Honor Page 20

"Greetings..."
That is how the telegram from the Draft Board in June of 1945 started out. It went on to say my "friends and neighbors" had selected me to report for a physical examination prior to being inducted into the Armed Forces of the United States. I had just turned eighteen.

In quick order, I passed the physical, was inducted into the Army and sent to Camp Wheeler Infantry Replacement Training Center near Macon, Georgia.

At that time, the war in the Pacific against Japan was still on, and we were being trained as combat infantrymen. The war plan against Japan called for the first of two landings on the main island of Japan to be made in November 1945. The second landing near Tokyo was to be made in Spring of 1946. We were going to be trained for that landing.

Fortunately, the war in the Pacific ended right after the training started.

Our training carried on as though the war was still being fought. We learned how to operate M-1 rifles, BAR's (Browning Automatic Rifles - my favorite), carbines, light machine guns, bazookas, flamethrowers, mortars and grenades. We learned how, as a combat team, to attack enemy fortifications. We learned how to live in the field with meager food and shelter (during the Georgia winter) while locating an "enemy" command center using map and compass. We also learned how to climb down a ship's cargo net to a landing craft while wearing full combat gear.

We finished training in mid December of 1945. I was given a train ticket to Bridgeport, Connecticut (my home), where I spent a few days, and a second ticket from Bridgeport to Blackstone, Virginia, the location of Camp Pickett.

After a couple of days at Pickett, it was off to Camp Shanks, New York (near West Point Academy). That was the final stop before boarding the troop transport, Rollins Victory, for Le Harve, France, and Camp Phillip Morris, one of the cigarette camps.

From Camp Phillip Morris it was a long slow, January-cold train ride to Marburg, Germany. From what I remember about Marburg, it did not seem like the war had touched it. Marburg was a just what I thought an old German town should look like. We had only a few days there and then it was off to Berlin by train.

It was in Berlin (district Zehlendorf) that all the training in Camp Wheeler was thrown out. We were welcomed into the 3110^th Signal Service Battalion of the Signal Corp. next to S-Bahn station Sundgauer Str. After two weeks of on the job training in the OMGUS (Office of the Military Government, United States) Signal Center the teletype section of the Signal Center at OMGUS was turned over to us.

There is a section in the Honor Pages of the Berlin Brigade web site that was written by First Sergeant Peter D'Adamo from Company A of the 3110^th. I was in Company B and I do not remember Peter. Many of the long timers in the 3110^th were glad to see us young guys show up because, soon after, we were saying good by to them as they headed home. Maybe Peter was one of them.

The Mess Hall
In reading the memories Peter had when he passed through Germany and entered Berlin I found them very similar to mine. There seemed to nothing for the Berlin population.

The picture of the mess hall has a very emotional effect on me.

My wife and I have had three sons and three daughters. We know what it is like to tend to the needs of young babies and young children. What the 3110^th did at the mess hall meant a lot to me at the time, but, seeing the photo and remembering what we did, it means even more to me now.

When I first went to eat at the mess hall, it was with some of the "old timers" who had been with the 3110^th and were getting ready to go home to the US. They pointed out some German children that could be seen outside the windows on the side of the mess hall. The compound fence was maybe four feet away from the side of the mess hall. Some of the children were outside the fence and while others had climbed over the fence and were just outside the windows.

Remember that the war in Europe had ended the first week of May 1945. It was now the late part of January 1946. The living conditions for the German people in Berlin were terrible. The people had little work, many of their homes and apartments had been destroyed or taken over to house Allied troops and, above all, there was a severe lack of food.

The "old timers" told me that when I went through the chow line to take the food I wanted to eat and then take a little bit more. When we got to the table, I was told to take the food I was not going to eat and move it to one part of the plate and not to touch it again.

When we were through eating, we left the table and the plates. As soon as we were clear of the area, some of the children would come through a door on the side of the mess hall, go to the table and scrape the reserved food into a tall cylinder-like can they held by a wire handle. There is no way of telling how many children and families were helped that winter by our sharing and caring.

Major Peter Ryan was our Battalion Commander. Just prior to the time I was due to be sent home and the 3110^th was moved to the new barracks (May 1947), I heard that he had been reprimanded earlier that year for ordering more food supplies for the battalion than the size of the battalion called for. If that is true, at least we know the food was not wasted.

Trouble-Shooting
There are two stories I remember. The first a little funny, the second not so funny.

For the most part the teletype machines were reliable. However, every now and then they would start printing garbled text messages. In many cases, the operator could make a minor adjustment or two and get the machine back on line without my sending a technician out to do the work.

When a machine started to print things out in the garbled fashion it was still possible to communicate with the operator because, if the message was typed out two or three times, the same parts of the text were not always garbled. Therefore, the operator could piece together enough of the message to understand it.

One such effort to help an operator (a German female) adjust her machine stands out in my memory.

I had typed out several times the instructions on how to adjust the machine. She would type back that she did not understand after each time I would type. Finally, I asked, "Is there a G.I. around there?"

She typed back, "Yes, I will get him."

After a few minutes, the machine started to print. "Can I help?" came through.

I said, "Yes. Read everything above and try it out." After several minutes, this message came through: "I do not understand." In frustration I typed, "Are you a G.I.?" Then this came through, "Yes a German G.I."

Then there is the story that about the teletype lines we had to set up for a Moscow conference in the spring of 1947. I wanted to be the one from our unit to go to Moscow but I was due to be sent home around that time and it was decided keep me on the Berlin end of the line. The lines were going to go from Moscow through Poland to Berlin and then down to Frankfurt and to London.

When we finally had a teletype contact with the Moscow end of the line, I typed out a simple question to the man on the other end of the line. I typed, "What is it like there?" As soon as the question left my machine it was apparent that someone had thrown a switch to open the line because my machine started to go wild. Contact on the line was not resumed for quite a while. And it was accompanied by the arrival of an officer I had never seen before. He wanted to know who Sgt. Hansen was. I said I was Sgt. Hansen and he told me I had unauthorized conversation on a restricted line and it was not to occur again.

When do people say the Cold War started?

Dear Reinhard, I am running out of time. I will send you a piece that I wrote about my experience. Please feel free to extract anything that works for you. If you need an item that is more specific give me guidance. Gail

I began my life on small farms in Idaho and Utah. Where I grew up in Utah the closest real city was 40 miles away. Things were peaceful. In September 1941 I received a non-college flight scholarship for a private pilot license. I flew Civil Air Patrol missions. Then came Pearl Harbor. In 1943 and early 1944 I trained as a fighter pilot with the Royal Air Force. When I finished training I was assigned back to the Army Air Corps. My first assignment was as a transport pilot in the South Atlantic Theater of Operations. The war raged and ended. The last thing I ever thought might happen was that in 1948 I would be in Europe, flying day and night to Berlin. Flights would be in thunderstorms, fog, ice and snow to feed the former enemy. On my first trip to Berlin the flattened ruins of the once proud and sophisticated capital looked like a moonscape as the wreckage passed beneath the wings of my flour laden C-54 Skymaster. Me, a farm boy, was thrust into a world gone amuck. What a change from the orderly world of the farm. Everything there was in its place. Neat bales of stacked hay, corn growing clean and tall. Now below my wings were splintered buildings, gaping to the sky with open roofs. Their once stately walls were broken into individual bricks and scattered in the streets and across lots now vacant; lots that once held architecturally classic buildings. It was a signature of war evident in countries around the world.

The Airlift was not just an Air Force operation. The Army and Navy were also heavily involved. The Navy had two top flight squadrons of R=5Ds (C-54s) and had the vital Sea Lift across the Atlantic. The Army had many roles but the greatest was moving everything on the ground. America was not alone. The British and French were partners.

On that first flight to Berlin I was deep in thought. Hitler began this war of destruction. It had interrupted the orderly progress of my life. Now I was 27 years old. I should have had one or two children by now. Instead I wasn't even engaged to be married. Several of my buddies had returned from the war to see their previously conceived child for the first time. Many did not return. They would not see their newborn child in this life. My close friend, Conrad Stefen from Tremonton, Utah was still missing. I had interested him in being a pilot by flying him in my J-3 Cub before the war. Maybe his remains were somewhere under the flight path I had flown that very day, on my way from Frankfurt to Berlin. He had been shot down three years before in his P-47 Thunderbolt.

We had just left the security and comfort of life in America. We were beginning to get our lives back to normal after the war. Now, here we were flying night and day in all kinds of weather; living in tents and tar paper shacks that had housed Hitler's Displaced Persons work gangs. As for me my bed was in the attic of a farmer's old barn in Zepplinheim! We had left for Germany so fast I had to drive the first new car of my life under the trees in Mobile Alabama, put the keys in my pocket, look back once and leave. I would never see that new, red, four-door Chevy again.

How did the ground and flight crews feel after this second disruption of their lives occasioned by what Hitler began?

Those of us who stayed in the military after the war already knew that the enemy and threat to the West was now Stalin and his Soviet Union. They wanted Berlin and West Germany. They had just taken Czechoslovakia and Hungary. West Berlin was next. We knew that Berlin was populated by mostly women and children. When word came that Stalin had cut off all the food and energy supplies to these suffering people this assignment became a worthwhile challenge. But that didn't make this second disruption without some pangs of doubt.

However these last feelings of doubt left me when I landed that first load of 20,000 pounds of flour at Tempelhof in West Berlin. The German unloading crew poured through the open cargo door in the back of my aircraft. The lead man came toward the cockpit, moist eyes hand out thrust in friendship. Unintelligible words but his expression said it all. He looked at the bags of flour and back to us like we were angels from heaven. People were hungry for food and freedom. We were giving them both and they were most grateful. Gratitude is the magic potion that makes enemies friends and seemingly impossible tasks doable. From then on the pangs of doubt were gone.

One of my fellow Airlift pilots had bombed Berlin during the war. I asked him how he felt about flying day and night on behalf of the enemy, the very ones who did their best to kill him as he flew over Berlin in 1944. He hesitated a moment, shuffling his feet and then said, "It feels a lot better to feed them than it does to kill 'em." I only knew of one person who complained of flying day and night in behalf of the former enemy. This I believe was because of the overt expression of gratitude by the West Berliners. Everyone feels peace in their heart when they serve others. This was the case even though the "others" were the former enemy.

One day in July 1948 I met 30 kids at the barbed wire fence at Tempelhof in Berlin. They were excited. They said, "When the weather gets so bad you can't land don't worry about us. We can get by on little food but if we lose our freedom we may never get it back." The principle of freedom was more important than the pleasure of enough flour. "Just don't give up on us." they asked. The Soviets had offered the Berliners food rations but they would not capitulate. For the hour I was at the fence not one child asked for gum or candy. Children I had met during and after the war like them in other countries had always begged insistently for such treasures. These Berlin children were so grateful for flour to be free they wouldn't lower themselves to be beggars for something more. It was even the more impressive because they hadn't had gum nor candy for months. When I realized this silent , mature show of gratitude and the strength that it took not to ask, I had to do something. All I had was two sticks of gum. I broke them in two and passed them through the barbed wire. The result was unbelievable. Those with the gum tore off strips of the wrapper and gave them to the others. Those with the strips put them to their noses and smelled the tiny fragrance. The expression of pleasure was unmeasurable. I was so moved by what I saw and their incredible restraint that I promised them I would drop enough gum for each of them the next day as I came over their heads to land. They would know my plane because I would wiggle the wings as I came over the airport. When I got back to Rhein-Main I attached gum and even chocolate bars to three handkerchief parachutes. We wiggled the wings and delivered the goods the next day. What a jubilant celebration. We did the same thing for several weeks before we got caught, threatened with a court martial which was followed by an immediately a pardon. General Tunner said, "Keep it up."

Letters came by the hundreds. A little girl, Mercedes, wrote that I scared her chickens as I flew in to land but it was OK if I dropped the goodies where the white chickens were. "When you see the white chickens, drop it there. I don't care if it scares them." I couldn't find her chickens so I mailed her chocolate and gum through the Berlin mail. Twenty two years later, 1970, I was assigned as the commander of Tempelhof. One letter kept asking us to come to dinner. In 1972 we accepted. The lady of the house handed me a letter dated November 1948. It said, "Dear Mercedes I can't find your chickens. I hope this is OK. Your Chocolate Uncle." I had attached a box of candy and gum. The lady said, "I am Mercedes step over here and I will show you where the chickens were." My family and I have stayed with Mercedes and husband, Peter, over 30 times since 1972. And I will again in 2008. The same apartment she wrote from in 1948.

A little girl accompanied by her mother came to my C-54 being unloaded on the tarmac at Tempelhof. She brought me her only surviving possession; a well worn teddy bear. She offered it to me with deep emotion, "This kept me safe during the bombings. I want you to have it to keep you and the other fliers safe on your trips to Berlin." I tried to refuse it but her mother said words to the effect that I must accept it because her daughter wanted to do all in her power to help save their city. I would like to find that little girl.

In 1998 on a visit to Berlin flying an old Airlift C-54, The Spirit of Freedom, with Tim Chopp, a 60 year old man told me he had caught a parachute in 1948 with a fresh Hershey candy bar. "It took me a week to eat it. I hid it day and night. But the chocolate was not the most important thing. The most important thing was that someone in America knew I was in trouble and someone cared. That meant hope." With moist eyes he said, "Without hope the soul dies. I can live on thin rations, but not without hope." Hope is what the British, French and American Airlift, its flour, dried eggs, dried potatoes, dried milk and coal meant to the Berliners, hope for freedom. Everyone needs hope today as much as the West Berliners needed it then. Hope is a universal need. Transport aircraft, and the airlift they provide, deliver hope to the unfortunate around the world who are oppressed by man or nature.

My experience on the Airlift taught me that gratitude, hope, and service before self can bring happiness to the soul when the opposite brings despair. Because not one of 30 children begged for chocolate, thousands of children in Berlin received over 20 tons of chocolate, gum and other goodies, delivered on the ground, or dropped from C-54 Skymaster aircraft over a 14 month period. It all came from other aircraft and other crews in addition to myself.

In my view General Clay was the man for the hour. General Tunner, in particular, made the Berlin Airlift work. He was an Airlift genius. Of the rank and file military it was not the pilots who were the greatest in my view. It was the aircraft mechanics who changed engines in the middle of the night out in the open field, with but a canvas to protect them, day or night, freezing rain or snow. There would have been no aircraft over Berlin but for their efforts. Without the Ground Control Radar operators there would not have been as many planes on the ground in Berlin during much of the Lift, especially in November 1948.

There were thirty one true American heroes of the Airlift. I was not one of these. These are they who gave their lives for the Freedom of their former enemies, the Germans, who had become friends. There were 39 of my British comrades who did the same. The Berlin Airlift changed post war history and the rest of my life.

Remark
Thank you, dear Gail, for your great story & the nice memory photos! I'm very happy to be in touch with you!
We old Berliners love & admire you! For us you are more than an hero, you are a living legend! God bless you!
We also never forget your comrades who lost their life in that amazing mission 'Vittles'.
Here is the book from Gail Halvorsen, our 'Uncle Wiggle Wings' or better known as the famous 'Candy Bomber'.
Reinhard

Feedbacks from Berlin veterans

by Annemarie Shomaker:
My dear Reinhard, how wonderful! How great! How marvelous! I can't find enough words to express my delight that the two of you finally met! Isn't he a really nice man? I hope he could autograph his book for you. Well, if not, he can do it in June. I am anxious to hear more about your meeting. Thanks for sending me the photo. Be sure you buy the book Merces and the Chocolate Pilot for Jami. Gail can autograph it too, and you can give it to Jami on her birthday or for Christmas. Believe me, it is well worth it. It comes in German and English. That's all for today. I am looking forward to reading more about your experiences as soon as the mail arrives. Thanks again.
Sei herzlich gegruesst, Annemarie Shomaker

by Gene Keller:
What a great thrill it must have been to meet the legendary "Candy Bomber." His compassion and caring for all people is a trait that is not found in many of our fellow beings in this day and age. It would be a wonderful thing if some of the braggarts and arrogant souls among us would study such a man. But then again, can you teach an old dog new tricks?? Thanks for the new pictures of The COL. and yourself in the update.
The old Blue Spader, Gene Keller

by Steve Volk:
Danke Dir, lieber Reinhard fuer die netten Bilder von Dir und Colonel Halverson. Was fuer eine ausserordentliche Moeglichkeit fuer Dich und auch fuer Gail das Ihr Euch beide habt treffen koennen: Gail fuer seine tiefempfundene Hilfe an hungernden Berlinern Familien und speziell auch fuer die "treats" fuer die kleinen, und Dich fuer Deine jetzige liebevoller und begeisterte Dankbarkeit fuer uns Berlin Veteranen und deren Familien mit Deiner wundervollen website "Let's Keep The Good Memories Alive". Ich denke dieses Zusammentreffen war praedestiniert.
Your friend, Steve Volk

by Earl Bonenblust:
Hello Reinhard,
what an honor that must've been to meet a living legend like Col. Gail Halvorsen! Thanks for sharing with us mein Freund. Earl Bonenblust. (webmaster of 'Wallwatchers' website)

by Rick Bradley:
Many thanks to Reinhard and Col. Halvorsen for his recent contribution to your wonderful website and "Keeping the good Memories Alive" , I was very moved by Col. Halvorsen's story. There is a place reserved in Heaven for this sweet kind hearted man. It was hard to read Col. Halvorsen's story without shedding a few tears. Thank you again Reinhard and Heinz for all that you do. And special thanks to all who continue to contribute to your website to make it the best in cyber space. My best to your family.
Rick Bradley

by Pam Garten:
Many thanks to Reinhard and Col Halvorsen for the recent addition to this great website. What an awesome story. I just loved Gail's story - it brought tears to my eyes more than once. The photos you have added are also wonderful. I hope you know how very much you and your outstanding website are treasured. Words cannot come close to expressing the depth of appreciation I feel. Many heartfelt thanks, dear Comrade. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Pam Garten, 287^th MP Co

by Mark Lind:
Leiber Reinhard, what a great addition to your site. COL Halvorsen is a much beloved figure in Berlin history, and is the best example of America! Continue on, my friend, you are the best!
Dein Freund, Mark Lind

by Gene Keller:
How do you do it, my great friend?? Now you have a story by COL. Gail Halvorsen known also as (Uncle Wiggly Wings and The Candy Bomber). This is "the icing on the cake". It is a great story by a great American. To me, the kind and caring actions of the COL., are just what being an American is all about. Although in todays world, it is hard to find these people, some are still around. I am sure that there are still some Berliners who have great memories of what he did. Col. Halvorsen, thank you for all that you have done. I wish that I could meet you in person to shake your hand and thank you. Reinhard, my brother, thanks again.
Gene Keller

by John Parmenter:
When reading Colonel Halvorsen's article, take a good look at that photo of the author & the webmaster. One is an American aviator who endeared himself to Berliners by his actions during an opening campaign of the Cold War. He is a true historical figure. The other is a retired Berlin police officer, appreciated by Americans for his efforts to accurately chronicle that same Cold War in Berlin. He is a fine historian. We can be thankful that men such as Gail Halvorsen and Reinhard von Bronewski live. Our world is a better place for it and their names will be remembered long after we're all dust.
John Parmenter, - 1^st Inf. Div., 28^th Inf., 1^st Battle Group

by Fred Williams:
Reinhard, Keep up the GOOD work. Col. Halvorsen's story brought back fond memories. I have a question, is Col. Halvorsen a member of BUSMVA? If not, why not? He should at least be an honorary member. Fred '46-'48

by Buddy Green
Thanks Reinhard, great story, Col. Gail should be Honored for what he has done !
Buddy Green

by Janice Whelan
This web site is just wonderful. I came across your site whilst researching the airlift as I have edited my dad's recollections of his time in Berlin between 1948 & 1949. He was a British Royal Engineer and was 19 years old when he arrived in Berlin, just weeks after the blockade began. I think it would be true to say he grew up when he went to Berlin during those days of the Cold War. He met his first love while he was there, and I have only recently discovered all about his time there including a long forgotten photograph of the beautiful German girl who was his first love! My wonderful father died last December, before we managed to make the long planned for return trip to Berlin. I wanted to take him for the 60^th anniversary celebrations and I was so thrilled to see the pictures of Gail Halvorsen, the famous Candy Bomber. I'm so glad he made it back this year, even if my dad didn't! A great site. I love it.
Best wishes from Jan Whelan , the daughter of a Brit. Airlift veteran.

by Vern Pike:
Reinhard,
Magnificent! Gail Halvorsen is a real hero and you have "captured" the essence of what it means to have hope and to be free! Those of us who served in Berlin know full well the importance of hope and freedom - we sawn it with our own eyes. thanks you for sharing it with us. Cheers!
Vern Pike

by Charles Hilsky
Was great to read about Col Halvorsen, you have a great website. Hope you and your family are well. Have a great summer and take care of great city Berlin.
Best Regards Nancy and Charles hilsky, Berlin 1953 to 1955.

by George Stone
Reinhard my friend, the following is what I would love to say to the Colonel:
Dear Colonel Halverson,
I left Berlin in February of 1947 so I wasn't there for the Airlift. However I was with the 11^th Traffic Regulation Group which ran all the trains into Berlin. I was stationed in Helmstedt a while and thats when I got my first real taste of the Russians. We would have to wait till the morning and then we would get word from the Russian Colonel in charge how mant trips he would allow us. A trip was a rain going into Berlin. There were days when the trains piled up.
I heard about your candy drops from a buddy of mine who was still in Berlin and came home via the Air Lift. I did have the great honor and pleasure of meeting you at the Allied Museum during the 50^th anniversary of the Airlift in 1998. I was also in that screaming crowd at Templehoff when you got off the DC 6 with all the other great Flyboys as we called you in my time. I have told about that night hundreds of times and written about it as history was made that night. I do not know if you marched up Clayallee in the rain with us to the Museum but if you did you will remember the German people standing along the street, waving Old Glorys and coming out and hugging and kissing us, another day in history. When there was talk about you doing a candy drop over Bahgdad I put a call into you which you returned and I told you that I would gladly help you get Candy for the drop. Things were still uncertain and you said if needed you would get back to me. I guess that drop if it ever happens will be in the future but my offer will always be open.
A horrible memory that I have carried for almost 63 years was when we would chow up then cleaned our mess kits out, there were small children, three, four five years old hanging around the garbage piles with a can begging for the scraps. I still cry when I think of those times. In the Hebrew language there is a word called Mitzvah which means a wonderful happening and Colonel Halverson , you did a big Mitzvah for the children of Berlin, God Bless You!
Sincerely & Respectfully,
George Stone

by COL. Gail Halvorsen:
WOW!! That is high flying responses. You are doing a lot of good out there, thanks for sharing. Thank you for the photos!! It was good to see you, I am grateful for what you are doing, I have your info on file and I value it.
Cheers,
Gail

by COL. Gail Halvorsen:
Reinhard you are doing such a great service by keeping alive the special relationships that our two great countries established as a result of the Airlift by the British, French and the Americans. Beside crediting our Allies, it is important to recognize that it was more than the Air Force that made the Airlift work. If it wasn't for the Army there would have been no food or supplies moved into the supporting air bases and subsequently to the people in Berlin. If it wasn't for the Navy Sea Lift there would have been little food or fuel to distribute. Also the Navy had two great squadrons of R-5D (C-54) on the Lift. Top performers. Also pilots get too much credit. If it wasn't for the aircraft mechanics (many of who were Germans) there would have been no aircraft over Berlin. These guys are the ones who changed engines in the open field day or night, ice or snow freezing cold. Pilots had a closed cockpit to work in. There would have been few aircraft landing in bad weather if it wasn't for the GCA guys on the ground in Berlin.