Pilot shares memories of D-Day

Antipodean Andy · Jun 10, 2008

Pilot shares memories of D-Day over Normandy | ajc.com - great pics at link.

The basement of Bob Powell's Decatur home is something different to different people.

His wife of 63 years, Betty, calls the wall-to-wall World War II memorabilia his junk room. Powell proudly shows it off as his minimuseum.

To curators and researchers, the files, photos and knickknacks from Powell's Army Air Corps days represent a vanishing history — nearly 1,000 veterans from the Greatest Generation die every day.

"The emphasis is to get as many of them as we can to share their stories," said Bob Patrick, director of the Veterans History Project at the Library of Congress. "We want these World War II vets talking about their experience before it is lost."

Powell, a fighter pilot, fought and survived during the D-Day landings 64 years ago Friday. He knows veterans like him, who once numbered 16 million strong, have dwindled to just 2.5 million men and women across the country.

"Most people in their lives hope to do something they believe was worthwhile," said Powell, an 86-year-old retired ad man who evinces a childlike awe of airplanes as he shows off models of the planes he flew into battle.

"I am so proud to have lived at a time to have the privilege to do what I was able to do," he added.

As Powell tells his story, he drifts between a row of model planes and tables weighed down with keepsakes from the war.

After Pearl Harbor, he and a friend hitchhiked from West Virginia University to Pikeville, Ky. They were intent on acing the aviation cadet exam, and soon found themselves learning how to fly at bases in California and Arizona.

By September 1943, Powell's flight and combat training were done. He flew his fighter from Bodney, England, escorting bombers as they pounded targets across the northern part of Europe.

His handwritten log book tells the story of his 87 missions. Those with a black swastika next to it show Powell felled or damaged an enemy plane. The same symbols, four in all, were painted on the side of his Mustang fighter.

Powell may be the only veteran who has a chunk of his fighter hanging proudly from the wall. He crashed on takeoff one day, when a fuel line burst and engulfed his plane in flames.

He landed in a nearby farmer's field, graced by furrows plowed just the day before.

"That soft dirt as I scooted across the ground put out the flames just long enough so I could get out and run," Powell said.

He made it about 30 yards before the gas tank exploded. He later went back and retrieved the nose art, which proclaimed he was "the West by Gawd Virginian."

Powell continued escorting bombers and strafing German airfields until June 5, 1944. Then his colonel held a meeting, telling pilots to get rest because the biggest day of their lives had come. No one, not even the commanding officers, knew what to expect.

At 2:30 a.m., flying from a darkened grass field lit only by the burning of a downed plane, Powell took off for Normandy.

Even in the gloom and dark, Powell could see that his was one of thousands of planes supporting the Allied storming of the beaches.

"Imagine it: We put up a wall of airplanes from the treetop level to 30,000 feet," Powell said. "When we could see down through the clouds, it was unreal. I couldn't imagine the volume of men going in."

Powell's first mission with the largest combat sea, air and land operation in history lasted six hours. He flew back to England and refueled, returning twice to patrol areas south of the landing, to keep away enemy soldiers.

He points again to his logbook. Among the targets he hit — a motorcycle and train chugging rapidly toward the coast. Powell spent 18 of the next 24 hours in his plane. The next four, maybe five, days, passed the same way.

By then, the Allies had secured a beachhead. It was time for Powell to return to his usual patrols while other fighter planes continued supporting the invasion.

It would be the middle of July by the time the Allies propelled their initial landing into a turning point in retaking the continent. By Christmas Eve, Powell was home and traveling to meet the high school sweetheart who would become his wife.

He fingers the silk flying scarf that he wore inside his leather flight jacket, and tries to remember more details.

The scarf was so soft, he explains, because pilots were constantly swiveling their heads to seek out threats. The silk kept their necks from chafing.

"It all went so fast," Powell said of the blur that was his time above Normandy. "You were watching for the enemy to attack. You were protecting each other."

Powell puts the flight jacket back on its hanger, near a shadow box of his wartime medals and three Distinguished Flying Crosses.

"Kids today might get a lesson from knowing we all just hoped we'd be strong enough to finish the mission."
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Pathfinder · Jun 10, 2008

That's one WW2 collection I would dearly love to visit sometime.

Nostalgair · Jun 11, 2008

Thanks Andy,

These are great accounts.

Cheers

Owen

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