Jake Colvin

[mgc1961]

Tonight, I went to my sister's home for a family dinner. We belatedly celebrated my brother-in-law's birthday.

During the post-dinner conversation Melany mentioned the discovery of some old letters and memorabilia that Steve's late mother kept and they were trying to decide what to do with them. I asked if I could see the collection.

The articles consisted of a number of albums. Some of them were store bought and at least one was homemade. Inside the albums were a mix of letters, newspaper clippings, and photographs (c. 1940-1953). The letters included some returns (stamped "deceased") from friends fighting in Europe as well as family corrospondence. The newspapers clippings were about local boys who were wounded, MIA, or KIA. There was even a LOOK magazine cover of a Marine DI with one story asking if women should be drafted.

In one book, there's a swastika lapel pin, undoubtedly sent home by one of her friends. On following pages can be found a moth-eaten Nazi armband and a surprisingly well-preserved pennant that I left folded.

Among the photographs were images of Steve's grandparents, his young mother known as "Sis" Colvin (later Klinck), a student at Erskine College (a small Christian liberal arts school in SC), and her older brother Jake. He was a bomber pilot based in the UK.

In March of 1944, Jake went missing. There were unconfirmed and conflicting reports of his capture as well as reports that he was in hospital. The family didn't know and at least one letter found in the remains of Sis's scrapbooks was a letter asking if they'd received any further information about his whereabouts. The family didn't know.

Fifteen months later, the following type-written letter arrived at the Colvin home. I added remarks and corrections in parenthesis.



16 June '45

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Colvin:

The floor here in my room is littered with paper from the false starts I've made with this letter. I would rather take a day long whipping than write what I have to tell you, because no matter how I say it, it's going to hurt you folks. So please, Mrs. Colvin, make allowances for me - if the letter seems to be unnecessarily harsh it's because I know you folks want the whole story and I can think of no other way to word it. I would not intentionally wound Jake's people.

Perhaps I'd better start right from England and take you on that last mission. The messenger awoke us - Jake, Dick West, Mel Glass and I all slept in the same hut - awoke us at 1:30 a.m. That's an unearthly hour but we were to travel by GI trucks to the 388th Gp. Field at (K)nettishall, England, which was 25 miles away. (The 388th was a heavy bomber group of B-17s operating out of a field near Thetford, Suffolk). We had to go there and fly their ships since their own crews were almost all finished and relieved from combat, and replacements were scarce. Jake and I walked to the mess hall together and he kidded me about having to eat mush while he put away buttered toast and coffee - my mouth and teeth were still tender from a jeep accident I'd been involved in a few days previous.

We arrived (K)nettishall ok, after getting lost in the blackout once or twice and after briefing, medical, etc., we took off at 7:00 a.m. -just before dawn.The ship was loggy and armor-heavy but Jake tooled her into formation nicely. We spent about 3 hours cruising around England getting the wing formed up and into place, finally cross(ing) the channel at 10:00 a.m.

The fighter cover was excellent and our wing wasn't bothered by bandits at all. We detoured around a couple of flak hot spots. Meanwhile, because of abortions, we had worked up to number four spot in our squadron thus:

(The writer drew a small diagram indicating their airplane's position in the formation. I'm unable to duplicate it here.)

We went in on the target at 25,000 feet.

It was Brunswick (Braunschweig, in German) and crawling with flak. The bursts were so close together they seemed to be overlapping. There was nothing for it but to wade in and drop our bombs and hope for the best. The bomb run must be perfectly straight and level flight and during that time -which seems like all eternity - a ship is a sitting duck. And that time is a great deal longer for large formations than for single ship bombing.

They got us not 3 seconds after we had dropped our bombs. The bomb doors were still open. They laid a flak burst dead in the cockpit. The explosion was an ear shattering crush that seemed to come from behind me. A fragment clipped me on the head and dazed me for a while. When I got back to normal we were in a tight left turn and falling fast - almost a spin. I dimly remember Glass helping me strap on my chute and then he bailed out. I crawled back to the cockpit and found it full of smoke and two or three small fires.

Jake and Dick - I'm sorry Mrs. Colvin; I just can't make it easy for you. Jake and Dick were both slumped over the dual wheel. They must have died instantly and painlessly.

There's not much more to tell. I put out the fires and tried the throttle but the engines were done. Perhaps with pilot experience I might have been able to get back one or two engines and limped home on them. I can fly straight and level but have never had any emergency engine procedure. I tried to worm Jake out of the seat with the idea of crash landing the ship myself. Occasionally I had to quit that and haul back on the stick to keep the ship from spinning but just as soon as I released the wheel the boys' weights shoved it forward again.

We hit clouds and I took a look at the altimeter - 5,000 feet and dropping 4,000 per minute. I only had Jake halfway out of the seat and his shoulders had jammed between the seats. He was a big fellow, especially in the chest and shoulders. There just wasn't anything else to do so I gave up and bailed out.

That's all there is to tell, Mrs. Colvin. I would have given anything to have spared you this but I know you would never have been satisfied with anything less than the whole story. I've read you letters to Lillian and you've been swell to her.

I don't know why the erroneous report about our ditching was turned in. Perhaps no one saw us fall out of formation or, if they did see it, forgot to report it. Then the ship that pulled up into our spot in the formation could have developed trouble over the channel and quite naturally have been turned in as our ship. That's all pure guess, but I think it probably happened that way.

After Lillian's letters began reaching me - in August - I realized that you people were misinformed so I tried to get word back, but our own secret intelligence officers would not allow that kind of information to go through. Next I tried the Red Cross but evidently they couldn't work it either. Finally, the Red Cross .....(smudge) that you originated reached me and I filled it out under the guidance of our Allied intelligence. You should have received that long, but perhaps that too was stopped for security reasons.

I arrived home the night before last and all yesterday I planned this letter. Tonight I recopied it. Lillian is here reading it with me. Believe me, folks, I can't express my feelings.

Lillian and I are planning marriage next month and would like very much to have you come to the wedding. The date hasn't been set yet because Lil is recuperating from an operation (b)ut she'll write you well in advance so that we can all get our plans set up.



Sincerely,

Lt. Allan E. Johnson

[jaxx]

1. That was so sad, but very interesting.

Thank you.

[mgc1961]

2. You're welcome..

The letter to Sis from her father was a tear maker too. He wrote, "Heaven is a little closer because part of me is now there."