Overview
World War II fighter planes were more akin to the Spads and Fokkers of the First World War than they were to today's combat jets. Eddie Rickenbacker and the Red Baron could immediately relate to the likes of Gentile, Bong, and Yeager. World War II fighter pilots in all branches of service, Army, Marines, and Navy, in Europe and the Pacific theaters still flew "by the seat of their pants." Combat quickly became a one-on-one deadly duel. After the battle was over and the various squadron elements were scattered widely over enemy terrain, the fighter pilots then became navigators. Each pilot had to traverse the 500 or so miles back to home base, surely to be diverted only by possible enemy aircraft encounters, or to escort a struggling, defenseless allied bomber home to friendly territory. Dead Reckoning describes how it was in the cockpit of a Mustang fighter plane as a member of the 357th Fighter Group which scored a record 56 victories on January 14, 1945.Editorials
Publishers Weekly -
In 1943, Abner, 22 years old and deeply affected by the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, volunteered to join America's efforts in WWII. In short order, the Oregon farm boy became a U.S. Army Air Corps pilot flying the legendary P-51 Mustang with the 357th Fighter Group in Europe. This was a time when military pilots still flew "by the seat of the pants" and enjoyed more libertiesand often were exposed to more dangersthan their modern counterparts. Abner's inevitable adventures are recounted with flair in a memoir that extends to the day in 1945 when Abner was grabbed by a "wild-eyed Londoner" who announced, "It's over, Yank! The bastards surrendered! It's all over!" Even after a half century, Abner has marvelous recall of curious anecdotes about his days in service. At one point, the young pilot, overwhelmed by the vastness of London, takes a cab to the American Red Cross, where he encounters the infamous Nancy Langhorne, the Virginia woman who married an English viscount and became Britain's Lady Astor. Less satisfying is the story of Abner's girlfriend, Lolly, for whom the author professes love yet on whom he inexplicably cheats while in England. Abner's memoir manages to be lightly engrossing, but its series of wartime vignettes lack a cohesion that more, and deeper, introspection might have provided. Photos. (Sept.)Kirkus Reviews
Abner writes of his long, hairy journey from an Oregon farm to the controls of a P51 Mustang in the Eighth Air Force during WW II.Unlike the men in bomber crews, fighter pilots flew alone and had to fill the roles of navigator, gunner, bombardier, and radio man. Abner describes his demanding training and testing, and the camaraderie between combat officers and enlisted men in aerial warfare. Master sergeants took charge of meticulous safety maintenance and the preparation of the plane for combat. Officers would come and go, replaced, transferred, promoted, or killed, while the experienced ground crews carried on and kept planes in top condition. Abner notes that, despite the risks of a crash or of sudden death in a flaming plane, no combat flyer would change places with his comrades on the ground—who often lived on K rations, took shelter in filthy foxholes, and slept on the cold, wet earth. Airmen, in contrast, returned to a secure base after a mission, had a change of clothes, a few drinks, a hot dinner, a card game, perhaps even watched a movie, and slept between sheets. Called to action in the Battle of the Bulge, the fighter pilots in Abner's group endured strafing and bad weather to repeatedly attack enemy troops—and they lost many comrades. Combat scenes and narrow escapes are vividly drawn here, and the climax is a description of a great air battle during which Abner's group set a WW II record of 56 confirmed enemy planes downed in one day.
A fine, frank memoir of WW II air combat in the European theater.