• SHOP MY BOOKS
    • AUDIOBOOKS
  • HOME
    • ABOUT
    • MEET THE AUTHOR.
    • NOTES ON ATTRIBUTION
  • DISCUSSION GUIDE
  • A TRAIN NEAR MAGDEBURG-HOLOCAUST FILM PROJECT
  • HOLOCAUST SURVIVORS, LIBERATORS REUNITED
    • THE LIBERATION PHOTOS.
  • 1945 Manifest List-Names of those liberated at Farsleben, Germany, April 13th 1945
    • Looking for someone? Post here.
  • Privacy Policy

Teaching History Matters

"for the sake of humanity"… A small town American high school history project changes lives worldwide. These are the observations of a veteran teacher- on the Power of Teaching, the importance of the study of History, and especially the lessons we must learn, and teach, on the Holocaust. Click on "Holocaust Survivors, Liberators Reunited" tab above to begin.

Feeds:
Posts
Comments
« real history from real people.
I hated the Army, but they trained me to kill Nazis. »

A few of us must be brave.

August 20, 2017 by Matthew Rozell

 

My third book is now available as an ebook. The paperback should be out by first week of September.

It is the story of eight airmen as they grew up during the Great Depression and then joined the US Army Air Forces and took to the skies over Europe. Each man held a different crew position on the ‘heavies’, the B-24 Liberator or the B-17 Flying Fortress. Most had a connection to ‘Hometown USA’, a name coined during WWII for Glens Falls, NY and the surrounding environs and small communities that lined the Hudson River 200 miles north of New York City.

Here is a story from Chapter Five.

The Navigator

Kenneth R. Carlson was born in 1921 in New York City. As a boy in the Great Depression, he spent his summers at Glenburnie at the Lake George Camp, the northern fringe of the communities surrounding ‘Hometown USA’. He called me at home one evening, shortly after I had returned from swimming near there.

‘Tell me about yourself, your family. I myself was from a middle-class family, but we were lucky in that I was able to attend what was probably the best private school in New York City. Incidentally, my tuition in grade school in the ‘20s was $250 a year; today a kindergarten slot is $45,000. I had a terrific education, even though I had to fight my way through the Irish gangs on 69th Street when I came back home from school.’

He tells me that the man who cuts his hair was an 8-year old boy in occupied France. He would look up, see the twin tails of the B-24 Liberators  coming or going to attack Germany, and wish them a silent prayer, hopeful that one day he would indeed be free.

‘I think what you are doing is very important. I still go to speak to the students here a few times a year; when we got out of the service, I joined the 8th Air Force Historical Society here in New York and vowed to speak to kids. At 96, I’m still keeping that commitment. Years ago the Smithsonian put out a book, High Honor, of inspirational stories with World War II veterans, myself and twenty-nine other fellows. Get the book, but I wouldn’t try to contact any of the other fellows. I’m the last one left.’

*

I won’t bore you with other missions, but we were on the first three raids on Berlin. March 6, 1944, was referred to as ‘Bloody Monday’ because we sent 600 airplanes up and 69 did not come back. That was not the worst experience I had because our group was not damaged. A lot of groups were, so we were very fortunate. But on our eighth mission we were sent to Freiburg in southern Germany, near the Swiss border. And it was there, just as we were going over the target…

Flak

Let me tell you a little about flak. I have carried this with me ever since, because this is what flak looks like [digs into jacket pocket, pulls out a jagged flak fragment about the size of two fingers].

carlson flak

This is a piece of flak from a German 88mm artillery shell, which is fired from the ground and explodes at 25,000 feet, which is where we were flying. It is designed to destroy the plane or the engines or blow up the gas tank. And on my eighth mission, just as we were flying over the target, through these black clouds of exploding shells that you had to fly though, and just as the bombardier released our bombs I hit the salvo handle, a handle right next to the instrument on the navigation table. That would release the bombs in the event that the bombsight did not release the bombs. The second the bombardier says, ‘Bombs are away’, the navigator hits the salvo handle so if any bombs did get hung up, they would automatically go when you hit the salvo handle. So as I hit that handle this piece of flak nearly took my right arm off. And all I felt was no pain, just the feeling that someone had hit me with a sledgehammer. I felt total peace. It was the most unbelievable experience I’d ever had in my life. I didn’t talk to God or see God, but I had absolutely no fear.

I looked down and there wasn’t much left of my right arm; I saw it hanging there. I called the pilot and asked him to send somebody down to put a tourniquet on. Meanwhile I was checking instruments, because now we were on our way back and navigating was part of what I had to do, and I was still capable of doing it; I had no problem with it. The radio operator came down, took one look at it, and fainted. So I called again and the engineer came down. He revived the radio operator and sent him back with his portable oxygen mask. He then put the tourniquet on and stayed with me for the three or four hours it took to get back to base. An engine was on fire. Joe put the fire out and we lost a second engine. He brought it back, we landed, and I was brought to the hospital. They repaired my arm. I was on the operating table for eight hours. I didn’t wake up for 72 hours due to an overdose of pentothal, which was the drug they used in those days.

While I was in the hospital, our plane had 150 holes in it [to be patched up], and the crew was given a leave to go to London and relax. Joe came in and brought this piece of flak to me. [It had been lodged] in the instrument panel and it had a piece of my wire suit and my blood on it. So it took part of my arm and then went on to demolish part of the instrument panel. Joe said to me, ‘Sorry you are so unlucky, Navigator. We’re going to miss you’, because there was no way I was going to fly again.

They came back from leave to fly the repaired airplane on the next mission, and they flew and they never came back. The crew next to them saw them explode, just like the Space Shuttle did on my 65th birthday. They were officially declared missing; [only] one parachute was seen coming out. For years I assumed they were missing rather than the fact that they were killed. About two years later, the government declared them killed in action. But up until about four or five years ago, [it was assumed that] there were no bodies ever recovered, because there was no indication otherwise. Then, through a German internet source, I discovered that they had been found by the Germans and were buried in a small German-occupied cemetery just north of Paris, but there were only body parts and one piece of wing that had a star on it. That was their identification. So they [turned out to be] in a cemetery in a little town northwest of Paris.

That was the end of my combat career. My arm was repaired by a doctor who, by fate, I met thirty years later. When my hand began to contract again I was sent to an orthopedic man. As I was sitting across from him he was questioning me about where this had happened, and he was the doctor who originally had put my hand back together again. He was the only doctor in that hospital which had just opened the week before I was shot.

*

[After the war, I did not go to reunions.] I had lost my crew and it was something I didn’t talk about for many years. I had no desire to go back and share memories with crews that had survived. It wasn’t until much later that I decided to do this book for reasons that it would be helpful to young people in understanding what World War II was like. Not so much understanding it in its entirety, but how it affected individual people’s lives. It wasn’t until then that I had any real reason to try and recapture people who had been there. Then I joined what is called the 8th Air Force Historical Society. And through that I have maintained contacts at both the national level and at the local level in New York City. I found that very rewarding.

[I think my time in the military affected me] in a very dominant way. People talk about religion and believing in something; the moment of truth comes to you. I was raised and schooled in the Christian church. I don’t go to church anymore, but I do have the faith that came to me when this piece of flak hit me. There was just no question in my mind that I was coming home, and that I was going to be safe and go to work and just do the job that I had to do. It is a feeling that has stayed with me all my life. So, from that standpoint, there is no fear. So many people today seem to be afraid of so many things. The fear of doing things or fear of failing has never been with me since I left the service. I have continued to look at my own life as one of missions, a series of missions and not just adventures, and it has worked for me.

*

Myrtle

Ken Carlson, first row second from right, and the crew of ‘Myrtle the Flying Turtle’. Credit: Ken Carlson.

There is a photo of me and my crew taken in 1943. [Pointing out crew]—Frank Caldwell was the bombardier, from Anderson, IN; ‘Johnny’ Johnson, the co-pilot, from Houston, TX; Joe Roznos, the pilot, my greatest friend, from Hollywood, CA; ‘Wally’ Waldmann, waist gunner, from Houston, TX; Hal McNew, waist gunner, from Montana; Ed Miller, tail gunner, from Wyoming; Frank Dinkins, the engineer; John Rose, ‘Rosie’, our ball turret gunner—he could shoot a squirrel, or a German fighter pilot, from his shoulder or his waist, it didn’t make any difference; and Cleo Pursifull, our radioman. He is the one that came to help me and fainted. And he failed to go on that last mission. He had just had enough.

The thing that haunts me is that I can’t put a face to the guy who replaced him. He was an 18-year old Jewish kid named Henry Vogelstein from Brooklyn. It was his first and last mission. And when you think about it, an 18-year old boy was put as a replacement in a crew that he did not know; we were an all Christian crew. We all had our little New Testament that the Air Force gave us and he would have been given an Old Testament. He made his only mission with a crew of strangers. Now that’s bravery!

We all want to be free, but very few of us want to be brave. For all of us to be free, a few of us must be brave, and that is the history of America.

 

Share this:

  • Pinterest
  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Tumblr
  • Print
  • More
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit

Like this:

Like Loading...

Related

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

One Response

  1. on August 26, 2017 at 6:17 pm Richard Bonacci

    very moving



Comments are closed.

  • Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 781 other subscribers
  • Blog Stats

    • 635,430 hits
  • Top Posts & Pages

    • Why I Loathe 'The Boy in the Striped Pajamas'.
      Why I Loathe 'The Boy in the Striped Pajamas'.
    • A TRAIN NEAR MAGDEBURG-HOLOCAUST FILM PROJECT
      A TRAIN NEAR MAGDEBURG-HOLOCAUST FILM PROJECT
    • So, I am suspicious of education.
      So, I am suspicious of education.
    • HOLOCAUST SURVIVORS, LIBERATORS REUNITED
      HOLOCAUST SURVIVORS, LIBERATORS REUNITED
    • THE LIBERATION PHOTOS.
      THE LIBERATION PHOTOS.
  • Recent Posts

    • International Holocaust Remembrance Day 2023
    • Time to Remember: A Walk in the Snow.
    • New York, New York.
  • Facebook Page

    Facebook Page
  • Twitter Updates

    • International Holocaust Remembrance Day 2023 teachinghistorymatters.com/2023/01/27/int… 4 days ago
    • Time to Remember: A Walk in the Snow. teachinghistorymatters.com/2022/12/07/tim… 1 month ago
    Follow @marozell
  • Archives

    • January 2023 (1)
    • December 2022 (1)
    • November 2022 (2)
    • September 2022 (2)
    • July 2022 (1)
    • June 2022 (2)
    • May 2022 (1)
    • April 2022 (7)
    • February 2022 (1)
    • January 2022 (1)
    • September 2021 (2)
    • July 2021 (1)
    • May 2021 (1)
    • April 2021 (1)
    • March 2021 (1)
    • August 2020 (1)
    • June 2020 (1)
    • May 2020 (1)
    • April 2020 (2)
    • March 2020 (1)
    • February 2020 (4)
    • January 2020 (4)
    • December 2019 (3)
    • November 2019 (1)
    • October 2019 (2)
    • September 2019 (1)
    • August 2019 (1)
    • July 2019 (2)
    • June 2019 (2)
    • May 2019 (2)
    • April 2019 (4)
    • March 2019 (2)
    • February 2019 (2)
    • January 2019 (1)
    • December 2018 (3)
    • November 2018 (2)
    • October 2018 (1)
    • September 2018 (2)
    • June 2018 (3)
    • May 2018 (2)
    • April 2018 (2)
    • March 2018 (1)
    • February 2018 (2)
    • January 2018 (1)
    • December 2017 (2)
    • November 2017 (2)
    • September 2017 (3)
    • August 2017 (3)
    • June 2017 (3)
    • May 2017 (1)
    • April 2017 (8)
    • February 2017 (3)
    • January 2017 (2)
    • December 2016 (2)
    • November 2016 (4)
    • September 2016 (3)
    • July 2016 (5)
    • June 2016 (3)
    • May 2016 (3)
    • April 2016 (3)
    • March 2016 (4)
    • February 2016 (3)
    • January 2016 (3)
    • December 2015 (7)
    • November 2015 (4)
    • October 2015 (3)
    • September 2015 (8)
    • August 2015 (6)
    • July 2015 (6)
    • June 2015 (2)
    • May 2015 (5)
    • April 2015 (13)
    • March 2015 (1)
    • February 2015 (2)
    • January 2015 (8)
    • December 2014 (2)
    • November 2014 (6)
    • October 2014 (2)
    • August 2014 (1)
    • July 2014 (20)
    • June 2014 (2)
    • May 2014 (3)
    • April 2014 (5)
    • March 2014 (3)
    • January 2014 (1)
    • November 2013 (7)
    • October 2013 (4)
    • September 2013 (4)
    • August 2013 (3)
    • July 2013 (6)
    • June 2013 (6)
    • May 2013 (7)
    • April 2013 (12)
    • March 2013 (2)
    • January 2013 (7)
    • December 2012 (4)
    • November 2012 (7)
    • September 2012 (1)
    • August 2012 (2)
    • June 2012 (1)
    • May 2012 (3)
    • April 2012 (13)
    • March 2012 (3)
    • January 2012 (3)
    • December 2011 (1)
    • November 2011 (1)
    • October 2011 (2)
    • September 2011 (5)
    • August 2011 (4)
    • July 2011 (1)
    • June 2011 (2)
    • May 2011 (4)
    • April 2011 (3)
    • March 2011 (1)
    • February 2011 (3)
    • October 2010 (4)
    • September 2010 (1)
    • August 2010 (1)
    • July 2010 (2)
    • June 2010 (5)
    • May 2010 (3)
    • April 2010 (10)
    • March 2010 (3)
    • February 2010 (4)
    • January 2010 (2)
    • December 2009 (2)
    • September 2009 (2)
    • June 2009 (1)
    • May 2009 (2)
    • April 2009 (3)
    • February 2009 (1)
    • January 2009 (3)
    • December 2008 (5)
    • November 2008 (3)
    • August 2008 (4)
    • July 2008 (1)
    • May 2008 (4)
    • April 2008 (4)
    • January 2008 (3)
    • December 2007 (1)
    • November 2007 (2)
    • October 2007 (1)
    • September 2007 (4)

Blog at WordPress.com.

WPThemes.


  • Follow Following
    • Teaching History Matters
    • Join 570 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Teaching History Matters
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Copy shortlink
    • Report this content
    • View post in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...
 

    %d bloggers like this: