The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1945-02-08
CHAPTER VII

I've forgotten. But later we were
to have some meals which were def
initely on the rugged side. Some
time just try breakfast at three
a. m. composed of warmed-over,
mouldy, then re-warmed toast, with
Slightly sour canned tomatoes. After
this year and more, I can close my
eyes and see COL G. v. Haynes sit
ting there looking at that delicacy-
thinking, no doubt, about Carolina
country ham, with brown gravy
making little puddle in the grits.
Well fed but on the tired side,
we left the base at 1885, for our
next destination farther down the
coast. For more than two hundred
miles we were over friendly terri
tory as we hugged the beaches, but
later, along the Ivory Coast, we had
to fly out to sea to avoid the prying
eyes that were Vichy French. ]
must have sworn deeply that after
noon, for in my diary / note now
that / wrote this line: Damn, we
have to dodge those b all the
time"
We passed fighter base at l7:00
G.M.T., and one hour later we land
ed at another West Coast base. The
sun was setting back to the West in
the Atlantic-towards home. Easter
Sunday was fast coming to close.
I remembered then, from 'hearsay
evidence" that | had been born ex-
~n4Ir, <hsx4xx T1,,w xraawc h1fnwo Erayx,
personal experience | would be able
to recall this Easter as a memora-
BILE one.
Back through a great part of my
hectic life, ] had been the time
hog" when 1t came to chiselling air
planes from every station in the
U.S.A. I had often stated that !
never had, and never would have,
enough flying time. Right now, the
way my head and eyes ached and
the way my body fairly yearned for
a place to stretch out, I almost re-
solved to eat those statements Of the
past. For during the last twenty
eight hours we had been in the air,
for twenty-five of them under terrific
tension. In that one day we had not
only been lost in the South Atlantic,
but we had covered nearly four thou
sand miles, from Belem to Natal to
our stop near Fishers Lake, and on
to destination. I remember looking
over at Doug and saying rather sad
ly that for once in my life had had
enough flying for one day.
AS we rode out to our billets in a
British lorry with barefoot BUSH
boy chauffeur, I contemplated the
completed trip. firmly believe that
had I been a confirmed ground SOL
dier, wholly unconverted to air pow
er. ! would have realized that the
airplane had grown up and was def
nitely here to stay.
Next day. while the crew worked
on the tired airplane. some of us
drove into the bush country. With a
guide we made about ten-hour trip
into the interior, to Togoland. En-
tering typical dirty village we
heard jazz music and picked our
way towards the source. imagine
all of us were expecting to find a
radio or a victrola; instead we
found that we were really in the
land that had "birthed" jazz.
Grouped about an earthen crock of
palm wine was the population of the
village, and the more they dipped
the gourd cups into the stagnant-
looking liquor, the hotter the music
became and the more the sweating
black bodies swayed to the beat of
the drums. Their bare feet were
moving to the rhythm in the dust,
and their naturally musical voices,
added to the syncopated rumble that
came from black hands humping
many kinds of drum ;, made us won
der whether s0.le orchestra like
Cab Gallo lays hadn't come to AT
rica with us on USO project.
On April we left the Gold Coast
for Kano. in Nigeria. Off at 08:00
G.M.T., we flew course of 90 de-
grees to miss more of Vichy France.
Over Lagos, in the clammy heat of
the equatorial jungle, we turned
into the continent to course of 5a
AC61GCS dilQ OSCl ACI}
thick country until we crossed the
Niger From there on East, the
land that was Africa seemel TO dry
up. and my boyhood conception OF
how the Dark Continent should look
faded away. Instead of constant
jungle we now saw dry desert, like
the lower hump of Brazil near Ma
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