms hits in the tail section, but no one inside was hit. As the gliders approached the LZ the sky became cloudless. As the formation passed just west of LZ-E, near the little French town of Hiesville, and some 7.5 miles inland from Utah Beach, Murphy saw the green release light flash on in the astrodome of Whitacre’s C-47. Ac-cording to Murphy’s watch the time was about five seconds past 0400 hours. They were right on schedule. As he hit the glider release knob he heaved a sigh of relief. He and Butler were arm and leg weary from trying to keep the unstable glider in level flight for over two and a half hours.
Warriner’s glider, on Murphy’s right, received the release signal simultaneously with Murphy. He was puzzled when he saw the No 1 glider make a steep climbing turn to the left, and disappear from sight in the darkness. The standard practice, dictated by Murphy and the 1at Troop Carrier Command, was to turn and maintain level flight until the glider slowed to normal glide speed before descending. Murphy had violated his own mandated rule for a good reason. He wanted to gain as much altitude as possible so he could determine the best way to handle the unstable glider before starting his descent. Satisfied that he could control the un-wieldy glider he started down. He said later that the moon was shining and that he could see the outline of the fields below. As the glider began its descent he was able to make out his landing zone. It was a thousand to twelve hundred feet in length, slopped downhill and was surrounded by tree-studded hedgerows. The Poplar trees growing on the hedgerows were 40 to 60 feet tall, not 30 to 40 feet as briefed. As Murphy began his landing approach, the No. 2 glider was preparing to touch down just ahead and off to his right. Unplanned circumstances would result in the No. 2 glider landing before Pratt’s glider.
In view of the heavy load it was carrying, the final approach speed of the No. 1 glider was somewhat above the normal tactical speed of 70 mph. Murphy said that he touched down on the first third of the field at 80 mph. He immediately pushed the glider down on its nose and jumped on the brakes to stop the glider quickly. To his astonishment the glider’s forward speed didn’t appear to diminish at all. A fully loaded CG-4A could normally be stopped in 200 to 300 feet. That morning the ill-fated substitute Falcon continued to slide on the slick, dew covered pasture grass for about eight hundred feet before crashing into a hedgerow. Some sources say at 50 mph, but Captain Van Gorder said that Colonel Murphy told him that he hit the hedgerow at a higher speed than that.
Warriner, whose glider crashed into the same hedgerow some 150 feet or so away, said that the ground literally shook when Pratt’s glider slammed into the hedgerow. Miraculously, the momentum of the No. 2 glider was halted by a Poplar tree, 18 inches in diameter that ended up between the pilot’s and copilot’s seats, but caused no casualties. Warriner told the author that when his glider came to rest his face was pressed against the tree. The Normandy hedgerows were earthen dikes from four to five and a half feet in height, covered with tangled hedges, bushes and trees, large and small, some 70 feet tall. They established the boundaries of a farmer’s field and were formidable barriers. Only a tank with a bulldozer blade could penetrate them.
Colonel Murphy found himself hanging half in and half out of the smashed nose sec-tion, his torso restrained by his seat belt. He looked down and saw that his lower limbs were entangled in the bent and twisted metal tubing of the glider’s nose section. Both legs were bro-ken, one severely, and his left knee was badly injured, but he was still conscious. Lt. May,
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 6
Pratt’s aide was stunned and bruised, but was otherwise unhurt. He told Lt. Warriner some-time later that when he realized that the glider was going to hit the hedgerow he placed himself
back of the jeep and let it absorb the impact of the crash. It turned out to be a wise move. Moments after the glider came to an abrupt halt, Murphy glanced across the cockpit and saw the badly mangled body of his copilot crammed into the floor section of the cockpit and knew instinctively that he was dead. The glider had struck a large hedgerow tree on that side. The impact with the immovable earthen bank had jarred every bone in Murphy’s body. He was giddy for a few minutes but did not lose consciousness.
As his head cleared somewhat Murphy said he was alarmed to see several German vehi-cles that he said were tanks, poised just across the hedgerow, no more than fifteen feet or so away. He froze for fear that they might shine a light on him. From their vantage point further down the hedgerow, Lt. Warriner and Captain Van Gorder saw the same tracked vehicles. Van Gorder also described them as tanks, but Warriner said that they were tracked armored recon-naissance vehicles. All of them agreed that there were German soldiers seated on the sides of the vehicles with rifles across their laps. The lead vehicle stopped in front of Murphy’s glider and two soldiers jumped off. They entered his wrecked glider with flashlights, poked around for a few minutes, got back on their vehicle, and hastily departed. Murphy, trapped in his seat, played dead, as did Lt. May. Perhaps the continuous roar of the low-flying tow planes overhead and the frequent din of crashing gliders scared them off. As a precautionary measure, Murphy remained still for several minutes after the Germans had departed. He then began to try and free his legs from the twisted metal tubing. The extraction was slow and painful. Once free, he lowered himself to the ground hanging on to the smashed glider framework. He tried to stand but his legs collapsed under him and he fell into a shallow ditch. While he was laying there Lt. May walked up and said that he feared the General was dead. He had tried to find a pulse, he said, without success.
Captain Van Gorder, after checking on the condition of the passengers in his glider, hurried over to the No. 1 glider a short distance away. The doctor said he didn’t expect to find anyone alive, but found Colonel Murphy dragging himself along a ditch brandishing his pistol and Lt. May standing guard beside the wrecked glider clutching a submachine gun. When Van Gorder started to examine Murphy, the latter stated that he thought his legs were broken. A preliminary examination revealed that indeed he had sustained a compound fracture of the fe-mur in one leg and had suffered a simple fracture of one of the bones in the lower part of the other leg. He also suffered a severe injury to his left knee. He refused a morphine injection to ease the pain. Van Gorder said that Murphy told him he wanted to remain alert so he could shoot Germans. He said in a 1956 letter to Dr. Albert Crandall that he did some shooting where he thought it would help.
Lt. May asked the doctor to check on General Pratt, which he did. He had to remove his gear in order to get through the twisted metal fuselage of the glider which was bent almost U-shaped. While he was doing this, the General’s aide rounded up some glider troopers to stand guard over the glider. Van Gorder found the General slumped in the passenger seat of his jeep with his chin resting on his chest. His seat belt was still fastened and he was wearing his steel helmet. A cursory examination revealed that the general had suffered a broken neck, very likely from whiplash. The violent forward motion of his head on impact with the hedgerow had probably severed his spinal cord, Dr. Van Gorder said. Since he was seated on his parachute his head would have been raised four or five inches. It is possible that his helmeted head had slammed into one of the metal cross members of the glider airframe breaking his neck on im-pact with the hedgerow. In either case he had probably died instantly. Pratt was the second
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 7
American airborne general to die in combat since the war began. General Charles Keerans of the 82nd Airborne Division lost his life in Sicily.
On reflection, General Pratt’s chances of survival on D-Day were slim to none. Too many factors militated against his glider landing safely. It was overloaded; its center of gravity
had been altered making it unstable and hard to handle; it landed downwind with a reputed 27 mph tailwind; the landing speed was higher than normal because of the extra weight; the field it landed in sloped downhill; and the tall pasture grass was covered with slippery dew. It was a miracle anyone survived. War Department Battle Casualty Report, dated 19 June 1944 indi-cated that there was no investigation into the general’s death.
After examining Lt. Butler, Captain Van Gorder informed Colonel Murphy that his copi-lot had died from blunt force trauma on impact with the tree. After exiting the glider the doctor returned to splint Murphy’s legs as best he could. As he was administering to his patient he looked up and saw a figure walking across the field towards him. It was Major (Dr.) Crandall, the leader of the surgical team, who was a passenger in the No. 10 glider. He had landed nearby and was looking for the rest of his surgical team. By dawn Crandall had rounded up a jeep, and had located the Chateau Colombieres. With the help of other surgical and medical team members he began setting up the field surgical hospital. He returned to Pratt’s glider several hours later to pick up Captain Van Gorder.
According to pages 241and 242 of Gerald Astor’s book, “June 6, 1944,” about mid-morning on D-Day, Lt. Beaver, platoon leader, and Bill Lord, members of the 82mm mortar pla-toon, 3rd Battalion, 508th Parachute Regiment, 82nd Airborne Division, came upon a glider that had crashed against a big tree. Inside they found the body of a one-star general, but didn’t know who he was. Later they were told it was General Pratt, assistant division commander of the 101st Airborne Division. I question this encounter, since Col. Murphy and Lt. May were still in the area at mid-morning and they made no mention of them.
Later that day, according to Cornelius Ryan’s book, “The Longest Day,” the general’s body was removed from the glider by a small group of airborne officers who wrapped him in a parachute and buried him near the crash site. There was no official salute of guns during the solemn burial, but the sound of American and German field guns and small arms fire re-sounded in the area. In the late afternoon of D-Day, Lt. Warriner, the pilot of the No. 2 glider, said that he returned to the site of Pratt’s crashed glider. He said he did so out of morbid curi-osity. He saw that that the general’s body had been removed, but noticed his steel helmet with the one white star on the front was still laying on the floor of the glider. He picked it up and thought for a moment about keeping it, but put it down where he found it, immediately feeling better. During his brief visit to the glider he said that he noticed the armor plating under the jeep, but he didn’t examine the cockpit area.
The above scenarios by Corneliua Ryan and Lt. Warriner are in conflict with the Graves Registration Form No. 1, dated 3 July 1944, on file at Arlington National Cemetery. Arlington, Virginia. It notes that Pratt’s body was not buried at Hiesville until 2100 hours on 8 June 1944, so he could not have been buried on D-Day and his body would have still been in the glider when Lt. Warriner visited the glider on D-Day. Lt. Warriner insisted to me that the gen-eral’s body was not in the glider when he visited it. Perhaps both parties are wrong about the dates. Pratt’s Grave Registration Form No. 1 notes that the following personal effects were found on the body before burial; eyeglasses and case, cigarette case, picture case, wallet con-taining one dollar and 1500 French Francs. It also notes that an Andrew Hill was buried on his right at Hiesville.
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 8
At 1900 hours on 3 July 1944, the general’s body was exhumed and reburied at Blos-ville, France. The reburial form states that there were no personal effects on the body at the time of the reburial. Pratt’s body was exhumed for the second time in 1948 and returned to the states for burial in Arlington National Cemetery. He was formally interred there on 26 July 1948 with full military honors in Section 11, Site 707 SH. His gravesite was marked with a standard military headstone.
Because of the unsettled battlefield conditions Murphy remained in the ditch near his glider until he was picked up by a jeep in the afternoon and driven to the chateau. When he arrived, Monsieur and Madame Robert Cotelle, owners of the Chateau, offered Colonel Murphy their bedroom during his short stay there. A photograph of Mrs. Cotelles standing beside Mike Murphy appeared in an unknown publication in France in 1977 during Mike’s visit to the site of his crash. The accompanying article notes that the two were reunited in France after 33 years.
Because of the sheer number of critically wounded Americans, Germans and French ci-vilians it was 0200 or 0300 hours the following morning before Colonel Murphy was taken to the makeshift operating room where his fractures were reduced. He said he remembered that the room smelled like it did back home when they butchered hogs. Following the surgery he said that sodium pentothal took over until 1000 hours the next morning. When he awakened, he said that General Maxwell Taylor, commander of the 101st Airborne Division, was in his room. The general wanted to confirm the glider plans for D+1, 2, and 3.
Murphy remained at the chateau from Tuesday until Friday morning, 9 June, before be-ing evacuated. He was placed in one of three field ambulances and driven to the Normandy beachhead. Fortunately for him, just before midnight that same day a German bomber dropped two large HE (High Explosive) bombs on the chateau causing severe damage. Eleven persons were killed and fifteen wounded. Six of the dead were medical personnel. Captain (Dr.) Van Gorder came close to losing his own life during the bombing. One of the bombs fell where he would have been had he not left his tent to get a cup of hot chocolate.
On the way to the beach, the ambulances were fired upon by snipers, and were stalled in one spot for close to an hour while airborne personnel cleared the area. At the beach Mur-phy was put aboard a DUKW-353 amphibious vehicle for transport to an LCT (Landing Craft Tank) standing offshore. The DUKW driver was unable to locate the LCT so Murphy and the other wounded aboard were returned to the beach where they were made comfortable by med-ics and the Red Cross. When he later heard that the chateau had been bombed, Murphy said that he was indeed blessed with the luck of the Irish.
In Colonel A. E. Robinson’s memoirs he states that he and Colonel Whitacre picked up Lt. Col. Mike Murphy at an airstrip just back of Utah Beach, probably late Friday, 9 June, and flew him to Preswick, Scotland, where he was transported to England and admitted briefly to the 53rd General Hospital in the United Kingdom. He was then airlifted to the states where he was admitted temporarily to the AAF Convalescent and Regional Station Hospital at Mitchel Field in New York, remaining there only two days. He was subsequently flown to Indianapolis, Indiana, where he became a patient at Billings General Hospital, near his home base, Head-quarters, First Troop Carrier Command. Colonel Murphy was among the first D-Day casualties to be returned to the United States.
For the next six months he underwent a number of operations on his legs to repair ex-tensive vein damage caused by the s hattered bones in his legs. Much of the damage was suc-
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 9
cessfully repaired, but he would be hampered for the rest of his life by painful circulation prob-lems in his legs. By Christmas 1944 he was able to hobble around on two very stiff legs, and was still battling considerable edema. He said in a 15 June 1945 letter to Major Crandall that his injured knee joint restricted the range of motion in his left leg by 30%.
No record has been found to indicate that Murphy ever complained to his superiors about the heavy armor plating installed in his glider without his knowledge or approval. After his release from active duty in 1946 he was employed by the Ohio Oil Company (subsequently the Marathon Oil Company) of Findlay, Ohio, as manager of the aviation department. He worked for the company for twenty-six years, receiving a number of prestigious flying awards. Mike passed away quietly in Findlay, Ohio, on 11 April 1981. He was 74 years old and had lived a full and fruitful life.
T/5 Emil K. Natalle, one of the surgical technicians of the 1st Airborne Surgical Team, visited the Falcon on the 10th or 11th of June. His glider, No. 4 in the Chicago serial, piloted by Flight Officer Arthur H. Vogel of the 74th Troop Carrier Squadron, overshot LZ-E and landed in an adjacent field. During his visit to Pratt’s glider Emil said that he observed armor plating in the nose of the glider, but did not notice any in the cargo area. He stated that the armor plat-ing in the cockpit area was semi-circular in shape and conformed to the interior nose of the glider. An examination of the metal structure of the cockpit suggests that such a metal plate would be impossible to install and would make the glider extremely nose heavy, and probably unflyable. Metal plates could have been installed under the seats.
Sometime after D-Day, Flight Officer James J. “Red” Malloy, the glider engineering offi-cer of the 72nd Troop Carrier Squadron, informed Warriner that he knew about the protective armor plating installed in the glider, but after fifty-two years Warriner couldn’t recall the de-tails. It is puzzling that the Commanding Officer of the 434th TC Group, Colonel Whitacre, would permit the General’s glider to be overloaded to the extent that it was, unless he too was unaware of the metal plating. Sergeant Homer Pabst of the 458th Air Service Squadron, 318th Repair Group, was alleged to have been in charge of the crew that installed the armor plating. It was said to have been ¼ inch thick and was installed in the cargo section, but did extend somewhat into the cockpit area.
Thus ends the tragic story of the substitute Falcon and the untimely death of General Don F. Pratt. Though many accounts have been written about the general’s demise I believe mine to be the most complete and accurate to date. This version is based on the eye-witness testimony of glider pilots, airborne personnel, and medical personnel, who landed near the Fal-con on D-Day, and revelations made by Mike Murphy about the mission in a letter to Dr. Van Gorder, dated 12 June 1956.
By January 2006, the headstone of General Pratt in Arlington National Cemetery had deteriorated badly. The normally smooth, polished marble of the headstone has dissolved away by the effects of air pollution and acid rain in the Washington, DC area. It is in far worse con-dition than similar government headstones from the Civil War in other parts of the country, and should be replaced.
F - I - N - I - S
The Death of General Don F. Pratt, Cont’d Page 10
Footnote 1: George E. “Pete” Buckley, a WWII glider pilot assigned to the 74th Troop Carrier Squadron, 434th Troop Carrier Group, and official historian of that unit, phoned me on 18 March 2000 in response to a letter I had written to him. He told me that there were two CG-4A gliders that flew into Normandy on D-Day, 6 June 1944, with the name, “The Fighting Falcon,” painted in the sides of the fuselage. Buckley’s glider was Chalk #49 in the Chi-cago serial.
Footnote 2: This research paper was compiled by Leon B. Spencer of Prattville, Alabama, a former WWII glider pilot, on 26 November 1996. Some minor additions were made on 19 December 1999, 31 December 2002, and 4 January, 10 February and 30 July 2006 due to newly learned information. This research paper was first published in the June 1997 issue of the Silent Wings newspaper, the voice of the National WWII Glider Pilot Association, with the title, “Normandy D-Day CG-4A Glider Crash Claims Life of General Don. F. Pratt.” It also appeared by per-mission in the November-December 1997 issue of The Screaming Eagle, a newspaper published by the 101st Air-borne Division Association, and in the March 1998 issue of the Voice of the Angels, a newspaper published by the 11th Airborne Division Association.
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Note 1: Lt. May’s name may have been Lee J. May. He was sometimes referred to in publications as Lee May.
Note 2: Victor B. Warriner, former glider pilot, who was released from active duty as a major on 20 October 1946, passed away in Fort Worth, Texas on 17 May 1999.
Note 3: On D-Day, 6 June 1944, thirty-one year old Captain (Dr.) Charles O. Van Gorder had already served in the North African Campaign. He was a graduate of the University of Tennessee Medical School. After the war, he and former Captain (Dr.) John S. Rodda, a member of the Normandy invasion surgical team, built a hospital in the small
community of Andrews, North Carolina and he remained there until his death on 28 November 2002, at age eighty-eight.
Note 4: Former T/5 Emil K. Natalle of Perry, Iowa, passed away there on 5 December 1998. He corresponded with the author frequently.
Note 5: Ninety-one year old former 2nd Lieutenant Robert (NMI) Butler, the pilot of the original Fighting Falcon, was living in Palm Desert, California, in July 2006. He continues to correspond with the author. In 2005 he visited the Kalamazoo Aviation History Museum in Kalamazoo, Michigan, with his family to see the fully restored CG-4A glider bearing the name,“The Fighting Falcon.” The Fighting Falcon Military Museum in nearby Greenville, Michigan, also has on display a partially restored CG-4A bearing the name, The Fighting Falcon.”
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