I remember my bombing instructor at Big Springs. He was a
burly fellow with a booming voice and a gruff, in your face manner. He had
flown a tour with the Bloody 100th Bomb Group over Berlin and lived to tell
the tale. Now I had inherited him. He always yelled, everything was at the
top of his voice.
But he was at his loudest and most demanding when I was on a
bomb run. He would do everything he could to break my concentration and
distract me from the bombsight. He would bellow out "fighters high 12
O'clock...fighter level three O'clock.. right engine on fire". Of course we
were over Texas so none of this was true, but he yelled it out anyway.
I knew that if I broke from the bombsight for a second I
would get gigged and it didn't take too many gigs to get washed out. And
there was no way in hell that l would be distracted. On one flight he yelled
"Mister, I order you to abort this bomb run and shut down your sight."
I never moved. He screamed it at me again. I never moved. But I was scared
to death. I was deliberately refusing to obey an instructor's order. My life
in the Army Air Corps hung in the balance. Then it was bombs away. and a
shack. When we landed he put me in a brace and demanded, "Why did you
disobey my order to abort?"
I said, (shaking) "Sir you were not the bombardier. I was. I
had my crosshairs at dead stop and indexes approaching bombs away. And I
wasn't going to abort no matter what." He smiled and said, "You'll do OK
Mister". We got along fine after that. Lucky he was not an ordinary
instructor and I had guessed right once again.