In some ways the Air Corps seemed to have it made. They spent most of their time far behind the front lines, away from immediate danger of battle. Off-hours could be spent at a local pub or other gathering place. However, flying missions deep into enemy territory or to defend allied forces from enemy attacks took their toll, as highlighted in earlier articles about two Gratiot County residents. John Barden’s plane was shot down, leading to horrific experiences as a POW, and Duane Rench died in the crash of his bomber.

The jump suit, worn to fly out on missions, clearly lacks the polish of the other uniforms. It is complete down to heavy boots and mittens needed to protect against the chilling temperatures of high-altitude flight. Jump suits were sometimes worn around the base, and then they just put on the harness and parachute and gear to fly. In extremely cold weather, the air corps did wear winter gear. At times pilots would wear their greens and a leather jacket. In other words, flight gear all depended on the situation and where they were flying too!

Although she and her sister were under the age of 21 and thus needed their parents to sign as well, the girls joined the Women’s Army Corps (WACs).  Leaving their rural Ithaca home, the girls traveled by train to Fort Oglethorpe in Georgia where they trained to nurse wounded soldiers coming home for recovery.  Below is a bit of a description of their experience in the spring of 1945:

“When I first arrived here I could have turned around and gone home had they given me the choice, which they didn’t do.  I was tired, cold, and hungry.  Everything changed and strange looking.  The girls in charge weren’t friendly and seemed to forget we were new and green.  I begin to think I should have had my head examined.

“Had a couple dresses thrown at me, which turned out too big, and a hard bed . . .  We had nothing but rain and cold weather.  Just sat around for days waiting for them to make up their mind what to do with us. . . .

“A new day arrived and things look brighter.  I believe the clouds have a silver lining after all.  After getting a little rest and some of the dirt off, I really like it.  I wouldn’t change this for anything now.  It’s the kind of thing every girl should have.

“ . . . School is done and we are now in our hospital.  It’s wonderful and really easy after those lectures.  To me, this is the best part . . . I’m to be on ward 20.  It’s an amputation ward, and it is grand.  The work is hard, but fun when you stop to think how much good you are doing for the fellows. . .”

The two sisters kept journals, which document their training. They note daily experiences and include photos and good wishes of friends as postings led them from Georgia to Michigan to New York.  Particularly touching are reminders of the reason for their service: pictures of patients in the wards where the girls worked.

The public is invited to carefully page through these journals, study photographs and mementos, and see Arlene’s WAC uniform on display at Gratiot County Museum’s WWII exhibit this summer.

Today isn’t the fourth of July, but I saw plenty of fireworks. We went to what is called an infiltration course where we undergo the actual conditions of battle. The length of the course was seventy five yards. There were sticks of dynamite placed in holes so we would know where they were. There were three machine guns which we crawled toward. They also threw small charges of explosives among us if we bunched up. It was a course covered with barbed wire about six inches from the ground.

I will relate my course over this course. The Sargeant counted three and we came out of a trench as the three machine guns opened fire. I crawled about twenty feet and came up against the barbwire. (The machine guns fired a foot & ½ above us.) I turned over on my side and placed myself parallel with the wires. It was about thirty feet across the barbwire. As I moved sideways, I picked up the wires carefully and moved them over me. I finally got past the wire and started crawling. All of a sudden I came upon a shell hole. I turned my head away and moved away. I moved about ten feet to my left when a stick of dynamite went off. I covered my head and a shower of dirt went up and landed on me. I went ten more feet and came upon a log I had to crawl over. I turned sideways and went over it. Then I went forward and another stick of dynamite went off. We got another shower of dirt. When I got within ten feet of the machine gun, I slid sideways into a trench and crawled out.

You should have seen us fellows. The machine gun fire, the dynamite, and the very small hand grenades didn’t really bother us, but the dust sure did. We were covered with it an inch deep. You couldn’t recognize anybody!

Thanks to the generosity of his brother Robert Chaffin of Ithaca, the Gratiot Historical Museum has on loan a copy of Lee’s letter. In the same collection, Lee Chaffin has written a narrative of his experiences in Europe as an ammunition truck driver. It includes tales of driving in black-out conditions and a fire breaking out among the loaded ammunition trucks! Somewhere in his adventures, Lee also picked up a bayonet, possibly of German origin.

Against that background, Staff Sergeant Duane Rench and the other members of the crew of the “Nine Lives” were awakened early in the morning of December 31. A briefing revealed that every available plane was headed for Hamburg, Germany, with its oil refineries and submarine pens. From the outset, troubles plagued the formation: fog scrubbed their fighter escort, a heavy tailwind, and defensive firing from the target itself blackened the sky for miles. Once the planes completed their bombing runs, they turned back into that 200 nautical mile wind and, over the North Sea, faced fierce, constant attacks from German fighter planes.

Amid the attacks of the Nazi fighter planes, the bombers best defense was to keep the formation tight by quickly closing the gap left by any planes they lost. During a maneuver presumed to do just that, Rench’s plane and the “Silver Dollar,” the plane flying above them, collided. Amazed eyewitnesses describe the planes remaining locked together “like breeding dragonflies.” Most of the crew on the “Nine Lives” including S/Sgt. Rench died. Some crew aboard the “Silver Dollar” and three from the “Nine Lives” parachuted to safety. The pilot and copilot of “Silver Dollar” chose to take the planes down so that their men had a better chance of parachuting clear of the wreck. As the interlocked planes crashed to the ground, one wing took out a German Headquarters building. Incredibly, although the nose, cockpit, and pilots’ seats were the only parts of the plane that remained in-tact, the two fliers crawled from the wreckage unscathed! Survivors of the incident underwent heavy questioning from their captors. Apparently, German observers from the ground concluded that the 2 planes were actually a new American weapon: the eight engine bomber.

Christmas 1943 found Private Duane Rench of Alma, MI in the midst of his training. To express their support, Rench’s siblings sent him the Heart Shield Bible which, as the title page proclaims, “fits snugly in uniform pocket. The engraved gold-finished steel front cover protects his heart.” While tales can be found that credit the Heart Shield Bible with deflecting bullets, Rench’s is not one of them. Yet his descendants treasure the tenuous link it establishes with the young airman.

As the young Gratiot County soldier shipped out across the Pacific, history caught up with him. In August, 1945 the United States dropped the world’s first atomic bombs, and Japan surrendered. Instead of facing a destructive fight, Jack Ginther and his unit went ashore in Japan as that uniquely American phenomena: an occupation force intent on helping their former enemies rebuild so they could go home! Jack Ginther’s service involved much construction, including oversight of building two laundries that served thousands of Japanese civilians.

After serving his time, Ginther returned to Gratiot County and resumed normal life. His experiences in the Pacific remain a vivid part of his life, and he has become a valuable resource for local history teachers. In fact, he inspired Ithaca’s 2011 graduating class to include him in their ceremonies. More than half-a-century after missing his first chance, Jack Ginther was able to walk in a graduation ceremony at his high school!

Among items Ginther has loaned is the “dinner” ration in the photo. He recalls eating such meals often during his time in Japan. Enclosed in a waxed container to waterproof it, the meal includes a package of graham crackers, caramels, granulated sugar, cigarettes, matches, a stick of gum, and a tin of cheese.

Lois ran from the Courthouse to the furniture store in downtown Ithaca where John’s father worked. After sharing the news with her father-in-law, the young girl knew no other place to turn than God. Lois let herself in the Ithaca United Methodist Church and went straight to the altar.

For hours, the bride knelt in prayer. Finally, she tried to rise to return home, but her cramped muscles refused to cooperate. Seemingly out of nowhere, strong hands supported her and gently helped Lois stand and turn to the sanctuary. What she saw then left a powerful impression: in the time she was speaking only with her Lord, the entire sanctuary had filled. Friends, townsfolk, farmers from outlying areas – all had learned of her news and gathered with her in prayer for John’s safety. So many had come, that a number had to stand. This outpouring of love, support, and acknowledgment that God heard and answered prayer helped Lois when she needed it most.

On the other side of the Atlantic, Lieutenant John Barden’s ordeal had just begun. He’d been injured as he parachuted from his crashing plane, surrounded by country folk, and taken to the nearby town of Nordhausen, Germany. Put on display in a shop window, people came to stare at and insult “the enemy” until officials arrived to take him to a prison camp. John spent 8 months in Stalag Luft 3 in northern Poland. Then, on Christmas night, 1944, with the war turning against Germany, the prisoners were roused to begin a march of over 1,000 miles. Those who survived ended up in another camp just outside Munich, Germany. Finally, one of Patton’s tank corps liberated that prison camp. As soon as he could, John sent Lois a telegram: “All well and safe hope to see you soon all my love.”

Decades later, a group of POW’s from John’s camp visited Nordhausen.  In the shop window where John had been displayed, this bullet sat.  Inquiry revealed that the local folk had salvaged the engine from John’s burned plane.  When they took it apart, this bullet – the one that brought the plane down – was lodged in the engine.  They decided to place it in the store window in the hopes that someday it would be returned to the pilot.

On May 11, 1945, two Kamikaze planes hit the Bunker Hill – although through efforts of Ingalls and other anti-aircraft gunners aboard, a third plane was shot down into the Pacific instead of hitting their ship. In the hours and days immediately following the attack, Red carried out duties necessary to deal with the damage and loss of life aboard ship. Having survived the attack, the Bunker Hill returned to Washington for repairs, and shipped back out to sea. This time, the job was bringing troops home from stations in the Pacific: the war had ended.

The need for milkweed floss continued beyond the war’s end. Joyce Beard became a teacher at the Allen School, north of Ithaca, in 1946. Her husband Duane had served in the navy during WWII. That fall, her students gathered so many pods that sacks of them filled the unused outhouse. (The school had recently installed indoor toilets, so the outhouses became storage sheds.) However, one day Joyce tried to swing the outhouse door inward to open but found it impossible. All the pods had burst, packing the shed so tightly that she needed extra help just to open the door!

We do know that Romaine served in the Pacific Theater, fighting the Japanese in Okinawa and China. It makes sense, then, that, the “Rising Sun” flag, and sword we will have on display, are all Japanese.

During combat, Romaine had a specific job.  The Japanese had developed the strategy of sending soldiers into the flooded rice paddies.  During the day, they would remain underwater, breathing through hollow tubes.  When the opportunity seemed right, the Japanese would rise from their hiding places and attack the American soldiers.

Romaine had been trained to detect these threats.  He used a dog to find the hidden Japanese soldiers.  It was a dangerous assignment.  In his first week, Romaine lost three dogs.  Miraculously, he himself survived, but with great reluctance to talk about his experiences when he returned home.