Three Generations of Warriors
The Argonne Trenches, The Flying Tigers and the Skies of Vietnam
by
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The most harrowing flight I ever took occurred when our squadron was ordered to attack Hankou, an industrial center on the Han and Chang rivers held by the Japanese. Hankou was commonly called the Pittsburgh of China, and it had a fine port, numerous industries, and good railroad connections. The morning I flew out, I picked up my black leather flight jacket and looked at the red Chinese characters stitched on the back. They read something like, "I am an American Officer. Help me get back to Kunming." I hoped with all my heart that no one would ever need to heed that message. Our force numbered thirty-five to forty B-24’s when we flew out to make our attack, which we assumed would be fierce because of the large number of Japanese zeroes put there to defend the area. My crew had our specific directions for bombing various sites, and our group was told to meet a fighter escort just south of Hankou at a place called Kweilin. That rendezvous never took place because our escort was itself under such heavy attack by the Japanese. We had been trained to abort a mission if we lacked cover, but the young officer in charge, Major Beat, decided unilaterally to lead our squadron on to Hankou without the escort. We did not want to do it, but an order was an order. My plane position was just off the right wing of Major Beat’s position, and we were told that if anything happened to his plane we were to move up into the lead. Almost as soon as we reached Hankou it happened: the Major’s plane was hit and turned into a ball of fire. How anyone could survive was beyond me. I found myself seething. Even though Major Beat had written out his own death warrant, what seemed most horrible to me was that he had put his men in harm’s way...probably to enhance his chances of making Lieutenant Colonel. It struck me as unconscionable, and I silently cursed him for his stupidity and arrogance. At the same time I tried desperately to focus on our planned targets, and it appeared we were at least hitting something, as evidenced by the large fires we could see below us. It was then that I looked again out the window of our B-24 at the burning plane, and in one of its windows I saw my friend and fellow bombardier, Maurice Lair, a West Point graduate I had trained with in Midland. His face was a pleading, fearful, begging mask. He appeared to be trying to crawl out the window. I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do, and I shivered as I watched as his plane fell. That made me hate Major Beat even more. We knew that we had to get ourselves out of there right then, and we did a 180. But we and the rest of the squadron’s B-24’s were pursued by eighty to a hundred Japanese zeroes. Our sergeant manning the upper turret, a man named Benko, managed not only to survive being in that vulnerable position but to shoot down fifty-seven Japanese fighter planes. He said it was like skeet shooting; you had to get a bit of a lead on your target before firing.
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About the Book
When America fought its major wars of the twentieth century, three generations of Robinsons did their part. In the brutal trenches of the Argonne Forest during World War I, Ernest Robinson, a private from Alabama, fought on 174 consecutive days, earning the Medal of Valor. Miraculously, he escaped uninjured. Ernest’s son, Len, a freshman at Troy State University when he heard about Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor, joined the U. S. Army, eventually becoming a bombardier with Chennault’s Flying Tigers in China. He flew ninety-one missions in the B-24 without injury, receiving the Distinguished Flying Cross. During his freshman year at Georgia State, Len’s son Alan decided to join the Army. Eventually he became a pilot, flying the Mohawk on intelligence-gathering missions in Vietnam. When his plane was attacked, he sustained injuries to his leg, and he was forced to eject. Alan was awarded the Purple Heart. In a fast-moving narrative, Three Generations of Warriors not only gives us an account of exciting military experiences, but it also allows us to glimpse into the backgrounds that produced these three remarkable men.
About the Author
Len Robinson, Captain U.S.A.F Retired, holds the
D.B.A. from Georgia State University. A
retired professor of accounting at Auburn University and the University of
Alabama in Birmingham, he was also a cattle rancher in Chilton County, Alabama.
Alan Robinson, after returning from Vietnam, remained
in the reserves, serving as an S2 Intelligence Officer in Atlanta. He holds the B.A. in psychology from Auburn
University and the M.Ed. in counseling from the University of Tennessee in
Chattanooga. Presently, he is
Information Systems Manager for Fortwood Center in Chattanooga.
Norman McMillan, who holds the Ph.D from the
University of Michigan, taught English twenty-nine years at the University of
Montevallo, is the author of the memoir, Distant
Son: An Alabama Boyhood. He lives
with his wife Joan in Montevallo, Alabama.