Veteran's Day

A few years ago I had to write an article about making a military scrapbook. My father-in-law retired from the Air Force after 30 years as a Colonel and after he passed away we found a large amount of memorabilia. I spent some time compiling some of the information, and of course, making layouts. He was a P-38 pilot, had shot down many Nazi planes and was shot down himself, captured by the Nazis and spent time in the concentration camp Buchenwald.

He was interviewed many times about his experiences so information was pulled from various sources. Some excerpts...

Nothing could have stimulated pilot morale of the 429^th Fighter Squadron more than the coming of 1^st Lt. Merle E. Larson, holder of the Distinguished Flying Cross, Air medal, and other citations.  His combat record has already been an inspiration to all flight officers of this squadron.

Lt. Larson, a South Dakota man, underwent a normal aviation cadet’s training – minus combat training – but went into combat under a handicap condition to survive and make an honorable and respected name for himself.

He was trained on the West Coast in the summer of 1942.  In September of that year his Group went over.  They made the voyage in troop ships, landing in Scotland after spending 7 days on water.

From Scotland he was sent to Northern Ireland where he was stationed on an R.A.F. field for about two and one-half months.  While there, he was given a series of lectures by R.A.F. Intelligence Officers, which were helpful.

Then, about the middle of December, he was on his way to Africa.  He flew down as far as southern England, and then was “weathered in” for a week.  His flight then took off for Africa.

They flew for about two hours when German fighters jumped his formation, but it got through okay and finally arrived in Africa, near Oran, on Christmas Eve 1942.

“Our first night on the new location” he comments, “was spent on the wings of our planes, ready to take off upon a moment’s notice.  It was the worst Christmas Eve I’d ever had and I thought of the ones back home with the folks.  But there was no time for self-pity, we had a job to do.”

Christmas day he spent over the Mediterranean Sea, escorting a convoy.

He relates that his living quarters were not favorable, in plain language, “rotten.”  The mud was about a foot deep.  His quarters were made of concrete (same as the floor) and he had no bed or anything to sleep on so that meant using the bare floor, still without a bath since leaving England.

His unit stayed there for about a week, then the day came: it was sent up to operate.  The real thing – and it seemed a little hard to believe.  He was assigned to give medium bombers close cover protection.  It was a rough job because his squadron had only a few planes at first, and being right in the toughest part of the fight against Rommel’s army, it was not easy.  There were but a few ground crews at first, so Lt. Larson had to work on his own plane.  He says it was not easy or fun.

Living conditions behind the front lines were very poor.  They had no beds; all they had were two blankets apiece, which weren’t nearly enough, and they nearly froze to death at night.  The food, he relates, was poor.  It seemed as if all he had was “stew and tea.”  He seldom enjoyed a cup of coffee.

But let him continue with his story:

“The shortage of planes cost us a great toll in lives as well as planes the first months of combat.  Also we were not properly trained for combat.  Our first aerial target we shot at were ME 109’s and because of our not having any aerial gunnery in the States, it was tough.

Our main job was bomber escort work.  Most of those escort missions were ocean sweeps.  Toward the end of the North African campaign, we were given some fighter sweeps to knock down German transport planes.  We had very good results.  Fortunately, I got three of them.

There is no glorious feeling in knocking an enemy plane out of the sky.  The thrill you would normally expect just isn’t there because you’re too tense yourself, not knowing when you are going to get yours.  My biggest thrill was coming in from a mission and seeing the rest of the fellows in my flight come home safely.

When we were escorting bombers, the main function of our fighter craft was to escort them to and from their targets, and protect them from enemy aircraft.  We would fly tight formation until we reached the target, then we would go up and “sit” above the bombers until they had dumped their loads, and started on their way back home.  One of the reasons for not following the bombers at a lower altitude was to escape “Flak” or anti-aircraft fire.  Sometimes the Flak or smoke from the bursts was so thick we could hardly see the bombers below us.  The thickest AA fire was at Tunis and Bizerte, where the Axis tried desperately to fight all Allied bombing attacks.

My closest call was when I was 50 miles over enemy territory.  Two AA shells, one 20MM and one 40MM went through the lower part of the gondola – I guess they just didn’t have my name on them, but they didn’t miss me by far.  They knocked out my right engine and my wing tanks.  Fortunately, I had not dropped my belly tank so I started my 50-mile trip toward home.  It wasn’t the flying that did it, it was mostly luck.  I landed safely in friendly territory and began hitchhiking back to my base.

I rode in French and British trucks, finally making it.  When I reported to headquarters they had me listed as “Missing in Action.”  It gave me a funny feeling, and I thank God that it wasn’t true.”

Lt. Larson reports that he was in on some fancy dive-bombing and skip-bombing that always seemed to catch the enemy completely flat-footed.       At the end of the campaign, his squadron occupied several abandoned enemy airfields with enemy planes usually on the strips because there had been no gas to fly them off.  In many cases, captured planes had been mined, and the minute anyone would touch the stick, the plane would explode.

“Some of the German pilots we captured, “ he continued, “ranged from the age of 18 to 40.  One South American who had been flying for the Axis was 18 years old and had over 1,000 flying hours before being captured.

After 10 months overseas and my required number of hours in combat, I was sent home.  I returned by Clipper via South America and had a pleasant trip.  We landed in New York.  It sure was good to be home again, but now that it is in the past and I lived through it, I wouldn’t trade the experiences for anything.  Now I am looking forward to  (or expecting, I should say), combat again.”

From the Sunday Tribune for March 17, 1963

Interview by William Wingfield

            Lt. Larson will probably remember his year in Buchenwald as long as he lives.  It was only two weeks after D-Day when German anti-aircraft fire brought down his twin-engined Lockheed fighter over France.  “I got away from the Germans for three weeks.  I was on my own for a week, then the underground picked me up.  I was with them for two weeks.”

            Larson thought he was on his way to safety, but instead a red-haired French woman in the underground as a spy turned him and other Allied fliers over to the Gestapo.  She was supposed to take them to Spain, but instead the men found themselves in Paris in the hands of the dreaded Nazi police.

            “We were caught in civilian clothes, so they called us spies,” Larson said, “We had our uniforms and flying suits on underneath, of course, and our dog tags, too, but the Germans took away our uniforms and tags and gave us back our civilian clothes, and took us up for interrogation.”

            “They said, ‘You’re spies, and you know what we do to spies.’  We expected to get shot.”

            The men were held in Paris for 45 days, then, when the American troops approached the city, they were bundled with 3000 prisoners into boxcars for Buchenwald.

 

            “Conditions were terrible in Buchenwald,” Larson recalled.  “We didn’t have to work, but there was nothing to eat.  People were dying like flies.  Two of our people died there.  They didn’t have gas chambers at Buchenwald, but they did have crematoriums.  The Germans were hanging people right and left.  Bodies were stacked in a room like wood.  The guards would take the gold out of the teeth and then stuff them in the crematory.”

            “You had a pretty hopeless feeling,” he continued.  “There was no way to get out that we could see.  We appealed to the Germans that we were prisoners of war, but they said we weren’t.  After about 3 months, they shipped us out to the prisoner of war camp.”

            The Nazis hustled off the prisoners on a 100-mile march to the new camp through a snowstorm.  The reason was that the Russians were approaching Buchenwald.

            “That was a rough march,” Larson whistled, “especially when you were in bad shape to begin with.”

            The Germans took the fliers to Nuremberg.  “I got sick at Nuremberg,” Larson said.  “I had infections from the flak (anti-aircraft fire) where I was shot down.

            When the Americans were coming through, the Germans marched out those who were healthy, but I was in the hospital, so I stayed there and was liberated.  “I had an ear infection and boils all over me.  They gave me the last penicillin they had in the hospital.  That snapped me out and saved my life.”

                                                           

 A True Story by William E. Chickering Jr.

May 1945.  The war in Europe is just about over.  Our 474^th Fighter Group, the only P-38 fighter unit still in operation in the 9^th Air Force, is based at a place called Langensalza, Germany.  Word gets to us that Merle Larson has turned up in an army hospital outside Paris.  This is our first word about him since he bailed out over northern France a year or so before, and was last seen waving to the other guys on the mission before running into some nearby woods.

            George Edmonds and I, as 2 of the few remaining original 429^th Squadron pilots, arrange permission to check out two P-38s for a flight to Paris to look up old Merle.  We manage to program a long evening in several Paris bistros on the night we arrive, with plans to visit Larson the next day.  With frightful hangovers, but young and strong, we report to the hospital at noon.  We are directed to Captain Larson’s cot, and find ourselves in a heart-rending reunion.  Merle had been imprisoned at Buchenwald as a so-called American spy, and now weighs a hundred pounds.  He is close to tears when he sees George and me, but recovers quickly enough to exclaim, “So now you sons of bitches are Captains, and I taught you everything you know!”  He is right at that, having been a veteran of the African Campaign and was one of the only combat-experienced pilots in our all-new 474^th Fighter Group from the old Warmwell days.  The visit is a good one, even though Merle can’t share the nip of whiskey George and I have sneaked in for him.

            Arrival at Langensalza airfield:  We climb out of the planes and have one final toast to Merle Larson.

And not to leave out my dad - he was a Seabee in the Navy stationed in the Pacific. 

Happy 100th!

Gas…$100
Food…$200
Flight…$300
Being there to celebrate Tam’s 100th birthday….PRICELESS!!

This past weekend I flew to Wichita, Kansas where I met my mom and 2 sisters, who were driving from Joplin, Missouri. Our destination was Larned, Kansas, a small town in middle-western Kansas. We were going there to celebrate our dad’s cousin’s 100th birthday.

During our childhood, Tam was more like an aunt to us. It was her mother, Pearl, who raised our dad when both of his parents had passed away by the time he was 11 years old. Tam’s late son Dick was like a brother to Dad since they grew up together. So Tam and her husband Verlin of 69 years (who is 96 years old) were involved in our lives when we were young, as was their son’s family. While technically more distant cousins, Dick’s children, Holly and Mark, were as close to us as any of our first cousins.

So this celebration included all of these relatives that I hadn’t seen for 20 or more years. But the connection was still there. Several hours were spent reminiscing about trips to Kansas for Christmas or summer vacation, and the many times they all came to see us in Joplin. Precious memories were taken out of our minds and relived. Our cousin Mark, who I hung out with reading comic books, riding mini bikes, and playing piano all those years ago, had a remarkable memory for the details of our times together.

Tam was nothing short of amazing. Her mind is still sharp as she recalled things that happened when she was as young as 4 – that’s 96 years ago! Our last night there, we bombarded her with questions as we tried to sort out the tragic, yet interesting childhood our dad had experienced. Since my dad is gone, it is incredible to have someone, who knew him as a child, fill in the holes that were left in his history when he passed away.

Our “girls” trip through the small towns of Kansas was amusing. Miles and miles without another car in sight…yet roadkill every few hundred feet. I haven’t seen that many different kinds of animals in years – a deer, a raccoon, several skunks, a porcupine, and who knows what else I couldn’t identify. The scenery was a little disappointing as I was hoping for lots of fall colors. Most of the trees were green, whether from timing or type. We saw more turned trees in Wichita than anywhere else, so at least I got to see a little of the fall colors that are missing in Arizona at this time of year.

It’s times like these that I wished there were 2 of me, or that I lived closer to my childhood home. While I love having the opportunity to see my extended family, I always dread and hate leaving my husband and sons. Plus, I’m a terrible traveler and flying almost always makes me sick at some point. Guess I just need to keep hoping for that ability to teleport. In the meantime, my trips will have to be few and far between, but hopefully as memorable as this one.

Corona del Sol on 9/11

I'm so proud of how our high school commemorated 9/11 this year. The day started out with the football team meeting at the school flagpole at 7am for a ceremony. Unfortunately, Grant did not tell me this would be televised. :/ So I didn't see it.

For the Varsity game that night, Mike Pollak of the Indianapolis Colts, who played football at this school, donated camouflage jerseys to the team. How cool is that!! So the school ran with that and other companies/parents got together and donated the money to have camouflage t-shirts and hats made to sell to the entire school. Since the jerseys will only be worn once, the parents had the option to buy their son's jersey. Which we did. All proceeds from the sale of the jerseys, t-shirts, and hats go to The Wounded Warrior Project which helps the most severely injured US soldiers. A great cause!

The game started out, of course, with the National Anthem and the team standing at the end of the field holding an American Flag. That's Grant, second from the left. After the song was over, the team took off running, with the flag holder in front! It was an awesome sight! But of course, my photo came out blurry so I didn't capture it (it is incredibly difficult to get action shots with the field lighting).

Not only did the players have camouflage jerseys, but the coaches had shirts:

And the cheerleaders and pommies had shirts (cheerleader shirts had gold glitter letters and pommies shirts had white glittery letters)

And many in the crowd had camo shirts too! (sorry, no crowd shot)

In the end, we lost the game, which was tough since it was such a special night. I caught Grant on his way to the locker room (he's number 4). He can't wait to get his jersey (the school is washing them) and hang it up on the wall in his room!

A Month of School and Doctors

I thought I was going to be so much better at keeping up my blog since I went to all the trouble to move it from Typepad. But Facebook is making me ignore it. Oops.

So school started a month ago. Since then we've had doctor visits galore. Wyatt started out the first day of school with a wicked cough. His asthma always makes everything worse, so after 4 days of school and football practice he was barely hanging on. "Mom, my ear hurts" - oh great...so into the doctor the first Friday of the school year - ear and sinus infections, plus not getting 100% oxygen. Yikes - and he's been practicing football in 110 degree weather! By Monday, he was not better, so back to the doctor we go. More antibiotics and steroids for his breathing. Finally by Thursday he was back at practice again.

Just in time for....Grant to get a groin injury. So into the sports medicine doc, then leaving with instructions to hold back on football practice so it doesn't get worse. That works for about one day and he is back full time. Still icing it and it's been a couple of weeks. In the meantime, last week we are at the regular doctor...infected ingrown toenail. OUCH!! On antibiotics, but if it doesn't get better, he will need surgery.

Fortunately through all of this, neither of them missed a full day of school, just a few periods for doctor visits.

Kent and Kurt have already had colds and coughs, but nothing to keep them out of school. Those germs in school just seem to find their way!

Here's to hoping the worst is over for the next few months!

Denver, Colorado

For summer vacation, we took a quick trip to Denver to visit Greg's sister Marlys. Despite the long drive, it was a great trip! Marlys and Ed live in downtown Denver and we loved being able to walk anywhere downtown. Free buses run up and down the main corridor so you just hop on and off whenever you want.


The first day we went to the Denver Aquarium, which Kent and Kurt especially loved.

We also took a drive up to Winter Park to do their summer activities - a 3000 foot long alpine slide, plus a ski lift to the very top of the mountain, and a few other activities. It was nice and cool and we thoroughly enjoyed doing something fresh and new.




We were very close to some of the professional sports complexes too.


Vacation was over too fast though, and soon we were back on the road...leaving the cool mountains for the hot desert.

Football Camp #2

Grant left today for football camp. They go up north about 3 hours to a small town called Snowflake. It's much cooler up there for their 4 practices a day schedule. Grant really dreads going. It's a lot of hard work, plus the food is terrible. And that's not just according to Grant.

So yesterday we went shopping for food he can take along. All the boys take quite a bit of food with them because they get hungry between practices and no snacks are provided. He takes 2 duffle bags - one is entirely full of food and Gatorade:

I am very detailed when it comes to packing for camp. The first year he went, I made a list of everything I packed. This year, his friends were asking for the list. :) I just tried to think of every little thing he would need while he was there, because they have no access to a store of any kind. So I work off the small list the coaches provide, my list, then I also make a list of what is in which bag. Since I'm doing the packing, Grant would never find anything if I didn't specifically tell him. Yes, he is spoiled!

Last year when he was gone, we redecorated his room. This year, nothing is planned, and he will be lucky if I even have a chance to clean it! This is his last year, so I hope he at least enjoys being with his friends. :)

Another era comes to a close...

A significant part of the beginning years of my relationship with Greg took place at his parents' house. Even before we were married, we spent Sundays and all holidays at their house along with his sisters and brothers and their families. We'd swim and grill in summer; and watch football and cook in the winter. After we were married, it didn't change much and definitely after we had children, it didn't change. In fact, since I started telecommuting after I had Grant, Grandma and Grandpa watched him on Thursdays when I had to go into the office. Likewise when Wyatt came along. Many, many memories developed during those years.

When Grandpa passed away, things changed, and that era came to an end. We no longer went over there all that much. Instead, Grandma came to our house and we spent holidays here or at Greg's sister's house. They were still family gatherings, but of a different kind.

Then Grandma moved to assisted living and the house stood empty for a little over a year. Greg took charge of getting it fixed up to sell. Before it sold, however, Grandma passed away. At that time Greg's oldest sister bought the house and it stayed in the family. During the last few years, we didn't spend much time there.

Fast forward to the present and the house is being sold. Today we spent all day helping them move. I wandered the house...feeling all those memories flooding back. It was weird. And sad, too. I took advantage of today and took some pics of my boys, and 2 nephews - all Larsons - on the infamous 50 year old loooooooooong sofa (that remained in the house when my SIL bought it), and on the Brady-Bunch stairs.

The final era is over...

Football Camp #1

Wyatt started Freshman Football Camp this week. It's 2 hours a night, which wouldn't be such a big deal, if it wasn't so hot out! When I took him over to the high school it was 111 degrees outside. At least for now they are just in t-shirts and shorts!


Wyatt is so different from Grant, who is so quiet about everything. Wyatt comes home from practice full of news and wants to tell us every little thing that happened. I hope that continues as he gets older!


Last night, Mike Pollak of the Indianapolis Colts came to talk to the freshmen. He's an alum of their high school, and Grant had his mom as a math teacher in 8th grade. Mike had already talked to the Varsity team a few days ago. Grant said he answered lots of questions about being on the same team as Peyton Manning!


Wyatt...in his very first Corona Football shirt.

Summertime!

Summer is more than halfway over! The boys have 4 weeks left before school starts again. Why does it have to go so fast? We've had Roanna and her family visiting, summer school for Wyatt (PE!), football practice for Grant, weight room for both Grant and Wyatt, Grandma visiting, and now we are down to football camps.

Kent and Kurt are still around, but they took the summer off from activities. They've spent a lot of time in the pool and hanging out with friends. In fact, we've had a revolving door for friends for all of the boys!

School will be here before we know it...maybe I'll be ready by that time to have the boys out of the house. But for now...I'm enjoying having them home and wish summer was longer...

End of the Season baseball video

It's been a long season for Kent and Kurt - they ended up coming in 6th in the regular season, but 2nd in the playoffs!