Free Combat Crew by John Comer Page B

out the blaze as if it were an everyday occurrence. But I would never again remain calm with an engine fire. I had seen what happened, and how fast, after engines caught on fire.
August 18
    For the first month at Ridgewell the mental strain of not knowing what to expect with the dawn of each new day was severe. No amount of training, and especially the kind we had, could prepare one to step from a sheltered civilian life to the chance he would face death, or an injury even worse in the next twenty hours. All of a sudden my priorities had undergone a traumatic shift. The small anxieties I used to worry about seemed so trivial. Did I once worry about making my sales quota? Or about paying the monthly bills? How absurd! It boiled down to revising my mental priorities to accept a new way of looking at things — a new mental attitude that would have been alien and totally unacceptable six months ago.
    I turned to Balmore: “George, I’ve begun to study the men with the most missions, and I can see some common characteristics among them.”
    â€œLike what?” asked Wilson, who came awake long enough to hear part of the conversation.
    â€œWell, the best way I can explain it, they act like they don’t give a damn what happens! Haven’t any of you noticed that?”
    â€œNow that you mention it, yes. Some of ’em do act that way,” replied Nick.
    â€œIs it an act? Or do they really feel that way?” asked George.
    â€œMy guess is it starts out as an act — a sort of front to mask their real feelings — then they work themselves into a mental state where they really don’t worry much about tomorrow. It’s the old philosophy that you can make yourself be what you think you are. I guess that’s what we need to copy. I remember that General Pershing once said that when he wanted his best troops he went to the guardhouse and let them out.”
    â€œThe men who raise enough hell do let the tension work off,” said Rogers.
    â€œWell, I know for sure, cautious civilian thinking isn’t going to work over here. I don’t know how much I can change my mental outlook — or how fast — but I am starting to try right now.”
    After making my decision, I began consciously to try to drive out contrary thinking. “Why worry about tomorrow? There is no tomorrow — there is only today. Quit thinking about tomorrow or next week or next month. You can’t control what will happen tomorrow, so why spend the precious time you have today worrying about it? The only time you have for sure is now. Today is real. So forget what the future may bring and learn to enjoy to the fullest extent what you have now. When life is threatened, each hour becomes more irreplaceable. Today you are alive and well, so be grateful. For all you know this may be your last day! Don’t ruin it by morbid forebodings of burning airplanes and horrifying plunges out of the sky. To hell with tomorrow!”
    I began to grope my way slowly, with twists and turns, and a few detours, to controlled thinking. I went a good way toward that objective during my stay in England but it was during another tour of combat duty, in a different area of the conflict, before the process matured, and a combat raid for me became just another day at the office (15th Air Force, Foggia, Italy — fifty missions).
    I think the best soldiers in combat develop a mystic feeling of immunity to death. Sure enough “others all around me may get it, but the bullets and shrapnel will miss me! I’ve got this special thing going for me. What special thing? I have a strong feeling I’m going to make it, no matter how hopeless it seems, or how rough it gets.”
    On days we weren’t flying, we tried to find things to do to fill the idle hours. I began keeping a record of the things we did, and included some of our conversations. I kept detailed accounts of our raids, gathering together eight or