UNANTICIPATED I never imagined that my book, Woodbine Red Leader—A P-51 Mustang Ace in the Mediterranean Theater, published by Random House, would generate so much feedback I have a folder bulging with letters, copies of emails and notes of telephone calls from all over the world commenting on the book, and in many cases describing interesting personal experiences. Many of the letters were from widows, children, grandchildren, nephews or nieces thanking me for providing insight into what their now deceased husband, father, uncle or cousin experienced during WWII as a pilot, co-pilot, navigator or gunner on a B-17 or B-24, but never talked about. Others were from pilots who were pleased with my description of the extensive training I (and they) had received, and thanked me for a trip down memory lane. Here are some of the other comments I received: The telephone call was from a man speaking in an accented voice who said he had read my book, and that while a prisoner at the Auschwitz death camp he had seen me fly overhead enroute to targets at nearby Blechhammer. His spirits were lifted by the sight of such a massive raid on German targets, but of more immediate interest was the fact that he could rest on his shovel while his guards watched the action in the sky above. In an email, the Slovak Republic historian said that he, along with others, had erected a simple stone monument marking the spot where a pilot from my squadron crashed and died in 1944. The historian asked if I knew the downed pilot, and did I have a picture I could send along with other information. I was pleased to be able to assist, and emailed a faded photograph of a friend from long ago together with the requested information. The letterhead aroused my interest: Association Pour La Recherche Archeologique Sous Marine. The letter was from a Corsican historian, a member of an archaeological dive team dedicated to underwater exploration in the Mediterranean Sea. His group had located P-51 Mustang WZ-I under 60 feet of water in the Bay of Ajaccio. From old newspaper accounts they had learned that the pilot, Lt. Don Taylor, was assigned to my squadron. He had experienced engine failure after takeoff from the nearby airfield, and landed in the bay. Bruised and a bit bloody after ditching in the bay he quickly exited the sinking airplane and climbed into his dingy. A French soldier who witnessed the landing dived into the bay and helped him back to the beach. The dive team had located the French soldier and the doctor who attended to Taylor’s injuries, and they had photographs of the P-51 resting in 60 feet of water. Now they wanted to locate Taylor to complete the project. Did I know Taylor’s address, and if so, would he be willing to answer a series of question? Yes, I knew his address, and he was willing to communicate. Subsequently, the newspaper in Ajaccio, Corsica ran a featured story of the whole affair. Vesco Stoyanov, son of Bulgaria’s top ace, Stoyan Stoyanov, wrote to provide his deceased father’s description of his first encounter with the P-51 Mustang. (I was there, over Sofia, on my first combat mission in the P-51.) This was the first time that Bulgarian pilots had encounter the Mustang and much to their regret they mistaken it for the German Me-109, and they took a beating. In the words of Stoyan Stoyanov: “The aerial combat was the most bitter one we had over our territory. Half of our aircraft that fought in this battle were either shot down or damaged. It was a "Black" Easter holiday for us with six pilots killed, four jumped with parachutes, six landed in the fields outside the base and many aircraft returned to the base were badly damaged.” The letter had a New York postmark, and was handwritten on blue stationary. The first two sentences weren’t unusual: “I have finally completed reading your book (mostly after 11pm news). I would like to make a few comments, as well as a few facts regarding my military and civilian career.” This is followed by is a six-page description of his careers, but there was no further mention of my book. Was I missing something? Nope. It was all about him. The most poignant letter was from the two young grandchildren of a fellow Mustang pilot, now deceased. We were both Virginians, went through pilot training together, were then assigned to the same fighter squadron in Italy and thereafter flew combat missions in Spitfires and P-51 Mustangs. We were the best of friends. He had a rough time—shot down and then successfully evaded capture, only to go down again a couple of months later over Romania where he became a POW. He never followed by one from his widow and another from his son, followed by a long phone conversation. The son said that my book had brought the family back together after a long period of strain caused by the second marriage of the widow. It was very moving to learn that I had had such a salutary impact on the family of my friend. George Loving ©
Posted on: Mon, 05 Aug 2013 21:03:29 +0000
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