Some of the experiences that fellows out here have had lately would really amaze you. The “braid”18 will go thru almost anything to rescue pilots and crews, and believe me, it’s a real comforting feeling. Well that’s about all for now—with much love to all—
Pop
Mon. June 26th
Dear Mum and Dad,
Once more back aboard my own ship and really glad to be back. Before actually getting back I was transferred from 3 different ships, 2 destroyers and one carrier. (I am assuming you got my letter telling you about my crash landing in the water.) It was certainly nice to get the clean clothes back on and get in my own sack. Two new pilots joined our squadron and came aboard with me. By then I was an old hand at being transferred by breeches buoy.
The high point of my return was 4 letters—2 Bar, 1 Mum, 1 Aunt Nance . . .
Bar’s two letters (and yours of course) were a Godsend. I miss her so desperately and love to think of getting home to her. She is so marvelous to me, and now she is the object of prime importance in my life. After these hectic, often frightening days, it is indeed a comfort to lie in my upper and think of those marvelous days ahead with Barbara. If only I could see her—look into those lovely eyes, hear her laugh, and watch her playing with Bucky. Enough of that for now.
. . . Have you read this gov’t education Bill? Looks to me like it might be a nice 2 or 3 year rest at college. I’ll have saved some money and then they pay you, too, it seems. It’s just a passing fancy—probably because right now the lazy routine of college would appeal to me. We could live in some swell apartment and I could study—Bar too if she wanted—Well, it’s just something to think about. My mind grasps onto any and every possibility since it’s so much fun planning and wondering. Barbara’s letters are so wonderful. I do hope she is happy at Smith. I’m afraid she misses out on some fun by being engaged, but she’s always been cute about it. . . .
We’ve been flying a good deal midst lots of excitement. The initial shakiness has left me before the battles, but the intensity of fire over the objectives will always scare me—of that I’m sure. Keeps you a good Christian anyway.
. . . For the most part I am relatively happy. The time has seemed endless since we parted. However when all’s said, I’ll have to admit I’m glad I am here—though I do wish this phase of it were behind me and I was home again, having been through it. At last I feel that I am at least doing my part and when I get back I’ll have no feeling of guilt about being in the States.
Oh Mum I hope John and Buck and my own children never have to fight a war. Friends disappearing, lives being extinguished. It’s just not right. The glory of being a carrier pilot has certainly worn off. True it’s always a thrill to land successfully aboard, to return and see your ship steaming along, there’s lots of thrills; but I mean it’s mostly work.
I have mumbled on pages and have said very little I’m afraid—I love you all very much—
Your ever devoted son,
Pop
P.S. While I remember—don’t ever send me any packages. They take ages and always get crushed.
July 12, 1944
Dear Mum and Dad,
. . . First while I remember I am enclosing a copy of a letter from Jim Wykes’ mother, Mrs. Anna Wykes (don’t know husband’s name). Please save it for me, Mum. It is to me a beautiful letter, perhaps not eloquent or verbose, but one written from the depths of a loving mother’s heart. How my heart aches for them. Jim has 2 brothers, both in service, and then his Mother and Father. Still no word of him and though I have not given up all hope, it is a bit discouraging. Today Bush Daniels, Lou Grab & I were standing at the small boat landing when a dark-skinned fellow jumped out of a little landing boat. He looked an awful lot like Jim and the 3 of us just stared. Unfortunately it wasn’t he at all. I told you that Bob Whalen, Wykes’ gunner, is married and his wife is with child. That, too, is terribly sad. I didn’t mean to dwell on this subject for so long, but Jim was very close to me, and I feel his loss more each day. He has not been the only fellow I know that has been lost—not by a long shot—but I knew him so well. . . .
Lots of love,
Pop
July 21st
Dear Mum and Dad,
. . . During these last few hectic days, I have had little time for reading or the like—most fun when you get the chance is to stretch out on the sack or in a ready room chair and think. I also try to figure out what I’ll do after the war.
One thing which appeals to me, is a job like Pressy’s—go to S. America for a year (not much more).19 It would be fun provided, of course, Bar were with me. The whole fun of it would lie in our being together—laughing and stumbling along in Portuguese, Espanol or what have you. . . . Barbara with her Northampton Spanish, me with none at all—live in some small cottage. The only thing I’d be scared of would be that she’d be lonely—miles away from her family and friends. I wouldn’t care what kind of work I did.
So far I haven’t been able to make up my mind on what I want to do. . . . Further education isn’t out of my mind by a long shot. If I went to college I’d definitely find plenty to interest me—of that I am sure now. Before, I couldn’t see that. It took the war, and the Navy to show me how advantageous a good education can be. I say advantageous and not necessary, for I do feel that I would get along with a bit of initiative and honest endeavor provided I could get some employer to give me a chance. I am prepared and fully cognizant of the fact that my salary will not be near what it is now. Barbara, too knows what to expect. When I return next fall I’ll have saved $3000—we can make that last awhile anyway. Besides the S. Amer. and college plans—there is a third—a regular job in the U.S. . . . It would be nice to know I could get a job for sure—a job which would not require me to dig a ditch—merely because I don’t have a “college education.” . . .
Much love to all,
Pop
July 22nd
My Dear Mrs. Wykes,
I received your letter one week ago. We had been at sea for a long time—that accounts for the delay. I was very touched by your kind words.
I wish I could tell you exactly what happened to Jim, but I do not know—nor does anyone, I’m afraid. He just never returned from a search flight. We all felt certain that when we returned to port he would be there; However, when we did get back there was no trace of him. A search had been launched by another carrier, and everyone around that area was notified. It is entirely possible that at this very minute he is on some island. I know how hard it must be for you to keep your spirits up, but all of us must keep saying to ourselves that Jim is still alive. At times, I feel “oh what’s the use”, but then I check myself. As long as there is a thread of hope I think we should cling to it. Some of islands in the vicinity were enemy held, as there is always that possibility to consider. Others were practically uninhabited!
. . . I wish this letter could give you some new hope, some evidence that your loving son is all right, but I’m afraid I don’t have such tidings. Lets just keep that ray of hope in our hearts and in our prayers, and perhaps our faith will be rewarded.
My sincerest affection to you and your family—
George Bush
[Jim Wykes was never found.]
Sunday July 30th
Dear Mum and Dad,
. . . I wrote the Pierces a few days ago asking them how they felt about a wedding when I get back. I have been thinking about it so much and wondering how they felt that I just had to write. I don’t ever like to think how it will be if they say “No”. I have counted on it so much, even thought imaginary plans so often, and in fact just based my whole future around it, that I shall be very disappointed if they choose to make us wait.
. . . Incidentally, Dad, I would appreciate it, if you would let me know what you feel I should do after the war. As I have said before I do think I can get a job—a modest one at first of course, irregardless of my lack of college education. I wonder if you agree with me on this point. . . .
&
nbsp; Much love to one and all,
Pop
[My father definitely did not agree with my plan of not going to college.]
Aug. 13th Sunday
Dear Mum and Dad,
. . . People are talking a good deal about the election. It’s hard to say what the consensus of opinion is—I think most feel FDR will win, but then most of the people I know around here seem to be Dewey voters. The southern boys will support Roosevelt. The ones I’ve talked with seem to think he’s some sort of a god—I don’t believe they look too closely at what the New Deal administration has done or has not done. . . .
Much love to all,
Pop
Aug. 19th
Dear Mum and Dad,
. . . Got a letter from Mr. Pierce telling me that they did approve of our plans. I felt sure they would, but now that I have that definite ‘yes’ I feel terribly glad. From what he said, Bar is going to leave Smith since she wouldn’t have time to complete the term. It will be nice for her to be with her family for a while anyway. I hope she comes up to Maine with you. If only I could snap my fingers and have these next months shoot swiftly by—I have so much to look forward to now—so very much!
. . . Mrs. GHWB—long but very nice! We are going to be the happiest Mr. & Mrs. going—or shall I say the happiest young Mr. & Mrs. going?
. . . Will stop now as it is almost time for dinner. Steak tonite I think. Usually the steaks have a great deal in common with an old sneaker sole, but occasionally a good one slips past the cook and the mess boys and gets as far as one of the tables.
Of course you heard about the muscular fellow who got himself a job at the zoo. He applied to be a trainer but when they told him they only needed an ape (since theirs had died) he volunteered to act as an ape. They gave him a costume and for several days he thrilled the customers with his ape-like antics. One day he did a terrific somersault, but unfortunately he landed in the lions cage. As the ferocious lion began to draw near him, the fellow started to holler and yell and run for the door. Suddenly the lion spoke up and said, “Take it easy, buddy, do you want to get us both fired?!
Much love to all the family,
Ever devotedly,
Pop
August 24th
Dear Mum and Dad,
. . . Gosh I’d like to see you all now—I miss you so much. Give all the family my love. John’ll be going back for his 8th and last year soon I imagine and William should be about ready to battle his way into grade 1. I get such a kick out of Buck—I picture him so clearly at all times—He is sort of a symbol to me in a way. I remember how Bar & I used to play with him. We’d pretend he was our little boy. I don’t know why, but little old Buck so often is brought to my mind—even when I’m up flying I’ll burst out laughing at times. . . . Perhaps it’s because he’s so young and innocent. . . .
Today Rumania quit the war, according to a press release we received. That is indeed a good sign that that phase of this war should be over before too long. I hope the guilty receive treatment they deserve. I feel so strongly that the Nazis, fascist, or whatever moniker they use, should all be dealt with severely. The leaders—those responsible for murder, famine, treachery, etc. must be killed. I hope our government and our allies act boldly and powerfully and mete out severe but just penalties. If this is not done with all leaders who have collaborated with the Nazis, whether they be recognized heads of government or quislings ruling in conquered countries, I fear these 4 years of bloodshed will have been for naught. . . .
Ever devotedly,
Pop
September 3, 1944
Dear Mother and Dad,
This will be the first letter you have gotten from me in a good long while. I wish I could tell you that as I write this I am feeling well and happy. Physically I am O.K., but I am troubled inside and with good cause. Here is the whole story at least as much of it as I am allowed to relate right now.
Yesterday was a day which will long stand in my memory. I was on a bombing hop with Delaney as my radioman20 and Lt. (j.g.) Ted White as my gunner. He did not usually fly, but I asked him if he would like to go with me and he wanted to. We had the usual joking around in the ready room about having to bail out etc.—at that time it all seemed so friendly and innocent but now it seems awful and sinister.
I will have to skip all the details of the attack as they would not pass the censorship, but the fact remains that we got hit. The cockpit filled with smoke and I told the boys in back to get their parachutes on. They didn’t answer at all, but I looked around and couldn’t see Ted in the turret so I assumed he had gone below to get his chute fastened on. I headed the plane out to sea and put on the throttle so as we could get away from the land as much as possible. I am not too clear about the next parts. I told them to bail out, and then I called up the skipper and told him I was bailing out. My crewmen never acknowledged either transmission, and yet the radio gear was working—at least mine was and unless they had been hit back there theirs should have been, as we had talked not long before. I heard the skipper say something but things were happening so fast that I don’t quite remember what it was. I turned the plane up in an attitude so as to take pressure off the back hatch so the boys could get out. After that I straightened up and started to get out myself. At that time I felt certain that they had bailed out. The cockpit was full of smoke and I was choking from it. I glanced at the wings and noticed that they were on fire. I still do not know where we got hit and never will. I am now beginning to think that perhaps some of the fragments may have either killed the two in back, or possibly knocked out their communications.
Fortunately I had fastened all my straps before the dive and also I had left my hatch open, something I hadn’t been doing before. Just the day before I had asked the skipper and he advised leaving it open in a dive. The jump itself wasn’t too bad. I stuck my head out first and the old wind really blew me the rest of the way out. I do remember tugging at my radio cord which I had forgotten to unplug. As I left the plane my head struck the tail. I now have a cut head and bruised eye but it is far from serious. After jumping, I must have pulled the ripcord too soon for when I was floating down, I looked up at the canopy and several of the panels were all ripped out. Just as I got floating down, I saw the plane strike the water. In the meantime, I noticed there was a liferaft down in the water. Not until later did I discover that it was mine that was supposed to be attached to my lifejacket. I had forgotten to hook it on, and when I left the plane it had come loose and had fallen into the water. Fortunately, the wind didn’t carry me too far away from the raft. The entrance into the water was not too bad. I had unloosened several of my chute straps so that when it came to getting out of the harness I wouldn’t have too many buckles to undo under the water. I went fairly deep under when I hit, but not deep enough to notice any pressure or anything. I shook the harness and the wind carried the chute away on the water. The wind was blowing towards shore, so I made every effort to head the other way. The skipper saw me and he saw my raft, so he made a pass over it to point it out to me. I had inflated my mae west21 and then started swimming towards the raft. Fortunately, the fall hadn’t injured the boat, so it inflated easily and I struggled into it. I then realized that I had overexerted myself swimming, because suddenly I felt quite tired. I was still afraid that the wind would take me in closer so I began paddling. It was a hell of a job to keep the water out of the raft. In fact I never did get it bailed out completely. At first I was scared that perhaps a boat would put out from the shore which was very close by, but I guess our planes made them think twice about that. A few fighter planes stayed nearby the whole time until I was rescued and you can imagine how comfortable that was.22 One of them came right over me and dropped me some medical supplies which were most welcome, since I had no idea how badly cut up I was. It turned out to be slight, but did use the iodine anyway. I had some dye marker attached to my life jacket and also there was some in the raft so I sprinkled a bit of that on the water so the planes could see me
easily. I took inventory of my supplies and discovered that I had no water. The water had broken open when the raft fell from the plane I imagine. I had a mirror and some other equipment, and also was wearing my own gun and knife.
There was no sign of Del or Ted anywhere around. I looked as I floated down and afterwards kept my eye open from the raft, but to no avail. The fact that our planes didn’t seem to be searching anymore showed me pretty clearly that they had not gotten out. I’m afraid I was pretty much of a sissy about it cause I sat in my raft and sobbed for awhile. It bothers me so very much. I did tell them and when I bailed out I felt that they must have gone, and yet now I feel so terribly responsible for their fate, Oh so much right now. Perhaps as the days go by it will all change and I will be able to look upon it in a different light.
I floated around for a couple of hours during which time I was violently sick to my stomach. and then the planes started zooming me, pointing out my position to my rescuers. You can imagine how happy I was when I saw this submarine hove into view. They pulled me out of the raft and took me below where they fixed me up in grand style. As I write this I am aboard the sub—don’t know how long I will be here, or when I will get back to the squadron.
As I said physically I am o.k. The food aboard here is unequaled anywhere I have ever seen. I am getting plenty of sleep and am even standing watches so that I will get the air occasionally. My back ached as did my leg last nite, and also my seat was a bit sore from the chute straps, but the pharmacist mate rubbed me down and today I feel much better. Last nite I rolled and tossed. I kept reliving the whole experience. My heart aches for the families of those two boys with me. Delaney had always been a fine loyal crewman. His devotion to duty was at all times highly commendable and his personality most pleasing. I shall most certainly write to his family after I am sure they have been notified by the Bureau.
All the Best, George Bush: My Life in Letters and Other Writings Page 5
