It took a mere 5 missions to get an Air Medal. You didn't have to do anything heroic or special. Just show up and fly the 5 missions and the Air Medal was yours. It was important to have an Air Medal. Very important. When our crew arrived at the 344th, we had flown no missions as yet. We were a replacement crew. Under our wings we had theatre ribbons, but no battle stars. No indications of any kind that we had ever seen the enemy, and in a Bomb Group where everyone was loaded with medals and decorations, we felt left out. Our newness was nothing less than embarrassing. Just one Air Medal on our chests would change us from strangers to part of the gang who had seen the enemy.
We flew our first mission the day after we arrived. Light flak, no losses. Four more missions to go. Two days later we flew our second mission. Heavier flak. Two planes hit and both had to land at alternate airfields. Crewmembers slightly wounded. No fatalities. Three more missions to go. I began to think of actually being awarded that Air Medal. I envisioned a big parade with the CO pinning it on my chest as the band played, drums rolled, bugles blared as we all passed in review.
Heavy weather set in and the 344th stood down. Three days later the weather cleared and we flew two more missions in the next two days. I had four now. Only one more to go. Just one more. More bad weather. Three days delay, then on the 4th day we flew our 5th mission. It was a milk run. No flak. No losses. Piece of cake. We continued flying. 10 missions. 15 missions. Still no Air Medal. After a while I started losing interest in it. I guessed I would get the Medal when the time came. The image faded and the Air Medal became less important as time went on.
Then one day an announcement came over the loud speaker system. "Will the following officers report to the squadron orderly room right away. Jones, Shorts, Kramer, Monson, Thompson…." What the hell do they want now I thought? Guess they wanted me to fill out some papers or something. As I stepped into the squadron orderly room the Sgt. behind the desk asked me my name. "Kramer" I replied. " Here ya go sir" he said and tossed me a small package across the 15 feet or so that separated us. I opened it. It was the Air Medal, The Sgt. said, "next". And I left the office.
I never in my wildest dream ever thought that the medal would be thrown at me. No parade. No bands playing, drums rolling and bugles blaring. After a while I realized that the Air Medal was not all that important since everyone had one for every 5 missions they flew, and if you completed a full tour of duty you would end up with about 12 Air Medals. And with all those DFC's around, the Air Medal became pretty trivial, and as the missions piled up I realized that my youthful concern about the medal was just plain silly.
Then one day I was walking down the Squadron Street as a new replacement crew was arriving. I noticed that they had no Air Medals. One young, very young sergeant shyly and nervously asked me in passing, " how is it up there sir?".
"You'll find out soon enough" I answered.
Copyright © 2002 Art Kramer and Coastal Computers, Inc.