If My Heart Had Wings: A World War II Love Story(12)

But instead of doing the town with his fellow cadets after graduation, he hopped on a train and headed straight back to St. Paul to see his girl. They had been apart for nearly eight months. And he knew for certain that once the war was over, he wanted her to be waiting for him. In fact, he was so sure about it, he had a diamond engagement ring in his pocket.

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M OM TOLD ME SHE BARELY slept once she knew Lyndon was on his way home. And when his old car pulled up in front of her house, and a handsome, tanned young Army Air Forces officer hopped out and loped up the walkway, she almost couldn’t contain herself. She flew out the front door and straight into his arms, where they both laughed, cried, kissed, and held on to each other for dear life.

“It seemed like forever since he’d left,” she recalled, “And once he came home, even though it was just for a week, we were going to squeeze as much living out of those days as we could.”

Which is exactly what they did. They visited friends and family, went back to their old haunts, and talked endlessly about their future together. At night, they stayed out until the wee hours and hit hot spots like the Coliseum Pavilion, swing dancing to “Chattanooga Choo Choo” and “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree,” and fox trotting dreamily to “I Don’t Want to Walk Without You.” Emotionally, they ricocheted from elation to heartbreak, from bliss to longing, and from manic energy to exhaustion. Those few stolen days were packed with a lifetime of emotions.

At the end of that crazy, wonderful, tumultuous week, they dragged their exhausted bodies back to Hamline Sweet Shop and flung themselves into a red leather booth. She was down in the dumps and trying hard to forget that he was leaving the following day. And that was the moment that he pulled the engagement ring out of his pocket and asked her to be his wife.

In two seconds she shot from depression to elation, hardly able to contain her joy when he slid the ring onto her finger. When she could finally speak, she promised him that she’d never take it off—and yes, of course , she would marry him!

Just eighteen hours later, he was on a train bound for Missouri, and she was sitting in Calculus class, busily scribbling notes and trying hard to give a damn about school. Back to reality. But when she glanced at the sparkling diamond ring on her left hand, she just couldn’t stop smiling.

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L YNDON HAD BARELY ARRIVED at Sedalia Army Air Field when he scored yet another win. Right off the bat, newly commissioned troop carrier pilots were assigned to one of two categories, pilot or co-pilot, and once again, he landed in the top category.

The troop carrier pilots would train on the C-47 Skytrain, the “workhorse” of the Army Air Forces. Rugged, reliable, and versatile, this plane, the military version of the civilian Douglas DC-3, was the one most often flown by U.S. troop carrier pilots. It would play absolutely crucial roles in the D-Day Invasion and, later, the Berlin Airlift. With its two 1,200 horsepower Pratt & Whitney engines, cargo hooks under the wings, reinforced fuselage floor, and large cargo door, the C-47 was used to carry troops, evacuate the wounded and even “snatch” stray gliders. But mostly it was used to haul supplies: gasoline, bombs, ammunition, oil, food, engineering equipment, or anything else you could think of, often to far-off or hard to access destinations. While it wasn’t a large plane, the C-47 could hold 28 soldiers in complete combat gear, 18-22 fully equipped paratroopers, or 14 patients on stretchers plus three nurses. It could also carry 6,000 pounds of cargo (7,000 in a pinch), a 37 mm cannon, or a fully assembled jeep. In other words, it could haul just about anything.



C-47 Skytrain (courtesy USAAF)

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F OR LYNDON, FLYING the C-47 was a dream compared to the unstable AT-9 he’d wrestled with at Stockton Field. The C-47, by contrast, was known as a “forgiving aircraft”—easy to fly and maintain, with a hardy construction highly resistant to battle damage and crashes. Many survivors of crash landings swore they owed their lives to the superior protection of the stalwart C-47.

Pilot training included some fifty hours in the pilot’s seat, flying in all kinds of weather and at all times of the day and night. The plane was stuffed to capacity with 6,000 pounds of sandbags to simulate the loads they would be hauling during battle conditions. Then, to make matters more interesting, the pilots had to fly just 500 feet off the ground or even less. Low flying was a crucial skill for transport pilots as the C-47 was often used to drop paratroopers and supplies. The closer they got to the ground, the more likely it was that the drops would hit the target area. For the same reason, the pilots also had to fly as slowly as possible, while being careful not to let plane stall.

After six rigorous but exciting weeks of training on the C-47 troop carrier, Lyndon got his orders to report to Pope Field Air Force Base at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina for his last stop before going overseas. But first, he had a two-week leave coming to him.

Mom told me Lyndon called her from Missouri in early October, and the minute he heard her voice, he blurted out, “Sweetheart, I’m coming home on leave in two weeks! Wanna get married?”

He didn’t have to ask her twice.





Chapter Three


I Don’t Want to Walk Without You