Robertson Graham
 Bruce Graham as a Cadet in 1942 The following is a bio of my father; Robertson Bruce Graham, a B-17F pilot in the 301st BG, 353rd Bomb Sq. in North Africa during the period February 1943 - September 1943. © 2006 by Randolph B. Graham. Reprinted with permission.
December 7, 1941
The bombing of Pearl Harbor and America's entry into WWII affected many people, young and old. Two young men effected were dad and his best friend Bob McDairmant. In a letter to me dated May 17, 1989, Uncle Bob relates that "When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, your dad and I were both 21 years old. The ensuing weeks were emotional times for men in our age group. I remember quite vividly, a week or so after Pearl Harbor, even though we were all warned that 'a slip of the lip might sink a ship', and we were having blackouts every night, your dad confided in me that he had seen a number of Navy enlisted men disembark at the Oakland terminal and they all had USS ARIZONA hat bands. Obviously they were survivors."
 Bruce Graham 2nd from left
Uncle Bob was attending Cal and working for a foundry in Emeryville and dad worked for the Southern Pacific Railroad as a mail clerk in Oakland. About this time, Uncle Bob says, "your dad and I decided that there was nothing else to do but join the fight and go win the war. But with a little money in our pockets from our jobs, and Christmas coming on, we decided to have a fling first."
 Ladies Delight A/C 42-30136, in North Africa in 1943. Graham on the right.
 Heller and Graham.
December 7, 1941
The bombing of Pearl Harbor and America's entry into WWII affected many people, young and old. Two young men effected were dad and his best friend Bob McDairmant. In a letter to me dated May 17, 1989, Uncle Bob relates that "When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, your dad and I were both 21 years old. The ensuing weeks were emotional times for men in our age group. I remember quite vividly, a week or so after Pearl Harbor, even though we were all warned that 'a slip of the lip might sink a ship', and we were having blackouts every night, your dad confided in me that he had seen a number of Navy enlisted men disembark at the Oakland terminal and they all had USS ARIZONA hat bands. Obviously they were survivors."
Uncle Bob was attending Cal and working for a foundry in Emeryville and dad worked for the Southern Pacific Railroad as a mail clerk in Oakland. About this time, Uncle Bob says, "your dad and I decided that there was nothing else to do but join the fight and go win the war. But with a little money in our pockets from our jobs, and Christmas coming on, we decided to have a fling first."
Dad had a little green Ford Coupe and Uncle Bob had a turkey the foundry had given all employees for the holidays. They set out for Merced, having a few "pops" along the way and didn't get a very friendly greeting. Uncle Bob remembers coming into the house with the turkey slung over his shoulder and a Christmas Seal strategically placed on one end. During this trip home for the holidays, Uncle Bob continued to flirt with dad's sister, Elaine, whom he was eventually to marry. After a couple of days in Merced, Uncle Bob took dad to his hometown of Long Beach to meet some of his friends and family. Uncle Bob promised to get dad a date with the actress Lorraine Day.
Although dad never got his date, he and Uncle Bob did go to the Palladium to see Tommy Dorsey and his band. They arrived early to watch them rehearse. Sinatra, the Pied Pipers, Jo Stafford, and Connie Hains were on stage. As Uncle Bob tells it, "on the dance floor - spectators just like us - were the Andrews Sisters and Lana Turner. This was pretty heady stuff for us."
When Dorsey danced with Lana Turner, Sinatra led the band. Buddy Rich was on Drums, Ziggy Elmond on trumpet, Joe Bushkin on Piano. It was a last fling between friends before going off to war and being separated, perhaps, forever. They left Long Beach after a few days. By this time, Uncle Bob had received a telegram from his father saying, "Don't enlist...letter follows". So Uncle Bob's enlistment was postponed until he graduated from college.
Dad, however, prepared for enlistment. He was promised entry into flight school and if he passed, he'd be able to fly planes for the war effort. If he didn't, he would be one of the army regulars. On January 28, he enlisted in the Army Air Corp. The next day, at 11:40 a.m., he boarded the Southern Pacific Railroad in Merced heading for Williams Air Field in Chandler, Arizona.
Basic Training
Dad reported to the Army Air Corps at Williams for basic training on February 4, 1942. As he describes it in his scrap books, "Williams Field was the huge reception center I was sent to upon appointment as aviation cadet...A hell hole if I've ever seen one...dust, wind, sun, heat and discipline".
In a letter written after two days at camp, dad tells his grandmother Gran and his grandfather John R., "They've begun to put us into real training now. I feel more like a soldier every day. We have reveille at 5:40 a.m., and at 6:00 a.m., exercise and first mess. From 7 to 7:45 we have to make our bed and clean the barracks. From 7:45 to 10 we drill like hell. From 10 to 12 we have classes in military Discipline and Guard Duty. From 12 to 1 second mess. And 1 to 2 more drill in the hot sun. From 2 to 4 we save classes in math and Military Law. From 4 to 5 athletics and from 6 to 7 last mess. After mess our time is our own to see the post movie, or go to the PX, as long as we are in by 8:30. Lights off at 9:30.
"We're usually so darn tired at night, that we go back to the barracks. It's very hot here in this desert and the sun really saps your strength. Our field is a new base, like Merced. The buildings are the same but about twice as many plus 100's of tents. God knows how many men are here but I imagine around 3,000 cadets, and 1,000 enlisted men, plus the required officers.
"Also, there are 50 Chinese pilots here training for the Chinese Air Force. Small and very young. They are fine gentlemen and very disciplined. Upon speaking to an officer, they bow instead of salute. The officers in our company are really swell guys, but stand for no foolishness. As we are being trained for officers, it is necessary we be subjected to very strict discipline, and rigid formalities.
"I understand we are due to leave for primary flight training around the 21st of this month. The sooner the better for me. I only hope I don't wash out. We really have a fine time cleaning up for inspection. Our beds have to be made military style with absolutely no wrinkles. Some job too on these darn cots we have for beds. Sunday is our recreation day. We get to sleep an hour longer - till 6:30 - and have no drills, or classes. Our time is our own.
"The only thing I don't like is that we have to stand up at attention every time an officer comes into the room. Sometimes it's very aggravating because we're in comfortable positions. Once I had no clothes on at all. Very embarrassing...The food here is fine. Our rations are twice as much as anybody else's, therefore our food is twice as good."
Dad passed basic and was accepted into flight school. He began primary flight school training at Thunderbird Field in Arizona on February 22, 1942. In a letter dated March 15, 1942 to Gran and John R., dad says, "I suppose you've heard I've done my solo flight finally - and with a flat tire! What a thrill! I was very disappointed at first but when the instructor said I had landed with a flat tire, it really made me feel good. He said that it was a wonder that I didn't ground loop! From now on, most of my flying will be solo work. They have already started to weed out the bad flyers. Hope they don't get me - pray for me!"
Washing out prayed heavily on every cadet's mind. As the days passed, training got tougher and more demanding. More and more cadets washed out. A week later, in a letter dated March 20, 1942 from dad to Gran and John R., dad says "Just got down from dual instruction. Fridays are my bad days. If you remember last Friday, soloed on a flat tire - well, today in my solo, my motor went out on me, and I had to do a forced landing. My instructor said I did fine though. Sure felt funny when the darn motor quit though. They say that things happen in cycles of three - What's next?
"I'll be an upperclassman a week from tomorrow at reveille. It's going to be swell to be the fellow looked up at, instead of down on. Hope I don't get washed. Some of the fellows have already gotten it. One guy in our room from Nebraska washed yesterday. Sure feel for him. Poor guy is taking it well though. He's going to try for a commission in bombardier now."
In a letter two weeks later, dated April 3, 1942, dad writes again to Gran and John R. and talks about the privileges of being an upperclassman and the high rate of wash outs. He begins by saying, "Things are just about the same around here. Except we are dishing it out instead of taking it. I have 32 hours of flying time now. Soon will be having my 60-hour check I guess.
Lots of my buddies have washed out this week. My very best friend, Art Bunnell, washed today. They are loosing out on an average of four a day now. We are quite fortunate to have the marvelous instructor we have. So far, he is the only one in our flight that has not had any wash outs. We are very proud of him and admire him greatly." This training was to last 3 more weeks before he was transferred to Minter Field in Bakersfield, California for basic training as an aviation cadet. By this time, dad must have gained confidence that he wasn't going to wash out for he didn't speak about it again in his letters. In fact, in a letter dated April 26, 1942 to Gran and John R., dad says, "things are rolling along fine lately. Haven't had any more trouble since I took out that fence. My hours amount to a total of 37:10 - 30:10 solo, 3:00 cross country, and 4:00 instrument time.
"We flew to Fresno yesterday on our second cross country. Next Sunday we fly to Fresno - then up to Los Banos and back. I was hoping we would land at Los Banos, then I could see you there, but they won't let us. Instrument reading is really rough. They put us under a hood, and we have to do maneuvers by watching our instruments instead of the horizon. It's really tough at first. Like trying to learn to walk all over again."
On June 22, 1942, he completed basic and was transferred to the Roswell Army Flying School in Roswell, New Mexico, for advanced flight training.
Advanced Training
In a letter to John R. dated June 30, 1942, dad tells about his first few days of experience at Roswell. "At last, we're down to a system, and are running on schedule - and when I say schedule, I mean just that. Our training program here is the toughest I've encountered yet. We fly six hours a day, ground school 3 hours, athletics 1 hour, link trainer 1-2 hours, drill anywhere from 2 to 4 hours - But we still get eight hours sleep from 9 P.M. to 5 P.M. As long as we get our rest we can't complain.
"We are training under terrific difficulties here. It's a brand new field, only partially completed. We are living in six place tents - hot and dusty, but cool at nights. As for flying, these twin engine jobs really give you a thrill. You have twice as much power, therefore, twice as many instruments to watch and levels to work. It's the first ship I've flown with retractable landing gears. We aren't allowed to do any aerobatics at all. Just straight and level flight...and never any solo flying...always a co-pilot. The real thrill will be when they give us a real bomber!
"And speaking of bombers - in our ground school, we are given a three hour course on the famous Norden Bomb Sight. They showed it to us yesterday. It's really a marvelous thing - and very deadly. But that's all I can tell you about it except that from 40,000 feet, they can put a bomb in a 500 foot circle with it."
In a letter to Gran dated July 14, 1942, dad tells of his plans to marry. He says "JR hasn't written me for a month. I've been so darn busy; I only have time to write him and mom - and my girl... But you haven't heard about Lil, have you? . JR met her, and I think he fell for her. We plan to get married if I make an instructor rating, cause that means I won't go overseas - at least for a year or so. Her name is Lillian Davis, and she lives in San Francisco. I met her in Santa Cruz last September. I'll tell you all about it.
"We, the boys and I, hope to get a 10 day furlough upon our graduation - which will be about the 21st of August. Won't be long now, and I'll have Lt. in front of my name - also $300.00 a month." Marriage In Roswell
Dad completed advanced training at Roswell, received his wings and commission as a 2nd Lieutenant in the Air Reserve, and was honorably discharged on August 26, 1942, to await further instructions. The next day dad married Lillian Davis. A newspaper account tells us that "Mr. and Mrs. Jack Graham Jr. and John R. Graham Sr. have returned from Roswell, New Mexico, where they attended the wedding of the junior Grahams' son, Second Lieut. Bruce Graham, to Miss Lillian Davis of San Francisco.
"The marriage took place Thursday evening at the chapel at the air field at Roswell. It followed the morning ceremony at the field in which Lieut. Graham received his commission and wings. A number of Lieut. Graham's classmates were married during the day and the chapel was banked with flowers arranged in honor of class members and their brides. Soft bridal music accompanied the nuptial rites. Lieut. Graham's grandfather, John R. Graham, Sr., gave the bride in marriage. The best man was Lieut. Richard Charlton of Whittier and his sister, Miss Betty Charlton, was bridesmaid.
"The bride wore a suit of beige wool with luggage tan accessories and a corsage of gardenias. She is the daughter of Mr. & Mrs. Bernard Davis of San Francisco and was graduated last June from high school in the Bay City. Lieut. Graham and his bride met at Santa Cruz the summer of 1941. He was graduated from Merced Union high school and attended the University of California, where he was majoring in music.
"He enlisted in the Air Corps more than a year ago. His sisters are Miss Elaine Graham and Miss Marilyn Graham. Following the ceremony the newlyweds left for a honeymoon to be spent at the Grand Canyon. Afterward they will go to Salt Lake City where Lieut. Graham has been assigned to duty."
Another account of the marriage to Lillian is given in Rad's Ramblings in the Merced Sun Star dated August 23, 1942, under the heading ‘Graham's make jaunt through Southwest’: "In the late summer, with comparatively cool weather prevailing, John R. Graham, Mr. and Mrs. John R. Graham, Jr., of Merced and Mrs. Bernard Davis and her daughter Lillian, of San Francisco made a most interesting automobile trip to Roswell, NM. On the return to California, they lost one passenger. Lillian Davis got married. That was the motif of the trip as the society editor might put it. She wedded Bruce Graham, son of John Junior and grandson of John Senior. Bruce had just gained his wings and a second lieutenancy at the Roswell Air School, and he flew straight into matrimony.
"It was an 8 day trip from Merced to Roswell and return. Left Sunday morning, August 23, at 5. Breakfast at Bakersfield and Barstow for lunch. There was an interesting diversion at Needles where they met the big convoy of the Red and the Blue Army. The U.S. Army was having maneuvers to harden the soldiers to desert warfare...It was estimated there were 50,000 troops there, including many parachuters.
"Dinner and overnight at Seligman, Ariz., 507 miles from Merced. Lunch next day at Holbrook, Ariz; dinner and overnight at Albuquerque, 971 miles from Merced. On to Roswell arriving in mid-afternoon, 1247 miles from Merced. The next day was devoted to Bruce Graham getting his wings and a wife. The next day, Thursday, the Grahams and Mrs. Davis started Merced ward. They had the newlyweds with them. Lieut. Bruce Graham and his bride were not exactly hitchhikers, but the folks gave them a lift to Las Vegas, Nev., where they took the train for Salt Lake where Bruce was ordered to train."
Dad's mom, Yvette, gives her own account of the trip to Roswell in an undated letter to Gran. "I know Johnnie is over there and has told you all about our trip. Really, we had a grand time, and much to my surprise, I felt grand. Only once did I feel bum and I had one of my usual weak spells which lasted about an hour. Everyone was congenial all the time and we had a lot of good laughs.
"Johnnie was the best scout. He thoroughly enjoyed it and really relaxed and got a lot of rest and good food. He didn't have to do great deal of the driving so he didn't get too tired, because you know Johnnie, when he isn't driving, he's sleeping. We let him sleep all he could but when we would come to something interesting we would wake him up. His only regret was that you weren't with him. There wasn't a day that he didn't say 'I wish mama was here.' We all wished it.
"Bruce looks so well and is as happy as can be. I was glad to see him in such high spirits. We received a card from him yesterday reading, 'The weather is here, wish you were beautiful'...It showed that he was happy. It was written on the train, on the way to Boise. We are now anxiously waiting to hear how long he will be there and just what he is going to fly. Jack was so in hopes it would be the B-17, as that is the flying fortress you read so much about and they haven't downed one yet. I dread the day he goes across, but guess it is something we all have to bear up under.
"Lillian is a really darling girl, but so young. She is a month younger than Elaine is. She has a lovely manner and very neat and quite attractive. Her mother is French and (well I don't know what her father was). I didn't know until we arrived at Roswell that the man her mother is married to now was not her father. We liked the family very much Mrs. Davis said that when the war is over, the kids won't want for anything. They just built four duplex apts. in Oakland within the last few months. Mr. Davis is in the wholesale business, and from what I gather has everything from soup to nuts. He made his money during the fair. She was a good sport on the trip and always saw the funny side of everything."
Dad and his bride boarded a train in Las Vegas for Salt Lake City where he was to report for duty flying B-17s on Monday, August 31, 1942. Sometime, shortly thereafter, he was transferred to Boise, Idaho. In a letter dated September 10, 1942 to Gran, dad says "Wish you could have been at the wedding. John R. gave the bride away, and I think he was as nervous as I was...Guess I'll be stationed her for a month, anyway. Boise is a nice place - about 26,000 population. Lil has taken a lovely apartment with another Army wife, as we pilots have to live on Post while training.
"Can you imagine you're devilish grandson flying a huge Flying Fortress? That's just what I'm doing! Gads! Are they immense!! Carrier a crew of 9 men. We were in Salt Lake City for only two days. Surely would have liked to stay there. It's a beautiful city - reminds you of San Francisco.
"Guess JR has told you all about our trip from Roswell to Las Vegas - Lil's and my honeymoon with two mothers-in-law, a father- in-law - and grandpa! We sure had fun though..."
John R. returns dad's letter telling about his first few months of marriage to Gran. In a letter dated September 11, 1942, John R. says, "...I'm pleased to know you are so well located and know you will enjoy your first married life. I well remember ours. We were not as well fixed as you kids are. We had three rooms in Aunt Johnnie's house, paying $12.50 per month. I was $3,000 in debt and had 10 cents in cash, 1 pair of overalls, 1 suit of clothes, badly worn and Ma did not have much of anything and business was rotten, running behind every month. It was a long hard struggle the first few years, especially after your dad showed up.
"Ma was wonderful through it all. I hope you will not have to go through anything like it. Just remember that now is the time to give up for the future and profit by our experience. Yes, enjoy yourself but put some away each pay day. So when you are 74 you will not have to worry as we do sometimes..."
From Boise, dad was transferred for temporary duty to Alamogordo, New Mexico. On the way there, he stopped off in Merced to barely make it in time to stand up as best man for Uncle Bob and Aunt Elaine who were married on September 27, 1942. While in New Mexico dad trained as a co-pilot. After a month, he was transferred to Topeka, Kansas where his training continued as first pilot and he prepared to transfer overseas.
In a letter to Gran and John R. dated December 4, 1942, dad writes "This is the last station in this country - And may I say, I'll be darn glad to see some fast action, after this last year of strenuous training. Would sure like very much to be home for Xmas, but afraid there isn't any too much chance. Guess I'll have to spend it with the boys the best way I can. It's good that all of us are in the same boat - We can keep each other company.
"This field is only 150 West of Topeka, in Salina. The town itself is dead. Not a darn thing doing. Guess all these houses here are built for farmers. Our commanding officer is Col. Cahile. We haven't met him as yet, but suppose we will soon enough. I hear he's quite a rough boy."
Dad did not make it home for Christmas for they were preparing to ship him to West Palm Beach, Florida for assignment overseas. At age 14, his sister Marilyn may have sensed his loss at Christmas for she wrote the following short story titled A Christmas Chat Overseas.
"Two soldiers were sitting in a fox-hole. They were talking about their other Christmas'. In the distance there were sounds of machine guns and falling bombs.
"'Joe, what was your last Christmas at home like?' asked Jim. "'Gosh, I can remember it so plainly. We had a big tree with popcorn and cranberries on it. There were lots of presents, too. It was three years ago this Christmas. I've been over here for two years and 11 months. It was Christmas Eve and my brother and two little sisters were sitting in front of the fire place. Bob was telling Jane and Joan a story. Then came the time to open up the presents. We got lots of them. After we opened our presents we sang songs. Songs like Silent Night, The First Noel, and Deck The Halls. My mother played piano for us. That was the last Christmas I had home. Funny, my brother left for the Air Corps two days later. I had no idea I would be leaving three weeks later. This year, my mother and father and the girls will have to have their Christmas by themselves,' Joe explained.
"'Gee, mine was just about like yours except I don't have any brother or sister. I guess my folks will really be alone this year.'
"Just then a big noise sounded behind the boys. It was a bomb. Joe turned around to see how far it came from them. After he saw he turned around again. Jim was leaning against the fox-hole with his eyes closed. His face very white.
"'So long, kid, and Merry Christmas,' Joe said. Then he got out of the fox-hole and moved closer to the enemy with the rest of the boys."
Journey To North Africa
On November 8, 1942, British and American troops successfully landed at three places in Morocco and Algeria. This effort was named Operation Torch and was led by Lieutenant General Dwight D. Eisenhower. The Allied powers realized that if they could drive the Axis powers from North Africa, Allied navel forces could gain control over the Mediterranean Sea. Then, from bases in North Africa, it would be possible to attack Italy and German controlled France from the South. By the end of 1942, the 301st Bomb Group was detached from the 8th Air Force in Britain and reassigned to General Jimmy Doolittle’s 12th Air Force in North Africa in support of the Allied Forces in Algeria and Morocco. Dad was assigned to the 301st and on January 4, 1943 left Morrison Field in Palm Beach, Florida for Ain M'Lila, Algeria.
In a letter written from Trinidad, to Gran and John R., dated January 14, 1943, he describes his trip overseas. He says "Just a short note to give you some idea of our trip here. Will try to drop you a line from every spot we hit just to keep your files interesting for posterity.
"Had a long and very rough ride until we were about 250 miles off South America, and then we hit a terrific storm - the likes of which I've never seen - and had it all the way in. We tried to fly over it, but could not find the top even at 15,000 feet so gave up. If it hadn't been for our radio directional compass, I'm sure we'd never have made it as we landed with less than an hour's gas supply. I was really scared for awhile. However, due to our experience in the storm, we are much wiser.
"All of our 12 hour flight was by day except for two hours. We flew over many beautiful islands, near Cuba and Puerto Rico, though we were too far away to see much of the latter. The coast along here is beautiful - truly tropical and jungle. They say the snakes are really huge here, too - up to 25 feet in length.
"The weather is very humid. When our motors are running, the propellers churn water behind them. Haven't seen the sun since we landed, as the sky has been overcast. It rains like hell every five minutes. I think the rainfall here is around 85 inches a season. Tomorrow we cross the equator. We've been kidding our ball turret gunner into believing he'll be able to see it. He's a farmer boy from Kansas - Hadn't been 40 miles from home before he enlisted.
"I've really enjoyed myself immensely. So far it's been like a grand excursion trip and vacation with pay at Uncle Sam's expense or your taxes. But in a few days, things will be very different - May it come soon. We went to the so called town of this island tonight. Quite a place! The natives are really interesting and they dress up in very bright and gaudy clothes with huge fancy hats. Very dirty looking. They told us the venereal disease rate is 95% here!
"On our way to town, we drove through 25 miles of pure jungle - coconut trees, rubber trees, breadfruit, bananas and bamboos. Was surprisingly cool too. The natives dislike the British intensely, but go for Americans. Seems the Limeys make them work for almost nothing. Our gov't pays them $1.00 a day, and they think that's great.
"The rate of exchange is 17% - or $1.17 for our $1.00. Cigarettes in the field PX are 60 cents per carton. Tell the Irishman that! I'm making a collection of coins for my future family - hope they appreciate my efforts. That about covers it. Will write again from our next stop."
Dad fully describes his trip from Florida to Africa in a separate undated journal, probably written at leisure once he had settled into his new quarters in Algeria. The journal entry is titled Morrison Field to Trinidad, B.W.I. and reads "Leaving M.Fd. at 0405, it was too dark to notice anything until sunrise at 0700, at which time we were about 400 miles at sea. Even after dawn, nothing was observed for another hour or two when Cuba and Puerto Rico came into view off each wing almost simultaneously.
"Before hitting a 250 mile storm front, several beautiful small islands passed under our wings. They all had small towns, picturesque little harbors, and several small fishing boats. Then came the fun! We ran into one solid wall of cumulonimbus clouds. Rain, fog, winds, and roughs air! Tried to climb above the storm at 15,000 feet but couldn't even see the top of it. After flying an hour, we dropped down to 3,000 feet to find the bottom of the storm, but no go.
"Soon I saw jungle through an opening, at which time we knew we were over Venezuela. Our course was corrected 90 degrees to the left for 15 minutes to take us out to sea away from any dangerous mountains. Still not being able to see the water, we dropped down, and broke through clouds at 500 feet off the coast of Venezuela only five minutes from our turning point into Trinidad.
"The coast line was rugged, hilly, solid jungle up to the shore line. The weather, rather humid, was hot and sultry. Upon our turn into the island of Trinidad, we passed over Port of Spain - situated on a cozy little harbor full of ships of a convoy. We later found out the convoy had been scared into port by a pack of subs off the coast.
"Waller field, our destination on the island, is owned and operated by the U.S.A.A.F., with permission from the British Gov't. The base was acquired as one of the bases traded for 50 of our old World War I destroyers. Fort Reed, U.S. Coast Artillery, is adjacent to Waller Field. Both are out of the dense South American jungle, with 5,000 foot mountains to the immediate east side.
"Trinidad itself is a fertile little island about 50 miles wide, and likewise long, inhabited by Negroes and a few Hindus. The main city is Port of Spain - used in the days of the Spanish Main by pirates as a place to spend their loot. Port of Spain is a dirty, diseased town, good to say 'goodbye' to, and nothing else.
"We stayed at this lousy place five days and six nights waiting for a part for Jeanne I. Finally left Trinidad for Belem, Brazil. On the trip down we searched for Mancini's ship that had been lost shooting for Trinidad. No sign of him, and probably won't be, as he was four days overdue. Our trip to Belem was dull. We followed the So. American coast down. The coast looked uncivilized, but rather pretty. We flew over many native fish traps - thought they were subs at first.
"Before hitting Belem, we passed over British Guinea, Dutch Guinea (Suriname), and French Guinea. At Fr. G. we flew over Devil's Island - looked O.K. from the air, but the stories I've heard about it are ungodly. If I ever avoid any place in future travels, it will be Belem. Hot, dirty, bugs and mosquitoes, plus lousy food and quarters. We stayed in barracks built by Germans.
"Also, it was here I got my first impression of resentment by the Brazilian people. The American air dome there is covered with Brazilian soldiers and guards. We left here the following morning for Natal, Brazil - the jumping off point for Africa. Our trip was again dull and very uneventful. We followed the coast down again.
"Natal was very much to our liking, after the previous stops. So we stayed three days, though we had to stay in tents. The town was beautiful. Little coastal town with roses, trees, gardens and lovely Latin type homes. The houses were built flush to the sidewalks, and all had patios and balconies. The children seemed to get a kick out of us - as usual, we were pestered for gum and Amer. smokes. We bought gaucho boots and hammocks. Our guide got his commission out of each, so we paid half again as much as we should have.
"Our next hop was across the broad expanse of the So. Atlantic to Bathurst in Gambia, W. Africa. We left early in the morning to beat any incoming bad weather. However, half the trip across we had to fight a storm full of thunderheads. They drove us up to 10,000 feet to climb above. As we flew along, you could see huge thunderheads building up directly in front of us, causing us many times to turn off course. After 10 1/2 hours of flying over water, Ord, our illustrious navigator, bellowed into the earphones, 'Africa A-Ho!'.
"To see it for the first time was indeed a thrill to me. As the broad shores came into view, I couldn't help thinking of all the deep and mysterious things the Dark Continent held - of unfound wealth, of wild animals and wonder, black savages and their witch doctors, of the Sunigals and their strange rhythm, and lastly, of the bitter war in the north we were going to - to fight and die.
"It was at this point I began to wonder for the first time - Would I ever leave Africa alive. So many men had set foot on this continent, never to return.
"We hit the African coast, 40 miles south of our destination, Bathurst, and as dirty and uncivilized as the place was, I was glad to be there. We were dead tired, having been in the air for some eleven solid hours. The field here, like at Trinidad, was cut out of the jungle and about 20 miles from the nearest town.
"Knowing we'd only be there long enough to rest up over night, I took my first opportunity to go into town. We rode into town on the back of a Limey truck. On the way in I saw several interesting sites. Several native black women bathing in a stream; natives praying along the roadside; and bottles attached near the top of cocoa-nut trees, which I learned was to catch a juice the natives made a potent drink of.
"The town of Bathurst was a small seaport full of Limeys and Negroes. We wondered through a native market. They seem to bring their wares in, and set them down at the first spot they see, and then are open for business. Everything was sold there, from jewelry to stinking, fly-covered meats.
"This part of Africa is under the British rule. The more intelligent natives are part of the army. These boys are very proud of themselves, and take their soldiering seriously. They sing as they march, one of those haunting rhythmical African
2nd Lt Robertson Bruce Graham was assigned to the 301st BG 353rd Squadron.
4/6/1943 Robertson was listed on a roster of personnel assigned to the 301st Bombardment Group on this date, 6 April 1943, when they were awarded a Presidential Unit Citation (PUC). 5/24/1943 PH/AM MIA 4/6/1943 Robertson was listed on a roster of personnel assigned to the 301st Bombardment Group on this date, 6 April 1943, when they were awarded a Presidential Unit Citation (PUC).
Please contact us if you can assist with any biographical data, pictures or other information regarding the service and life of Robertson Graham.
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