5:42 | Injured and dazed from his bail out at 18,000 feet, Bob Honeycutt was taken into the home of an Austrian family until the local officials came to arrest him. He was cared for so well, he had to wonder, why were these civilians treating him like a friend? Part 2 of 6. (This interview made possible with the support of PHILIP J. O'NEILL.)
Keywords : Robert Bob Honeycutt Austria civilian coffin .45 cal pistol Prisoner Of War (POW) underground
As a young Army Air Corps recruit, the only thing Bob Honeycutt didn't like was Morse code, but he was slotted to be a radio operator on a B-24 crew, so he shrugged it off. After dodging plane crashes in training and German torpedoes in the Atlantic, he made it to the Middle East where he going to be based. (This interview made possible with the support of PHILIP J. O'NEILL.)
Bob Honeycutt was trained as a radio operator but he was switched to weatherman when his unit got to North Africa. Attached to the RAF while he trained, he rejoined his B-24 squadron in Libya, where he also was wounded for the first time in an air raid. (This interview made possible with the support of PHILIP J. O'NEILL.)
Once the B-24 squadron moved to Italy, the required number of missions was increased. Bob Honeycutt describes the missions over Ploiesti, where the anti-aircraft fire and German fighters were intense. His primary job was cameraman, but he became a gunner if any of them were wounded. (This interview made possible with the support of PHILIP J. O'NEILL.)
It was his 29th mission, a bombing raid over Austria, when Bob Honeycutt's luck ran out. First they lost an engine. Then, when they dropped behind the formation, they were swarmed by German fighters. As the gunners fell one by one, a rocket finally set the plane on fire and blew him right out into the air. Part 1 of 6. (This interview made possible with the support of PHILIP J. O'NEILL.)
After a hearty breakfast with his German guard, Bob Honeycutt left the comfort of the Alps, where he had bailed out, for the misery of the German POW system. First came the mind games of the interrogation. Then, he wound up at Stalag Luft IV, one of the worst camps, where he learned new meanings for "cold" and "hungry." Part 3 of 6. (This interview made possible with the support of PHILIP J. O'NEILL.)
After eight months in the prison camp, Bob Honeycutt could hear the guns of the Russian Army approaching, but he was not going to be free anytime soon. The German guards forced 10,000 men out of the gate and onto the road, where they began a forced march, with no known destination. The deprivation and cruelty was mind numbing. Part 4 of 6. (This interview made possible with the support of PHILIP J. O'NEILL.)
The little known "death march" of the men of Stalag Luft IV lasted 86 days. That was when an Allied tank column rolled up and the Russian prisoners took their revenge on a particularly sadistic German guard. With a friend, Bob Honeycutt set out toward a small town, where they spotted a truck in a garage. Mighty tempting. Part 5 of 6. (This interview made possible with the support of PHILIP J. O'NEILL.)
With a commandeered truck, newly liberated POW Bob Honeycutt made three trips into Belgium, loaded down with as many freed US airmen as he could carry. He'd lost half his weight and was eaten up with lice, but he'd made it. When he got back home to Chattanooga, both he and his family had a big surprise. Part 6 of 6. (This interview made possible with the support of PHILIP J. O'NEILL.)
It was the simple act of easily scaling the obstacle wall that caught the eye of his superiors. First he was excused from drill and interviewed for three days. Then he was pulled from breakfast by a Petty Officer, who already had his belongings packed, and sent to Damage Control School.
After the surrender of Japan, Roland Glenn remembers his unit being converted to "storybook soldiers" in order to occupy Korea after World War II, only to experience a few very non-storybook events while stationed there. Conducted by David Watts, Jr.
Captured airman Clyde Burnette says his German interrogator spoke better English than he did and already had a complete dossier on him. He kept quiet and was soon in a prison camp where all anyone could think about was food and the lack of it. There were hi-jinks, like throwing rocks at the commandant's plane, disappearing infantry, and the sergeant who was really a doctor.
On one memorable mission, B-26 pilot Dick Bailey dipped under cloud cover for visibility during the bomb run. They were so low, the planes were damaged by their own bombs. On another, they sustained the most damage of the war from their own waist gunner.
He was flying his 22nd mission in the nose turret but Don Ogden had only engaged enemy fighters once. He never saw the two that brought down his B-24 and wounded him with shell fragments. He tells the story of his exciting escape from the plane, the fall from high altitude, and his miraculous landing.
The Germans had the best artillery and tanks, but the Americans had the best small arms and were too stupid to quit, says Art Staymates who had reached the top of the bluffs at Omaha Beach. Then there were the hedgerows, which were a whole new challenge. He was never comfortable among the French, but the Belgians were wonderful.
Grover McMichael describes the sonar operation aboard the USS Emmons, complete with sound effects. As the European theater was winding down, the ship was sent to the Pacific and he was sent to the sonar school in Key West to train others. While he was there, he got word that the Emmons had been sunk.
Army Engineer Reyno Petree was an ace machinist who volunteered for the Army and applied his skills to a "D-handled shovel" as a bridge building engineer. Across Europe, his outfit built 85 bridges so the Army could "get the tanks across."
The screws were bent and the gun barrels smooth, so the USS Ellet was ordered to San Diego for repair and refurbishing. The six weeks in port were memorable for Harry Beeman, both for the visit home and for the giant dance floor at the Paris Inn.
The ROTC at the University of Florida had artillery but it was horse drawn. The horses were pretty smart, recalls Howard Margol. As his modern, mobile artillery unit prepared to embark for France, two jokers figured out a novel way to stretch out a half day pass.