I wonder if he was a farmer.
They were excellent marksmen in VN.
They grew up hunting squirrels and other very small targets.
**I wonder if he was a farmer.
They were excellent marksmen in VN.
They grew up hunting squirrels and other very small targets.**
My father-in-law Calvin was such. He lied about his age, joined the USAAF at 17. He became a waist gunner on a B24. His fellow waist gunner was from the city. They kept in touch until my Cal passed away in 2003. The fellow warrior wrote a nice long letter to Calvin’s children, commenting, among other things, that Cal’s aim was superhuman.
Cal rarely talked of combat, but enjoyed talking about hijinks on or off base. When pressed by family once, about why he received the DFC, he got quiet for a moment, and with a barely audible voice muttered, “they say I shot down 7 fighters”.
Only one other time I recall him mentioning combat, when pressed by his grandson. He said, when you know you killed someone in war, you might not think about it at the moment, but you will over and over again later.
He mentioned raking a fighter’s fuselage from nose to tail, as it came at his bomber from 5 oclock high. He said their eyes met at the split second the fighter passed under the bomber, and Cal knew from the hits in the cockpit area that the pilot was likely wounded. The plane went slowly spiraling nose down without smoke or a parachute, hitting the ground, then bursting into flames.
Cal then said, “you feel bad about it later, but its war”.