Yes, we had a good time in Branson and look forward to Myrtle Beach

I got to Rhein Main in March of 53, worked with Charlie Spanks, Sgt. Lake, Dale Hall and then Don Fisher. I inherited 237 when Don rotated home. I was on flying status part of the time and part of the time not.

I have been in this house about 6-7 years. I haven’t seen Bill Fuller, but he lives about 50 miles from where I do.

Hope I see you in N.C.

Well since I didn’t win any Distinguished Flying Cross or do any thing heroic, my most profound memories of the 12th T.C.Sq. and Rhein Main days are highlighted with some of the SMART things I(we) did.

Now some of us were smarter than others. Most of us were so smart we had no need to take the collage courses offered on the base (almost free).

We were much to smart to listen to the advice of our flight chiefs or the other "Old Timers". That would have been as dumb as listening to our own parents. Forget that! What did we need with all that anyway? We had found the Fisherstube, Meier Gustel’s, the Royal Cafe and several other absolutely wonderful places to spend our leisure time (and all our money).

Most of us weren’t old enough to buy a drink back home, but these people here were great! They would serve us booze until we could no longer function.

We were really smart. We went to work every morning with a bad hangover and struggled through the day till the E.M. club opened or the bus took us back to town.

Then as upper management recognized just how smart we were and put some of us on flying status, we were so smart we flew with hangovers and really suffered.
When one of us got caught being so smart and got "busted" we made a joke of losing those stripes and that money anyway.

Smart, Real Smart. It’s just a good thing we were as smart as we were else we might have really been in trouble.

One of the plane crashes I rememberCol. Rocky was the pilot, his leg got broken. Hugh Clayton was the radio operator and got caught in the trees. I'm not sure about the others...Koss maybe.

I was on flying status some in 1954 and early 54. One of my most memorable events was sometime in 54. I don't remember who the pilot or the copilot were but Dick Keville was the radio operator and I was the engineer. We went to Bentwaters England and landed with ice on the runway. One prop went into reverse before the other so we relocated some of their runway lights.

The next day after moving part of a fighter squadron to (I'll try to spell it) Neuesseuer AFB at Casablanca the desert winds came up and we were stuck there for four days. One of the prefab shakes we had for barracks was the EM Club ( which few EMs frequented) . Dick from Boston ( a collage professor later on) and I, a country bumkin from Arkansas were both big country western music fans. The antique juke box in the club 5 or 6 of "OUR" kind of music on it. Folks let me assure you, by the time Dick Keville and Paul Baldwin had been fastened up in there for four days, that bartender had heard those same half dozen records so much that he Probally has "flash backs" and still hears them today.

I don't know if they are still there or not but I met a reserve pilot in Houston in 1984 who was flying C-119s out of Ellington AFB. He said one of them had "Snake, Rattle & Roll" painted on the side of it. I painted "Snake, Rattle & Roll" on the side of 613 while we were putting it back together from our own cannibalization in 54.

I was also at Athens in 1954 (we had 3 or 4 planes waiting for parts) there at the time. I was on one of them when prop man, Desrosiers who we all liked and respected but this was to funny to forget, was changing a prop. After dumping the two gallons of oil that’s comes out of the nose cone on himself, decide to get under main line strainer and wash the coveralls and him self with 115/145 gasoline. This worked pretty good for a few seconds when he seen a very fast moving GI heading for the water, that was probably 200 yards away. I’m sure some kind of speed record was set that day. A Greyhound could not have caught him that day. I think this was along about November or December 1954.Many of us had similar experiences didn’t we?

I was lucky the only real close crape I had was wing icing up over the Alps one night. It was -30 degrees on the little thermometer by my left eye on the window. The heaters wouldn’t stay lit and I didn’t even have a jacket. We got out of the weather without losing to much altitude. We were flying at full power for a while and it still didn’t want to stay up there.

Another flight I wont forget took us from Rhein Main to Munich where my R.O. (I don’t recall his name) did a plug change in the snow on a Saturday afternoon, all 128 of them. We spent that night in Rome, then on to Rabat North Africa for a couple of days, then to Gibraltar, to Athens where we fueled up and headed for home. It was dark and we were flying at 18,000 feet over the icy snow covered Alps when we encountered more icing conditions. This was a serious icing condition; we were at full power once more, barely maintaining altitude. The heaters wouldn’t stay lit again, probably because of the altitude. I had my shaking fingers glued to the heater switches and my left eye on the thermometer on my window that read -30. I was wearing nylon coveralls, and no jacket. You could hear chunks of ice slamming the sides of the plane. I realized that it was all over and we were out of the weather in just a few minutes, but it seemed like hours. Trust me, we didn’t want to leave that airplane, not there anyway.

My "Initiation flight was 29 touch-and-goes in one day. I had a landing in Bentwaters, England one night on ice, one prop went into reverse before the other, and we rearranged their runway lights. Another experience was a trip that included a direct flight across the desert from Tripoli to Casablanca with a pilot who had a serious dislike for Arabs. We buzzed camel caravans, wow can those critters run, and in all different directions.

As I recall the flying days, I fail to remember how miserable it was to fly with a hangover and to work on the airplanes in the bitter cold also with a hangover. I do however recall there was something really funny that happened on every trip. There was no "Routine" flight. A routine flight might consist taking off from Rhien Main, stopping at Hahn and Bitburg, then landing at Chatareaux with a dead generator and having to wait a couple of days for one to be flown in. The mud at Chatareaux was always over your shoe tops between the transit barracks (shack) and the beer hall was just across the street.

Then on the third day we took off for Rome. Once at Rome, a crew would be waiting for the airplane so you were stuck there for a few days. Then you get a airplane and take off tfor Tripoli and hopefully back to Athens where a crew was waiting for that airplane.

After a few days there and out of money, cigarettes, clean laundry and other necessities, and you then a got airplane took back off via Chatareaux, Bitburg and Hahn again hoping not to get stranded again.

It was still fun to be 18 or 19 year old G.I. Who couldn’t even but a legal beer back home. Oh, well.

It was on one of those "Routine" flights that we were at Bitburg fogged in for three days after a 10 or 12 day run and past pay day when the gave us clearance to take off for Rhien Main. When we arrived at Rhein Maim we started our final approach the called and told us to go around. Capt. Hicks was a good Vet and a good pilot but had no desire to return to Bitburg. Sohe pretended not to hear the tower and kept on course to land. We broke though the fog just as we were crossing the Autobahn. The tower had told a C-47 to taxi out and hold for takeoff. He did as he was told and we "Leapfrogged" right over him and sat down In front of him, reversed the props, and waited for the vocal explosion from the tower. It came, Capt. Hicks was "Fussed At" seriously but we got home.

Just another 12th T.C. Squadron "Normal Event".

I think most of our old aircraft are in service decorating the front gates of Air Force Bases world wide.

Paul Baldwin
Rt 1 Box 2050C
Whitney Tx. 76692