Missile Man's Magic.

Professional engineer, architect, artist, writer. Invented acceleration-sled reported by Warner Pathe Universal News as Northrop Aircraft's Giant Sling-Shot, and featured in Life Magazine article, Missile Man's Magic. Interviewed on Art Baker's TV program, You Asked for it.

Mission Number One

Mission Number One

By Wesley Carrington Greayer

493^rd Bomb Group, Tail Gunner on Edward Glotfelty's Crew

Author of The Tornado Struck at Midnight (ISBN 1-59129-729-x)

On D-day-plus-one, it was our turn. Ed Glotfelty's crew was scheduled to fly our first mission. The lack of the bunchier beacon still proved fatal and the mission was called back after an hour of useless milling about, but like on D-day, some crews missed the recall. Five crews joined other groups and went to targets other than the one they were briefed for. Ed Glotfelty's crew joined a group headed for Tours. On the way, two crewmen survived the type of mishap that is all too often, fatal. When the radio operator and waist gunner failed to respond to one of the copilot's periodic roll calls, Ed. Glotfelty, the Pilot, summoned Wes Greayer to investigate. Climbing out of his tail turret, Wes saw the radio operator and waist gunner lying by their waist guns with their oxygen masks dangling loosely off their faces. Hastily hooking his mask to a portable oxygen bottle, Wes hurried to the men and revived them by properly adjusting their masks. Had it not been for the routine check, or had more time elapsed between checks, the War Department would have been obliged to dispatch telegrams to the parents of Technical Sargent William Toney, and Staff Sargent Dennis T. Hall. They would have been two more casualties of war.

(While Wes was administering aid to Toney and Hall, Harry Baker, the ball gunner emerged from his turret. He was unable to charge his two fifty-caliber machine guns with ammunition. After the mission, when they had returned to Debach, it was discovered that the ground crew had installed the guns with two red tags stating Cation- Remove these tags before installing.)

Additional problems on this mission:

1. After installing his guns, the nose turret gunner forgot to install a locking pin and the turret turned ninety degrees during takeoff, placing the entry door outside. The mission, was flown with useless nose turret guns.

2. The Engineer didn't have time to install the top turret guns before takeoff. The guns were laying on the floor during takeoff and the bolt return springs rolled out the Bombay boors, onto the runway. The mission, was flown with useless top turret guns.

3. The waist gunner forgot the bolt return springs for the waist guns in the armament shack. He and the radio operator could not install the waist guns. The mission, was flown with useless waist guns.

4. The radio operator missed the 'recall message' and Glotfelty's and four other crews joined other groups and flew their first mission to targets they were not briefed for.

5. The target we went to was further than the target we were briefed for, and we had to make an emergency landing at an RAF airbase on our return trip. But, this was an unexpected blessing. The crew was fed in the RAF officers mess with tablecloths, napkins, and waitresses to take our orders. The enlisted men on the crew enjoyed being waited on by some 'rather attractive' British service-women. And back in their sleeping quarters, the RAF batmen even ironed their flight gear while they were sleeping. Wes didn't know if the American officers were accustomed to such 'Royal Treatment'.

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Ed Glotfelty's crew

Back - Standing -Grayson Morrissette, John Appleton, Edward Glotfelty,

Norman Loney, Eugene Cromer

Kneeling - Denis Hall, William Toney, Harry Baker, Wesley Greayer,

Bernard Grunlough

Shot Down - Missing In Action

Incidentally, some have wanted to post comments to some of my posts but didn't want to put their e-mail address on a public forum. Not to worry. Your e-mail address is not shown, just your comment. (Example. Go to Blog Archive on the right and select 'The Box in the Attic'. Curser to the bottom and you will see there was 1 comment. Click on it and the comment opens. It says: Papa,

Thank you for sharing the difficulties you faced just being a soldier. You say people bury themselves to deal with the trauma they faced each day. But perhaps it is more than that? Don't you think you had to become a different person and that today both people are part of whom you are?

Dawn

September 3, 2007 11:39 AM

It only reveals what she wanted to reveal; that she is my daughter. No e-mail; nothing else.

Homecoming

By Wesley Carrington Greayer

Author: The Tornado Struck at Midnight (ISBN 1-59129-729-x)

Tail Gunner on Edward Glotfelty's Crew

493^rd Bomb Group

The SS Uruguay, a luxury cruise ship before the war, had been converted to a troopship and had transported thousands of soldiers and airmen between the new world and Britain. On Eastbound trips, they filled the ship to capacity with young, healthy men in the prime of life. These men were among the brightest and most physically fit the nation produced.

Thus far, on Westbound voyages, the SS Uruguay carried mostly the casualties, the mentally and/or physically impaired men returning from combat. They were the refuse of war.

On this particular trip the SS Uruguay transported returnees from the air battles over Germany. They were all damaged goods. Of the eighteen-hundred men who were still breathing, there were three hundred airmen returning for 'section-eight' and other 'medical' discharges and fifteen-hundred airmen who had finished their tour. There was a fine line between the fifteen-hundred able bodied men and the three hundred disabled and section-eight candidates. All fifteen-hundred able bodied men suffered from battle fatigue and mental and physical ailments to one degree or another. None were as mentally or physically fit as they were when they left the States.

Forget about the loss of hair (which fell out by the handful). Forget about the nervous tic, the stammer, the lapses in concentration. Forget about the heart murmur and soaring blood pressure. Although these men had no visible scars and were judged sane, combat had left its mark. You can't take a man through the gates of hell thirty-five times and bring him back unchanged. Airmen quickly learn that this wasn't like playing cowboys and Indians. They were all on 'death row.' This was Russian Roulette with a loaded gun pointed at your head. 'On Alert' meant their 'execution date' was set for the next morning. Cigarettes glowed throughout the night as they awaited their wake-up call. At dawn they choked down their last meal. After the briefing, the Catholics on the crew stopped off to receive communion and 'last rites'. If you hadn't realized it before, that woke you to the fact that you were about to die. Only a miracle could save you. The zombies walked to their chariot of death. As each man entered his solitary execution chamber, he prayed to his own God for a miracle. Each man sat in solitary confinement, his ball turret, his nose turret, his top turret, his tail turret, or by his waist gun, his radio, or his bombsight. Only the pilot and copilot were too busy flying to have time to think. If the guillotine misfired, and you came back unharmed, you knew it was a bonafide miracle, for while you were escaping . . . you witnessed executions all round you, both in the air and on the ground; for not only were you the 'condemned man', . . . you were also the 'executioner'. You played God as you dropped bombs and executed men, women, and children on the ground.

In any event, you soon realized it was just a temporary reprieve. In a day or two a new execution date was set. You would have to survive thirty-five scheduled executions to earn a reprieve.

After each mission the crews were de-briefed. Intelligence officers gathered information on the success of the mission. Each man gave his eye witness account of the casualties while medical officers observed and evaluated the 'mental' condition of each crew member. They used no stethoscopes, took no blood pressures, or other physical measurements. A person flying missions could never 'pass' a physical-physical. That's why no physicals were scheduled from the moment you shipped out until (hopefully) you returned home. Medical officers only looked for signs that someone might flip out. They had to make certain no one was about to damage the equipment. All physicals could wait until you had finished your tour to see when you could be put back into inventory and sent out again.

Somewhere around mid-tour the missions began taking its toll. Some men went bonkers while others teetered on the verge. When the medical officers decided a crew was 'Flak Happy,' the crew was given leave. They were sent to an English Manor House in the countryside for ten days of pampering, with breakfast in bed, horseback riding, tennis, golf, croquet, punting on the Thames, and any of dozens of indoor games. They were allowed to 'look at' but could not 'touch' the gorgeous females on the Red Cross and Manor House staff. Once flak-leave was over, they were not 'as good as new'. They still had their head twitch, their St Vitus-dance arm jerk, their stammer, their lapses in concentration, but they were judged fit enough to complete their tour. The crews were returned to death row and the whole routine began over. By the time their tour was over, they were all ready for the funny farm. This time, however, they got no rest cure, no pampering, no counseling; they were scrap; used up worn out; they were put on a ship to be dumped back in the USA to recover as best they could on their own. Some never made it.

When they arrived home, their families and friends threw parties to celebrate. They shook their hands, drank toasts to their health, patted their backs and said, 'good show.' Everyone put on a happy face, and smiled for the camera.

But, alone in their bed at night

their friends and loved ones

silently mourned

and cried themselves to sleep.

 

Humpty Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty

By Wesley Carrington Greayer

493^rd Bomb Group,

Tail Gunner on Edward Glotfelty's Crew

Author: The Tornado Struck at Midnight (ISBN 1-59129-729-x)

On 22 May 1944 fifty B-24 bombers landed at the new 493rd airbase near Debach in the English countryside. The addition of the 493rd bomb group completed the buildup of the heavy bomber wing of the Eighth Air Corps in Britain. Comprised of forty-one Flying-Fortress groups (B-17s) and twelve Liberator groups (B24s), each heavy bomber group consisted of fifty aircraft. To man these aircraft there were one hundred and fifty ten-man crews. The men of other disciplines necessary to staff and administer a combat airbase brought the total personnel per Bomb Group to about three-thousand men.

The airbase had over a month of construction and checkout of facilities remaining before it would be operational. Crew training was not yet complete so they would be busy with additional training to familiarize them with the English countryside, location of emergency landing strips and myriads of other subtle details while the base was being completed. They expected to face their first mission in mid July of 1944. This was it. They were on the threshold of combat.

The 493^rd flying personnel were divided into four squadrons, the 860th, 861st, 862nd, and 863rd Heavy Bombardment Squadrons. The men were housed in Quonset huts, with Officers huts on one side of the compound and enlisted men on the other, with two crews to a hut. Officers huts housed Pilots, Co-pilots, Bombardiers, and navigators. Enlisted mens huts housed Engineers, Radio operators, Ball gunners, Nose gunners, Tail gunners, and waist gunners. (There was a tiny wood burning stove in the center of each Quonset hut which provided feeble heat, at best. Wes Greayer converted it to an oil burning stove in using waste oil from the flight line as fuel. This fuel made the stove and flue glow bright red from the base to the point where the chimney exited the ceiling. In Jig time, engineers from headquarters were down inspecting the contrivance, but even before they arrived, every Quonset hut on the base had a carbon copy installed and it was a wonderful use for waste oil.)

At three AM on the morning of 6 June, 1944, a messenger burst into our Quonset hut with a bullhorn, rudely awakening everyone from their blissful slumber. He announced that one crew in our hut was to report for a 'mission briefing'. Chaos ensued as the entire barracks erupted in a chorus of questions .

"Mission, what mission?"

" The base won't be operational for another month!"

"We just got here!"

"Crew training isn't complete!"

"Crews are supposed to be put on 'alert' the night before a mission?"

"Harry's still in Debach. He never got back from his hot date, last night."

Blah, blah, blah. The messenger simply shrugged, repeated his message, and he dashed to the next barracks. Ten minutes later a six wheeler picked the sleepy crewmen up and ferried them to the briefing room where they met their officers and members of the other 35 crews who were scheduled to fly their first mission on that day.

At the morning briefing the crews were told the Allies were invading Europe! This was D-day!

"Training is over."

"But, how will the ships assemble?"

"No bunchier-beacons have been installed!"

"In a sky full of 2000 bombers, how will we find our lead ship?"

Not to worry. Never mind there are no bunchier-beacons to help bombers assemble; the 36 bombers will simply cruise around until they find ships with the same tail markings; no prob.

"But, what about bombs?

"The ground crews haven't had time to load any bombs."

Wrong again. This isn't a bombing mission. Their B-24 heavy bombers, designed for precision bombing from high altitude would cruise around at low altitude looking for 'targets-of- opportunity' in support of the invasion troops charging ashore on the beaches of Normandy.

"Targets-of- opportunity?"

"You mean use our machine guns to strafe German ground troops?"

Uh-huh.

Easier said than done. After takeoff, the gunners, bombardiers, and radio-operators dispersed to their combat stations to provide several vantage points to search for bombers with their group's tail markings. Not an easy task. After a half-hour of useless milling around, headquarters called the mission back. All bombers returned to base with their 500 pound general-purpose bomb load still safely aboard . . . except two. With every man aboard concentrating on finding other ships in their group, these two missed the recall and headed for Normandy on their own.

While over Normandy, concentrating on finding targets of opportunity, these two B-24 bombers collided in mid-air. One ship broke in half, at the waist, dumping out the waist gunners. The gunners were not wearing their chutes. As the crippled ships spiraled down, a few other crew-members managed to jump but the aircraft were too low. Their chutes didn't have enough time to open. All twenty men plummeted to their deaths. The 493^rd had lost two aircraft and twenty men on a non-mission. Chances of other crews surviving the thirty-five mission tour looked bleak.

Interesting aside

Interesting aside:

When Publish America published, my book 'The Tornado Struck at Midnight' I soon discovered no bookstores would stock it because Publish America books were 'nonreturnable'. (POD publisher) I was able to get my local "Border's" to stock ten books (As a local author) and the book vanished from the shelves almost overnight. (I had to keep checking and notify the manager each time Borders sold out and he would order ten more copies.) With only one store carrying my book it hardly made a dent in my royalty check, and eventually it became too tedious to keep checking Borders to remind the manager it was time to restock my book. Recently (After I finished writing my third book, Russian Roulette) I realized 'The Tornado Struck at Midnight' didn't sell as rapidly on the various 'Internet outlets' as it did on the Borders bookshelves and I was curious why this was? Then it hit me!!!! My name is Greayer! Borders filed my book between Grafton and Grisham. (Location, location, location) Many 'browsers' stumbled on my book, and the attractive cover (Designed by my son, Gregg) caused them to pick it up and flip it open. Once they did that, they were 'hooked' and they bought the book. (Incidentally, 'The Tornado Struck at Midnight' is ranked #1 at these Amazon Websites.)

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_nr_n_18/102-3032249-8295340?ie=UTF8&rs=1000&keywords=Port%20of%20Spain%20%28Trinidad%20and%20To&rh=n%3A1000%2Ck%3APort%20of%20Spain%20%28Trinidad%20and%20To%2Cn%3A17

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_nr_n_15/102-3032249-8295340?ie=UTF8&rs=1000&keywords=Port%20of%20Spain%20%28Trinidad%20and%20To&rh=n%3A1000%2Ck%3APort%20of%20Spain%20%28Trinidad%20and%20To%2Cn%3A18

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_nr_n_4/102-3032249-8295340?ie=UTF8&rs=18&keywords=Schooners&rh=n%3A1000%2Ck%3ASchooners%2Cn%3A18%2Cn%3A10482

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_st/102-3032249-8295340?keywords=Yachts&rs=10482&page=1&rh=n%3A1000%2Ck%3AYachts%2Cn%3A18%2Cn%3A10482&sort=newrelevancerank

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_nr_n_6/102-3032249-8295340?ie=UTF8&rs=18&keywords=World%20War%20II&rh=n%3A1000%2Ck%3AWorld%20War%20II%2Cn%3A18%2Cn%3A10482

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_nr_n_5/102-3032249-8295340?ie=UTF8&rs=18&keywords=Romantic%20suspense%20fiction&rh=n%3A1000%2Ck%3ARomantic%20suspense%20fiction%2Cn%3A18%2Cn%3A10482

 

The Tornado Struck at Midnight

My second book The Tornado Struck at Midnight is published as a mystery. It re-creates my disastrous love affair with a woman I call Carmen, who in 'real life' was Queen of the '46 Carnival in Port of Spain Trinidad, and later became , Rita Haworth's double in the film 'Gilda'. See reviews on Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Tornado-Struck-at-Midnight/dp/159129729X/ref=pd_bbs_sr