My dad was being trained as a gunner during WWII. He qualified for, and was at the top of his class, as a B-24 gunner. After training, while he was on the flight ramp, literally loading up the B-24 to fly away to the European Theater, a company jeep pulled up to the plane and asked which one was my Dad. He was hurriedly pulled from the crew and taken to the Ops Officer.
At first he thought he was in trouble until the Officer said, "You've been hand-selected for another gunner special project. You will now be training on the B-29. Don't ask any questions until you report for training. Congratulations, we only selected the best of the best for this mission." Of course, as you can guess, he was selected as a special crewman for the Hiroshima and Nagasaki missions.
While on a training flight, my Dad's B-29 caught on fire and they all had to bail out. He broke his ankle and by the time he was back on flight duty status, the war was over. Can you imagine a 19 year old bailing out of a burning B-29 at 20,000'? That's an abrupt way to start out adulthood!
The reason I mention the history is because the Army Air Corps used to do initial gunnery training with shotguns to teach the concept of lead to the candidates, some of whom had never been near a gun before training. They would practice shooting clay targets, when they weren't in classes, to learn the concept of lead from various angles (Sporting Clays/5-Stand anyone?). It was only after they were proficient at a high standard, did they then begin training with live rounds in aircraft turrets. He used to have to disassemble and reassemble his machine gun, blind folded. Until shortly before he died at 87, he could recite from memory the serial number of his machine gun! He had to know it intimately as there was no one to fix it while on a mission, but him. The flight crew's lives depended on that.
My Dad used to tell a funny story about when they were all learning with machine guns, that a crow flew through the shooting range and about 20 fresh new gunner candidates let loose with their 12 gauges on that crow. The crow dodged and darted and somehow miraculously made it through the barrage of gun fire going on his merry way. The Range Officer just shook his head and said, "That is some piss-poor shooting gentlemen. You're gonna have to do better than that if you're gonna defend your plane from those fighters, for God and Country!" They all sheepishly got back to shooting clay pigeons and eventually all became qualified and defenders of freedom. Many to most of them lost their lives in battle. Dad was later selected for pilot training.
Subsequently, when I was a kid in the '50's, Dad bought a Remington Semi-Auto 16 gauge for crow shooting on the farms and fields of the San Fernando/Simi Valleys, before they were fully developed. He was a master shot by then and the farmers loved it when he showed up. The crows took him back to another place and time, when many consider those men, the Great Generation. I agree.
I became an airline pilot after Naval service. My brother, a B-777 Captain and nephew, both also airline pilots, now fly as pilots in the B-24/25 for history's sake. Thanks Dad...Full Circle.
At first he thought he was in trouble until the Officer said, "You've been hand-selected for another gunner special project. You will now be training on the B-29. Don't ask any questions until you report for training. Congratulations, we only selected the best of the best for this mission." Of course, as you can guess, he was selected as a special crewman for the Hiroshima and Nagasaki missions.
While on a training flight, my Dad's B-29 caught on fire and they all had to bail out. He broke his ankle and by the time he was back on flight duty status, the war was over. Can you imagine a 19 year old bailing out of a burning B-29 at 20,000'? That's an abrupt way to start out adulthood!
The reason I mention the history is because the Army Air Corps used to do initial gunnery training with shotguns to teach the concept of lead to the candidates, some of whom had never been near a gun before training. They would practice shooting clay targets, when they weren't in classes, to learn the concept of lead from various angles (Sporting Clays/5-Stand anyone?). It was only after they were proficient at a high standard, did they then begin training with live rounds in aircraft turrets. He used to have to disassemble and reassemble his machine gun, blind folded. Until shortly before he died at 87, he could recite from memory the serial number of his machine gun! He had to know it intimately as there was no one to fix it while on a mission, but him. The flight crew's lives depended on that.
My Dad used to tell a funny story about when they were all learning with machine guns, that a crow flew through the shooting range and about 20 fresh new gunner candidates let loose with their 12 gauges on that crow. The crow dodged and darted and somehow miraculously made it through the barrage of gun fire going on his merry way. The Range Officer just shook his head and said, "That is some piss-poor shooting gentlemen. You're gonna have to do better than that if you're gonna defend your plane from those fighters, for God and Country!" They all sheepishly got back to shooting clay pigeons and eventually all became qualified and defenders of freedom. Many to most of them lost their lives in battle. Dad was later selected for pilot training.
Subsequently, when I was a kid in the '50's, Dad bought a Remington Semi-Auto 16 gauge for crow shooting on the farms and fields of the San Fernando/Simi Valleys, before they were fully developed. He was a master shot by then and the farmers loved it when he showed up. The crows took him back to another place and time, when many consider those men, the Great Generation. I agree.
I became an airline pilot after Naval service. My brother, a B-777 Captain and nephew, both also airline pilots, now fly as pilots in the B-24/25 for history's sake. Thanks Dad...Full Circle.
