Anti-aircraft fire (flak) was often present-but never welcome.

THUNDERBOLT TOM (Book Review) P-47 Pilots The Fighter-Bomber Boys By Tom Glenn Finally,the story of these heroes is told by one who was there. They were America's best, barely out of their teens, but they answered the call, became Aviation Cadets and after months of rigorous training graduated as pilots and officers in the U.S. Army Air Forces. The P-47 Thunderbolt, America's largest and most powerful single engine fighter, was waiting for them, and so were the crack German Panzer divisions and Rommel's tanks; the fighter-bomber boys were needed in Europe. Together with the infantry.armored and artillery troops they would defeat the German Army in less than a year. However, the victory was a costly one and many courageous young pilots would die in their cockpits before the end of this bloody war. They dove into battle at 500 miles an hour attacking gun emplacements, bunkers and bridges with bombs and rockets, and fought with their 50 caliber machine guns at tree top level in deadly shoot-outs with tanks, flak guns, machinegun nests and whatever else was threatening or holding up our ground forces on their drive into Germany'. ********************** ENGLAND We left Walterboro, SC March 1944,by train , headed for Fort Dix N.J. where we would await sea transportation for England. We were confined to the Base for several days. Liberty to New York city was granted the day before we were to sail on the Queen Mary, Many of us wound up at the Three Dueces Club where Billy Holiday was the featured entertainer. One of our more senior pilots was from NYC and notorous for his frequent drunken brawls. We were enoying the silken blues of Ms Holiday when the Club bouncer came to me saying “you had better get this guy outta here before I call the police”. Homer and I got him into the street and hailed a taxi. Homer had gotten into the back seat and I had the front door open urging the drunk to get in. Suddenly, he wheeled around,raised his heavy boot high and brought it forcefully down on my instep, Shouting, “ Leave me alone--you country hick”. My pride was hurt as badly as my instep. I knew I was from the country--but I didn't need a NYC reject to remind me. I had very little respect for him, thereafter. ©whcameron200