by Joe Diblin
Early during WWII, we were stationed at an airbase in Tennessee where we trained
B-24 Liberator pilots and flight instructors. Newly married, we finally found
a rental single room in a southern widow's home about 15 miles from the base.
Life in the area at that time was the ultimate in frustration. Thousands upon
thousands of Army ground troops were on maneuvers there. They overwhelmed us;
they were everywhere. Tanks, trucks and soldiers clogged the streets and roads.
The ground pounders camped everywhere, in the local park, on our widow's lawn,
or wherever they found an open spot.
Our landlady added to the frustration by renting the only downstairs bathroom
to the Army guys for 50? a bath. They lined up in big numbers, which limited
our opportunity to use the bathroom. My personal frustration reached a peak
when some soldiers pilfered my new golashes from outside our door. That time
of year, golashes were a necessity for the area.
At that point, we became revenge motivated. We happened to overhear the base
supply sergeant tell my aircraft crew chief he had received a huge shipment
of toilet tissue, but had a limited storing place for it. At my request, the
sergeant gave me a whole bale of the toilet rolls. Planning my next flight,
we confided in the crew chief, who readily agreed to cooperate in the "mission."
We were aware of a huge Army encampment a brief flight distance from our airbase.
Our four-engine Liberator arrived over the encampment at noon as planned. Circling
overhead, we could see long columns of soldiers in several chow lines, being
fed from outdoor kitchens. The entire scene was an ideal target for a revenge-motivated
flyboy. Setting near full power on all four engines, we brought our big bomber
roaring down along treetop level with the bomb doors open. A sea of startled
faces looked up at us. At my signal, the crew chief "bombed" the troops
with our huge number of toilet paper rolls. The ground soldiers panicked and
ran for cover. At our speed, it was difficult for me to see many more details.
However, the crew chief had a good view through the open bomb doors and provided
us with his enthusiastic description. Fortunately, in the excitement, nobody
got our aircraft number because we were never reported by the Army guys.