By Francis Graves
In the summer of 1945 the Third Army was in transition from
war fighting to occupation duties and things were winding down. I was junior
Aide de Camp to General Patton and as such lived in his residence with the rest
of the personal staff, on the Tegernzee, a beautiful Bavarian Lake nestled in
the Alps. The general was in the US participating in victory celebrations.
The weather was warm and balmy and Howard Rice, who was
co-pilot of the general’s C-47 aircraft, and I spent our off duty hours boating
on the lake in a small speed boat that came with the general’s residence. On
the lake we met a beautiful German girl who lived nearby. Being young and
red-blooded we both were instantly enamored of the lady and began paying attention
to her on the pretext that it was an opportunity to learn German. Understand –
idle fraternizing with the civilian population was forbidden.
We arranged to meet her on the lake from time to time and
enjoy the beauty of the place, swim, and of course study the language
demonstrated for us. I must admit that a friendly competition developed between
Howard and me, which resulted in our showing off a bit which seemed to please
and entertain her. In the course of that relationship she told us she lived in
a small village high in the Alps, only a few kilometers from our lake.
One day when Howard and I were not engaged in official
duties we hatched a plan to do an aerial reconnaissance to locate her town.
Clearly we could not do it in the C-47, so we went to the Third Army Artillery
airstrip in the hope of borrowing one of their small airplanes for an hour or
so. They were reluctant but finally allowed us to take one for their L-4s, a
small two seat Piper-cub type spotter plane powered by a 65HP engine, which had
to be started by one person spinning the propeller while the pilot worked the
throttle.
What I did not know, but soon learned, was that Howard had
never flown an L-4. He was used to the big two powerful engines of the C-47.
But he said flying was flying, and he was a flyer, and I was not to worry. We
finally got the thing started and off the ground and headed for the Tegernzee
area. We climbed up into the Alps and located her village perched precariously
on a ridge surrounded by hay fields. Being a thorough-going flyboy, Howard
buzzed the town and dropped down to fly tight circles around the place, hoping
the object of our affections would show herself so we could wave to here.
At that point Howard’s lack of experience with light aircraft
became painfully apparent. He made our turn a little too tight and we stalled
with the left wing down. He put on full power to recover but 65HP was not
enough. The wing tip caught the Alp and we spun around it into the field
hitting engine tail first, then engine. We came to a halt with the passenger compartment
being the only component left intact. We were in some shock after coming to a
stop, and sat there completely unhurt pondering our situation. However, were
soon brought to our senses by the villagers rushing to our wreck. For a moment
I thought they were coming to rescue us until I noticed they had their sickles,
scythes and rakes with them. They were not there to save us but to save the hay
around our wreck. I found that a bit sobering.
To end the story, we decided I would go for help and Howard
would stay there to prevent vandalism on what was left intact of our airplane.
I hiked down to the general’s residence to report our disaster with
considerable trepidation. It was six or seven kilometers distant and I was
wearing low shoes and developed blisters, thus becoming the only casualty of
the situation.
I reached the residence a little before noon. Major General
Hobart ‘Hap’ Gay, Third Army Chief of Staff, was there. I found him in his room
shaving. When he saw me in my disheveled state in the mirror he turned and
said, “Okay, Frankie, what have you done now?”
I explained the situation. I did not think it was funny and
fully expected to be reprimanded and perhaps court martialed. But General Gay
laughed and enquired about Howard, and directed me to take a Jeep and fetch
him, adding, “You better invite Howard for lunch.”
It turned out that the plane we borrowed was old and about
to be ‘surveyed,’ which in Army lingo meant destroyed and written off.
(P.S. I later served in the 1st Cavalry Division
in Korea commanded by General Gay.)
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