ELDRED — The Eldred World War II Museum has made its mission collecting the stories of any and all World War II veterans for posterity. To date, the museum has almost 4,000 personal accounts on record. Curator Steve Appleby regularly visits retirement homes within driving distance to see if anyone is willing to share their story. For some, it takes multiple visits and a bit of prodding before the words spill out.
A visit to the Robert Andersen Memorial Library, beyond the initial bookcases filled with books about the war, will show you shelves of three ring binders, some blue and some white — all protecting the individual accounts of World War II service for locals (and some not so local).
It’s hard to choose stories to share — and harder to reduce a person’s experience in war to fit within the readable and reasonable guidelines for newsprint. Below are snippets of two veterans’ stories, both of whom experienced a bird’s eye view of the war.
Bombing from a B-24
Opening a thick white binder, the story of St. Marys native Clarence Wickett comes to life.
Wickett volunteered for the Army Air Corps and went to Basic Training in Miami Beach. However, he never completed basic training. Instead, Wickett took and passed the aircraft mechanic test. He was then sent to Amarillo, Texas.
Wickett’s recounting of his experience explained that, once in Amarillo, “a buddy of mine talked me into joining the Cadets.”
This happened after Wickett and said buddy broke into the records office to determine that he had the right scores to enter the Cadets. He did, and they didn’t get caught, so Wickett was off to San Antonio, Texas, for six weeks of preflight training. Aerial gunnery school in Laredo and Bombardier/dead reckoning navigation training in Childress followed.
Wickett’s B-24 training began in February of 1944. Upon completion, he was sent to a combat base at Wendling, England, on June 24.
Wickett flew 35 missions from Wendling. His first mission was on July 6 and involved bombing submarine pens in Kiel, Germany.
On his second mission, which occurred July 7, he thought he’d reached the end.
Wickett explained he saw German fighters break through a formation and take out 12 Allied bombers in a very short period, then he felt his plane get hit. The plane lost oxygen at 20,000 feet and went into a dive. It was hit again, and one engine was lost. Wickett prepared for the worst, reaching for his parachute — which, he then realized, would do him no good as it was shot full of holes from flak.
The plane, seeking a safe place to land, went the wrong way. Struggling to stay in the area, it turned around and found an airfield.
Wickett’s recounting of the experience noted, “But what side of the English Channel were we on? Germans parked Allied planes on their airfields to fool you.”
The plane touched down, went the length of the runway and landed in a canal at the end. However, the airfield was on English soil, and Wickett was safe. In fact, three of his injured crew members were treated to English rum as part of their medical regimen.
Wickett’s 35th mission was a bit less nerve-wracking, as he was one of several bombers sent to target a railroad viaduct in Bielefeld. During the mission, one bomber was damaged, but “all were recovered safely at Wendling,” according to mission notes included with Wickett’s account.
Wickett received the Distinguished Flying Cross and an Air Medal, which was given for “25 operational flights during which exposure to enemy fire is expected.”
Wickett came home to have four children, three children and three great-grandchildren. He passed away in 2018.
Radio Operator on a Blimp
A blue binder, plucked from the shelves of the museum, holds the story of a man who spent time receiving messages in Morse Code — while riding in a blimp.
Robert Willis Searles was born in Peckville. He joined the Navy in December 1942. His boot camp was in Bainbridge, Md. At the time Searles joined, the camp was still under construction, which meant battling mud for one’s boots (and usually losing). This is despite various creative efforts to keep them on your feet.
Boot camp generally lasted eight weeks. However, Searles explained that the Navy desperately needed “armed guards,” so applying for specific positions got trainees out of boot camp after three weeks.
Searles applied to be a photographer, but he was told the requirement was a professional background as a civilian prior to enlistment. His next application was to be an aviation radio operator.
This one stuck, and Searles was sent to Jacksonville, Fla., for radio school. While there, he was taught to tune the radio, make simple repairs and was required to copy Morse Code six days a week until he could receive a message through any interference.
Next, Searles was off to gunnery school in Yellow Water, Fla. His post, upon graduation, was the Naval Auxiliary Air Station in Charleston, S.C. There, they had two Navy blimps and numerous flying boats. While the boats took off and landed on the river, a cement ramp was used to launch and retrieve the blimps. Whenever a blimp was launched or landed, it required all hands on the ropes. Those on the ground learned quickly to stay outside the lines or risk getting tangled and going up with the Blimp.
Sadly, this experience ended for Searles in October 1943, when he and his crew were nearing the end of a 15-hour night patrol. The rainy and cold night suddenly got colder and ice began forming on the outer shell of the blimp. Because they “had been out for hours and the hydrogen was weak,” Searles said the blimp began losing altitude and, while it made it to the beach, it ended up in the trees.
“Scratch one blimp,” Searles said.
A piece of the destroyed blimp accompanies his account, nestled next to his shoulder patch in a clear sleeve within the binder.
Searles was then transferred to the Philadelphia Naval Yard and assigned to flight test all aircraft, both brand new and overhauled models, that came out of the Philadelphia Naval Aircraft Factory. This is where he stayed until he was discharged in 1945.
