Caterpillar Association of the United States , livre ebook

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118 pages

English

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The Caterpillar Association, born in 1982, is a group of self-saved men and women. Any person who saves his life jumping from a disabled aircraft, with a parachute, can become a member. This is not the history of the parachute, but rather the stories behind the men and women who were forced to use them in an emergency situation. (From the Introduction)

Sujets

Agronomie

Agronomy for Sustainable Development

Agriculture

Aeronautics

Engineering

Technology

United States Armed Forces

Astronautics

Water landing

Parachuting

Sciences et techniques

Informations

Publié par	Turner Publishing Company
Date de parution	01 décembre 1992
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781681621883
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0550€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

CATERPILLAR ASSOCIATION
OF THE UNITED STATES
TURNER PUBLISHING COMPANY
Lawrence Justin was hit by flak on June 22, 1944 over Cherbourg and parachuted into the English Channel. He was picked up by British Air-Sea Rescue and returned to the base unharmed .

Leonardo de Vinci s design for a parachute that he sketched in his notebook .

TURNER PUBLISHING COMPANY
Copyright 1993 Turner Publishing Company
This book or any part thereof may not be reproduced without the written consent of the Publisher.
This book was compiled and produced using available information; the publisher regrets it cannot assume liability for errors or ommissions.
Libarary of Congress Catalog Card No. 91-75220 ISBN: 978-1-56311-031-3
Limited Printing
Additional books may be purchased directly from the publisher.

A soldier bails out and floats forlornly to the ground .
T ABLE O F C ONTENTS
Introduction
Publisher s Message
Mission To Munich
One Way To Become A Caterpillar
A Day To Remember
Night Mission To Kaiser-Slaughten, Germany
Radio Script Of General Arnold s Birthday
It Was The Invasion Of France D-Day
A Life Saved For The Caterpillar Association
Dropping With Only Arm In Ring
Memories of John Topolski Radar Operator
My One And Only
Crash Landing
Bush s War
A Hole In The Prison Wall
Engine Failure Over Tarlac
Dear Folks
Bailout Behind Enemy Lines
Seven Hours A Prisoner
A Mid-Air Collision Of Two B-24s
My Jump Story
My Bombing Mission Over Northern Yugoslavia
Emergency Jump Story
There I Was
How I Qualified To Be A Caterpillar
Point of No Return
A Firing Squad And A Ghurka
A Weekend Ride
Field Training Bailout
Valentine s Day Bailout
Events Leading To Becoming A Caterpillar
The Story of My Bailout
Target: Cologne
Bailout Over China
The Caterpillar Membership Committee
Why Burn The Stars And Stripes
Evading The Enemy
The French Underground
The Mission Briefing
Caterpillar Veterans

After landing, a soldier hauls in his parachute .
I NTRODUCTION

Johnny Brown Fifty years after his bail out
This is not the history of the parachute, but rather the stories behind the men and women who were forced to use them in an emergency situation. However, the original invention of the parachute goes back to the year (1495) and is commonly attributed to Leonardo de Vinci, who illustrated it in his Codex Atlanticus, and said, If a man were to have a tent roof of linen 12 breccia broad and 12 breccia high, he will be able to let himself fall from any height without too much danger to him, as an object offers as much resistance to the air, as the air does to the object.
At the start of World War I our heavier than air pilots had no parachutes, but about 75 of our Balloonatics were issued one, 50 of them made one or more jumps. Toward the end of the war, German aviators were issued chutes. The late General Billy Mitchell finally succeeded in getting about 100 for our pilots-but too late as the Armistice was signed two weeks after.
The Caterpillar Association, actually was born in 1982, a group of self-saved men and women, whose words and deeds are recorded in this book. Any person who saves his life jumping from a disabled aircraft, with a parachute, can become a member.
Since our founding, the Caterpillar Association has functioned solely as a name. During World War II, and after my jump, I wondered about the people who made my chute, and some day I wanted to meet with them face to face, and thank them for saving my life. I am sure that many others feel the same way. In some way I believe that the parachute manufacturers who had provided the parachute to save our lives, deserve a lot of recognition.
S PECIAL S TORIES
M ISSION T O M UNICH
by Bob Greenquist, Navigator on Leakin Deacon - June 9, 1944
I was the navigator on the Leakin Deacon, 743rd B.S., 455th B.G., 15th A.F. on June 9, 1944 on a mission to Munich. I knew we had flown over the Alps in Austria and Italy and thought we had also flown over Switzerland. However, after putting together our collective remembrances and examining a few maps, I doubt we flew over Switzerland.
We headed for Switzerland and entered Austria to the west of Garmisch-Partenkirchen. I believe we went into the Fern Pass (3967 ft.) and flew SSW. At our airspeed and with out inability to gain altitude, decisions had to be made so fast, as we flew blind through mountain passes, that maps were useless. Al and Buddy watched the wingtips while I stood between them visually picking the route ahead. There were times when both wingtips were 10 feet or less from the mountains and there were times we ran into deadends. We gambled - and won - but we were very, very lucky.
My guess is that we flew through the Resia Pass (4936 ft.) near the intersection of the Swiss, Austrian and Italian borders. Just south of the pass is Lake Resia, whose outlet is the Adige River. The Adige flows south, then east to Merano and south again to Verona before turning east and emptying into the Adriatic. I believe we followed higher valleys roughly parallel to the Adige Valley toward Merano but that we turned south before reaching Merano to avoid the larger cities in the Adige Valley between Merano and Verona.
I don t remember our taking a vote to head for Corsica nor do I remember deciding to go there until we headed south along the valley which took us over Lake Garda. That decision was made on the flight deck. Over Lake Garda we dumped overboard some of our equipment. Shortly thereafter, as we reached the plain of the Po River, we bailed out. I don t know where I reached the ground, except that it was north of the Po River, nor do I recall the name of the town where I was picked up by Italians.
I know that I was taken to Verona by the Germans for extensive interrogation. I understand that Bob Skinner was taken to a hospital in Guastella and my guess is that we all may have landed within 10 miles of Guastella.

Six of the original crew members from the Leakin Deacon. Picture taken at Dayton Caterpillar Reunion. (Courtesy of Arthur W. Mattson)
I was first out of the bomb bay and did not see any other chutes. Since Bob was first out of the back of the plane and appears to have landed south of the Po River near Guastella, my guess is that I may have been the only one to land north of the Po. The more I stare at maps, the more familiar the town of Casalmaggiore seems to sound and to look like the town where I may have been captured - but I really don t know. Submitted by Arthur Mattson
O NE W AY T O B ECOME A C ATERPILLAR
by Randell S. Meyer
T his brief story takes place on 1 May 1984 over the Great Salt Lake desert northwest of Salt Lake City, Utah. I was part of an F-16 mission from the 421st Tactical Fighter Squadron, conducting training for one of our new fighter pilots. It was an interdiction mission, where two aircraft were to put bombs on a runway out in the desert. My two-ship was to act as red air and attempt to find and shoot down the strike aircraft before they got bombs on target. Due to some maintenance problems with my wingman s aircraft, the strike fighters took off on time while we were delayed on the ground. They fixed my wingman s bird, and we took off, flying the speed of heat trying to find and catch the other two fighters before they got to target.
We found the strikers about 30 miles short of the target on their way in and flew a low altitude, high speed intercept. As we began the intercept we were opposite heading of the strikers, at about 500 knots and 1,500 ft. My wingman was on my left side. We flew a conversion turn in afterburner to roll in behind the strikers and as we rolled out, my wingman came out on my right side.
As we chased the strike aircraft and prepared to shoot, my wingman yelled over the radio in a tense voice knock it off (which in our language means stops all training, something s wrong). The tone of his voice concerned me, so I climbed (we were now down at about 300 ft., 550 knots), canceled afterburner, and crossed over my wingman to look at his jet. I saw nothing wrong, so I asked him what the problem was. His response: I think you re on fire .
I looked at my gauges, but saw nothing unusual. I looked out over my shoulder and could see nothing but a wall of fire obscuring the tail of the jet. I continued my climb and reduced power some more, but it was a magnesium fire that wasn t about to quit. Soon I saw pieces coming off my jet, and I knew I had problems. The aircraft started a right roll at about 3,000 ft., which I couldn t correct; it seems the flight controls had burned through.
I figured there wasn t much heroism in staying with the jet so I called my position to a local radar facility and pulled the handle between my legs. Time really slowed for me as I remember to this day what every gauge read, and also remember waiting forever for the seat to give me the kick (actual time less than a second). Once I got the jolt, I saw the F-16 slowly falling away (actually I was rapidly going up the rail). I lost my sight as the wind blast hit me (I ejected at about 450 knots) but did not feel the wind blast, and the seat automatically separating from me.
The next thing I remember is waking up in the chute. I had a good chute with no problems. I accomplished a four-line jettison (which allows more steerability), and enjoyed the ride down. I hit pretty hard, and of course landed on a cactus, but was alive. I had a couple of substantial bruises and an injured neck but eventually got back into the cockpit. The jet did a spilt-s, flew into the ground at an 89 degree angle, and disintegrated. A USAF helicopter picked me up about 20 minutes later and brought me home to a warm welcome.
A D AY T O R EMEMBER
by John P. Mulvihill, Jr .
M y story is not one of noted excitement, but one that I will always remember. It started early in the morning of Feb. 19, 1945, from the base of the 828th B.S. (B