Tom Brokaw coined the term “The Greatest Generation” to describe the men and women who grew up during the Great Depression, and then as young adults were faced with World War II.
My parents were of “The Greatest Generation.” Dad was typical of the young men of that time, and he illustrated why the description is so apt.
For comparison, consider my life as a young adult. By the time I was 27, six years out of college, I had spent four years in the Air Force, doing administrative and PR work at a backwater air force base in New Mexico.
I was married and had a son. After I left the Air Force, we had moved to Atlanta, where I was working at the Georgia State Capitol as a political speechwriter.
In other words, not a lot to write home about. Plain vanilla.
Now consider my dad.
By the time he was 27, he was married and had a son, too.
He also had joined the Army Air Corps and gone to Europe to fly bombing missions as the pilot of a B-24 Liberator.
Between February and December 1942, he was promoted from Second Lieutenant to First Lieutenant to Captain to Major.
He was shot down over enemy territory and tossed into a POW camp with 300 other Allied soldiers and airmen. As the senior officer among the prisoners, he became their commander.
Later, after many of the prison guards deserted, Dad engineered a takeover of the camp, and he procured a train to transport his men to freedom in Turkey.
At the border, he turned over documents to Allied authorities that pinpointed the positions and strength of enemy military units.
When the war ended, he was assigned to a classified military unit that tracked war criminals in the Balkans.
For these and other exploits, he received numerous military decorations and awards.
All at the age of 27. Six years out of college.
Like many of his contemporaries, Dad was reluctant to talk about the war. In one sense, it had been hellish, and it was in the past, and he wanted to move on.
In another sense, it was unseemly to describe your own heroics.
Consequently, I learned most of the details about Dad’s war experiences from Mom and others in the family, not from Dad. Rarely from Dad.
And, for the most part, I learned about it in dribbles, one anecdote at a time.
After Mom and Dad died, my brother and sister and I were faced with the need to deal with their papers and possessions.
Several years into the task, it has been challenging, tiring, and wonderfully revealing.
One of the gems I uncovered recently was a letter Dad wrote in 1946 to Brigadier General Bill Hall, commander of the classified military unit in the Balkans. Dad had been his deputy.
General Hall had asked Dad to describe the ill-fated bombing mission that led to Dad’s imprisonment in the POW camp.
Here, 55 years later, is the story in Dad’s own words — modestly presented, as I would expect.
——————
On 13 April 1944, I arrived at Camp Patrick Henry, Va., and was issued overseas equipment, leaving Norfolk on 16 April 1944 on a Liberty ship for Oran [Algeria].
Arriving at a replacement depot in Oran, we were soon transported to Naples by boat and immediately flown to Bari and assigned to the 15th Air Force (God bless ’em) on 25 May 1944.
From this time until 20 June 1944, I was assigned as Assistant A-3 [headquarters staff specializing in operations] of the 55th Bomb Wing at Spinazzola under command of Colonel Acheson, who even then autographed a picture of me and referred to me as “Hard Luck” Smith.
I had flown my early missions with the 485th Bomb Group of the 55th Bomb Wing while assigned to the wing, and I soon asked for a transfer to this group in order to complete 50 missions in a shorter period of time.
The first day, 20 June 1944, upon reporting to our group C.O., I was instructed to set up a training program for new crews. After beginning the training program, I was assigned to fly the mission of 23 June 1944 as deputy leader in the second wave of our group formation.
On 23 June 1944, one hour west of the target, Giurgiu, Romania, I lost an engine due to a broken oil line and soon began to straggle.
As it was useless to attempt to stay in formation, I turned north and flew independently into Romania and located a target, a large factory apparently manufacturing or assembling trucks, which we bombed quite successfully.
Returning over northern Bulgaria, over various enemy fighter fields while on three engines, I instructed my navigator to make certain we did not pass over Sofia.
Due to a change in wind direction and an 80/10 overcast over Sofia, we flew over the city anyway at 1500 feet, with one hundred eighty-eights being fired at our ship.
I later found the ack-ack commander and verified the credit he received for knocking us down, and I was informed as to the number of guns involved. This was during the assignment with the Hall Mission in Bulgaria.
Approximately forty miles west of Sofia, a second engine failed due to the flak damage, leaving two to return us to Italy.
Over Tetovo, Yugoslavia (Bulgarian occupied), at 5000 feet, in a dead-end valley with a horseshoe mountain range up to 9000 feet, I ordered the crew to abandon ship.
By that time, only one engine was in operation, and it was out of control, drawing 52 inches and 3000 rpm.
Lightening the ship by throwing everything out, including guns, ammunition etc. didn’t prevent that gallant old ship from losing altitude. The crew bailed out successfully.
After regaining consciousness in the mountain rocks, I hobbled to a mountain stream and hid my chute and Mae West. Within an hour, a search patrol of Bulgarian soldiers surrounded me and forced my capture. The usual interrogation was attempted at the Tetovo garrison.
Upon arriving at prison, I assumed command as senior Allied prisoner of war, and I appointed Squadron Leader Clark of the RAF as deputy.
All supervision of officers and men, discipline, discussions, etc., was exercised by me, including negotiations with Bulgarian officers.
On 10 September 1944, I was given my freedom and a German Storch airplane to transport me to Sofia, where I arranged for the transportation of my men out of Bulgaria by rail.
Flying to the Turkish border town of Smedervo, I arranged with the Turkish authorities to allow my officers and men to enter Turkey and proceed to Istanbul in order to report to the American Military Attaché.
On 12 September 1944, all Allied prisoners of war in Bulgaria reached this neutral country. The Military Attaché welcomed us to Istanbul and provided necessary clothing and food.
On 14 September 1944, at Aleppo, Syria, the 15th Air Force Intelligence Officer assumed command of the prisoners, and we were flown to Bari via Cairo, Egypt.
In combat, I had a total of seven missions. My Senior Pilot’s wings are now being approved in Washington, and orders should arrive at any time authorizing this rating.
For five months, this rating was delayed until such time as I could have all of my teeth removed and false dentures made. My teeth deteriorated considerably in prison to the point where Army medics could not save them.
My best regards to you and your family, sir.
——————
A military biography written 10 years later added to the story.
——————
On 12 September, 1944, Colonel Smith (then Major) led a successful mass escape from the Shuman Prison Camp to Istanbul, Turkey. He commandeered a freight train in Bulgaria, and after loading 76 disabled Allied prisoners and the balance of his men, he sent the train heading south to the Bulgarian-Turkish border under the command of his deputy.
He flew a German Storch aircraft to Sofia, Bulgaria, where he met with high staff officials of the Bulgarian Army at the War Ministry. He arranged for the evacuation of his men, and after acquiring the Bulgarian Order of Battle plans, he flew the same German airplane back to the border.
He landed the Storch in a cornfield in Northern Turkey and ultimately met the train bringing his men into Turkey.
He arranged for the American Military Attaché in Istanbul to join the group at the Turkish border. He turned over the battle plans to the Attaché, who had them delivered to General Nathan Twining, Commander, 15th Air Force in Italy.
These plans enabled Allied forces to direct an air offensive against the retreating German forces in their withdrawal from the Balkans.
After a period of hospitalization, he was awarded the Legion of Merit for his leadership in Bulgaria during a hostile situation.
In late October, 1944, Colonel Smith (then Major) joined the American Military Mission to Bulgaria as Executive Officer. He assisted in the apprehension of 76 war criminals throughout the Balkans, who were turned over to the Allied War Crimes Commission at Nuremberg, Germany.
His performance resulted in his being awarded the Bronze Star Medal.
——————
At the time he wrote General Hall in 1946, Dad had 1,800 military flying hours in various single- and twin-engine trainers, medium and heavy bombers, and transport aircraft.
Soon after, he transitioned to Jet fighters and saw considerable air combat in Korea.
By the time he retired, Dad was rated a Command Pilot with 3,442 hours, 35 minutes of flight time to his credit.
I know, because I found his flight records — the complete set of his AF Form 5s, Pilot Individual Flight Record, documenting every flight from his cadet days until his retirement.
Another gem.
Army photo, September 17, 1944, showing Dad (left) and other newly-freed POWs.
Mr. Write's Page 
Dear Rocky (?),
My father, Lt William Jackson (Jack) Hays, was a co-pilot in the 485th Bomb Group and shot down after bombing the Titan Oilfields in Bucharest. He was also an “alumni” of Shumen and, like your father, a Georgia boy (Newton County up near Atlanta). We have a group of children from the same crew as my father as well as children from other crews from the 485th. I understand that some of them have already been in contact with you. I wanted to introduce myself – I am a physician in Illinois but also live in the Blue Ridge mts in N GA part time. I was born in Athens. I understand that others have made you aware of the 485th reunion in Charleston October 20-24. We have a wonderful group of old vets with wonderful stories, and now the second generation is taking over leadership of the group to assure that what all of our young fathers (my father was barely 20 years old) did back so many years ago. There are so many things we can share with you and so look forward to hearing more from you. Please try to attend the reunion. I so hope that you will contact me so that we can start to get to know each other. Harriett
Pleased to meet you. I am in Oregon on vacation for the next couple of weeks. When I get home, I’ll contact you. I also want to share the reunion information with my brother and sister.