Van's Air Force
Western Canada Wing
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Van's Air Force
Western Canada Wing |
From: Austin Tinckler (6430@axion.net)
Date: 05/29/01-07:33:14 AM Z
Just another note for your files if you like.
One day this week I was perched inside the inverted tail cone of my project,
bucking rivets while a helper held the gun. "Wow "! I said, "This is about
as cramped as the cockpit of an Me109 " ! To which my partner said, "They
weren't really that bad". This brief exchange led to one of the most
interesting and heartwarming evenings in the old clubhouse. I was there to
hear an old war dog tell the group of what life was like "on the other
side".
The "other side" being our old foes in the air war over Europe. Eighty-six
now, walking with a cane, bent a bit, but still with the wit and smile of a
veteran who made it through it all and glad to be here to think of those
days and those who went before. Just back from a reunion in Dallas, one of
many sojourns in the year to meet again with old friends, he laughs when
asked who his favorite tail-gunner was. "The one who gave me this!" he
says, pointing to the deep scar running across his forehead, chuckling while
saying the fellow was just enough off the mark to make all the difference.
In a time when it was considered fantastic to survive 200 combat missions,
old Franz logged 478 from start to finish, being shot down 17 times, bailing
out 6, and riding the rest down...He relates that he never returned to base
without a bullet hole somewhere in his 109.
When asked what life was like, the war, the combat, the buddies saved and
lost, it reads just like our guys in most respects. Grand times, bad times,
living for the day times, expecting nothing and getting just that most of
the time. The worst and the hardest was the many evenings spent writing
glowing reports to parents and loved ones about their boy who checked out in
the most heroic fashion. A credit to the corps and country.
He is most well known though, for the airplane that he did not shoot down.
That of a 21 year old Captain on his first mission to Bremen, caught by flak
and fighters, left to their own fate, straggling back to the coast. Sent up
to bring it down, easy pickings, Franz, closed to get the best shot, and
here, for the first time, saw humanity and horror and blood and desperation
and vulnerability all up close. The B17 was a most pathetic sight...so much
damage......He could not fire, but tucked in close and pointed the direction
to England, waved a salute, and banked off to Starboard.
Forty years passed and these two met by shear luck and fate when the Captain
did some digging, posted some details in a vets' newsletter and he got a
call from Canada. How was it possible when so many never survived the
conflict? Numbers and markings previously left unpublished were cross
checked and determined for sure that these were the two who met that day.
Franz said he could describe the damage, he never saw a Fort so badly
damaged and still flying.
The best of it all, though, is that 26 people descended from that young
Captain and he was so proud to show the photos of family and grandkids that
would never be if it were not for Franz and his compassion. The records
never divulged this note in the history of the air war because it was not
good P.R. at the time.
All of the above is true and there is lots more to the story that space does
not allow for here. But many including CBS, America This Morning, and other
media and vets' groups know of it all.....and there is much more....
They had bad guys on their side too as did we. There were some heartless
killers, but how can we judge from here ? Those were dark days. The rest of
the evening was flying stories about what it was like to fly captured
airplanes,...how sweet the P51 was, the phenomenal climb of a P47, what a
thoroughbred the MK 12 Spitfire was, and lastly how to handle a mission in a
Me. 262.
A glorious evening that left some with wet eyes as old Franz hobbled through
the doorway out into the dark cold night, no longer able to fly, but with a
cheery wave and "Auf wiedersehen" to all, homeward bound with the company of
ghosts. The shapes of airplanes, faint and dark, line the fence of our
clubhouse field. Cold metal and just about as old as the days we just spoke
of, they too evoke memories of yesteryear, sitting on the line, waiting for
another day to carry us aloft, but for now, a dim shape, an outline just
enough to make us think of starting engines. Can you see the crew out there
? All the young guys...chutes..helmets...flight gear......
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