A HORSE SOLDIER’S TALE featuring the adventures of Jack Hope A Conversation with Pirate and Then Some....

Jack hope joined the Army 69 years ago, on 18 OCT 1940.

From Jack Hope 7 OOCT 2009:
Subj: Semper Fi
RE: “The Corps,” Sergeant Major Doughtery’s Poem

Someone recently sent me the referenced piece by Sergeant Major Dougherty. I understand that his purpose was to enhance the pride that every Marine should have for the Corps. I fully agree that pumping up esprit de corps is an import function of every military leader. However, I do not agree that to do so at the ridicule of the remainder of our military establishment is reasonable. However, none of our services live nor die in the words of the songs they sing, nor the "trinkets" on their uniforms. Pay off comes in the effort exerted, sacrifices made, the battles lost, and the victories won. Example: I first entered the service by enlisting in the Army's 1st Cavalry Division in 1940 as a 16 year old boy. We rode horses on the West Texas Desert. Like the song said, it was "Over hill and dale," but it was not Sergeant Major Dougherty's "a pleasant country outing!" I flew with the US Army Air Force's 8th Air Force in World War II. It was was not exactly an "All is joyful, and invigorating, and safe" experience as defined by Sergeant Major Dougherty. It is recorded that in World War II:* The 8th Air Force suffered more than 26,000 dead. - But, Germany was flattened! The death toll for the entire Marine Corps in all World War II was, 19,733. - But, they cleared the beaches all the way to Japan! The death toll for the US Navy in World War II was 36,950. But the great Japanese Navy was sunk! (Hardly Sergeant Major Dougherty's "celebration of the joys of sailing!" ) The point is that none of the above statistics, nor the military songs that are designed to enhance esprit de corps, have anything to do with the stature of the individual services. They are like pickles in a barrel - some may be small, some may be medium, and some may be large, but they are all pickles. Jack Hope MSgt, USAF (Retired) * I got the statistics from the internet.
From Pirate on 10 OCT 2009:

Dear MSgt Hope, I agree that the poem does lean a bit hard on the other services. I didn't post it for that reason, though, I didn't post it to make anyone feel bad. I decided to post it for it's historical value. As you know, rivalry among the services was once intense. Not so much so today. In fact, many chants and ditties that were commonly heard on marches have now been outlawed. While I was a drill instructor at Parris Island in 1988, "A Yellow Bird" was outlawed. And of course, there are the many chants of old that were aimed at women, or that included mention of women, which could no longer be used when women became a steady presence in the ranks. But I like to think of Milspeak and Milspeak Memo as a repository for military people's creative works. I am working to create an archive of their creative works through Milspeak Foundation. And, Milspeak Memo is devoted to freedom of speech, so the poem you mentioned was posted. What I will do, with your permission, is post your response to the poem, so that it appears as a link on the poem's page. I will not be able to do this until the week of 19 October, as I am away from my office until then, caring for my mother who is going through an illness (this is also why I am so late replying to you, which I apologize for). Your own military story is fascinating. How I would love to share with readers your experience riding horses and fighting in WWII. If you ever have the desire to send a story or remembrance my way, I will be happy to share your story with readers. Sincerely, Sally Drumm

From Jack 16 OCT 09

Hi Sally! I'm sorry I am so late in answering your email. I am pleased that you are interested in my experiences, and I will attempt to provide as much as I can. Concerning your questions about the Cavalry: Yes, my brothers and I were experienced farm and ranch hands. At the time of our enlistment we worked for a large farm and ranch outfit doing all kinds of work. Not only there, but all through the Great Depression my family would tackle any kind of job that was offered. We were experienced in "cowboy" work, wherein we were familiar with horses and enduring all kinds of weather conditions. This served us well in adjusting to the West Texas Desert. So the Cavalry was no big shock to us. As a matter of fact, based on our familiarity with the outdoors and experience in living a rather rigorous life, my brother and I were assigned to the duty of "Troop Scouts" very early in our entry into the Army. It was unusual to have Privates First Class as Scouts. This meant that while we were out in the Desert, we operated away from the rest of the troop, looking for the "enemy," contacting outposts, delivering messages, or anything else the commander told us to do. Also, we were assigned the duty of "Stable Rats," a fond rendition of "Stable Orderly" which was a good deal for us as we missed out on a lot of the inspections, lectures, and drill that the regular barracks dwellers had to endure. We and about six other men were quartered in a small house-like building near the stables. We had the job of taking care of the horses, feeding, shoeing, cleaning the stables, and looking after their general welfare. However, the Cavalry life was very tough on some of the city dwellers. Many had no experiences with horses, nor farm and ranch living. The hard life that we encountered in training and on maneuvers in that harsh land was very hard for some to adjust to. I really felt sorry for them. At the time we were there, it was said that the Cavalry, next only to the Horse Drawn Field Artillery, was the hardest life in the Army. (See attached cartoon.) We were not assigned a specific horse, however, if we became attached to a certain one, and let it be known, normally other soldiers would honor that and not try to chose that horse, so for the most part I was able to ride one of about three of my choices. After I became a Scout, I sought out horses known to be sturdy and able to sustain long hard days of many miles of hard going. I plan to send you by mail a DVD entitled, "The Hope Brothers" that includes before and after photos of a horse that I rode about 80 miles in one day under extreme heat conditions. Yes, we had "dog tags." (I did not catch the meaning of your question, "did you have to earn them?") I assume you mean the identification tags that we wore on a chain around our necks. The first ones that I was issued were the same kinds that they had in World War I. They were rather heavy round metal items about size of a quarter. I still have mine, I'll try to find them and send you a picture. However, soon after our enlistment they issued the types that stayed with me throughout my military career. They had name, serial number, religious preference, and blood type stamped in them. I assume they still exist in the military? Incidentally, all personnel were assigned an unique serial number instead of using Social Security Number as they do today. During our "Recruit" days (like in Marine Boot Camp) we were up every morning at 4:00 am for an hour of pretty intensive calisthenics. Of course, we had a lot of close order drill, mounted drill, and ground and mounted field exercises, we fought sham battles wherein we would dismount and "fight on foot." Thankfully, we were not subjected to what I see in Marine training where full pack marches must seem as threats on one's life. However, we did stay in the field quit a lot. One time we were on what was billed as "A Thousand Mile March" as we fought against an Infantry Division. I know this is but a thumbnail sketch of the whole, but you will see more in the DVD that I plan to mail tomorrow. Also, I plan to mail a copy of a DVD that I made of the Great Depression that may be of interest to you. I have a copy the July 21, 1941 issue of Life Magazine that had a feature article, with many photos of the 1st Cavalry Division at Ft. Bliss, Texas. My brothers and I participated in making that movie. If you are interested, I can send you pictures out of the magazine. Please let me know. Also, we were in a Warner Brothers movie that was made by request of the Army as a Recruiting aid. It is not of the greatest quality, but you are also welcome to a copy of it if you desire. (If I can find it, perhaps I'll include one along with the others when I mail them?)
As to me writing an article, I will give it serious thought. I would like to have an idea as to what you have in mind to be covered. Perhaps you could ask me questions by email, as in an interview? I could take it from there and write, but not necessarily as answers to questions, but as an expression of the facts and events of life. A few years ago I started writing about some of my World War II experiences, but did not get very far. It was not much about the combat experiences, rather just things that happened that I thought were interesting or unusual. I think I wrote five short stories. I will try to put them on a CD and send them to you if you like. I will attach one short story to this email.

AN EXCITING TEN MINUTE FLIGHT The entry in my "Individual Flight Record (AAF Form 5)," January 1945 records a flight in a B-24J that lasted only ten minutes! The entry looks something like this:
Day Aircraft Type, Model & Series Number of Landings (Duration of Flight) 10 B-24J 1 :10 How can one start a B-24J rolling down a runway, become airborne, and touch down on a different runway, all in just ten minutes? Odds were against such a feat except the Pilot was 1st Lt. Joseph R. Brookshire! Simply going through the pre-flight and pre-landing check list on B-24 aircraft was a time consuming effort. In this case, I am sure that the pilot and co-pilot were very thorough in the pre-flight check. However, I imagine the landing was based solely on the old fashioned "seat of the pants" technique! There was simply no time for protocol! This flight took place on a cold snowy day, I was spending my time on my bunk, confident that I would not be called to perform any duty on such a day. To my discomfort, I was notified by a runner that I was to report to Squadron Operations for a flight. This was puzzling to me because the other enlisted members of our crew were not included. Upon my arrival at the operations office, my pilot, Lt. Brookshire was there. He told me that he had been called upon to perform a test flight on a new B-24 that had just been outfitted with the radar countermeasures equipment that our Squadron used against the German forces. He explained that we would be flying with a minimum crew that was made up of personnel that was not a part of our regular air crew. He said that he wanted me to go along to take care of the engineering chores in the rear section of the airplane. This was my normal assignment, in addition to my primary duty as tail gunner when we flew with a full crew on regular missions. There were two non-aircrew personnel scheduled to fly with us to check out the installation and performance of the radar equipment. One of these had on the uniform of an Army Air Force lieutenant, and the other was dressed as a sergeant. Their bearing caused me to assume that they were actually members of the American British Laboratory Division 15 (ABL -15), the group of scientist and technicians that developed the secret equipment that was used by our Squadron. Their super secret duties made traveling incognito a wise decision. Germany would have delighted in getting their hands on any one of that group One of the things that made me think that they were not regular military personnel was that as I completed preparing for the flight, I stuck my head up through the escape hatch in the rear of the airplane. The "lieutenant" was standing inside the waist of the airplane nonchalantly puffing on a lighted cigarette! With a bold attempt to not show my utter terror, I politely said something like, "Sir, we do not smoke in or near a B-24 while it is on the ground. Please put it out, now. After we get airborne and reach cruising altitude, smoking will be permitted." Then, I explained that the aircraft was fueled with 115-130 octane gasoline. This stuff did not require much encouragement to blow the aircraft and all in or near it to kingdom come. He said, "Oh, I see." It had snowed several inches the night before. The ground maintenance personnel had cleared one of the three runways at our base. Because of the wind direction that day, our takeoff on the cleared runway would be in a Northwesterly direction. After Lt. Brookshire started the takeoff run, I was looking out the waist windows keeping a check on how things were going. About the time we were approaching the normal takeoff speed of about 110 mph, I noticed a vapor rising off of the top of our left wing. Suddenly this "vapor" became a "liquid." I realized that the fuel filler cap just inboard of the number two engine had malfunctioned, and the reduced air pressure over the wing (the thing that causes airplanes to fly) was causing gasoline to be sucked out of the tank at an alarming rate. It was flowing along the fuselage, almost totally obscuring my view out of the left waist window. I was in a serious dilemma! I knew that we were going too fast, and too near the end of the runway to abort the takeoff. On the other hand, I was afraid that if I told the pilot of the emergency, he may try to abort. I elected to wait until we were in the air, but before the landing gear was raised. I was sure that the pilot would be tuned to the control tower and not the airplane's intercom system. I switched to the “command” position on my radio control panel. This would allow me to talk to the pilot, but would also broadcast outside of the airplane. I said something like, "Pilot from Tail - Land as soon as possible!" Bless his heart! Lt. Brookshire responded with his characteristic "Roger," and started a left turn to line us up with runway 08 which ran in a northeasterly direction. This meant that he would be landing on a snow covered runway, in a cross wind. As he and Lt. Young got things organized for landing, Lt. Brookshire, now back on intercom, said, "Hope, I sure hope you have a good reason for this!" I responded with, "Roger, I have a real good reason! As soon as you get us down, please stop on the runway and hurry out and look at the left side of the airplane - I want proof of my reason!" He replied, "Roger." (By the way, "Roger" is airplane talk that means "I gotcha," OK, or "Suits me.") Just as the main landing gear touched the runway, number two engine quit. I have often thought of the possible consequences if it had first back fired, and then quit. Almost certainly, I would not be writing this today! Lt. Brookshire stopped the airplane on the runway, rushed out to see that unstable liquid still dripping off the side of the airplane. He said something like, "Thanks, Hope." Our "gravel masher" (an endearing term used by air crews to refer to ground personnel) passengers did not seem to know what was going on. At least, the "lieutenant" did not try to light up a cigarette! Jack Hope Tail Gunner on Li'l' Pudge 36th Bomb Squadron, 8th Air Force July 1944 – Feb 1945

Note from Pirate: Jack couldn’t possibly have known my father’s story - or maybe he did; maybe he read Milspeak: Warriors, Veterans, Family and Friends Writing the Military Experience - I don’t think so, because I’m sending him a copy. The point its, my father was also a tailgunner on B-24J aircraft during WWII. He served in Italy, and completed several missions into Africa. Jack couldn’t know that all I know of my father’s story is what I learned form his military records. So Jack couldn’t have known that in sharing his own story, he was giving me my father’s.

Thank you, Jack. You’re the reason I do what I do as Milspeak Foundation’s leader. It’s an honor to be able to share your work with readers. They’ll be seeing a lot more of it in future posts!

click on photo to view rare WWII video