Official Website of the

389th Bombardment Group (H)

WILLIAM EDWARD "BILL" BEAIRD TAIL GUNNER,
LLOYD L. ALLEN CREW, 565TH SQUADRON (PART ONE)

By Kelsey McMillan - 389th Bomb Group Official Historian

EARLY MILITARY HISTORY
     My father, William Edward “Bill” Beaird died in 1993 without ever having told his family anything about his service in the Air Force. Consequently, and unfortunately, his first year or more of service is a bit of a mystery. He joined the Regular Army in July 1941, but I don’t know where he received basic training, or where he was stationed and what he did after completing basic. My uncle recalled only that he was stationed somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, and my dad’s combat pilot had a vague recollection that my dad might have said he was in artillery. With those two little pieces perhaps he was in the Coast Artillery, but I may never know as his personnel records were lost in the 1973 fire at the records center in St Louis.
     I do know that Sgt Bill Beaird wound up at Sheppard Army Airfield and was serving as a drill sergeant in summer 1942 when he met my mother. They married in November 1942. My mother had a vague recollection that daddy had wanted to be a pilot and was at Kelly Army Airfield in San Antonio for a period, but he failed to qualify on some physical test. I really have no facts about this; perhaps he did enter flight training and washed out.

A VOLUNTEER FOR COMBAT
     In late 1943 he volunteered to fly combat as an aerial gunner. My uncle said my dad told him he was tired of bossing recruits around and wanted to get into the war. Sgt Beaird completed flexible gunnery training at Harlingen Army Gunnery School, Harlingen, Texas, sometime in February or March 1944.
     After receiving his aerial gunner wings, Sgt Beaird was sent to the Combat Reception Center, 18th Replacement Wing at Salt Lake City, Utah. He was probably stationed here about two weeks as he awaited assignment to combat crew training school. On March 25, 1944, Sgt Beaird was assigned to the 215th Combat Crew Training School at Pueblo, Colorado, with seven other members of his newly formed crew: 2nd Lt Lloyd L. Allen – pilot; 2nd Lt Wayne L. Schroeder – copilot; Cpl Albert E. “Abe” Ftacek – radio operator; Cpl Cornelius T. ”Connie” Deaver – flight engineer; Cpl James E. ”Woody” Dunwoody – waist gunner; Pfc Charles S. ”Charlie” Bell – waist gunner; and Pvt Julian Isgur – ball turret gunner. Beaird was the tail gunner. The navigator and bombardier, George H. "Mac” MacDonald and John F. "Chad” Chaddock, would join them a few days later. At some point Lt Allen requested a new ball turret gunner for reasons he could not recall 60 years later. Isgur was replaced by Cpl Nelson F. "Frank” Huntley. (Once the Allen crew reached its combat station they found that the B-24s all had nose turrets and the ball turrets had been removed. Woody became the nose gunner and Frank took his place as a waist gunner.)

The Lloyd L. Allen crew. TOP ROW L to R: Allen – pilot; Wayne L. Schroeder – copilot; George H. MacDonald - navigator; John F. Chaddock - bombardier; and Cornelius T. Deaver – flight engineer. BOTTOM ROW L to R: Albert E. Ftacek – radio operator; James E. Dunwoody – nose gunner; Charles S. Bell – waist gunner; N. Frank Huntley – waist gunner; and William E. Beaird - tail gunner.

PHASE TRAINING
     The Allen crew spent the next 10 weeks in phase training, preparing for the job for which they had all volunteered - bombing the enemy from a B-24 Liberator. The training program was scheduled in three phases designed to weld individuals into combat crews. In Phase One a combat crew concentrated on performing its individual crew duties on solo training flights, no other crews flying with them. Each man practices the duties of his crew position: pilot and copilot flying, using automatic pilot and dealing with potential problems; the navigator plotting and dead reckoning the course in both day and night conditions, and cross-country flights; the bombardier practicing with the bombsight and releasing dummy bombs on dummy targets; the flight engineer monitoring aircraft gauges and mastering the fuel transfer system; the radio operator mastering control over all radio equipment, and military communication procedures and rules in continental airspace; all gunners strafing dummy ground targets and practicing machine gun malfunction repairs at altitude under combat conditions. The combat crew members had to be proficient at their individual jobs and pass rigorous flight checks and written tests at the Phase One level before proceeding to Phase Two.

Phase Three training at combat crew school involved flying in a full formation of several flights, closely simulating the formations the crews would fly on an operational mission when they were assigned to a combat theater.

     In Phase Two, combat crews ran the same training programs and practice missions as in Phase One, but in this phase they did not fly solo. They flew in a three-ship formation, carrying out the same exercises as a unit. The three-ship element, or "flight" as it was also called, was the basic building block of bomber formations. It was composed of a lead aircraft, or the flight leader, the right wingman, who flew of the ring wing of the lead, and the left wingman, flying off the lead's left wing. As with Phase One, rigorous flight checks and written tests had to be passed before the crew entered Phase Three.
     In Phase Three, the crews in training ran the same training programs and practice missions as the first two phases, but now they flew in a full formation of several flights, more closely simulating the formation a real combat mission.
    The special bond that developed between the members of a bomber crew in phase training, and for my dad’s crew in particular, is symbolized in the military tradition of challenge coins and the silver U.S. Peace Dollar, both born of the First World War. It was only through a series of remarkable coincidences that the following story about my dad’s crew surfaced.

THE WAR AND PEACE DOLLAR
     Frank Huntley told me that each member of the Allen crew had been given a silver dollar by their engineer, Connie Deaver, but he could not recall the circumstances. About two years later my brother was showing me our dad’s coin collection, and I mentioned the silver dollars Frank talked about. My brother looked thoughtful for a moment but said nothing. He went to his safe and returned with a coin in a plastic bag. He gave it to me, saying, “I never heard that story, so I can’t say for sure, but I’ll bet this is it.” As I studied it, my heart began to pound and goose pimples raised on my arms. The coin’s relief had been nearly rubbed away from considerable handling, and it was heavily tarnished. It was so smooth the year was unreadable. But enough remained of Lady Liberty on one side and a perched Bald Eagle on the other to confirm it was Peace Dollar. Proposed in November 1918 to commemorate the end of World War I, the Peace Dollar was America’s last true silver dollar. It was minted between 1921 and 1928, and again in 1934 and 1935, and was commonly circulated during WWII.
     My father must have carried it constantly, habitually rubbing it and jingling it with assorted change in his pocket, as I so often saw him do. Had it been a lucky charm? Was it a token of something? Whatever it was, it was a secret my father never shared with us. But soon after finding this coin, his secret would be revealed to me.
     Despite a 25-year search, Charlie Bell could never find his pilot Lloyd Allen. Through a stroke of luck, I found Lloyd 2½ years after meeting Charlie, just a few weeks after my brother gave me the Peace Dollar. Lloyd had not seen or talked to the members of his crew since December 1944, after disembarking from the ship that brought them home from England.

TOP PHOTO: U.S. Peace Dollar belonging to Bill Beaird. It was one of ten given to each member of the Lloyd Allen crew by its engineer during combat crew training, spring 1944. BOTTOM PHOTO: How this Peace Dollar looked in 1944. It was worn almost completely smooth after Beaird apparently carried it in his pocket for decades after the war.

     It was very exciting to talk to the commander of my father’s crew. With two or three get-acquainted conversations behind us, I couldn’t wait any longer to ask Lloyd if he knew anything about my dad’s silver dollar. I called him up, and Lloyd immediately began telling stories. Before I could ask about the Peace Dollar, he said he had a story for me about the time the crew was formed and trained at Pueblo Army Air Base.
     “We flew a lot of practice missions in B-24s, and there was one I’ll never forget,” Lloyd said playfully. “And I’ll bet your dad didn’t forget it either. As a matter of fact, I’ll bet he left you a silver dollar.”
     I gasped and said, “I was calling you today to ask about a silver dollar!”
     Lloyd chuckled and began, “Well, I’ll tell you the whole story from the beginning. We were flying a practice mission and a front closed in on us. The field was completely socked in, and an instrument landing facing the Rocky Mountains was the only way down. So I decided to land at an alternate field with more agreeable weather. As we were discussing the options, our engineer jumped in and said we should go to Oklahoma City. His aunt lived there and he had not seen her in three years.”
     Being a kind man who took good care of his crew, Lloyd agreed. They climbed and climbed and finally broke through the weather at 25,000 feet. A few hours later they landed at Will Rogers Army Airfield. “Deaver spent the night at his aunt’s house," Lloyd continued, "and got a home-cooked meal. The next morning the weather had cleared over Pueblo and we loaded up to fly back. But our Liberator’s number three engine would not run up. The local mechanics tinkered with it awhile but for some reason they couldn’t fix it.”
     After waiting by the ship for hours, smoking and shooting the bull, Lloyd concluded the crew would be stuck there a while and suggested they go into town and have some fun.
     “Turns out we couldn’t go anywhere though,” Lloyd said with a grin, “because none of us had any money! Eventually I was able to get a $100 advance on my pay - $10 for each of us – at the base finance office, and we went to town and had a good time. After we got back to Pueblo, we got to talking about that experience. You know, it’s terrible to be in a situation like that where you don’t have any money at all. We decided that we each ought to always carry a dollar. Deaver went down to the bank and bought 10 silver dollars. He handed one out to each of us, and we agreed we would carry our dollars at all times. If someone on the crew were to ask to see your dollar and you didn’t have it with you, it cost you a dollar. But, if they asked you and you did have your dollar, then it cost them a dollar. With all the challengings that paid off, we ended up collecting about $20 or $30 in a kitty and decided it would be a party fund. We were pretty sure we’d be separated once we got home, so as soon as we finished our missions, we took that money and bought some booze and had ourselves a party. We invited the base chaplain, and he celebrated with us. He and Deaver, both pretty successful with the dice, were gambling buddies.
     “Well anyway,” Lloyd continued, “we ended up staying at Will Rogers for four days, and, in all that time, the local mechanics couldn’t figure out what was wrong with number three engine. On the fourth day, Deaver said to me, ‘Give it a try,’ and lo and behold, she started up. So we loaded up and headed back to Colorado. After we took off, I remarked to Deaver how odd that business with the engine was, and said to him ‘I wonder why it did that.’ When Deaver finally managed to stop laughing, he told me what happened to number three engine. The afternoon we landed, Deaver had taken his trusty screwdriver and adjusted the controls on the number three supercharger out of whack. When he decided he had pushed his vacation as far as he ought, Deaver sneaked out to the flight line and ‘fixed’ the supercharger.”
     When I asked Lloyd how he had reacted to this, he replied, “Well, it was a good trick, and I had to hand it to him. He knew I wouldn’t be mad at him, so that’s why he fessed up.”
     That’s the story of the Allen crew challenge coin, or "bottom dollar" as I have learned others call it who had the same idea. It obviously meant a great deal to my father; it means as much to me now. “This Peace Dollar means a lot to me, too,” Lloyd added. “It was minted in 1922, and that’s the year I was born. But mostly, it’s special because it reminds me how proud I was to serve my country and how grateful I am to have lived through the war to enjoy peace.”
     Frank, the gunner who first told me about Deaver’s silver dollars, had told me he still had his, but he didn’t know exactly where it was. When I told Lloyd this, he laughed and exclaimed, “Well, if he doesn’t have it next time I see him, it’s going to cost him a dollar!”

HEADING OVER THERE
     On completion of combat crew school, the Allen crew left Pueblo on a train bound for Topeka, Kansas, where they were attached to the 3rd Heavy Bomb Processing Headquarters, part of the 272nd AAF Base Unit, reporting to 270th Staging Wing. Here they were given a brand new B-24 to ferry to their combat station. The crew members were given final flight checks for combat readiness, and the new B-24 was taken on shake-down flights to break in the new engines and check for malfunctions. In between flights the crew talked of having nose art painted on their shiny new bomber. They learned there was a talented WAC artist on the base who had a nice side nose art painting business going, so they all chipped in and commissioned her to customize their bomber. It was christened “Able Mabel” and given a topless Polynesian girl in a grass skirt and lei. A few feet from the hula honey was the cartoon character “Sad Sack”, running full bore at her with a grass cutter.

LEFT PHOTO: Lloyd L. Allen crew 565th squadron, at Topeka in June 1944, to pick up the new B-24 they would ferry to Northern Ireland, serial number 42-50705. Standing L to R: Allen - pilot; Wayne Schroeder - copilot; John Chaddock - bombardier; and George MacDonald - navigator. Seated L to R: Frank Huntley - waist gunner; Connie Deaver - flight engineer; Charlie Bell - waist gunner; Bill Beaird - tail gunner; Abe Ftacek - radio operator; and Jim Dunwoody - nose gunner. RIGHT PHOTO: The "Able Mabel" nose art the Allen crew had painted on this B-24 by a talented WAC artist at Topeka.

     The Allen crew was now ready for war. They had a new Liberator with custom nose art, and they were outfitted with flight equipment, .45 caliber pistols, and all manner of gear. Their inoculations, wills, personnel records were up to date and their combat worthiness was checked and verified. They were handed sealed orders and instructed to fly to Dow Army Airfield at Bangor, Maine, and told not to open the secret orders until they arrived. Since the crew knew its point of embarkation was Maine, it wasn’t difficult to figure out their destination was the European Theater of Operations. This was confirmed when the orders were opened on arrival at Dow AAF.
     The Allen crew spent the night at this very busy Air Transport Command hub and the next day departed for Gander Field, Happy Valley-Goosebay, Newfoundland, Canada. They arrived at Goosebay on June 20, 1944, and stayed the night in order to rest, refuel, and load up with ammunition for their North Atlantic crossing. It was hostile waters they would soon be flying over, and they might very well see some u-boats on the surface. In their brief time off the boys did some sight seeing and a little fishing. The next day they took off on the longest leg of their ferry route - destination, Northern Ireland. Between Canada and the Emerald Isle lay ATC terminals in Greenland and Iceland if stopovers were needed due to mechanical problems or fuel exhaustion. But the flight went without incident and the Allen crew flew non-stop to the UK. Well, there was no mishap with the plane anyway, but the navigator and bombardier had a bit of an incident. Long after they had departed Goosebay, they realized they had forgotten their wallets. The pilot said, “Sorry guys, it’s too late to turn back. You’ll have to get new IDs in England.”
     The Allen crew arrived at Nutts Corner, Antrim, Northern Ireland, another very busy ATC terminal, on June 20, 1944. Here they were shocked and outraged when their beautiful B-24 with the hula girl was taken from them. Like many an ETO replacement crew that came before them, and would come after them, they assumed they would be flying this new B-24 in combat. Little did they know that a newly arrived bomber was assigned to whatever bomb group was next in line for a replacement aircraft. And even if, by coincidence, that bomb group turned out to be the same group to which the replacement crew was assigned, they didn’t have a hope in hell of getting to fly it. New bombers were assigned to experienced crews; the new guys were given the oldest and most beat-up bombers.
     So the Allen crew would never see “Able Mabel” again. From Nutts Corner it was taken to Base Air Depot No. 3 at Langford Lodge where it was modified for combat. Various equipment was installed and armor plating fitted under the cockpit windows, and then it was assigned to the 445th Bomb Group at Tibenham. It crashed on takeoff for a mission on January 1, 1945, with the Oliver W. Whitcomb crew. All men aboard were killed.

After crossing the North Atlantic the Allen crew landed in Nutts Corner, Northern Ireland. After processing through the 70th Replacement Depot at Stone in England, the crew returned to Northern Ireland for combat theater training and indoctrination before assignment to the 389th Bomb Group. All spent time at the 2nd Combat Crew Replacement Center in Cluntoe, and the gunners also trained at the 4th Gunnery & Tow Target Flight at Greencastle.

MORE TRAINING
     From Nutts Corner the Allen crew was driven by Army truck to Belfast where they boarded a ferry and crossed the Irish Sea and landed at Greenock, Scotland. From here they took a train to the 70th Replacement Depot at Stone, England. Here they were assigned to the Casual Pool for processing. They remained here for about a week or so, and then found themselves on their way back to Northern Ireland. At this time of the war there were a number of Combat Crew Replacement Centers in Northern Ireland to which replacement crews were sent for theater indoctrination before their assignment to a combat unit. Most of the instructors at these schools were pilots, navigators, bombardiers, gunners, radio operators, etc. (both AAF and RAF) who had completed their combat tours, and/or who had been shot down on missions, evaded capture, and returned to England. The officers and enlisted men were assigned to separate schools. In the Allen crew's case, the officers went the 2nd Combat Crew Replacement Center in Cluntoe, and the enlisted men went to the 4th Gunnery & Tow Target Flight at Greencastle. Each member of the crew was given examinations to assess his readiness for combat - his understanding of equipment, instruments, and materials relevant to crew position. All received special instruction on operations and procedures in the ETO. For the officers there were lectures on flying regulations and restrictions in the UK, briefing and interrogation, geography of enemy territory, enemy defenses, formation flying, communications systems, and more. They were introduced to the British ground communication lights and navigation aids, called “darkies”, “pundits”, and “occults” (a white light beacon at an airfield that flashed a letter in Morse code to indicate the field’s code).
     Gunners received a refresher in aerial gunnery, with emphasis on the latest intelligence on what to expect from enemy fighters. They must have felt like they were back in gunnery school with the drills in aircraft recognition, machine gun stripping, ground-to-air and air-to-air target shooting, etc.
     The replacement crews also received an education in Britain’s customs and monetary system. They were instructed in what to say and do, or to not say and do, in order to maintain good relations with the British people. One example: "Remember that the British have lived several years under strict rationing. If you are a guest in the home of civilians who encourage you to 'eat up, there’s plenty,' politely decline. The family may have splurged with their rations in order to offer you hospitality, and if you have seconds, they would be short of food that week." The new crews were also warned not to make jokes about the Royal Family, the shortage of food, the warm beer, or to boast that Americans were had to come to the UK to win the war for the Brits. They were also informed that US airmen's salaries were about four times that of their counterparts in the RAF. Compared to the British subjects, they were told, Americans were rich, and it was considered rude, or “bad form” in the parlance of the locals, to throw money around and tip extravagantly.
     The replacement crewmen received rudimentary instruction in first aid, ditching, bailing out, escape and evasion tactics, survival, capture, prison camps, and a refresher on the Articles of War, Geneva Convention, and security issues.
     Depending upon the prevailing need for replacements, time spent at a CCRC ranged from one week to two weeks; however, some crews skipped it altogether if they were needed for operations immediately. Towards the end of the war, there was little need for this special school because the Allies had achieved air superiority and liberated most of the occupied lands in which downed airmen could find friendlies to help them evade. Consequently, responsibility for training the newbies reverted to the combat groups.
     After their education in protocol and important operations and survival briefings, the Allen crew was flown back to the 70th Replacement Depot at Stone on a B-17 to await assignment to their combat group.

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