"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers." (Henry V)

.....Several readers have indicated that they would like to know a little more of my experiences in WWII that would warrant the award I received of the DFC, (Distinguished Flying Cross.)  I have been reticent about writing or speaking about anything  I had done because the memories of these events are painful, and have required the need for therapy; for the PTSD that evolved, although in WWII it was called “battle fatigue”.  But in deference to my readers, most of whom are former students-- during my years in the classroom they never really knew too much about me.  In deference to them I will recount one of the more dangerous acts that occurred in mid flight in the Bay of Biscay—not too far from the shores of Spain and France. Our mission this day was to hunt and kill enemy submarines that were causing havoc to the shipping of weapons across the Atlantic to our allies. But first let me bring to your attention the criteria for the award of the DFC.

. Criteria: The Distinguished Flying Cross is awarded to any person who, while serving in any capacity with the Armed Forces of the United States, distinguishes himself by heroism or extraordinary achievement while participating in aerial flight. The performance of the act of heroism must be evidenced by voluntary action above and beyond the call of duty. The extraordinary achievement must have resulted in an accomplishment so exceptional and outstanding as to clearly set the individual apart from his comrades or from other persons in similar circumstances. 

…..Let me tell what I encountered this day as simply as I can.  We all had to check our turrets and the 50 caliber machine guns that were operated hydraulically.  Don Fraser was busy in the nose turret when his guns jammed. He had problems getting them into working condition. I volunteered to replace him in the turret to see whether or not I could fix the problem.  Down on the ground, during training, I was pretty good at getting jammed guns unjammed.The working condition of the nose turret guns was of extreme importance in the event we were attacked by enemy aircraft. As I lowered myself into the turret-- ,just at that moment two Junkers 87 Stuka German fighter planes swooped down at us out of the clouds; I was swiftly able to get the turret and guns in working condition and I notified our pilot, Lt. Noehren to that effect and he took evasive action even though he never saw the planes.  But then I witnessed these two fiersome aircraft flying directly toward me while I occupied the turret. With great good fortune (or was it skill?) I was able to hit, with my bullets, one of these planes and severely disabling the other. 

.....My condition was not of the best; I was shaking uncontrollably. I never had occasion to kill anyone, never fired a weapon in anger at anyone,and I was suddenly saddened by the fact that I killed, most likely, a young man who had his whole life before him, and now he was dead because I had the good fortune to hit my targets as quickly as I did.  I witnessed a thin plume of smoke emanating from one aircraft and then a great flame that caressed its whole body as it plunged into the sea. Perhaps this man left a wife and kids back home; perhaps parents who would grieve endlessly at their loss. I found these thoughts very unsettling; I left that turret as quickly as I could and I found an empty pineapple juice can and promptly threw up into it.  Now, dear reader, study once more the criteria for the award of the DFC to see for yourselves whether or not I deserved this medal, and whether or not I was totally remiss in not recounting this event—or others—in the classroom during my years as a teacher.