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Further information can be seen at the Website of the 446th Bomb Group and at the Flixton Aviation Museum
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The Boys from America in Bungay.The second instalment of a story about the 446th Bomb Group and their experiences in the Bungay area. This installment details the war years.If you missed the first installment, read it here! From
the book "The 446th Revisited" by Ed Castens edited
by Steve Roat
We soon learned what wonderful people the British were. We remembered Edward R Murrow's radio broadcasts: "This is London calling. Nazi bombers came over in wave after wave tonight." On our first leave in London we saw firsthand what he had described a few years before -destruction, blocks of it, sandbagged buildings, barrage balloons, nightly blackout, air raids and antiaircraft fire, and searchlights with their beams reaching high into the sky probing for German bombers. The wail of sirens warning of an air raid, and afterwards, the all clear. The most distressing sight of all - people sleeping and spending the night in the subways. We were seeing it firsthand as we were now a part of it. We did not realize the amount of devastation that had been wrought by the Luftwaffe bombers. We were shocked by London's bomb-ravaged sections. While in London many of the us visited the historic places we had read and heard about. It was an emotional experience to enter Westminster Abbey, that sacred building of nearly one thousand years.. There was something wrong with you if you did not feel or show some emotion. It's said Daniel Webster burst into tears when he crossed its threshold. The Abbey and its hallowed halls dates from the Coronation of William the Conqueror and is where kings, warriors and famous Englishmen are buried. We visited the Houses of Parliament, the Tower of London, 10 Downing Street and watched the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. There were some who went to the girlie show at the Windmill or to see Phyllis Dixey in "Peek-a-boo." Today, when seeing John Gielgud in movies or on television we recall seeing him as Hamlet in wartime London. Those who wanted to bathe in the vast ocean of culture and William Shakespeare went to Stratford-on-Avon, others went to Cambridge and Oxford.
They drove on the wrong side of the road. The roads were dark at night. Our truck drivers had a terrible time on the narrow roads. The Liberty Run to Norwich was a test of their mettle. Headlights were masked, permitting just two small slits of light, hardly enough on the narrow roads with deep ditches on each side. The country had been blacked out since 1939. All towns and villages had air raid wardens. No matter where we were, we were careful to draw our blackout curtains each night. Even a crack of light was not permitted. A glimmer of light could be seen by German planes. Even the striking of a match in the deep darkness could be seen from the air. We quickly became familiar with the Bungay area, especially the quaint old pubs with beamed ceilings and walls bulging with age and history. The English were supposed to be reserved, but as we mixed with them we found them to be warm and friendly. We were concerned about our newfound friends. We were welcomed into their homes and invited to dine with them. Everything was rationed. They were living on a few ounces of meat, butter and sugar each week. They had "victory gardens" producing cabbages, potatoes and beans that they were willing to share with us. Some of the women were willing to do our laundry. We returned their kindness with money, candy, cigarettes, liquor or whatever we could pilfer from our mess halls. Many of our men bartered cartons of cigarettes for items of local origin. Two GIs, who were invited to a home for dinner, made the mistake of telling the husband, in front of his wife, that they helped their wives with dishes, shopping and also took them dancing. They did not receive another invitation. We took the children to our hearts. Many rode their bikes out to the base in the early morning to watch the planes take off, and again when the planes returned. They were, as were the people of Flixton and Bungay, genuinely sorry when they saw our planes limp back full of holes with wounded aboard. By Steve Roat See the third installment here!
www.bungay-suffolk.co.uk
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As
we look back, we cannot help sympathizing with them. GI uniforms flooded
London streets. Station 125 had a greater population than Bungay. The
people must have felt overwhelmed. They were being kind when they said
there were only three things wrong with us - we were "overpaid,
oversexed and over here." The Brits must have felt inundated. 
Although
we had a common language and it was our bond, we found that the people
and their customs were different in many ways and proud of the differences.
You know stiff-upper-lip and all that sort of thing. They did not show
their emotions. Also they were different in many other ways. We had
to learn about their money, and sometimes our "common" language
was a barrier. We didn't understand it when they said "keep your
pecker up" it meant keep your spirits up, "knock him up"
meant to wake him up in the morning. |
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