A Tribute to the Crew of the 415th Squadron of the 98th Bomb Group

March 15th, 2012 marks the sixty-seventh
anniversary of the last mission of the 415th
Squadron of the 98th Bomb Group.  After
their successful bombing of the Schwechat
Oil Refinery in Vienna, Austria, the crew
was forced to bail out over Yugoslavia
after being hit in their #2 and #4 engines.
With the help of a small village and Marshal
Tito's men, the crew walked back over the Alps
and onto Split, Yugoslavia where they traveled
by boat across the Adriatic Sea to Bari, Italy.

It has been two years since I first posted my
father's war memoirs and it's been the most
rewarding experience of my life.  I hope I have
honored these fine men in a way they would
be proud.  Along this journey I have found
several of the crew's family members and
I've enjoyed getting to know them and so
privileged to be able to honor their fathers'
stories as well.

Sadly, this past December, the last of the
crew passed away, Sgt. Donald Brown,
nose turret gunner. 

Each of these men are our hero's who
deserve our respect for their willingness
to serve their country and defend its
freedoms.

May we always continue to remember
and honor them.

A few weeks ago I toured a B-24 Liberator
at the Keystone Heights Airfield hosted by
the Collings Foundation.  It was a thrill to
finally see a B-24 up close and to be able to
walk around and imagine where the crew
would have been situated within the plane.
Here are some pictures from that day.

This link is amazing! 
It is a virtual panoramic view
of the B-24 Witchcraft from
the Collings Foundation.
www.i-ota.net/B-24Witchcraft/#

I brought the crew along with me

   

Crew member Raphael Gonyea.  Picture provided
by Steve Gonyea, his son as they toured a B-24.



The crew of the 415th Bomb Squadron
of the 98th Bomb Group
(Bottom row from left to right) John Norris -
lower ball gunner; Red Cockran - waist gunner;
Harry Henry - tail gunner; Raphael Gonyea - top
turret gunner and radio man; Don Brown - nose
turret gunner.
(Top row from left to right) Charles Estes - Pilot;
Frank Delois - Flight engineer and waist gunner;
John Congleton - copilot; Bob Swain - navigator.
Not pictured: Jim Mulligan, Ernie Swanson and Joe Dobkin

In Memory Of Donald A. Brown

Donald A. Brown, nose gunner
415th Bomb Squadron
98th Bomb Group

Donald A. Brown, kneeling far right  

Today I received some very sad news. 
Donald A. Brown, who served with my
father as the nose gunner and was a member
of the 415th Bomb Squadron of the
98th Bomb Group, died January 17th,
2012 in Colorado Springs, Colorado.
He was 88 years old.  He was awarded
two air medals and our Nations Purple
Heart.  He was the last remaining
crew member.  

As many of you know, since the inception
of my Father's blog, I had been searching
for many, many months the family members
of the crew.  I was elated when I found Don.
I was looking forward to hearing all his
stories and sharing them on the blog. 

His son, Colonel (Ret) Don Brown, would
like to share his thoughts and some personal
stories of his dad along with family photos, and
I hope to share those with you in the very near
future.  Our thoughts and prayers go out to
their family.  Don said his dad was a proud
American and loved his country deeply.
He will be missed...and a grateful country
mourns his loss.

I found this poem as a tribute to the crew
of the 415th Bomb Squadron, 98th Bomb Group

                         High Flight

"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered
wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the
tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds - and done
a hundred things you have not dreamed of  - 
wheeled and soared and swung high in the
sunlit silence.

Hov'ring there I've chased the shouting wind
along, and flung my eager craft through the
footless halls of air.

Up, up the long delirious, burning blue, I've
topped the windswept heights with easy grace
where never lark, or even eagle flew - and,
while with silent lifting mind I've trod the
high untrespassed sanctity of space, put out
my hand and touched the face of God."

Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee
No. 412 Squadron, RCAF
Killed December 11, 1941

 

A CHRISTMAS BABY

In the early morning hours of December 25th,
1922, the bells of St. Mary's Catholic Church
rang their bells throughout the sleepy small
town of Yazoo City, Mississippi proclaiming
the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
But perhaps for my grandparents, Charles and Anne
Estes, the bells were also welcoming into the
world, their new-born son, Charles Henry Estes,
 just as midnight mass at St. Mary's was ending.
He was...a Christmas Baby...a very special
baby indeed. 

To me, Christmas babies are like little
Christmas angels given to us by God
every year to deliver the message
of  'Peace on Earth Good Will  to Men',  
a message my Father delivered throughout
his life.   He had a kind and gentle soul
and  was a good friend to all that knew him.
He placed little importance on expensive
things, but rather concentrated on what
mattered the most:  being a good family man,
a good friend, and a good steward to our Lord.
It is these very qualities that he has passed down
to my brothers, my sister and myself, and in turn,
for us to pass onto our families.     
  
Christmas has and will always be a very
special time of year for me.  The memories
of my parents, my brothers, Larry and Chuck,
and my sister, Hope, filled our home
with much love, joy and happiness  for many,
many Christmases.
  
The Christmas presents I cherish
the most are the ones hidden in
my heart...those childhood memories
of Christmases from long ago...

Happy Birthday Papa

Merry Christmas...Liz Bacher

A Life Well Lived

It has been fifteen years since my Father passed away.  
And I would like to remember him with a collection of
some of my favorite pictures.  

Papa with my Uncle Ben

 

Papa with Nanny and Uncle Ben

Papa with his Derby car on Broad Street

Papa with Papa T and an officer

Papa with Bess, Uncle Ben and Nanny

Lt. Charles H. Estes, Jr.

My Mom and Dad

Chuck, Elizabeth, Papa, Mother
Hope and Larry

In my Father's last dictation he reflected on the paths he
could have chosen, and now some fifty years later,
it was the right path...and a life well lived.

"I had signed a contract with a company to go to
South America and fly C-47s over the Andes to mining
camps back in the sticks, so to speak; they had landing
fields there and I'm sure it would land a C-47 safely.
But I got home and my father was running Motor
Parts Company all by himself, and the boy that had
worked there with him before the service, before the war,
Otto Carter, he had been killed over in Australia on a mission.
He was a pilot -- not a pilot but he was a gunner on a bomber,
and this bomber was shot down and he was killed. 
Well, anyway, my father needed my help and
I realized that when I saw the situation as it was
when I got home, so I determined that I would stay
around Yazoo City, and do what I could to help him,
and so I canceled the contract that I had with these
people and let that fly over the mountain and forgot
about it forever.  
But, when you stop and look back at your life and
you see how things are now, and you try to compare
it to what they might have been, you don't know
where you would be had you taken a turn off in the
road and gone a different direction.  
So I'm sitting here at home and I'm talking to you
Elizabeth.  It's hard to argue with that I took any
wrong turns in my life.  I seem to be ahead of the
dogs even though the dogs were pretty close at times,
but I'm still ahead of 'em.  I'm 76 years old and my
health is not bad, and I'm very pleased to be able
to sit here and tell you about my experiences. 
I hope -- this is about as far as I can go with any
war experiences that I had or anything that happened
to me in my life. 

My father, when he retired, turned Motor Parts Company
over to Ben and myself and we ran it until my health
was such that I was not being a value to him, so I decided
to retire and I took the money that I got from the sale of
Motor Part, my share of Motor Parts Company and tried
to invest it as wisely as I could so that I wouldn't throw
it away.  If I had not used it and done something worthy
in a constructive way at the time that I got out, I'm sure
that it would be long gone now and not helped anybody. 
But I managed to do some fairly wise things.
Your mother and I each have a burial policy and
we have health insurance aside from our Medicare,
and we have extended care so that should we get to a
point where we need to go to a convalescent home
then it's taken care of, so I feel that I've done pretty
well with the money that was given to me for my share
in Motor Parts Company. 
I still go down there to get my mail because my mail
still goes to box 169 and that's Motor Parts Company. 
It makes your mother a little mad at times to think about
me having to go down there to get my mail when
it could be sent out here, but I don't know what it
would take to change that, I'd have to write too many people.
 
Anyway it's been a pleasure talking to you.
I hope that you can make something from what I have
said to you, and if there anything in here that is not clear
let me know and I will be in touch with you and
straighten it out with you as closely as I can."

Charles H. Estes, Jr. (December 1922-October 1999) 

The Charlie-Boy Chronicles: A WWII Pilot's Story: "He Was The Finest Boy I Ever Knew" ---A Tribute t...

The Charlie-Boy Chronicles: A WWII Pilot's Story: "He Was The Finest Boy I Ever Knew" ---A Tribute t...: LT. COL. JOHN W. CONGLETON It was in Lincoln, Nebraska at the Army Air Corp. Airfield that Papa first met the men assigned to his crew. ...

"He Was The Finest Boy I Ever Knew" ---A Tribute to Lt. Col. John Congleton

LT. COL. JOHN W. CONGLETON

It was in Lincoln, Nebraska at the Army Air Corp. Airfield
that Papa first met the men assigned to his crew.   John
Congleton was to be his copilot.  John was from Kentucky
and being the only Southerner on the crew, they became
great buddies.  Papa said, "he was the finest boy I ever
knew."  It was there at Lincoln that Papa met John's
mother and his fiancee, Marian.  Through the years
after John had passed away, Papa stayed in touch
with Marian until my Father's death in '99.  

It was in March of 2010, when I first started
my father's blog, some ten years later,
that I was able to pick up where
my father left off with phone calls to Marian.  
I enjoy very much the time we spend chatting
on the phone, our emails to each other and,
yes, even as Face Book friends.  My how times
have changed.  I truly think my father
would be amused by all this!  

Marian has been very kind to provide
me with some personal details about John
and where he grew up and their life together.

Marian writes: 

"Lt. Col. John W. Congleton
was born in Sadieville, KY. on November
10th, 1922.  His family moved to Hurricane,
West Va. and were there some several years.
They moved to Richmond, KY in the '30s
where in high school he was Valedictorian
of his graduating class of 1941.  He attended
Eastern Kentucky University where he was
in ROTC, joined the Army Air Corp in September
of 1942 and was called up for duty in January
of 1943.  After training in Alabama, Texas,
Oklahoma, he received his training for
the B24s in Boise, Idaho.  He was stationed
in Bari, Italy. 

After being in the hospital with some of the
other crew members, they returned in the
summer of 1945.  He stayed in the Reserves
and worked at his dad's lumber business.
He had weekends at Godman Field in
Louisville, KY.  He was recalled in May of
1951 and we moved to Griffith AFB
in Rome, New York.  From there we went
to Denver, CO where John was in intelligence
school and was assigned to headquarters in Wayne,
MI.  Then to Rhien-Main , AFB in Frankfurt,
Germany. 

They then moved the whole wing to
Druex, France for a year, and then returned
to Travis AFB in Fairfield, CA for six years,
and then to Anchorage, AK for three years.
We were there when the big earthquake hit.
Then we moved to Dover AFB in Dover, DE
where John retired in 1970. 
In his career he flew B-29s, C-119s, C-124s,
C-5s and C141s. 

We really had a good life in the service and
met so many good people and kept a lot
of friends of whom are mostly gone now.
I have fond memories of the life with John
and the Air Force.  It was an education in
itself."
  
Marian Congleton

Lt. Col. John W. Congleton in Italy

                                                                          *  *  *
The following is a letter from John Congleton
written to my Father detailing his memories
of their last mission.

Lt. Col. John W. Congleton writes:                 

         March 15th, 1945
"Combat briefing was conducted by Dr. Groves,
he was the Intelligence Officer for the 98th
Bomb Group.  Take off and form up into
formation was done without any problem.
The mission was the Schwacht Oil Refinery
15 miles southeast of Vienna.  The target
was South East marshalling yards (railroad)
in Vienna.  After a period of time we arrived
at the I.P.   Mickey (Visual Navigator - please
see picture below) had the target in his scope
and the bombardier said he could pick the
target up when we were about half way
down the bomb run. 

The flak was intense and obscure due to haze.
The bombardier was unable to bomb and
the Mickey couldn't pick the target up. 

The decision was made by Bombardier
and Mickey to take target of opportunity
in southeast industrial area of Vienna.
The bomb run was longer than usual
and we dropped the bombs.  We corrected
about eight degrees right and a burst of
flak knocked the bombardier's window out,
jamming the nose turret and tearing hell
out of the rest of the nose. 

The radio was out and bombardier and
Mickey were no longer in contact by interphone.
Number 1 engine was feathered immediately
following the rally due to oil pressure.  We rallied
to our turning point and took up a heading of
170 degrees at which time we feathered number 4
engine due to a direct hit.  The ship was without
radio, interphone and Mickey.  The engineer was
working feverishly in the bombay stopping gas
leaks and trying to kept the ship as flyable as possible.

Due to holes in several fuel cells he was transferring
gas to the main tanks.  The ship began losing altitude
at a rate of between 200 to 500 feet per minute.  We
dropped ten degrees of flaps to try and maintain
altitude with some success.  We dropped out of
formation and the rest of the formation
flew off and left us.

Upon reaching Yugoslavia we decided that
we could not hold altitude long enough to
reach home.  We discussed this problem
and decided that if we lost one more
engine we would be in the Adriatic Sea.
Also the fact of clearing the mountain
ranges between us and the Adriatic Sea.

The pilot also gave orders that every
possible item in the ship be thrown out.
The engineer and his little pair of pliers
was like Bugs Bunny and his carrot. 
Everyone cleared the nose and went
to the waist in the event of bailing out.

The engineer was still busy clearing the ship.
We were at 800 feet with about seven-tenths
cloud coverage and 15 miles due east of Zagreb
and we received about eight bursts of flak-near-hits.
We flew a course of 140 degrees as it was evident
with our altitude and the cloud coverage
over the Yugoslavia mountains that it would
be impossible to get over the mountains.
We decided that we would fly as
far as possible into partisan held
territory before bailing out. 
As we neared the foot hills, number 2
engine was fluctuating five inches of manifold
pressure necessitating bailing out in the very
near future. 

We sighted a town which we hoped
to be in friendly territory.  As we flew over it the
pilot rang the bell for the men in the waist to bail
out.  We did a 180 and as we flew reciprocal heading
the remainder of the crew bailed out. 

With the exception of a couple of sprained ankles
and a few cuts and bruises, we landed in one piece.
As I was gathering up my chute I heard a rifle
being cocked.  I turned around a saw a young
boy sitting on top of a fence with a rifle.
I immediately turned around so the boy
could see the American Flag on my shoulder.
He then put the rifle down and came over to
assist me with my chute.  The young boy then
indicated, by pointing, the way we should
go to the village.

Upon arriving at the edge of the village the
lady that lived in the first house we came
to on the main road into the village,
came out with a decanter and small glass.
She insisted that I have a drink of her wine,
which was called 'Rocky'.  Rocky was made
by distilling pear juice.  It was very potent.
I was afraid to refuse their hospitality, or
hurt their feelings by refusing.  Her neighbor,
upon seeing her offering me a glass of wine,
immediately went into her house and repeated
her action.  I forgot how many there were.

I was the second or third crew member to
reach the town hall.  Charles was already there.
When I walked up your first words
were, 'You're drunk', and I was.

We all gathered in the town hall and
were greeted by the commander of the partisans.
He only had one arm.  After being questioned
by the commander we were taken to the
houses where we were to spend the night and to be fed.
I was assigned to a home occupied by two elderly ladies.
They were very gracious and gave me a nice meal of the
food they had.  I was fortunate to sleep in a feather bed.
In return for their hospitality, I gave them three or four
panels of my chute.  The following morning when I awoke
and came down for breakfast I found they had made
themselves two blouses and a scarf with the Air Force
emblem embroidered on it, which I still have today.

The next day the crew met at the town hall.  We were
assigned a squad of armed partisans to escort us to
the seaport of Split.  We were to board a ship to take
us across the Adriatic Sea back to Bari, Italy.  They
contacted the American Ambassador at Split and
he arranged passage on a tramp steamer headed
for Bari, Italy.

We departed the port at 9:00 p.m.   Estes and I
had a stateroom, such as it was, and after about
one or two hours out we encountered a storm.
The storm got so rough that the captain of the
boat elected to return to Split.  Since there were
no facilities  on board to feed the passengers,
the American Ambassador gave us a case of
Van Camps Pork & Beans (which I love to this
day).  All the refugee passengers on board were
laying in the corridors seasick.  The ships crew
had distributed one gallon cans up and down the
passageways for the people who were sick.  I
heard a noise outside the stateroom and got up
out of the bunk to see what the noise was.  Upon
opening the door I saw a big dog with his buried
in the gallon can.  As the ship rolled the can slid
backwards and forwards with the dog following
with his head buried in the can.  I decided to return
to my bunk before I became sick.

After arriving in Bari, we were taken to an Army
General hospital for our physical exams.  We all had
lice and had to be deloused.  It was discovered that I
had Hepatitis.  I had to stay in the hospital for a period
of time which I don't remember how many of the crew
were infected. 

During the stay in the hospital the head nurse --- we
called her Molly Bird----asked if my name was 'Congleton'
and wanted to know if I was related to a G.B. Hinton.  G.B.
was my mother's sister and the two of them, the nurses,
had graduated from nurses training together.  From then
on I got a body massage every day whether I needed it
or not.

We departed the hospital and returned back to Lecce.
 Upon arriving in Lecce we found that the group we
were with had left for the States.

We found we could get an airplane at Chernolia
to ferry back to the States.  At this time I don't
remember whether the whole crew was intact or not.
They had gotten a plane they had dragged out of the
pea patch, war-weary, and we flew it to Morocco. 
There the plane had to pass an overseas inspection. 
It did not pass because the fuel tanks were rotten.
It was the regulation at the base that if
you had to wait seven days for parts you could
go home by ATC.   We waited and the new fuel
tanks arrived in plenty of time, but they were the
wrong fuel tanks.  We boarded a C-54 and landed
at Leguardia at 2:08 a.m. 

We walked into the terminal carrying
our baggage.  The only thing open was a
Red Cross booth with free donuts and coffee.
I asked if they had any cold milk and they
said they did so I drank a full quart
of ice cold milk.

So that is all I can remember of the day we
bailed out and the days after that."

      Lt. Col. John W. Congleton, Co-Pilot

The 'Mickey' was a radar navigational
system developed by the British and
improved by the Americans for
targeting through heavy cloud
coverage.   

                                * * *

My father, Captain Charles Estes recalls:  

"When the crew was reunited
in the town of Prijedor, Congleton had been
treated like a conquering hero with everyone
breaking out their best bottles of Rocky
(a brandy-like drink made from pear juice)
as he walked into town.  He arrived just after
I did and as he staggered up to me and made
some kind of remark like, 'well, old buddy,
we made it.'  I began to wonder just how
much of "him" had made it. 

As the crew was divided up among families,
Congleton once again had all the luck.  He
was taken in by two ladies (he doesn't mention
their names).  They took some of the chute
he had saved and the next morning presented
him with a scarf which he still has. 

I guess it proves that being short and goodlooking
has its advantages."

Scarf made by Yugoslavian
women in the town of Prijedor
 and presented to John   

Lt. Col. Congleton's war medals
 and scarf made by Yugoslavian women

Bob Swain and John Congleton 

Bob Swain, Charlie Estes
 and John (Little John) Congleton

John casually resting on bombs 

This is a letter written to
Marian Congleton from
my Father.

(CLICK ON TO ENLARGE)

Marian and John Congleton

I hope I have honored the memory
of Lt. Col. John Congleton in a manner
befitting a man who answered his country's
call to arms and continued to serve her
long after the war.  It is a measure of
devotion for which we are all grateful;
it is because of such bravery we are able
to enjoy the freedoms we hold so dear.

Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote:
"At the grave of a hero we end, not
with sorrow at the enviable loss,
but with the contagion of his courage;
and with a kind of desperate joy we
go back to the fight." 

John Congleton was a very special
and dear friend of my Father's.  Long
after the war they remained close, and
even after his death, my Father continued
to stay in touch with Marian, his wife.

This posting has been especially personal
to me.  I had been searching for Marian
for many, many months while blogging my
Father's war memoirs.  I bet I called every
Congleton in the state of Kentucky!  But...
my hard work paid off.   She is a sweetheart
of a lady and I'm so very glad I found her and
consider her a dear friend. 

I look forward to a time when I will
finally meet her. 

Elizabeth Bacher   

A Picture Far, Far from Home Made for one Important Letter Home

While on a recent visit home to
Yazoo City, while looking through some
old papers, I came across an old scrapbook
of pictures of Papa and crew members
and old newspaper clippings from the
war that Papa had saved.   One of the
paper clippings had come from
'The Jackson Daily News'.  It was
a picture of several Belhaven College
girls, and one of the young ladies was
Winkie Sample (Allen) from Belzoni,
Mississippi. 

Upon seeing this, I realized that this
was the very picture my dad had
mentioned in his memoirs.  He had
written to Winkie while he was in
stationed in Italy.  

Now, I had never met Winkie.  Hope,
my sister said she had spoken with her
but it had been some several years.
But within a few short weeks I was
able to locate her, and oh, how I have
enjoyed all our phone conversations.
I sent her a copy of  the CDs I made 
of  Papa's war memoirs, and she
tells me she has thoroughly enjoyed
listening to them.  

I recently asked Winkie to give me
her personal accounting of the story
of Papa writing to her after seeing
her picture in the paper.   Several
days later I received her lovely and
thoughtful letter along with several
pictures I'd like to share.  

By Winkie Sample Allen:

"The episode of Charles contacting
me at Belhaven College (in 1945)
after seeing a picture of me in the
old Jackson Daily News when he
was overseas in Italy, is a favorite
story I've loved to tell through the
years. 

My best friend in college that year
was Alice Hutchison of Crystal Springs.
On seeing my letter from Charles, she
commented that her brother, Fount
Hutchison, had the same APO mailing
address for his army base in Italy.
In writing her brother later, she told
him this. 

Well, almost no time after this, my
mother called to tell me the sad news
that Charles was missing in action,
the plane he was piloting having gone
down with all his crew.  Soon after
this Alice had a call from Fount
saying, 'tell Winkie we know that
Charles is safe.  He and his crew
parachuted from their damaged
plane and landed in friendly
territory.  We know he will be
ok.' 

I immediately called Annie and
"Big Charles" to tell them this news.
They were elated, as they had heard
nothing since the Missing in Action
message.  Very soon they did hear
officially that Charles was safe.
(How I loved hearing 'the rest of
the story' from the two CD's you
sent me telling the whole exciting
details.  As I told you, I listened
with my Atlas maps of Italy,
Austria, Morocco and Yugoslavia
in front of me).

The next ---and possible the highlight
of my freshman year at Belhaven---
I saw a car drive up to my dorm
a few days after my call to Annie.
Here came Annie, Bess and Mary
with a huge platter of homemade
candies of all kinds for Alice and
me.  What a happy day!"

       * * *

I am looking forward to my next
visit home to Yazoo City and
reminiscing with Winkie, perhaps
over some of my homemade
banana bread and sweet tea,
listening to all her wonderful
stories of our family.  

Liz Bacher
    

This picture was from the Jackson Daily News.
Winkie Sample Allen is on the second row far right.
This is the picture my dad saw while stationed in Italy and
upon seeing it wrote a letter to Winkie.   

The picture on left is a picture of Winkie on the far right.
The picture to the right is Alice Hutchison (Now
Ms. Jimmy Little from Crystal Springs, Ms. 
 Alice is the sister to Fount Hutchison who was
stationed in Italy with Charles.