Ever the Patriot
Recollections of a WWII Veteran and POW
Candace Riccio Salem, Editor
Copyright © 2014
All rights reserved.
ISBN-978-0-9910547-2-5
Dedication
This historical account is dedicated to the memory of
Vincent J. “Nick” Riccio
and to the memory of the brave men and women
who served in the
Allied Forces in World War II
Contents
Preface
Ever the Patriot – Vincent J. Riccio’s War Stories
How It All Began
Working the Flight Line
Jungle Warfare Training and Other Shenanigans
I Want to Fly!
Aviation Cadet Training
Cadets Don’t Get Emergency Furloughs
Shipping Out
Flying Combat Missions out of Horham Airbase
Ludwigshafen – Our Last Mission
Bailing Out Over Germany
Capture
Stalag Luft IV
The Forced March
Fallingbostel
Exploring the German Countryside
Taking the Long Way Home
Looking Back
Afterword
About the Crew
Stan Wolfson’s Death – A War Crime
Glossary
References
Preface
I didn’t find out that my father, Vincent J. Riccio, had been a Prisoner of War in World War II until I was in high school. Even then he didn’t say much. He didn’t seem to think it was all that important.
Years later, after he started having nightmares and flashbacks to his war experiences, he decided that the time had come to tell his story. The result was a four-hour video recorded in 1991 in which he recounted his story from enlistment through to repatriation at the end of the war.
The following compilation of his story is based on a transcription of that recording, and a shorter written account from a few years later. It is not intended to serve as a war documentary. It reflects his impressions of military service, and describes his escapades during training and deployment, the missions flown over Germany, the fateful events that led to his captivity in Stalag Luft IV, and the road to his eventual return home.
This is his story. The story of a fun-loving and patriotic guy, who, despite the difficult aspects of his military service, managed to recognize the humanity in the people he encountered on both sides of the conflict.
In an effort to remain true to the spirit of his recorded narrative and anecdotes, the text is presented in first person, with minimal editing for clarity (including the division into chapters).
Additional information about Vincent J. Riccio, and the men he served with, can be found in the Afterword.
- Candace Riccio Salem
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my sister, Cheri Kudla, for taking the time to record our father as he recounted his experiences. This video has proven invaluable in perpetuating his memory and his stories. My brother, Ed Riccio, also made valuable contributions to this compilation. I would also like to thank my sister, Cyndi Riccio, for encouraging me and helping me to navigate the publishing process.
Ever the Patriot –
Vincent J. Riccio’s War Stories
How It All Began
Pearl Harbor day, Dec 7 1941. It was Sunday and we were on the way to the movies when we heard about the attack on Pearl Harbor. The next morning, I think everybody I knew was lined up outside the recruiting office. But if you didn't have your parents’ consent and you were not yet 21 years old, you couldn't go. So that took care of that.
I turned 21 in April of 1942. So without telling anyone, I went and tried to enlist. I wanted to join the Marines, but they turned me down, said I wasn't healthy enough, that I wasn't big enough. I thought, well the hell with that, they won't draft me now. A couple of months later I got "greetings" from the President and I was drafted.
On August 15, 1942, I was inducted at Ft. Devon in Massachusetts. Then I was sent to Atlantic City for basic training.
While we were in Atlantic City, we stayed in a hotel. Everyone had to look at the bulletin board in the morning when they left their rooms. I had been there only one day when my name was on the board with a list of people told to report to room such and such. All the rest of the guys had to go march up and down the boardwalk and go to the drill field.
I went to the room, together with 30 or 40 other guys, and we sat there all week taking tests, math tests, physics tests, you name it.
At the end of the week, I got my orders and I was shipped down to Goldsborough, North Carolina to Aircraft Mechanic School. (I never did get that basic training – but I’ll get back to that later.)
Down in Goldsborough, we learned what makes an airplane fly and all the mechanics of the engine, the radial engines, the in-line engines, and more.
I enjoyed the class. It was interesting. When it was over, I was sent to Illinois to Chanute Air Field for instrument training to become an instrument technician. That was a six-week course. We learned all about instruments, about the vacuum control instruments, the magnetics, the electronics – the whole package. Once I completed that course, I went from a Buck Private to a Corporal (skipping Private First Class entirely).
Working the Flight Line
So now I was an Aircraft Mechanic and an Instrument Technician. All ratings were frozen and I was shipped to Meridian, Mississippi, to the Meridian airbase.
At Meridian, I was assigned to the flight line as a Crew Chief. My airplanes were the A-20, A-24 and the A-36. The A-24 was the SBD Dauntless. The A-20 was a twin-engine attack bomber. The A-36 was a P-51 with diving brakes for dive bombing.
It was interesting because I had all these airplanes to take care of. One of my airplanes, an A-24, was called “Dirty Gerty.” She had seen combat and she was back in the states. Every time we started the engine she got washed off with oil.
There was another instrument technician, Al [Elmer] Pelz. Between the two of us we took care of all the instrument problems in all the planes on the base. I constantly got into all kinds of rhubarbs with the Line Chief who happened to be a Captain.
While I was down in Meridian, I got into a lot of trouble – mostly because we would go to town and have fun. We enjoyed ourselves.
Anyway, the A-20s were good airplanes, twin-engine attack bombers. You got friendly with the pilots of the ships you were crewing. These pilots were all Buck Sergeants and they were teed off because the class after them had all come out as 2nd Lieutenants. There was a big difference in pay. A Buck Sergeant was making like $78 a month and a 2nd Lieutenant was making $132 a month, I think.
Then the A-20s finally got the word to ship out. The day they shipped out, the guy flying my ship said, "Hey Ric – when we take off, stick around. Stay away from the tower and stay away from the buildings – stay right out here on the flight line. Until the buzz."
Well that A-20 was a fast airplane. They took off one after another and got into flight formation. It was customary to buzz the field. To roll was against the rules – but when you leave, you buzz the field. Well these guys lined up. There were nine of them, in formation, wingtip to wingtip.
We could hear them, and all of a sudden, they were coming. They came down about 10 feet off the runway and headed straight for the control tower. The lead plane, with planes at each of its wings, went straight at the tower, pulling up and
over the tower at the last minute – with the wing planes turning out at the same time, and then returning to formation. They blew out the windows.
The rest of the planes flew just above the rooftops of the officers’ barracks. They made another pass and then they left. They got “reamed out” in Florida, but they had to keep going because they had orders to ship out to the Pacific theater.
Well now we didn’t have any more A-20s. I remember that one of the remaining airplanes, an A-36, was a P-51 that they dug out of the ground with a steam shovel. You know little things that happen.
Down there in Meridian we used to go to town. This guy, Al Pelz and myself, we were very close. One day – I have to tell you this, because you’ll get a laugh out of it – He said, “I need some help.” So I asked him, “what’s the matter?” He said, “I ran into this young lady in town the other night and she’s got a friend she lives with.” So I said, “Blind date my foot.” He said, “No, you’ll like her, you gotta do me a favor because I want to fool around.” To make a long story short, he conned me into it. We left for town and went to the house where these gals lived. They lived with another family, in a bedroom in their house.
Well, the girls weren’t home so I thought, oh, how lucky can I get. I don’t have to worry about this blind date. The family told us to stick around. They said that the girls had gone swimming, and they’d be back. In the meantime, they gave us a little booze – moonshine – it wasn’t legal.
About an hour later, the girls finally came home and I got to see who this blind date was. She was gorgeous. She was a full-blooded Cherokee Indian and she was beautiful. Both girls and the two of us went into their room. Of course, they got on bathing suits. We’re standing there and I’m looking at her, and Al is in the corner talking with his girlfriend, Louise. I’m just standing there with my tongue hanging out. I didn’t know what else to say so I asked, “Can I help you take that bathing suit off?” And she said yes... We had a good time that night.
We were late getting back to the base that night and we got in trouble. They made us pull guard duty, the two of us. That was because the line officer didn’t like us.
Anyway, an A-24 SBD Dauntless came in and landed in the middle of the field. There were all kinds of military people around it. It started to get late, and we wondered what the hell it was doing in the middle of the field. Al and I got called for extra duty, and the line officer told us we would be on guard duty that night. So he told us to report there at 7 o’clock, and we did.
The sergeant of the guard took us out to that A-24 sitting out in the middle of the field. Our instructions were “absolutely nobody comes near this airplane.” It was loaded with some kind of new radar equipment. That was it. We were issued side arms with ammo and told to guard the airplane. Well Al and I looked at each other, thinking okay let’s guard this airplane.
There was only one way to watch this airplane. You sat on the ground and leaned up against the wheel and looked out across your side, and the other guy does the same from the other side. So we’re sitting there, smoking and doing whatever we feel like, but we make sure no one goes near the airplane. Of course nobody wanted to come near it anyway.
Finally, we see a light, way across the field, and it gets closer. So I said, “Al, I see a light, it looks like a vehicle or something.” He asked where, I told him it was on my side. After a while, it gets to be maybe 100 yards away and it stops, and the light goes out. Meantime, we are getting a little bit nervous – what the hell do we do? We are two good American soldiers and so well trained (after all, who needs basic training). The only thing I knew of to do was to pull out my side arm and put a round in the chamber. Nobody comes near this airplane.
Well, I stayed down close to the ground and scanned the skyline, and eventually I see someone walking towards me. When he gets to be about 25 ft. away I had a gun dead center with the hammer back all ready – I don’t care, nobody comes near this airplane. We hollered “halt” and went through all the army regulations. The guy said he was the Officer of the Day. So we responded, “Advance and be recognized.”
He kept walking until he gets to be about 10 feet away. In the meantime I’ve got this gun pointed at his belly. I recognize him as one of my pilots and he said “Ric, would you mind pointing that somewhere else?”
I said, “What the hell do I do with it now?” He said, “Don’t you know?” I said, “No.” He said, “Put it away.” That took care of that. And we got written up, both of us, for aiming a live pistol at the Officer of the Day.
Jungle Warfare Training and Other Shenanigans
After a while we were shipped out to an airbase near Columbia, South Carolina. This was with all the A-24s, and we were in what they called a training unit for jungle warfare. Down there in South Carolina they had jungles, so they took one of these jungles, some farmer’s acreage, and they put an airstrip in it. We arrived there and looked around. The barracks were brand new. What few there were. The airstrip was just an airstrip. Nothing special.
The first thing we noticed on arrival was the watermelon patch. It was close to the barracks. There was a fence around it. And there were armed MPs walking around the patch with shotguns. We went to orientation where we were told that we would be operating under jungle combat conditions. You couldn’t just go to supply and draw what you need, you have to fix it, or make it, or do it. You couldn’t go to town at all. And rule A#1: the watermelon patch is off limits. The MPs guarding it have shotguns loaded with rock salt. So stay away by order of the base CO.
We went to work. The only interesting time there was when Fort Jackson’s infantry went on maneuvers. Our boys had to go out with the A-24s and dive bomb the infantry with flour sacks. To train both parties.
Well, the first couple of days everything was fine. They did what they had to do. Then one of the infantry majors wanted to fly along and see why his troops are being turned white. Well my airplane had to catch it, meaning the major rode in the backseat. They took off and they went and did their thing.
When they came back this white major was now green, he had gotten sick in the rear cockpit. When the dive bombers see something, they go straight down, drop their load, and then they peel off. And then they do it again. He evidently didn’t like it. I loved it.
There was a rule in the Air Corps – you get sick, you clean it. I helped him out of the airplane and this pilot, a 2nd Lt., asked “Oh, did you get sick?” The major answered, “I’m sorry to leave such a mess.” The pilot said, “We have a rule in the Air Corps – you mess it, you clean it.” I just stood there, and said, “Thank you.”
A couple of days later, after being in trouble again (I was always in trouble for something), Al and I were on night duty. The most boring damn duty ever. The planes went up and then they came right back, but you were stuck there all night. It wasn’t nice.
One night we were out there on the flight line, just in case an airplane came in. It was hot, and we were talking about one thing or another, and then started thinking how a watermelon would taste good. We watched the guards, and then we belly crawled through the field, under the wire fence and into the middle of the patch.
I had a knife and I felt around for a watermelon. I found one, cut a plug, pulled it out and tasted it. But it wasn’t sweet enough and so I felt around for another one. After about 4 or 5 melons got plugged, we found one that was sweet as honey. That’s the one, now let’s get the hell out of there.
We managed to get out without getting caught. Now we got a watermelon and everyone’s asleep. So we went for a walk along the runway, sat at the side of the runway and started carving up this watermelon. I tell you it was the best watermelon I ever ate.
After a while, maybe 20 minutes, we realized that somebody was standing behind us. It was the Sergeant of the Guard and he asked “What the hell are you guys doing out here?” We looked up at him and said, “we’re eating watermelon.” “Watermelon?” he asked enthusiastically. So he joined us for some watermelon and told us to
get back to the flight line. And to make sure we don’t leave those watermelon rinds out on the concrete, because if the Colonel ever saw them he’d blow his top.
A few days later, I got a pass and I went to town. The only problem is that I forgot to go back. Small detail. I was off-duty and it was Friday. Al was working and while I was in town, I stayed. I don’t remember why. Two days later, Al came into town and he knew where to find me. He said they’d been hollering for me over the PA system. So I went back.
Turns out they wanted me down at the dispensary, the hospital, for a physical. The doctors didn’t have anything to do so they started going down a list and calling everybody in one at a time. They called my name one day, and I didn’t show up. They called my name a second day, and I still didn’t come. It was no big deal. Back to night duty again.
I was on nights and at 7 in the morning I would come off the flight line and go into the barracks and conk out. Then one day, 3 or 4 hours later, I hear people walking in the barracks. Nobody’s supposed to be in the barracks, everyone is supposed to be out working. There’s one other guy sleeping who was on night duty too.
All of a sudden I heard voices, and I rolled over and what do I see – three gold stars – a three-star general walking through pulling an inspection. And there I am in just my shorts in the upper bunk. First impulse is to jump down and stand at attention. But he motioned with his hand to hold it and asked what I was doing in bed. I told him I got off duty at 7 am, and he said he was sorry to have bothered me and told me to go back to sleep.
Then one day I had just about decided I’d had enough of this. They wouldn’t let us fly in the empty seat in the back of the airplanes anymore because one of them went down and both people were killed. So they said no more passenger flying. You had to wait for the plane to come back anyhow, you might as well go with it and come back with it. But they wouldn’t let us do that anymore.
Ever the Patriot: Recollections of Vincent J. Riccio, World War II Veteran and POW Page 1
