Excerpts from Meredith Moore’s life story…..
About mid-term of my sophomore year at Purdue, I had to register for the draft. Instead, I enlisted in the Army Air Force and on Jan 31, 1943, was sent to Kessler Field near Biloxi, MS for basic training. After four weeks of basic training, I was transferred to Indiana Central College in Indianapolis for six weeks of C.T.D. and then on to Kelly Field in San Antonio, TX for Aviation Cadet Classification.
Upon arrival at Kelly on April 17, 1943, I requested assignment to navigation school and was accepted. I was assigned to Ellington Field in TX for navigation pre-flight training (May 11 – Jul 15, 1943), then on to Harlingen Field for aerial gunnery school (Jul 15 – Sep 5, 1943) and finally to Hondo Air Base near San Antonio for advanced navigation training (Sep 5, 1943 – Feb 5, 1944). On Feb 5, 1944, I was commissioned as a 2nd Lt, got my wings and was sent to Westover Field near Holyoke, MA for R.T.U. There I was assigned to a B24 crew even though I was restricted to flying in low altitude medium bombers because of my chronic sinus problems. I should have been assigned to a B25 or B26 crew, but that was just the way the Army did things in wartime.
At Westover, we flew several anti-submarine missions. One of those missions took us to Bermuda. A ground force General hitched a ride with us on that mission. It was common practice for them to fly with the bomber crews because they could get cigarettes and liquor in Bermuda for about half the U.S. price. This mission turned out to be quite an experience for the General. About half-way back to the States, we lost an engine. We were beyond returning to Bermuda at that point, and this made the General (and the crew) pretty nervous. A short time later, we lost a second engine and had to drop our depth charges because we were losing altitude pretty fast. Not long after that, a third engine started missing, so we had to throw all non-essentials overboard just to maintain altitude, including the General’s cigarettes and liquor. Obviously, he wasn’t too happy about that! He got on the crew intercom and asked “Now what do we do?” S/Sgt Roberto Salazar, our flight engineer, replied “You’re next, General.” The General grabbed my compass cover and threw up in it. When we finally landed, Salazar caught up with the General, saluted him and said “General, I think you forgot to take the compass cover and clean it. I’m sure you know the government regulations. If you use it, you clean it.” The General went back to the plane, got the cover, cleaned it in the restroom of the hangar and returned it to the plane. I’ll bet he never even thought about hitching a ride on a B24 again!
I had one other unforgettable experience while flying out of Westover. We were trying to return to the field after a practice mission, but the entire east coast from Maine to south of New York City was completely socked in. To make matters worse, our radio and compass were not working. We flew around for about two hours trying to find a hole in the clouds until we finally saw the mercury vapor lights of New Haven, CT, located our base and landed. On the ramp, we were greeted by all kinds of vehicles and escorted to the briefing room. It seems that we had flown over Hyde Park three times, which was a no-no. We later learned that President Roosevelt had been there at the time. We had been tracked by the Westover tower, but we could not be reached because our radio wasn’t working. Normally, fighters would have been sent up to shoot us down, but it was too overcast for them to take off. Search lights were put on us, but we never saw them. The tower finally decided that we were friendly, so thankfully we weren’t shot down.
Just before receiving our overseas orders, Smitty (our pilot 2nd Lt Norman Smith) was assigned to another crew. A Major who had already flown 15 combat missions, Edward Turner, was assigned to our crew as Smitty’s replacement.
At noon on June 1, 1944, our crew along with about 7000 other servicemen left New York City on the Queen Elizabeth. It was the world’s largest cruise ship at the time, but its normal capacity was only around 2000, so it was very crowded. After zigzagging across the Atlantic for 4-1/2 days, we dropped anchor in the harbor near Glasgow, Scotland. The next day (June 6, 1944; D-Day), our crew boarded a train bound for Stone Recreation Center in England for E.T.O. orientation. After a couple of days there, we were sent to Ireland for a course in pathfinding. When we completed that training, our crew was assigned to the 458th Bomb Group, 755th Squadron at Horsham St. Faith near Norwich, England.
We arrived at Horsham St. Faith on June 25, 1944, and were assigned a new B24J. Much to our astonishment, the living quarters there weren’t the Quonset huts that we were expecting, but nice two story brick houses that had originally been built for RAF pilots and their families. Eight of us lived in each house. We flew a couple of practice missions and were cleared for combat duty. The next two days were spent in briefing sessions. Since Maj Turner was already experienced and seemed to have a lot of pull with the C.O., he didn’t attend these briefings. Instead, he took a joy ride in a P38, crashed and was killed.
On June 28, 1944, we were scheduled to fly our first combat mission. Robert Hannaman, a 1st Lt with 22 missions under his belt, was assigned as our pilot. Our target was the railroad marshaling yards at Saarbrucken, Germany. We were one of 750 B24’s on that mission and were flying deputy lead for our 12 plane squadron which was very unusual for a new crew. Once we entered enemy territory, we encountered some light flak which bounced the plane around a bit. By this time, we were at 23,000 ft and had been in the air for nearly three hours, and my head was really hurting. At that point, I wasn’t sure whether I would live through the mission or if I would even make it to the target to drop the bombs because my head hurt so badly. After encountering heavy flak and taking a lot of evasive action, we finally reached our target. It was heavily defended with very accurate flak. Someone said it was so accurate that one gun would aim at a plane’s No. 1 engine and another at its No. 3 engine. Luckily they didn’t pick on us!
We made our bombing run, I dropped our bombs and we headed for home. On our missions, the navigators dropped the bombs when the lead plane dropped theirs and the bombardiers manned the nose turret guns. I was barely hanging on because of the severe pain in my head, but I managed to keep going until just before leaving enemy territory when I passed out. It seems that sometime during our bombing run, flak hit the oxygen tank supplying my mask. No one else on the plane was hooked up to that tank, so no one was aware of the problem until I passed out. Our bombardier, 2nd Lt Bill Kelley, finally saw me slumped over, noticed that I didn’t appear to have been hit, and then saw my oxygen gauge on zero. He immediately gave me oxygen from another mask until I came to. You don’t realize that you are suffocating at high altitude, so you have to keep a close watch on your oxygen gauge. I guess I learned that the hard way!
This mission was also memorable because of something else that happened. During our return to England while flying on the right wing of the lead plane, we noticed another B24 with our wing’s markings flying about a half mile to our right. Our radio operator, S/Sgt Earl Smith, contacted the plane and was told that they had encountered a problem and had to drop out of formation before reaching the target but were OK now. We both continued on toward England. However, when we reached the channel, they did a 180 deg turn and headed back toward Germany. We reported this at our debriefing and were told that the plane was probably one that had crash landed behind enemy lines, been repaired and was being flown by a German crew on the flank of our formation to radio our speed and altitude to the flak installations. No wonder the flak guns were so accurate!
After our debriefing, I went to the flight surgeon’s office to have my sinuses cleaned out like I did before and after each high altitude flight. I also told him about the oxygen tank hit which caused me to pass out. He sent me directly to sick bay to have my sinuses checked more closely. He thought that I may have passed out due to the extreme pressure in my sinus cavity caused by the sinus blockage. X-rays didn’t show any damage, but he grounded me for a few days anyway for further tests. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
Our crew was scheduled to fly the next day, so a substitute navigator, 2nd Lt Irwin Eiring, was assigned in my place. During that mission, on June 29, 1944, our plane was hit and went down in enemy territory. I later learned that all of our crew had survived and spent the rest of the war as P.O.W.’s. About two years after the war, I saw Bill Kelley. He told me that the crew had lived together on a farm, did farm chores and were treated and fed well. He added that every day they would watch our bombers fly overhead to their targets.
A couple of days after I was grounded, the flight surgeon called me in and told me that the C.O. wanted to put me back on flying status. He naturally followed orders even though he felt that I should be reassigned to a low altitude bomb group because of my sinus problems. He told me to try again to see if I could withstand the pain. I flew two more high altitude missions, one to Berlin and the other to Hamburg. Of course, I had to have my sinuses cleaned out before and after both missions, so after the second mission the flight surgeon reported to the C.O. that I should be transferred.
Instead of being transferred, on July 7, 1944, I was reassigned to another squadron in the 458th that flew low altitude missions. I flew 20 so-called non-combat missions for which I received no credit toward discharge. The first five were out of Glasgow, Scotland ferrying German prisoners to Spain to trade for U.S. P.O.W.’s. I then returned to Horsham St. Faith and flew 15 fuel missions. These were as scary as high altitude bomb runs because we were constantly being hit with small arms fire from the ground. Several planes were blown up when they were hit in the bomb bay where the specially designed fuel tanks were installed. I don’t recall how many gallons they held, but I know we were always way overloaded because several planes crashed on takeoff due to the excess weight and the shifting of the fuel load in the tanks. The pilots had not been trained for this.
The day following my 15th fuel mission, I was ordered to report to the Eighth Air Force headquarters for reclassification. That unit was undermanned so, when I arrived, my reclassification was put on hold and I was assigned several miscellaneous jobs like officer of the day and mess officer. I knew nothing about being a mess officer, but I could get lots of food, even steak, anytime I wanted so it turned out to be pretty good deal. While I was mess officer, actor Mickey Rooney and singer Bobby Breen were assigned to K.P., not as U.S.O. members but as Air Force personnel, and were subjected to all of the normal enlisted men assignments. I was instructed by the C.O. to make sure that the mess hall staff didn’t hassle them too much, and I gladly obeyed much to the chagrin of the staff!
After it was determined that my stay at headquarters would last for three weeks instead of the expected one week, I was assigned to a group that kept track of our men who were trying to escape from the enemy via the underground. This was really interesting, especially when we picked up the trail of Walker “Bud” Mahurin who I had lived with in Cary Hall at Purdue before the war. Mahurin had enlisted in the Air Force about the same time I did, and became a fighter ace before being shot down over Germany. I was able to track him through France for about two weeks before I lost him. I later learned that he eventually made it back to England.
I was finally assigned to a group returning to the states on the Santa Paula, a converted cruise ship. About four hours after leaving England for New York City, we ran into a sunken hull and had to return to port for repairs. It took about two weeks to complete the repairs. Once underway again, we were joined by a convoy of destroyers and three British aircraft carriers. About midnight on the second day out, we sailed into a tremendous storm with waves so high that they broke across the decks of the carriers and tipped our ship over to the maximum on the gauges. The storm lasted an entire day, and the water stayed moderately rough for two more. I would guess that 90% of the guys on board were sea sick and didn’t eat for a couple of days. I was one of the few that didn’t get sick, so I ate like a fiend and gained so much weight that when we finally docked in New York City I couldn’t get my coat buttoned!
Upon arrival in the States, I was immediately assigned to a train bound for Camp Atterbury near Edinburgh, IN. There I was offered either a promotion to join the reserves or an honorable discharge. I accepted the discharge and on Jan 5, 1945, I was a civilian again. It was really great to be home. I’ll be the first to admit that I had it pretty easy compared to many guys, including some of my friends. During training, on the ships to and from England, and at Horsham St. Faith, I had good food and lodging, but it still wasn’t like home.
Footnote to the above…..
After my discharge from the Air Force, I returned to Purdue and graduated in 1947 with a BS in Civil Engineering. I operated Moore Construction Co. in South Bend, IN until 1962 and then worked as a project manager for Geupel DeMars, a large construction management firm in Indianapolis, IN until retiring in 1987. My wife Norma and I live in Lebanon, IN and have two grown children and one grandson.
