2016 Veterans Day has come and gone and many of you may be wondering where my standard Veterans Day post is. The fact of the matter is that November 11th is most certainly a day worth celebrating but I can't help but feel that every day there are veterans deserving of a celebration, recognition and honor. Why limit it to just one day?
Although I remained somewhat silent, I did enjoy carousing around Facebook and reading the tributes to all of your family members, random strangers, the active and the fallen and the men and the women of those dedicated to our way of freedoms. This particular tribute from 2014 struck me strongly. What an inspiration this little boy, of only 6 years, is. To have the depth of understanding of the sacrifices our WW2 veterans made, was incredibly moving and gives me hope that our younger generation will keep the legacies of this group alive. Personally, it is something I have tried to teach my, now 13 year old, daughter over the years. And as it turns out, she may have been listening! This year, she gave her very own tribute to our veterans, in the form of a play, in front of the entire school! An immensely proud Mama moment indeed. Please take a moment to watch this little man's act of gratitude for those who gave up so much for the sake and safety of so many.
And let's use these young ones as an inspiration to discover ways we can
show our appreciation to every vet we encounter. Paying homage to our brave military men
and women who proudly don the
uniform in defense of our beloved country and the freedoms we
so indulgently enjoy should always be in the back of our minds. So, I
encourage you to look for ways to celebrate Veterans Day everyday by
reaching out to our service men and women and thanking them for their tireless service. Even the simplest act of a handshake, a greeting, a smile or a kind word is all it takes to show them our heartfelt gratitude,
for this group of people are the humblest among us. It is the least we can do.
With that, on November 12th and everyday forward, I wish you a very Happy Veterans Day!
I
am supposed to be working on my next post, researching the 111(F)
squadrons initial flight up to Elmendorf Air Force base in July of 1942
but easily got myself sidetracked and enthralled with reading every darn
day of the Squadron diary up to their arrival in Alaska. Here
are a couple of diary entries that make me chuckle. I love a good sense
of humor and apparently the diarist did too. At one point in the diary and during this
time frame, it was noted that my grandfather had been appointed to
'Squadron Diarist' not sure for how long he had that role and if he was
still doing that during these entries but I can definitely see him
saying some of these things.
The time frame is February 1942- May 1942, which is when the 111(F) Squadron
was stationed in Pat Bay, now the Victoria, British Columbia Airport. Also referenced is Sea Island which is now the Vancouver Airport. The green squadron
had just arrived from Rockliffe, Ontario fresh out of B.C.A.T.P. a few
months earlier and were still learning how to master the flight of the
P-40. From there the Squadron was sent on it's very first deployment as a unit- to Alaska, in
July 1942.
Bad
weather made it impossible to do any flying today and the crew took
this chance to get all the aircraft ready to be flown to Patricia Bay.
Tonight marks the fourth time our pilots have celebrated their last
night in Vancouver and are finding it very expensive."
"12-2-42 The total flying time for today was thirty-four hours and five minutes which is the highest daily total to be complied by the Squadron to date. The pilots are really happy now that they are getting a lot of flying and enthusiastic about operational training. As a result, their work is improving daily. Stern attacks and breakaways are now being practiced and it is funny to hear the pilots relate their reactions after this maneuver, which is a very violent procedure. Sgt. Edwards of the armament section is kept busy by loading and reloading the guns so that everyone can get some air-firing. Our basketball team played it's first contest tonight and kept a huge throng (three in number) on the edge of their seats by a scintillating display of team work and skill. However, as they had little training, they came out on the short end of the score. "
"13-2-42
Today, Friday the 13th, the day of ill-omen and bad luck, came to a safe conclusion for us after twenty-one hours and twenty minutes of vigorous flying and I mean vigorous. These breakaways after a stern attack are good practice, but the pilots feel that there must be an easier way to kill yourself. The radio equipment could be in better working order these days; everyone is now equipped with handsets and microphones but quite a few planes cannot be used for R/T formation because of some defect in radio. Our gasoline truck held up operations in the morning by running out of gas- again; then the long procedure had to be followed before any gas could be obtained- limiting flying to only one flight during the morning. The officers and men were honoured guests at a pay parade during the morning. "
"14-2-42
There was no flying today because of rain and poor visibility. The mechanics took advantage of the lull to start giving P60 inspections to those planes due to have them. As yesterday was pay day our sergeants pilots were anxious to get into town to spread good- cheer and joy among the natives, so when in became apparent that no flying could be done they were allowed to leave. Spies report that many a rose was bought by our Romeos. Sgt. Edwards of the armament section finally obtained some help; six armorers reporting today from A.A.S., Mountainview, Ont. At the same time one armorer was S.O.S. posted to A.A.S., Mountainveiw. One for six is a good exchange."
"18-4-42
P/O Orr continues his good work as an instructor pilot and today checked out Sgt. McLeod, Maxmem, Clarke and Christy for solo in the Harvard. The only pilot who got away solo on the Kittyhawk was P/O Stiles and he thrilled the spectators when he made a very unoriginal attempt to land with the wheels up: however he reacted quickly to the persuasive power of a Red Verys signal and went around again to make a successful landing. P/O Whiteside, Gooding and Sgt. Crowley carried out air to ground firing in the morning. The C.O. led a formation of five new pilots to have a look at their formation flying. Twenty-nine hours and fifty-five minutes flying."
Side Note- a day later they lost one of their airmen, Sgt. D. Stapleton, in a training accident when he crashed into deep water on the range. This marked the second fatal accident (the first one being Sgt. Pierce who's plane went into a spin and crashed on 27-12-41) the squad has had since their formation over six months prior.
The Squadron's Kittyhawks just after arriving at Pat Bay in January, 1942. The one on the left, AK905 is now privately owned and is still airworthy! Photo credit- Bill's incredible website on the 111(F) Squadron.
"26-4-42
More fighter attacks and some low-flying was done today and P/O Lynch practiced an hours instrument flying. Sgt. Lennon acting as safety pilot. Sgt. Lennon later took up Orchard of the anti-aircraft battery, for a ride in the Harvard. P/O Whiteside became the first member of the squadron to do battle in the air. His opponent was a duck and "Whitey" finally rammed it with the airscrew spinner damaging some and splattering the wind screen with gore. He returned and landed safely none the worse for his encounter. Twenty one hours, thirty minutes flying carried out today."
"27-4-42
Today's routine flying consisted of air to air and air to ground firing and a flight of six pilots under training: total flying time for the day being thirty-one hours, twenty minutes. The latter exercise was carried out between 1730 and 1900 hours. P/O Whiteside, Gooding, Paynter and Sgt. Crowley will soon be fully trained for operational work so they are getting the most flying. WAC (Western Air Command) reported an unidentified aircraft over Esquimalt in the late afternoon and the ensuing scramble of two machines was very satisfactory. The unidentified aircraft was a Kittyhawk piloted by Sgt. Stusiak of this squadron. The Link Trainer program was fully extended this afternoon."
"1-5-42 This will be a memorable day in the Squadron's history, as nearly everything happened today. In the early morning Sgt. Schwalm did some damage to the tail assembly of A.L.110, running into the aircraft with the "Jeep". After a routine air to ground firing exercise,Sgt. Maxmem low on petrol, landed at Bellingham, refueled and on landing at our base, the undercarriage of his aircraft A.L.218, collapsed and came to rest on it's belly in the center of No. 1 runway with wrecked undercarriage and aircrew. As a result of this accident, Pilot Officer Eskil and Sgt. Stusiak were unable to land here and forced to set down at Sea Island. They returned and landed here in the afternoon when the runway had been cleared. Air to ground firing was carried out by Pilot Officer English and Sgt. Maxmen. Newspapermen from Victoria paid us a visit and took numerous pictures late in the afternoon. Air Commander Stevenson, on a surprise visit, was very pleased with a four plane scramble accomplished in two minutes, thirty-one seconds. One new pilot, R.T. Walker, reported here from Ottawa today. Only nine hours, thirty-five hours of flying was done during the day. "
After this four month span of, at times, playful and somewhat story like entries, the diary seemed to revert back to a nuts and bolts, factual and dry kind of writing style for several more months, definitely noting a shift in diarists. It picks up again once the Squadron establishes itself on Umnak but I'll save that for a later date. Writing can be a tremendous outlet, and in times of war, it was just another way one of the guys could bring some form of humaneness to what they were preparing to do and in many cases already doing. A way to cope and separate themselves from the reality of the brutal nature of the job they all signed up for. A job they took ultimately for the benefit of us and our country. So I say, write away diarist. Write away...
I am so excited to tell you that the dates for Valor Tours- 2017 Battle of the Aleutianstrip has just been announced! Next year is a very special year as it marks the 75th Anniversary of the bombing of Dutch Harbor, Unalaksa which began the Aleutian Campaign. We would love for you to join us
for, a once in a lifetime chance- historical tour though the
battlegrounds of the Aleutians! Due to the remoteness of this trip,
limited space if available so if you are interested please make sure to call and reserve your spot!
I will also ask you to take just a moment to share this with anyone who is interested in WW2 history- you never know who will want to hop on board! Also post it to Facebook,Twitter, Google... to help us spread the word! Hope you see you next year!
If
you have any questions about the trip, feel free to contact me or Vicky
at Valor Tours- info@valortours.com. Also watch my blog as I will be posting highlights
from the 2016 trip.
Where do I possibly start with a trip that held so much sentiment as this one did for me? At the beginning? Nah... Way to predictable.
View from atop a hill over looking Umnak's two WW2, still functioning, airstrips.
I had held it together until this point. The second last stop of the trip- Umnak Island, Alaska; the most forward base at the onset of the campaign. The first one my grandfather and his squadron were stationed at. Fresh out of flight school- his first combat posting. He was only 24. This unknown mountainous territory totally new to him. To all of them. Even for a modern day pilot who has all the help of GPS, radio systems, satellite, you name it.. still find it hard to fly in Alaska. Imagine a group of green pilots making their way, several thousand miles through the clouds and fog, battling the unpredictable winds, loosing five along the way; nearly more, nearly yourself. Only to arrive at a barren, treeless, village-less land. What must they have been thinking? What Godforsaken place were they?
I had left the group momentarily, climbed alone to the top of this hill over looking both airstrips where my grandfather used to take off and land his P-40 back in summer of 1942. I sat there alone and soaked in the enormity of the moment. I needed to. The four year journey, countless hours, tons of tears, incredible memories and unforgettable people- I had done it. Mission compete. Now what? You see, Umnak was the last stop I needed to complete my journey to visit every base my grandfather was stationed on while in Alaska. And the funny thing is, by no way does this seem like an ending. It actually feels like the beginning of what is yet to come. This blog that started out as a tribute to my grandfather has captured my heart and has morphed into an educational and historical storyboard that brings awareness to those who sacrificed so much of their lives and homeland so we could live comfortably now. So what is next? To be truthful, I am not entirely sure. But I am sure willing to find out. And so it begins...again.
My Papa, recieiving his wings as a Pilot Officer, October 24th, 1941, just four months after starting flight school.
And as I was atop of that hill, the only word that came to mind is blessings. Immeasurable blessing- and it is thanks to them. And so I write...
How fitting as I finish the last post of my first trip to Anchorage on the first day of my second trip....
I left Kodiak the next morning with contentment and excited to one day return, for there are still things left to be done there. As I sat in the airport I wondered where that comforting twelve year old, Kya, was? And who was going to distract me on the flight back to Anchorage? It was looking as though I would have to put on my big girl pants and just suck it up. Well, so I thought... Entering the plane was this ruggedly handsome young man who requested to sit beside me. Apparently, he had been sitting behind me on the way over to Kodiak. Happily, he entertained me the entire trip, but mostly by randomly shrieking "Oh no!", "What is that noise?' and "Uh Oh...". Obviously, he had noticed my previous apprehension and found great pleasure in making light of it. Good thing I don't take things too seriously. It made me smile.
Before I knew it, we were on the tarmac in Anchorage and I was on my way to find my future shipmate Allison. As shipmates go, Allison is top notch. She is always smiling and positive, no fear, politely says what she thinks, is organized and well informed. My kind of human. And while I was busy exploring the history of WW2 in Kodiak, Allison was successfully scouting out Merrill Field, Anchorage's first airport, now commercial airport, for of one of only three airworthy WW2 Japanese Zero fighter planes that temporarily, call this Alaskan air field home.
Looking from my hotel room towards Merrill Field.
There, lined up along the taxi way were two Harvards, one decked out in a showy Canadian color scheme and the other as an American Texan T-6, one of Alaska Airlines very first planes, and an infamous Japanese Zero. We walked circles around the planes drooling.. or maybe that was just me. Probably just me. I couldn't help it, these old warbirds were sitting pretty in pristine condition and proudly basking in the Alaskan sun. After several laps, we finally ventured into the open hanger, where Mike, the flight mechanic, was working on the brakes of yet another Texan. We introduced ourselves and after giving him our spiel, he insisted we go inside the Alaska Airlines plane which we appreciated but didn't dare follow through on. I could just imagine, with my luck- I 'd open the door to this antique plane, and it would rip off in the wind because I did not tie it down or latch it properly. And I was not about to chance destroying such a masterpiece. Instead we returned to the taxi way, looked inside every possible window and continued counting our laps. Mike sensing our uneasiness eventually came to check on us, opened the plane up and insisted we get inside. That Mike- he really rocks.
My opinion of Mike skyrocketed when he asked us if we wanted to climb into the cockpit of the Zero. Hell ya I want to get inside the Zero! Hardly able to control my excitement, I tried to listen carefully to his instructions as to the most graceful way to enter was. Whatever.. who knows what he said.. step on the wing, hold here.. pull yourself up... Before I knew it, I was in, sitting inside a notorious, once almost unbeatable Zero. The same plane that my grandfather would have been dueling with. A tremendous privilege!
Mitsubishi A6M Zero at Merrill Field.
Early in WW2 the Zero, which was operated by the Imperial Japanese Navy, was nearly invincible. In one of it's first appearances it shot down ninety nine planes while sustaining not a single loss of their own. It left the air force world puzzled. This plane, that seemed to appear out of nowhere, was lighter, faster, more nimble and had a longer range than any other fighter ever seen before. It was the cream of the crop and in the beginning of the war it controlled the skies. That is until we could come up with a strategy to take it down which started to take shape by 1943.
There several factors that contributed to the fall of the infamous Zero. One of major contributors was the recovery of a downed enemy fighter that crashed in Akutan, Alaska on June 4th, 1942 flown by Tadayshi Koga. The young 19 year old pilot could not recover from the ground fire that severed his main oil line and headed for the safety of what the Japanese had designated as an emergency landing area. This emergency air strip turned out be be a bog and as the plane attempted to land, it flipped over, killed the pilot and was left virtually undamaged.
Under two weeks later, the Navy went back to recover the downed enemy aircraft loading it onto the USS St. Mihiel for San Diego where U.S. Army engineers would repair it back to air worthiness. By September 20th, Lieutenant Commander Eddie R. Sanders took the Akutan Zero for it's first of twenty four test flights. From these tests flights they were able to understand the enemy's strengths and weaknesses and devise an effective air strategy to gain control of the skies once again.
Of course, another valuable source of information was how the allied pilot himself encountered it in the sky. Below is R.C.A.F. Squadron Leader, Kenneth Boomer's debriefing report of how he encountered and shot down a Japanese Rufe over Kiska Harbor on the very first fighter escorted bomber mission over Kiska. For this mission, he plus three other Canadian Airmen were awarded the American Air Medal, my grandfather included. One other Japanese plane was said to be shot down that day by Major Jack Chenneault, son of Major General Claire Chenneault.
25/9/42
AMENDMENT TO DAILY DIARY
APPENDIX 4
The following is the Japanese Zero Fighter
Aircraft tactics. The following
information was gained from an encounter, which took place outside Kiska
Harbour in the Aleutians on the morning of September 25th, 1942.
It is recommended that this information be
circulated and forwarded to Canadian Squadrons in any active theaters in which
they are liable to encounter this type of opposition.
1.When the enemy aircraft were first observed
they were flying at approximately 1000ft, in a loose echelon formation. It would appear they were attempting to
impress their maneuverability on the opposition as they repeatedly did slow
rolls in series while approaching. When
within striking distance they separated slightly although still maintaining
section formation, they wing man apparently acting as cover for the
leader. Unfortunately, the tow became
separated and further section tactics could not be observed. The leader dove straight at the leading P-40
seemingly attempting to bluff him into turning.
When this failed, and at approximately 200 yards he suddenly pulled
straight up, half rolled and came down almost on the ail of the P-40. At the
end of his pull out he was in a straight and level position and it was
at that point that he was hit from two different angles and consequently went
into a steep dive and crashed into the sea.
The pilot jumped out as approximately 100 feet, but was wearing no
parachute of any kind.
2.After that half roll attack the enemy
aircraft appeared to be firing with both heavy and light type armament,
probably 20mm and .25 or .303 machine guns although the number of guns firing
could not be ascertained. The machine
appeared to go to pieces easily with the return fire, indicating either light
construction or very weak armour plating.
3.The second zero attempted either to climb
away from an attack, or else into a favourable position. His rate of climb was exceedingly fast and of
a very steep angle, the aircraft appeared to be literally “hanging on it’s
prop.” At the end of his climb he also
half rolled and after one misjudged attack on a P-40 disappeared from the
observers view.
4.CONCLUSION
a)The zero fighter is extremely manourverable
and can probably turn easily inside a P-40.
b)It has an exceedingly fast rate of climb and
a very short pull out from a half roll.
c)Armament appears to be 20mm cannon plus light
machine gun of an undetermined calibre.
d)The aircraft appears to be either of light
construction of have little or no armour plating.
e)From a consolidated report of Japanese
tactics in this theatre, these tactics appear to be standard and almost
exclusively used. The pilots appear to
be both extremely daring and very well skilled in the handling of their
aircraft. Signed: (K.A. Boomer), Squadron
Leader, Officer Commanding, No. 111 (f ) Squadron, RCAF Fort Glenn, Alaska
Excerpt taken from the Royal Canadian Air Force Operations
Record Books:
C-12242, 111 (F)
Squadron.
Heritage Canadiana
My Grandfather, RCAF P/O Robert W. Lynch & P/O Jim Gohl on Adak just after their return from the above mission, September 25th, 1942
In a matter of hours I will be boarding a plane for Adak, Alaska to begin my 2016 WW2 Historical tour through the Aleutian Islands to honor the noble service, not only of my grandfather, but for all who served there to ensure our country was safe. Hard to believe the day is finally here. I hope I do them proud.
As this much needed long weekend approaches I have been reflecting back on several discussions I have had over the last month. It is apparent, that in this overstimulated, rat raced, narcissistic, disconnected world we now live in (well, isn't that a positive way to start a post...), many of us have forgotten the reason we have this long weekend in the first place. We owe this break to the countless men and women who lost their lives fighting for the very place we call home.
During WW2 alone, over 400,000 men and women exhibited the utmost of courage, and valiance, that I do not have, and lost their lives in one of the scariest places-war, just so you and I can live a privileged life of freedoms. And that is exactly what we have in this country- freedom, regardless of what political party you are associated with. We have more freedoms and choices than most of us can even comprehend.
Only 2 of these R.C.A.F. 111(f) pilots survived the war. L-R: Frank Skelly, Frank Crowley, Joseph 'Red' McLeod, Ed Merkley, Hal Gooding, Clifford Hicks, Jim Gohl and Nick Stusiak in Kodiak, Alaska. Photo Credit. Bill Eull
We are incredibly privileged and fortunate to make North America our home. When we lose sight of the sacrifices made by those who came before us, it diminishes the
amount of contentedness we feel for our current lifestyle. Again, a lifestyle
made possible by those who fought for the survival of this country we now enjoy! Continuing to remember their significant contribution to our life, allows us to put into perspective, just how blessed we all are. The reality is, if those brave
servicemen and women had not paid the ultimate price, then rest assured, our lives
would look very different right now. We have to be thankful. We have to remember their sacrifices.
So I ask, before your festivities begin, that you take moment to reflect on your life, on your priorities, your decisions, and on your outlook and if necessary make some positive adjustments- mentally or otherwise to live up to your end of the deal. Life is meant to be lived happily. Hundreds of thousands of airmen, marines, soldiers, sailors and coastguardsmen paid the ultimate price just so you could do so. The gift they left behind is the power and freedom of choice so that you can make the changes needed to live a fulfilled life. You not only owe it to yourself but you also owe it to every single person who died fighting for every liberty you enjoy today.
Otherwise, what the heck were they fighting for?
Today's post is dedicated to R.C.A.F. P/O (Pilot Officer) Ed Merkley. He was one of my grandfathers closest friends and I have numerous pictures of them together. One of my absolute favorites is below. Ed survived the treacherous flying conditions of the Aleutians, went on to fly with the 440(f) overseas and was killed November 19th, 1943.
R.C.A.F. P/O (Pilot Officer) Ed Merkley
A Christmas card from Ed sent to my grandfather just before he died. 1943
" Dear Bob & Eileen, How goes things with you? I am doing fine. Gee- these Spits are a real air craft. We just came back from a 48- boy did we get goosed. Sure had fun-and you can't beat fun- Life is good. Hope you manage to get home for Xmas. How is instructing going? Are you going to quit smoking Eileen, if you go home at Xmas? Best of Luck, Ed."
L-R- P/O Robert Lynch & Ed Merkely, S.F.T.S. #2 Uplands Ontario, 1941
With that I wish you a Happy Memorial Day and remember- as Ed said, even in the middle of war-life is good.
One of my main objectives while I was on Kodiak was to make it to one of the old WW2 Airfields that, according to my grandfather, was only used by the R.C.A.F. while in Kodiak. Although I had previously been advised, that it may not be worth my trip, I was going anyways. Glad I did as it is one of the highlights of my entire time in Alaska. One incident where my stubbornness pays off.
This particular runway I was determined to see, was constructed using PSP or Marston matting- interlocking steel planks- nicknamed for the place where they were produced, Marston, North Carolina. During the war, the U.S. Army of engineers used these 10ft by 15inch planks to create simple yet durable runways in record time. For example, a five thousand foot runway, on top of rugged terrain, could be constructed in under 10 days. General Benjamin B. Talley, who was in charge of U.S. Army and Air Corps construction in Alaska, utilized this runway system all through out the Aleutian chain, building functional airstrips on Umnak, Atka, Adak, Amchiktka, Attu and Shemya in one years time.
Want to see how it was done? This three minute video from Adak in 1942 shows you how.
The old air strip I was in search of was located in Chiniak, 40 miles southeast of the main town of Kodiak. The Royal Canadian Air Force had a small satellite base there which consisted of 6 planes, 8 pilots (two of them officers) and 15 ground crew and was commanded by R.C.A.F. P/O (pilot) Eskil. Along side the Canadian airmen was the U.S. Army unit of Battery D of the 250th Coast Artillery Regiment. Together, they solidified the eastern defenses of the U.S. Naval Air Station Kodiak.
Chiniak Point was a bit of a challenge to get to as the well maintained island roads turned into narrow logging roads. It really was in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness. With Dake, my trusty guide, and the WW2 maps provided to us by Crusty Old Joe from the Military Museum in Fort Abercrombie, we would find our way. After driving 30 minutes along the bumpy dirt road we came to a junction and there it was, a long and open clearing among the trees. The airstrip. The very same one my grandfather and so many of his friends would land on time and time again as they patrolled the skies for our safety.
Laying of the Marston Mat on Chiniak Point. 1942. Photo: Baranov Museum.
What is left of the old WW2 Marston mat runway.
R.C.A.F. Kittyhawk (P-40) AK944 sitting on the Chiniak steel runway. 1943
R.C.A.F. Kittyhawk coming in for a landing at Chiniak.
To my dismay, almost all the Marston matting that once made up the airfield had been tossed in ribbon fashion, alongside the bush. Discarded as if it were some valueless item. For me that runway felt sacred and to see it tossed so carelessly aside was like disrespecting an important part of history. I realize that at some point, things have to go but still... We walked around the deserted scraps of steel until I came across a piece small enough for me to take home where I could honor it the way I felt it should be honored. The 3ft X 2ft piece was, in fact, too big and heavy- this stuff weighs a ton, for my suitcase so Dake was kind enough to wrap it up and mail it to me. Best mail delivery I have ever received. It now is a permanent part of my dining area. Yes, dining area- I mean, what dining area is complete without a WW2 runway as it's wall decor?
Discarded Marston matting = my good fortune.
Flt. Sgt. Skully, My Papa & Flt. Sgt. Weber proudly standing with his plane on that very Chiniak runway. 1943.
Dining Decor.
It was such a surreal moment, to be standing in the very same place as he, and all his R.C.A.F. brethren, would have been standing as at any moment they were ready for battle. To close my eyes and envision them moving around as they were preparing for flight not knowing what lies ahead of them brings me again to the deepest place of gratitude for their sacrifices.
It does not seem to matter how many times I express this gratefulness, it never seems like it is thanks enough. And so I write..
A few weeks ago, the Commemorative Air Force held an event here in our area. The timing was perfect as my parents had just arrived from Canada making this, the first stop of their trip. I was excited to show my mom, in person, one of the planes her father used to fly while in the Air Force; a Harvard/T-6 Texan. He learned how to fly P-40's on this plane then taught upcoming fighter pilots how to fly using this same advanced trainer aircraft. The header of my blog is him standing nobly on the wing of his Harvard. For years, my parents have heard me talk about his service, the importance and those planes. As with anything, seeing it in person makes all those stories, all the more real. It sure was something to see their faces.
Mom and her war hero; R.C.A.F. F/O Robert W. Lynch in front of a plane he frequently flew, the T-6/Harvard.
Commemorative Air Force keeping the spirit alive. Plane: T-6/Harvard. Pilot: Jeff Linebaugh.
As we were sitting around the table last night talking about my upcoming Aleutian trip, studying Papa's war documents, and marveling at the sacrifices they made, it served as a reminder of how little we knew about his service. He never spoke about it. Ever. We all saw his uniform hanging in the closet. His medals on the wall alongside the photo of him in his plane. But no one ever asked him about it and what those meant. Gosh, I sure wish I had. We all wish we had. Knowing what I know about my fellow humans, this really should not come as a shock to me, that there are still people who are
unaware or are under impressed with the significance of WW2. I suppose if the veteran himself did not talk about it, then how are
were we to know? That is just what drives me to write about it, talk about, and share it when ever possible.
Everyone should know, but more importantly, we should all carry an immense amount of
gratitude and respect for what that generation accomplished. I am
incredibly honored to be the voice that so many of them were not able to
be for themselves.
My mom was one very proud daughter by the end of the day. Special thanks goes out to the folks at the Commemorative Air Force for keeping the legacy of these planes and the men who flew them alive.
Mom & Papa: his 25th Wedding Anniversary (circa 1966). He was very happy that the uniform still fit!
Without ever having been there, I saw Kodiak as a special place. I have not quite figured out why exactly besides the fact that my grandfather spent much of his WW2 time on this awe inspiring island. I could not wait to get my feet planted on that majestic soil. First things first though, conquering my fear of small planes. These tiny planes, also known as Air Taxi's, dot the Alaskan skies and are a very common mode of transportation between small villages. Quite frankly, I am not even sure if what I was scheduled to fly on would be considered an Air Taxi with its eight rows of seats. The De Havilland Dash 8 Turboprop is part of the Ravn fleet of planes. Ravn was formerly the conglomerate group of Era Alaska, Frontier and Hageland Aviation, which made up the largest air carrier in the state. They even used to have their own reality show on the Discovery Channel, titled Flying Wild Alaska. There you could catch a glimpse of the day in the life of the Tweto family, who ran Era Alaska. This show quickly became one of my favorites, because it allowed me to see what flying the Alaskan skies was like for my grandfather. The company eventually went through a re-branding and sadly the show is no longer being filmed. Sometimes, if your lucky though, you can still catch the reruns. Remarkably, it is said that one in ten Alaskans is actually a pilot. You would think that all this information would bring me some comfort. Nope. Not so much.
My air chariot to Kodiak Island, Alaska- DE HAVILLAND DASH 8 TURBOPROP
I arrived at the Anchorage Airport the usual one hour early, only to find no lines and a lot of pre boarding time on my hands. The plane was so small that there were no assigned seats, and actual boarding time was only 10 minutes before the flight. So I did what any nervous gal would do to calm the nerves, I hit the airport bar. Parking myself in the only open spot they had, next to a friendly local gentleman, who had plenty of cash lying in piles on the bar in front of him. He immediately engaged me in conversation about who I was and where I was off to, in the exchange for his own information. He, named Sam, was from the North Slope. The North Slope being as far North in Alaska as you can be along the Arctic Ocean. There is big oil all along the North Slope so it is, surprisingly to me, a busy place. Oddly, Sam did not know where his final destination was. Guess he was just going to hang out in the airport for days.... a whole different kind of adventure. Beside him (at least according to him) we were his new best friends, two native Alaskan women, Nastasia and Wilma. One from Bethel, and the other from Hooper Bay. What a great, but brief time we had. As I began to tell them what had brought me to their state, they expressed the importance of knowing how WW2 effected the Alaskan natives. How so many of them were relocated and interned. How families were separated. How land was taken away. Villages torn apart. A whole other disheartening and often overlooked calamity of war. Although brief, I learned a lot from my new friends. It was one of my most memorable moments for sure. As all good things must come to an end, so did my time at the airport bar. Fifteen to twenty minutes before boarding, I said my good byes and headed over to the gate, only to arrive there and find the crew waiting for the last passenger to board: me. Apparently they had been calling my name over the airport loud speaker. Evidently, airport speakers do not work in the airport bars. Whoops.
My new friends. Sam, Nastasia and Wilma
I boarded, and seeing as there was no allotted seating, I picked almost the first seat I could find which was not that difficult as the plane was half empty. I chose a seat next to a girl about my daughters age. Turned out to be a well suited partner for my first teeny tiny airplane experience. She was a transplanted Kodiakian on her way home to see her grandmother, Barb, for the summer. This brave lil girl was flying by herself, although I am positive she would not think of herself as courageous, as she has been flying this route solo, for years. And as I looked around the plane, not one passenger looked the least bit nervous, except me, the wimpy outsider. I chose to take some comfort in everyone else's calmness, at least momentarily.
She talked the whole trip about this or that. Showed me her fashion designs. Told me about her parents, her siblings, her grandmother... it was the perfect distraction. Until we landed. Then her chipper tone turned into one laced with doubt about why we kept descending, without being able to see the ground, and how surprised she was, that we could not yet see land. Oh boy. Finally, several hundred feet above the water, we were below the thick fog, and landed safely on the frequently wet Kodiak runway. Albeit a bumpy landing, enough to make the flight attendants eyes light up, I had made it. Afterall, I am on a mission to retrace my grandfathers steps, and flying in the fog is all part of it. Why would it be anything different?
Top- Leaving Anchorage.
Middle- The view for 55 of the 60 minute flight.
Right- Finally through the fog, just a
few minutes before we landed.
Top- A rainy Kodiak welcome. Bottom- The airport. That's pretty much all of it. If you look closely, you can still see our plane outside the window.
Once in the airport, I introduced myself to the grandmother of the little blessing that I sat beside on the flight. In a typical small town fashion she then offered to drive me to my destination- Mrs. Potts Bed & Breakfast, whom she knew. Of course. Come to find out, everyone knows everyone in Kodiak. Our drive home turned into a rainy tour of the most adorable and beautiful fishing town. I would say, that the fog and the rain was a warm Kodiak welcoming, that was part of the authentic experience I was looking for. I welcomed it. In fact, when I arrived at the B&B I dropped my stuff off, suited up in my spunky new orange rain gear and hit the streets, to find myself a beer and a warm meal, preferably something freshly caught, like Kodiak cod.
Top L-R: Foggy Kodiak Harbor, Mrs. Potts' B&B- my home away from home. Second L: The Mall; a U shaped section of a few stores and bars in downtown of Kodiak. Bottom: View of a harbor where some Deadliest Catch boats dock when not at sea. Namely: Saga, Seabrook, Cornelia Marie Note the thick fog we just landed in. There is a large mountain hidden within it.
Henry's Great Alaskan Restaurant in the downtown "Mall" sounded like just the spot. The place was packed, mostly with hungry fisherman it seemed, all fueling up and letting loose after a long rainy day of hard work. The food was scrumptious and the local beer was smooth. Just what I needed at the end my day's adventure. Before returning to my quaint little B&B, I leisurely strolled around the harbor in the rain, soaking the experience all in, and thinking about my grandfather and his comrades, and how they would have been strolling in this same spot 70 years ago. Sigh, I had finally made it.
