Mission 31: Campana dei Caduti

The Campana dei Caduti or “Bell of the Fallen” that stands in the hills of Rovereto, Italy.

March 20, 2014 — There is a scene in THE TAIL GUNNER that takes place in the hills of Rovereto, Italy, where the Maria Dolens, a giant bell made from World War I cannons stands. The massive bell is known as the Campana dei Caduti or “the bell of the fallen.” I post a video of the bell here today in honor of all those who have been lost in wars across the planet.

The area where the bell stands was bombed heavily during WWII, its rail lines targeted by the 12^th Army Air Corps. Axis flak guns were hidden among the hills and Dad wrote of “bookoo flak” and “six ’chutes seen” after a particularly difficult mission. At that time, Italy was occupied by German forces, making it a target for British and American armies. Consequently, buildings had been bombed, strafing runs had ripped apart small towns, and yet from the rubble of liberation, this bell of honor and hope emerged.

The bell being transported in 1965. The design that encircles its base shows a panorama of warriors from battles past.

When I first saw this video and saw the procession of battle-torn men that encircle the body of the bell, a vision came to mind. I saw hundreds of spirits passing under the bell and into the dusk. The bell was the great gathering place; the great gateway to peace. This is the place, in the book and in life, where the living and the dead part.

For all those touched by war, I share with you the “Bell of the Fallen.”

—Stephanie Lile

Join THE TAIL GUNNER crew! There’s just a few days left to help fund production of the novel and save the WWII collection that inspired it.

Mission 31: The Case of the Missing Goggles

Instructions for Rochester Optical Aviation Goggle Kit, c. 1944. KBL Family Collection

March 19, 2014 — Ephemera of the Day from the KBL Family Collection

I expected to find a set of old mouse-chewed goggles inside the small gray paper box in Dad’s trove of stuff, but there was only a set of instructions from Rochester Optical for the “Flying Goggle Type B-8” and a bunch of little tickets, postcards and letters. I read through the instructions anyway, and they gave me an idea: What if we could see other dimensions or people from other times when we looked through s set of well-used goggles such as those described here?

I put the idea into play in THE TAIL GUNNER and it became an important element of the story, both for Sylvie, the main character, and Penelope, her best friend. But the real use of the goggles was clear. They served as both eye protection and a means to cut the glare. The instructions note how to “fit and wear the goggle,” including how to thread the headstrap through the helmet loops and adjust it to fit over the flyer’s oxygen mask.

The varied color lenses had specific purposes as stated in the instructions. Clear lenses “are to be used when seeing conditions are normal.” Amber lenses “reduce the effect of haze conditions and increases the contrast of the target against the background.” The polar green absorptive lenses were to be used in times of bright sunshine or extreme glare.

In The Tail Gunner novel, Sylvie, the main character, finds Bish’s goggles in the box saved from the burn pile. In real life, the only place we found Dad’s goggles were on his head in a photograph.

—Stephanie Lile

Join THE TAIL GUNNER crew! There’s only a few days left to get on board.

Mission 31: Object of the Day ~ The Port of Missing Men

March 18, 2014 — We’re shaking it up with a card from the Port of Missing Men found in the KBL Family Collection.

Card from the Port of Missing Men, 1943. KBL Family Collection

Not to be confused with the Port of Lost Men — which was, in fact, the name of a book (by Meredith Nicholson), an estate (of Millicent Rogers), and a movie (based on the book)—The Port of Missing Men was a restaurant and bar in Yonkers, New York.

It was a colorful and lively establishment, as is reflected in the card collected by Dad en route to Basic Training. An ad in the December 24, 1941 edition of the Herald Statesman thanks the Port’s patrons and pledges “to serve the public the best food obtainable, cooked by the best chef in the city, at reasonable prices.” The fact that two years later, when Dad passed through in ’43, they were serving up “Port Victory Special Cocktails” gives a whole new twist to that commitment.

Don’t miss the chance to Party Like It’s 1945! Help fund the production of THE TAIL GUNNER novel through March 31.

—Stephanie Lile

Mission 31: Tracking the Tiber Terrace

The story behind THE TAIL GUNNER novel, based on the WWII experiences and collection of Keith B. Lile

We set off with this 1945 photo in hand, looking for the AAF servicemen’s club in Rome called the Tiber Terrace. KBL Family Collection

March 17, 2014 — Before coming to Rome, I had wondered why dad and his buddies would have checked in at one place, only to bail and go stay “downtown.” After finding that Rome’s public bus only goes so far and hoofing it for miles along the winding Tiber River, we figured it out. In fact, since I hadn’t been able to find the place on Google maps, I’d pretty much figured the old Army Air Forces Tiber Terrace Club that had offered a plethora of activities to wartime soldiers had been torn down. After all, it was hardly “classic” Roman architecture–more along the lines of 1930s Deco does Showboat. But we were girls on a mission. So we went hunting anyway.

We thought we knew where we were going…

Our ingredients for discovery included photocopies of a couple old photos, a 1945 handout from said Tiber Terrace, and a map of modern-day Rome. The handout listed all the activities that had once been offered, and yes, the address. We were golden. All we had to do was find #89 Lungo Tevere Flaminio. No problemo, or so we thought.

Now don’t get me wrong. We found Via Flaminio, no problemo. But number 89 was a bit more elusive. We saw some bus drivers hanging out and ran to ask them if they knew where it was. They waved their arms down the street telling us in English as broken as our Italian that it was waaaaaaaaay down thata way. We kept walking, and soon spotted a couple of construction workers taking lunch break on a bench overlooking the river. We showed them the old pictures. “Had they seen this place?” we asked. They looked then shook their heads without a word. So we kept walking. At long last we came to a section of river that had a number of buildings in that signature 1930s-40s style. It felt like we were getting close.

This was the line-up of fun things to do at the Tiber Terrace in March 1945. KBL Family Collection

We found #79. Another block and we’d be there, surely. It had to be right here. But where? There was no sign of such a building in sight. Instead, all we found was a hedge, and behind the hedge an open lot. I’d been right. It obviously had to have been torn down. Disappointed but used to such discoveries in my History Geek day job, I wandered along the hedge, peering into the hidden zone, speculating about what had been. There was a bridge nearby, so that was where I headed to go get a “Now” picture of the late great Tiber Terrace.

I soon discovered the bridge–a monument in it’s own right–turned out to be the gateway to the 1960 Olympic Stadium. We’d had no idea. Just as I had no idea that once out on the bridge, the ancient gods and goddesses of curiosity would turn my head the other way–to look away from the vacant lot, beyond the bridge, across a tennis court, and through the tree cover to a rounded outcropping of a building that was so familiar I knew at once that I’d been mistaken.

The Tiber Terrace as it looked in World War II—a rest leave club in Rome. KBL Family Collection

It was the portholes that gave it away. The old Tiber Terrace was there, sans the old signage, in full glowing color. That’s the one thing you miss in old photos, the color. But here in the afternoon light, the terracotta paint job gleamed. I’m pretty sure the clouds parted and the winged statues on the bridge began to sing.

Standing on the bridge to the Olympic Stadium, I turned to find the very building I was looking for—the Tiber Terrace. Once a club for servicemen, now a sports club for everyone. Stephanie Lile photo, 2009.

We ran from bridge to front door of what was now #16 Via Flaminio (what happened to #89 we’ll never know) prepared to beg our way in. But we didn’t have to. Thanks to a big birthday party, we just charged right in like were invited (which we were, only the guys were long since gone). It was a hot day, and the basketball court-turned pool called to us. The roller skating rink and ping pong tables seemed to have long since disappeared, but the spirit and function of a recreation center certainly remained.

The street-side entrance didn’t appear the same at all, no wonder it had been hard to spot.

One guy, who looked like he ran the place, kept eyeing us as if wondering whether we were spies. Was it the camera and the fact I kept taking snap shots? Was it the determined way Han followed him into the “staff only” area? Was it that we perched under a tree near the birthday party happenings but carried no birthday gifts? Who knows? All I really cared about was that we’d found the prize, lived it, and photographed it in the “now.”

Recreation abounded at the Tiber Terrace in 1945. KBL Family Collection.

I suspected this Tiber Terrace was the place where Dad had picked up a pamphlet titled “A Soldier’s Guide to Rome,” where the pictures of him roller skating were taken, and where he’d done a little dancing with the local girls despite having left a fiancee back in the States. But like him, we picked up our gear, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed back into town.

We were set to meet a tour group the next day, and Dad had a plane to catch back to the island of Corsica, back to battle.

—Stephanie Lile

Next Post: Letters From Home

Mission 31: More Mystery Men of the 321st

The story behind THE TAIL GUNNER novel, based on the WWII experiences and collection of Keith B. Lile

March 14, 2014 — On this day in 1945 Dad wrote:

This plain, rough-edged diary was where Dad recorded the second half of his missions. Hand scrawled notes not only spell out the targets, they allude to the events and frustrations of the day. KBL Family Collection

Flew 33^rd Mission — Vitegro Bridge by Campo. 1 hole by tail. Knauss pilot. Mac & George got in a little a little scramble. Got a swell picture of Betty today. It looks swell. Heard from Carol and it was good to hear too. No letter from Betty. Kink heard Ruth was getting hitched.

Betty was Bish’s fiancée and Carol was his oldest sister. Mac, George, and Kink are mystery men. Reid Knauss was one of the very few men Dad kept in touch with after the war. I recall him and his wife visiting a couple of times when I was a kid. They lived in Moses Lake, WA.

While Dad’s diary entries are pretty sparse, I realized later that he was keeping his own mission journal. For some reason, it seems that the base recorders were no longer adding to his typed list.

Stand down on Corsica. While the subject of this photo is unconfirmed, he may be the mysterious George or Mac that Dad named in his diary. KBL Family Collection

To that, however, his diary is far more interesting than a list of missions and targets only. His entries at least give a sense of what made the missions worth it. They were flying for the Bettys, Carols, Ruths, and other folks back home.

Was this “Kink” after he heard the news that Ruth was getting hitched? Her loss, perhaps. Based on the style of architecture in the bar, my best guess is that it is somewhere on Corsica. KBL Family Collection

These young guys, most of them between 18 and 24, were doing what it took to survive. The pictures here are likely the pictures snapped to send back home—to prove that they were still alive even though they’d seen and done things they’d rarely, if ever, talk about later.

Their stories are hidden in time, but are slowly emerging as more people connect through groups like the 57th Bomb wing Association.

The fine men of Corsica. The young one may be Dominique Taddei. Location is likely Bastia. KBL Family Collection

If you know any of these men, please post a comment below or email me so that I can update these posts. Dad noted some names in his diary, but not much more.

—Stephanie Lile

Next Post: Briefed for Austria

Mission 31: Mystery Men of the 321st

The story behind THE TAIL GUNNER novel, based on the WWII experiences and collection of Keith B. Lile

Two unidentified men from Dad’s collection became the guide spirits “Valentine and StuBoy” in the novel. KBL Family Collection.

March 13, 2014 — At one point in the novel when the main character Sylvie shows her friend Penelope the box of World War II photos and letters she saved, Penelope asks Sylvie to call someone out for her. “I need a World War boyfriend,” she says, pawing through the box to find a suitable fella. She spots a guy in a cap and sweatshirt and declares that he’s the one. “You need one, too,” she says, selecting a strong sultry guy sitting in a windowsill for Sylvie. At first Sylvie refuses to play, but gives in since she knows that Penelope will just bug her until she caves. Sylvie pretends to have some magic powers, only to find that the two fellows in the photos Pen slipped onto the table have, indeed, emerged from their photographs.

The two spirits are StuBoy and Valentine. They offer both important insight and comic relief throughout the story. Who they are in real life, I have no idea. These were just two of the multitude of unidentified men in Dad’s collection.

I call him “Franco” but what his real name was, I don’t know. He became the model for the bartender at the base bar on Corsica. KBL Family Collection

Other mystery men from the box of photographs became characters in the book as well, providing me with faces to picture as I wrote.

Franco is the gangly bartender who mixed strong drinks and listened to boys’ woes. It’s on the night that Bish is crumpled into the bar with a Cinq Frances note that Franco tries to console him. Bish won’t have it and makes a drunken dash into the hills where he is ultimately found by the signadori and her ewe.

This young recruit was the model for the character “Jimbo” in THE TAIL GUNNER. His “part” was ultimately cut, but the kid will always be Jimbo to me. KBL Family Collection

Another character who emerged from the box was little Jimbo. In a previous post, I relayed the outtake of the boys’ Atlantic crossing. While Jimbo doesn’t fare well on that journey, this photo provided me with a face to go with a made-up name.

Other key characters in the story were Smitty and Poe. To Sylvie, Smitty was “Granda Chuck.” To Bish, Smitty was the nickname of a clever chameleon who could blend in anywhere, anytime, a quality that landed him in military intelligence.

Poe, on the other hand, was the quiet poet-pilot character who was handsome enough to snatch any girl who came his way, only he didn’t.

This mystery man was the model for the character “Poe” in THE TAIL GUNNER. From the KBL Family Collection.

If you know the true identities of any of these men, please post a comment below or email me to add to the knowledge base. Dad noted some names in his diary, but not much more. These are the men I owe this story to. They are the unknown men of the 445th brought to life in the pages of THE TAIL GUNNER.

—Stephanie Lile

Next Post: More Mystery Men of the 321st.

Mission 31: Men of the 321st

The story behind THE TAIL GUNNER novel, based on the WWII experiences and collection of Keith B. Lile

B-25 crew from the 321st, 445th. From left to right front: Carney, Lile, Lowrey; Top: Doe, Knauss, Epstein. Courtesy KBL Family Collection.

March 12, 2014 — As I sorted through Dad’s collection, I found that a few of the photos were actually marked or signed with people’s names. Those people became the anchors of my research, providing launch points for looking up information such as enlistment records and mission reports. Thanks to the dedicated people at the 57^th Bomb Wing Association, I was able to identify the men in the only crew shots Dad kept—those from his training crew in South Carolina and the crew of Dad’s Mission 17, the only time that training crew flew in combat together.

This bent and mouse-chewed photo is marked “Captain Bowling.” The patch on his jacket identifies him as being with the 445th bomb squadron. Photo c. 1944-45. Courtesy KBL Family Collection

Today’s post features what I call “The Captains.” This set of images is among the best photographic quality of the bunch, most of which were probably taken by an Army photographer. During the war, many photographers were trained to take reconnaissance photos but no doubt snapped pics around base as well. These portraits appear to have been taken at the camp on Corsica.

If you know any of these men, please post a comment below or email me to add to the knowledge base. I know the names as Dad noted them on each photo, but I don’t know much of anything else. Thanks to all of the friends, family, and interested historians who continue to put faces with names and lives.

This photo is marked “Capt Webb.” From the KBL Family Collection.

Photo marked “Captain Weld.” Looks like it’s time for mail call. c. 1944-45. From the KBL Family Collection.

This photo just says, “Skeeby” but I put him with the captains due to the hat and the similarity of photo type. c. 1944-45. From the KBL Family Collection.

Further research will no doubt tell me if this photo marked “Paul Hannah” should be with the “captains” but nonetheless, the photo quality and composition is remarkable. Check out the silhouette in the door window. From the KBL Family Collection.

For reference, the 321st Bombardment Group contained the 445th, 446th, 447th, and 448th squadrons. Each squadron contained about 460 men.

As you might imagine, identifying all of these men is a daunting task, but little by little, we discover their stories. Little by little we unearth their buried lives.

Thanks for following.

—Stephanie Lile

Next Post: More Men of the 321st

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Mission 31: Camped Out on Corsica

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The Story Behind THE TAIL GUNNER novel, based on the WWII experiences and collection of Keith B. Lile

Even a tiny print can tell a story. Keith Lile and unidentified buddy in casual gear. Probably on Corsica, 1944-45. KBL Family Collection

March 10, 2014 — As the fourth largest island in the Mediterranean, Corsica’s proximity to France and Italy has made it a target for invasion. Its people, however, are strong and independent and have stood up for their rights throughout history. They have also maintained their traditions and beliefs despite the changing tides of leadership. After France fell to Germany in 1940, Corsica fell under Nazi rule. It wasn’t until 1943, after Mussolini was imprisoned, that German troops—an estimated 12,000 of them—occupied Corsica. They were met by Resistance forces who held them at bay. One month later, the Germans pulled out of Bastia, Corsica’s key port city, and Allied forces cleared the island for their own use as an Air Base for the 57^th Bomb Wing. Hence it was that in the last months of 1944, Corsica became my Dad’s home.

It took a while to figure out the different locations seen in Dad’s photos. Some are still a mystery. But the general rule of thumb came to be that if the guys were in tents, it was Solenzara, Corsica; if they were in buildings, it was Ancona, Italy.

Charlie Wilson at the camp at Solenzara. Note the tents in the background. Corsica, 1944-45. KBL Family Collection

It was from Solenzara Airfield that Dad flew his first missions. It took me a while to figure out what those first missions were. His diary contained handwritten mission notes, but it started at mission 36. Where were the first 35? Finally, while paging through his diary, I discovered that the first page and the endpaper were slightly stuck together. When I liberated the pages, I found his typed mission list, noting the date, time, and target of each of his first 36 missions. It was from that list that I was able to track down the mission histories and determine whom he flew with on each mission. Strange how things come together when you finally figure out what you’re looking at.

The partial mission list for B-25 tail gunner Keith B. Lile, 1944-45. Defense area was Italy. KBL Family Collection

As it turns out, he was part of a strategic bombing effort called “Operation Bingo” that was designed to breakdown the railroad supply line through Brenner Pass in northern Italy and into Austria. But not all life on Corsica was mission-related. Stand-down time was filled with other chores and duties, as well as special interest activities.

Based on the evidence at hand, this is thought be “Berman” (Dad never used his full name) and the photo-printing shack on Corsica. 1944-45. KBL Family Collection

It was on Corsica that Dad met a buddy named Berman who had set up a darkroom on base where they printed photographs. “Went down to the shack to do some printing,” was a common note in Dad’s diary. My theory, although I have no hard evidence to prove it true, is that most of these images came from Berman’s shack or another one like it they built in Italy. While none of the photos in Dad’s collection will ever win a Pulitzer, they do provide a unique view of camp life.

—Stephanie Lile

Next Post: The Dreamhunters of Corsica

Mission 31: On the Other Side of the World

The story behind THE TAIL GUNNER novel, based on the WWII experiences and collection of Keith B. Lile

Upon arrival at North Africa, men were issued local money. These well-worn notes were never spent. KBL Family Collection.

March 9, 2014 — One of the mouse-chewed letters in Dad’s collection was from my Uncle Wendell written while Wendell was living in Puyallup, Washington going to high school. In a letter dated August 8, 1944, he writes,

“It’s been about 15 months since I have seen you. You must be a lot different. Do you have any idea as to what side of the ocean you shall be sent? I should think the Pacific side is the most probable, because the war in Europe can not last much longer. The Germans can’t last much longer. The Russians are certainly cleaning up on them. The Americans are also starting to roll. What is your view point?”

Woman from North Africa, possibly Egypt. 1944. KBL Family Collection.

Somewhere along the way, this letter found Dad and he kept it with him through the war and far beyond. If you’ve been following this blog, you know that he was sent across the Atlantic to North Africa. There, awaiting assignment, he probably read and re-read this letter many times.

“Do you know definitely what type of plane you shall be assigned? You are still a tail gunner, I suppose….Some time ago you wrote and said that you would soon be flying for two-hundred hours or more. Did you mean piloting or just the same as usual?”

Mohammed Ali Mosque in Cairo, Egypt. KBL Family Collection.

I don’t know how Dad answered, but I’m pretty sure he shook his head at the questions of his over-eager and naïve little brother. The reality of the conflict had landed him in another world, one where the money came from the “Banque D’Etat Du Maroc” and people rode camels and wrote in Arabic. War torn buildings were not uncommon and the heavy tents smelled of nervous sweat.

Street scene in Egypt. From the KBL Family Collection.

There are pictures in Dad’s collection from Cairo and Jerusalem, but there is no written documentation of his having visited there. Perhaps he and his buddies did so while waiting for transport to Corsica, perhaps they simply bought the tourist photo packs. Either way, it was a far cry from Puyallup with its berry fields and hop farms.

An engraving from about 1890 of the same street seen above in 1944. “Bab Al-Wizir Street was a main thoroughfare between the citadel and a city gate (Bab Zuweila) made fashionable during the 19th century when Sultan Muhammad Aly was in residence.” From the Washington State Historical Society Collections.

In 1944, the 12^th Army Air Force had helped secure both North Africa, then Corsica and southern Italy. They were on the move northward and needed flight crews to keep up the push. Dad was one of those men. The strategic bombing plan was to crush the railways and supply routes from northern Italy into Austria and Germany. Dad was assigned to the 445^th squadron of the 321st bomb group and the 57^th bomb wing, and as they ferried men from North Africa to Corsica, Dad took up residence in the camp near Solenzara on the east coast of Corsica. On December 10, 1944, he flew his first mission. Fifty-eight more would follow.

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Mission 31: Miami Beach Blues

Keith B. Lile at Lile’s Sport Spot, Puyallup, WA in 1941. From the KBL Family Collection.

Sometimes you write a pretty decent scene but it ends up being dumped in later drafts. Why? Usually because it doesn’t move the story forward. One thing I learned from my faculty readers at NW Institute of Literary Arts was that each piece of a story has to move it forward, has to count. So, while I’d done a ton of research on the wartime transformation of Miami Beach, it wound up being more of a backdrop to an entirely different scene that did make the final cut. The following scene, however, is worth posting here along with some postcards Dad collected and kept with him through the war. It’s an add-on to yesterday’s post and the discovery of the mysterious “Betty.”

Here, too, is the beginning of an idea found in the character named Smitty.

The Orange Blossom Express that traveled from New York to Miami. 1941-From the KBL Family Collection.

Out take from Draft 1 of THE TAIL GUNNER ~

Miami Beach, Florida: August 1943

Dear Miss Flora (or is it Mrs. Rasmussen by now?),

I’ve finally begun Basic after all those weeks of traveling and waiting. Seems the Air Corps has taken over Maimi Beach, and how. Our barracks is a swank old hotel, the Edgewater, complete with all the fixings, pool, bar, and rooms with their own toilets. Me and three other guys share a room and so far spend our days getting drilled in all aspects of Army rights and wrongs, with most guys setting their sights on the pilot spots. After they test us a million ways come Sunday, they say they’ll know what we’re made of. Who will be a pilot, a bombardier, a navigator, gunners, ground crew, etc. I made my first flight ever from Washington, D.C. to the Miami Airport. Swell! After that, I don’t care what position I fly in, I just want to get up in the air! They say we have to volunteer to serve on the flight crews—they can’t make us do it—but with the added pay and action, who wouldn’t jump at the chance?

Time for PT now. Nothing quite like the feel of sand in your boots, and how! Two hours everyday and we’re up at 5:15am. Worse than the old farm.

Bish (Keith B.)

P.S. Smitty says that from now on they’re calling me “Bish the Fish” and it’s not just because I love swimming in the ocean!

Coconut Grove at Miami, Florida. During wartime, the beach became a training ground. 1941-KBL Family Collection

“Bish, stop with the love notes and skedaddle!” Smitty called to him from the doorway.

“Hey, hush up. It’s no love note. Flora’s practically my other mother.”

“She gonna keep Officer Millhouse from making us drop and give him twenty for being late?”

Bish stomped into his boots, jammed on his cap, and ran. They’d been through the long lines of uniform and bedding allotments. Khakis for casual, training greens, shorts and tee shirt uniforms for PT, even Army-issue underwear. They only gave you the gear if you made it through the first battery of tests.

“You know you’re really in when they give you the suit coat,” Smitty had explained.

“That’d be just dandy.” Bish had lit up at the thought of it. He still had the suit jacket he’d saved for and bought at Halverson’s Department Store for his debate competitions in high school. “I look good in suit coats.”

“It ain’t about lookin’ good, it’s about kicking some Nazi arse—or so says the RAF.” Smitty chewed on a cigarette butt. “And to do it, we gotta look the same, leastways till you start to spot the nuances.”

Bish shrugged. He’d already begun to get the stripes and stars down, the marks of status in the military. Faces were the next trick, but ever since his shoe-shine days, he’d known he had a knack for that. Here it was just a game. And it would start all over as soon as his nine weeks was up and he shipped out to Who Knows Where.

Bish and Smitty fell into formation, adding themselves to a line of about 50 boys. At 80 degrees and about 90% humidity, they were swallowed in a sea of sweat by the time they reached the beach.

“Private!” Colonel Milhouse’s voice seemed to blast a hole through Bish’s head, cannoning from one ear to the other. “Set that cap on straight or you’ll eat it.”

Bish fixed his cap, setting the bill perfectly straight to shield himself from Milhouse’s glare. His head flushed, and beads of sweat trickled down his temples.

Bish eyeballed the ranks for Smitty who, being part chameleon, always managed to blend in with the other men whenever a commander was near. Bish found him four guys down, looking as if he’d borrowed the expression of the fear-faced boy standing next to him. Smitty was a master of disguise, and how. But Bish didn’t much go for that. He meant to stand out—but only just enough. How else was a little guy to get ahead?

“Private Bishop!” Milhouse yelled. “What’s the goal of Basic Training?”

Bish took a deep breath. To beat the crap out of us and erase any sense of who we were before we came here. Bish hid his real thoughts and blurted out his second option. “To turn us into fighting machines, sir.” But as soon as he’d said it, he knew he’d gone wrong.

“Drop and give me ten then try again.” Milhouse towered over Bish as the private pressed through ten push-ups. Little drops of sweat made dark spots in the hot, bright sand.

Bish finished and stood up, stick straight. He remembered now.

“What’s the goal of Basic Training?” Milhouse thundered at him again.

“To prepare us for anything and everything. To test our will, find our strengths, and eliminate the weak.”

“That’s more like it private.” Milhouse moved down the line. “How about a round of ‘Wild Blue yonder’ for private Bishop? Sing and run, everyone, sing and run!” Milhouse jogged down the line till he reached the front and disappeared from view.

Bish pummeled through the sand, dropped to his knees with the rest of the command, and ran again. His mind drifted back to his days on slopes of Mount Rainer. Knee-deep powder, ski wax on his fingers, and a sense of freedom he’d never known before. Sand and snow are not so different he thought. Accept one doesn’t melt.

It was only at the end of training, back in his room for clean up and chow, that Bish began to realize how lonely one could be even when surrounded by people. He’d made a habit out of making friends, but here the air was filled uncertainty. The only thing most guys knew was that they were going somewhere else in nine weeks—divied out to technical school, and later an operational group. What was the point in getting tight?

“It ain’t about makin’ friends, Bish. It’s about making connections.” Smitty took a long drag on a cigarette. He was from St. Louis, which was by his definition, the center of the universe. If they knew anything there in the trading captial of the West, they knew people. “The more connections you have, the better you make out in the end. It’s always good if people owe ya.”

Miami Beach “Peaches.” 1941 From the KBL Family Collection.

That night, as the ocean breezes kicked in and the temperature dropped a few degrees, Bish walked the long stretch of Ocean Drive. Hotels and restaurants lined the street that ran along the beach. At any other time this place would have been the playland of the rich and famous, but now it was the teaser before the storm. Bish parked at a bench that looked out over the dune to the Atlantic. Somewhere beyond the miles of blue ocean war raged in Europe, Hitler marched his troops through the houses and farms of millions of innocent people, leaving them cowering, cold, and dead. The day’s news reel announced that Allied forces had managed to wrest northern Africa from Axis forces, but still that was but one step in a long and bloody march.

Bish flicked open his breast pocket. He’d gotten a letter from Betty today. She’d teemed with delight at his description of Miami Beach and all its splendors. The hotel barracks, the theater classrooms, restaurant-casinos turned mess halls.

“You’ll be a Colonel one day, I just know it!” she had written. The thought of it made Bish go dry in the mouth. Career military had never been his dream. He would do his job, his patriotic duty, and get out—if he managed to stay alive. He was just rolling with the punches now, waiting to see where the Air Corps would place him in their elaborate game of GI Joe.

Betty had sent news from Puyallup. Most of the boys he’d gone to school with were now gone, like him, into duty. Some of her girlfriends had taken jobs at Boeing and Bremerton—welding, riveting, and doing other “dirty” labor. Betty had taken a job as a typing clerk. Verla and Bill had gotten engaged when Bill was on leave. “Hint, hint.” She was so nervous and excited for him she could hardly breathe.

Typical Betty, thought Bish. Always hinting. Bish pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his face A deep breath. A body shake to cast-off the weight the letter had brought with it. The whole world may be holding its breath, but he’d never let on that he was holding his.

While this scene got cut, it was the spark of an idea for the chameleon character Smitty. Instead of disappearing into the story, Smitty took on a much more significant role in the final version of THE TAIL GUNNER. What role would you give a chameleon?

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The Stephisphere

The whirling, swirling cosmic passions and projects of Stephanie Lile

The Tail Gunner

Mission 31: Campana dei Caduti

Mission 31: The Case of the Missing Goggles

Mission 31: Object of the Day ~ The Port of Missing Men

Mission 31: Tracking the Tiber Terrace

Mission 31: More Mystery Men of the 321st

Mission 31: Mystery Men of the 321st

Mission 31: Men of the 321st

Mission 31: Camped Out on Corsica

Mission 31: On the Other Side of the World

Mission 31: Miami Beach Blues