During those nine weeks in advanced training, I had been writing to three girls back in Ohio. All three were answering and their letters were very nice. But then something happened. None of the girls knew each other and I thought I was safe in telling each one how much I loved and missed her. At that time, Akron was the rubber tire capital of the world and one of the girls worked at one of the rubber companies. She and one of her co-workers were talking about their boyfriends and she told her friend about me. It just so happened that the friend knew someone who also had a boyfriend who was a cadet and was also in Waco, Texas and was also named Sterling. It didn't take much for those girls to figure out who was who and what was what. And the friend just happened to hang out in the North Hill bar where most of my friends hung out. Before long the story made the rounds of not only North Hill but also into the neighboring city of Cuyahoga Falls. That's where the third girl lived. I got three letters. One said "Don't bother writing again". The second contained an ankle bracelet broken in small pieces and a short note telling me that we were through. The third letter asked me to make up my mind. I made up my mind and asked her to marry me. One of the biggest mistakes I ever made. She was a very beautiful girl. Proof of her beauty can be found in the Akron Beacon Journal rotogravure where a full page was devoted to her. Those pictures were taken in either 1944 or early 1945.
In April of 1943, I graduated from flying school and became a 2nd Lt in the Army Air Corps. During the last days of my training, I had volunteered for high altitude training which almost certainly meant that I would end up in a bomber. Most of the new pilots wanted to be fighter pilots. For some reason, I wanted to be in charge of a crew. Later, I realized that I would never have made a good fighter pilot and my decision was a good one. High altitude training in those days consisted of being put into a pressure chamber where the air was pumped out so that the interior simulated 42,000 feet. We sat there for three hours and experienced some of the sensations of lack of oxygen. I was writing a letter and the monitors cut off my oxygen. I noticed a very comfortable feeling and a rosy tinge to everything. When they turned my oxygen back on, I was surprised to see that my writing had gotten progressively worse to the point where I had made nothing more that a line across the paper. It may have been a rumor but we were told that several airmen had committed suicide in chambers much like ours. I guess they figured it would be an absolutely painless way to go. My only problem with the chamber was the simulated descent to ground level. They did this with a rapid compression. Unfortunately, I had trouble clearing my ears and quickly developed a terrible ear ache in both ears. I needed help and the monitor told me to hold my nose and blow. I did and it felt like two shotguns exploding in both ears. That was probably the beginning of my gradual loss of hearing.
As expected, I was assigned to Fort Worth, Texas for B-24 training. And as I did not expect, my remaining girlfriend accepted my proposal. That was probably the beginning of my gradual increase in blood pressure. My mother accompanied Lulu (which is not her real name) on the train. I had an apartment rented, a best man, and a Justice of the Peace. I don't remember anything about the wedding except my leaving the house and the rest of the wedding group. I walked to the end of the sidewalk and stood there asking myself what I had just done. I was numb. I had a beautiful wife but had a tremendous desire to wake up from a bad dream. We were divorced some two years later. And much later, I discovered that she was also very intelligent. Well, anyway, she married a millionaire.
With my new wife, I embarked on the nine week training program to become a first pilot in a B-24. About six weeks into the program, I came down with strep throat. The flight surgeon told me to go home and get lots of rest and drink fluids. I was very sick and spent the next 20 days getting well and regaining my strength. This was the only period during my first marriage that I suspected that my wife cared for me. She did take care of me while I was sick.
Since I had missed the last three weeks of training, I was sure that I would be held over for the next class. My class was scheduled for graduation exercises which I decided to attend as a spectator. During the presentation of the diplomas, my name was called out. I went forward and received the diploma and immediately found my commander to tell him about the mistake. It was no mistake. They had decided to let me graduate and go on to join a combat group.
I have no memory of the month of July of 1943. I am sure that I returned to Akron with my wife and left her there when I returned to duty at Clovis, New Mexico where no wives were permitted. At Clovis, we were put through flight tests. I had missed enough of the training at Fort Worth to be very rusty and nothing seemed to go right. I was given extra training so that I might catch up but I must admit, I was pretty bad. The 446th Bomb Group was formed at Clovis. The story I heard about pilot selection for the four squadrons is probably true. There were 68 pilots to be divided among the four squadrons. After a long deliberation, the four commanders had made their selections except for Cutcher and another commander. There were two folders remaining on the table. The two men flipped a coin and Cutcher lost. He got the last folder which happened to be mine. I then became pilot of the crew 17. I was the sole cadre of the Eightball Crew. Our Group then left Clovis for Denver, Colorado and the famous Lowery Air Base. My wife joined me there. We spent our first night in a motel and eventually moved into a rooming house near the base.
Our new B-24s started to arrive. As the planes arrived, the crews beginning with crew #1, were allowed to test fly the newest plane. If the crew did not like that plane, they were permitted to test the next one in. With one exception, all the new planes were accepted by the testing crews. One plane seemed to be undesirable and was passed up by several crews. Two crews were assigned to each B-24. #1 and #9 had their plane. #2 crew was with #10. And of course that put crew #8 with crew #16. Aha! Since my crew was #17, we may not even get a plane. But no, there was still that plane that no one else wanted. Sure enough, Cutcher called me in and gave me the good news. My crew was to have a plane all by ourselves. You guessed it. We got old 140. Now that you know a little about our plane, let me tell you a little about the crew members. It seems that whenever a new crewman arrived, if he was a screwup or his records did not look too impressive, he was assigned to crew #17. My copilot had been through single engine training and had no desire to fly a bomber. He made no bones about it and vowed that he would fly as a copilot but would never check out as a first pilot. He was a nice guy and could drink anyone under the table. Course he had to be helped to bed. Several of my men were fighters. I was called several times by the squadron brass to quell the small riots. One crew member constantly got air sick. My navigator was scheduled to go into a B-29 group and was given to me for no reason at all. They did make one mistake. My bombardier was one of the best. I think the brass made a mistake when reading his records and later when they discovered the mistake, all the crews were filled. A new pilot arrived and I am sure there was thought about giving him my crew and making me a copilot. Unfortunately, he was killed while practicing landings. He crashed into a vacant field and no one on the ground was injured. He got a hero's write up in the Denver newspaper.
The day that Cutcher told me that I had a plane of my own, I called the crew together to tell them the good news. It didn't work. They already knew that they had a lemon. There was nothing to do but get into our flight clothes and flight test the bird. Our ground crew chief greeted us and told me that the plane was ready to go. I said "Good. Go get a chute". I thought he was going to faint. After listening to him tell me that he didn't have to fly because he was not on flight status, I went to Cutcher and asked if he would request that the chief fly with us on the test flight. It seems that the chief not only did not have faith in 140 but had also heard about crew #17. Somehow, Cutcher got him to agree to go with us. We took the plane up and gave it a real workout. We did some maneuvers that could almost be called acrobatics. We feathered both left engines and flew around quite easily. There was no problem flying with the inboards feathered. We even feathered three of the four engines and although we could not hold altitude, we were maneuverable enough to have been able to land safely. At the end of our test flight we were directly over the field and did several descending lazy eights with the wings past vertical. My crew was elated. We were very pleased with our airplane. Even the ground crew chief was smiling. After that flight, my gunner never got airsick again. I was met in operations by Cutcher who seemed pleased with what he had seen while we were over the field. Even though we were the Eightball crew, I think Cutcher had some feeling of admiration for us. Or it may have been pity..
