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338th Bomb Squadron, USAAF 28th Jul 1943 Aircraft Lost If you can provide any additional information, please add it here. Logbooks Do you have a WW2 Flying Log Book in your possession? If so it would be a huge help if you could add logbook entries to our new database. Thank you. View Logbook entries Those known to have served with 338th Bomb Squadron, USAAF during the Second World War 1939-1945. . Brinley William Francis. Sgt. Brinley William Francis. Sgt. Croul John. Fahl Earl Cornell. SSgt. Ferrell Samuel Clinton. T/Sgt Frey Louis Rinehard. 1st Lt. Ganem George A.. T/Sgt. Hentges James Nicklos. 2nd Lt. Hentges James Nicholas. F/O. Hurwitz Mayer Isaiah. Lt. (d.30th Jul 1943) Jacques Francisco Xavier. Cpl. Lybrook Clyde E.. Lynch Joseph Charles. S/Sgt. (d.17th Oct 1942) Milioti Charles T.. Capt. Scott John J.. 2nd Lt. The names on this list have been submitted by relatives, friends, neighbours and others who wish to remember them, if you have any names to add or any recollections or photos of those listed, please Add a Name to this List Records of 338th Bomb Squadron, USAAF from other sources. The Wartime Memories Project is the original WW1 and WW2 commemoration website. Announcements The Wartime Memories Project has been running for 24 years. If you would like to support us, a donation, no matter how small, would be much appreciated, annually we need to raise enough funds to pay for our web hosting and admin or this site will vanish from the web. 22nd April 2024 - Please note we currently have a huge backlog of submitted material, our volunteers are working through this as quickly as possible and all names, stories and photos will be added to the site. 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There are:0 items tagged 338th Bomb Squadron, USAAF available in our Library   These include information on officers, regimental histories, letters, diary entries, personal accounts and information about actions during the Second World War. I don't have much information for you about my Grandfather's brother. He was Second Lieutenant Ralph J. Diederich, O-755052 from Illinois he served with the U.S. Army Air Forces, 563rd Bomber Squadron, 388th Bomber Group, Heavy and was killed on Wednesday, March 08, 1944 and buried at Lorraine American Cemetery, St. Avold (Moselle), France. He was awarded the Purple Heart Brian Diederich Add to this record. John Croul 96th BG 338 BS I am helping the navigator Lt Croul find his crewmates and am seeking contact with crewman of the B-17G "Skyraider" of the 338th BS 96th BG. The son of a gunner posted here earlier this year but left no email address. Jack Cook Add to this record. S/Sgt. Joseph Charles Lynch 338th Bomb Squadron (d.17th Oct 1942) I never knew my Uncle Joe Lynch as I was three and a half years old when he died. He was my mother’s youngest brother, and I know his death affected her greatly, especially since her husband Merwyn had died in an accident just a few short months before. I don't remember his funeral or burial but I remember being told the story that upon hearing of his death my Uncle Bill McIntosh on his way back from buying a gallon of beer, dropped the beer on the sidewalk. A local newspaper, the Altoona Mirror, reported the following about his death in October 1942: “Staff Sgt. Joseph Charles Lynch, 23, of Cresson, Pennsylvania was among 11 aviators who lost their lives in the crash of a four-engined bomber in New Mexico. The plane had departed from its base in Rapid City, South Dakota and was on a routine flight. Born in Amsbry, Pennsylvania on 9 August 1919, S/Sgt. Lynch was a graduate of Cresson High School (class of 1938) and later enrolled in the Civilian Conservation Camp at Hiner, Clearfield County. Later, he was employed in Altoona, Pennsylvania by the Hoffman Ice Cream Co. He was inducted into the Army in October, 1941. Five days after reporting to the New Cumberland Induction Center, he was granted a release that allowed him to enlist in the Army Air Corps. He subsequently graduated from a training course at Kessler Field, Mississippi, and on 31st of June 1942, he graduated as a flexible gunner from Tyndall Field, Florida. He was transferred to the air base at Rapid City just three weeks before the crash. He had been assigned to the 338th Bomb Squadron as a crew member of the "Nippon Miss", a B-17E Flying Fortress bomber. The crash occurred in the early morning hours. It was reportedly very windy and foggy that morning, and the plane was off course. They unknowingly flew into the side of a mountain.” Gary C. Shank Add to this record. F/O. James Nicholas Hentges 338th Bombardment Sqdn. 96th Bombardment Group My grandfather Jim was a 2nd Lt./Flight Officer and bombardier in WWII. He was born on 9 December 1923 in LeMars, Iowa, and had two brothers and one sister. At some point during his childhood, his family to Orange County, California, where he graduated from Santa Ana High School. He enlisted with the US Army Air Corps on 11 December 1942, just two days after his 18th birthday, in Santa Ana, California. He did his preliminary training at the Santa Ana Army Air Base. His brother, William Hentges, Jr. joined the Navy and was a Seaman, 1st Class, assigned to an Amphibious Branch and stationed somewhere in the South Pacific. I am told that my grandfather completed his bombardier training at Deming Army Air Field, in Deming, New Mexico and graduated with the Class of 44-08. I was given two photos of my grandfather by my father and was told that the plane in the photos was a training aircraft assigned to the Ardmore Army Air Field, in Ardmore, Oklahoma, which was a four engine aircraft training base. Here is information I received about the aircraft that is reportedly the one in the photos my dad gave me (I don’t know if my grandfather was at any of the following locations during his training): Aircraft delivered to Cheyenne AAF, Wyoming on 23/02/1944 To Great Falls AAB in Montana on 26/02/1944 Back to Cheyenne on 02/03/1944 To 222 BU Ardmore on 30/08/1944 To 332 BU Ardmore on 19/06/1945 To 370 BU Sheppard AFB in Texas on 19/06/1945 Back to 332 BU in Ardmore on 26/02/1945 Sold to the Reconstruction Finance Corp. on 24/08/1945 and scrapped at Walnut Ridge AFB, Arkansas My grandfather told my dad that they flew their planes to England, stopping in Greenland to re-fuel. He said that was the quickest route to get there. On 2 October 1944, he was assigned to the 338th Bombardment Squadron, 96th Bombardment Group (Heavy), 3rd Bombardment Division, 45th Combat Bomb Wing, 8th Air Force and stationed at Snetterton Heath Air Field (AAF Stn: 138-ETG, RCL: BX-A), known as the ‘Snetterton Falcons’ and home to everyone’s favorite mascot, Lady Moe the donkey. I have been unable to locate information on his first 6 missions. But I do have some information on his 7th mission, which was his last. He was the bombardier on B-17G-90-BO, a Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress (airplane #43-38644, nicknamed “Green Weenie”). The winter of 1944-45 was the coldest on record in 54 years. Their target on 5 December 1944 was an ordnance plant located in Berlin, Germany. The weather was not good. With low clouds making visibility nearly impossible, and strong, changing wind gusts, it would be dangerous and difficult. Dangerous because they needed to fly lower and get under the clouds to get a good visual of their target, and, with the changing wind and weather, difficult to calculate the precise time to drop the bomb load on the specified target. Don’t forget the hours-long flight, the tiny, cramped spaces, and crews battling exhaustion and fatigue and having to wear electric suits that at times would malfunction and catch fire. Heated gloves, if removed to help a crewman in trouble or to pull a ripcord, could mean the loss of fingers due to frostbite. And hard, heavy metal helmets that moved all around and were a struggle to keep on, and that were supposed to help your protect your head in case a bomb hits and blasts apart the aircraft, but in reality were more like a big bullet because when the blast hit, the helmet flew off your head and shot through the aircraft, leaving nothing in its wake. Don’t forget the very important, big, bulky oxygen masks. The warplanes were not like the modern ones of today. They weren’t equipped with pressurized cabins. Those masks were a lifeline, and one little leak or a few too many minutes trying to outrun the enemy’s fire could cause you not to have enough oxygen left to complete your mission and get back to base. Dizziness, confusion, panic, and paranoia would then set in - almost always a death sentence for all aboard. No wonder the loss of life was so great. The odds kept stacking against them. With each new mission, the odds of being able to complete the mission and make it back to base uninjured and alive became slimmer. Based on eyewitness accounts and crew statements, my grandfather’s flight was at about 28,000 feet over their target when they started taking on lots of flak. I assume that most or all of their bomb-load was had already been dropped because somehow they were hit by flak that came in through the open bomb-bay doors and started a fire. I read that if planes were hit with full loads they would explode upon being struck, with no chance of survival. My grandfather told my dad that flak shrapnel went straight through the plane. It caused a small fire, but they quickly put it out. But by then they were also taking on enemy fire from three German ME-109s. That’s when they got hit. They lost one engine, then two. My grandfather said they were down to one engine when they bailed out. One eyewitness stated that my grandfather’s aircraft was able to shoot down one of the ME-109s before he lost sight of the plane and its crew. Eyewitness and crew reports agree that when first hit, the aircraft appeared to be out of control. But then the pilot, David Monroe, managed somehow to regain control of the aircraft and took it straight up into the thick, dark clouds. The same clouds that once caused them danger and difficulty now provided them safety and protection from the remaining two ME-109s. All ten crew members of my grandfather’s B-17 were able to bail out and land safely, with no one suffering from any major injuries. When asked months later, one crewman stated that the Green Weenie’s crash site was about 30 miles from Berlin, Germany. They were quickly captured by German soldiers southeast of Parchim, Germany, and taken to a POW camp called Stalag Luft 1- North 3, in Barth, Germany. Four days later, on 9 December 1944, my grandfather spent his 21st birthday (most likely in solitary confinement) awaiting interrogation by the Germans, as was customary for new prisoners. I have read that they could be in the interrogation rooms for a week to a month, or for some even longer. The Germans would try just about anything to get the men to talk. I recently read about the conditions of Stalag Luft 1, where my grandfather and his crew were held. There were only two latrines for 2,500 men. Toward the end of the war, they received only one bowl of soup (that was mostly water) and a piece of bread per day. Bunks, if they can be called that, were so low that you couldn’t sit up on them and were stacked four high. They were each furnished with a straw-stuffed bedroll. Maybe there was a thin blanket, but never a pillow. I read that POWs called them mortuary slabs, because that’s about what they looked like. My grandfather was one of the lucky ones since he was assigned to the officers’ section, the ‘better’ section. I can’t even begin to think what the other sections must have been like. The American commander of their barracks in the North 3 section was WWII fighter ace, Francis ‘Gabby’ Gabrowski. My grandfather told my dad he was in the same barracks with Gabby and that he was loud and arrogant as all hell! They were finally liberated by the Russians and released on 30 April 1945. He and his crew touched US soil on 2 June 1945. Most of them, like my grandfather, had jobs to do, families to raise, and just didn’t speak much of their time in the war. My grandpa married my grandmother, Helen Louise (Mitchell-St. Clair) Hentges in 1956. From a previous marriage, she had a son, my father (Michael St. Clair, born July 4, 1947), whom my grandfather raised as his own son. My dad never really knew his real dad, (Walter James St. Clair, also a WWII US Army Air Force veteran), because he and my grandma divorced soon after my dad was born. By the time I tracked him down, he had already passed away. My dad is an Air Force veteran as well, and served in Vietnam. I was born at Eglin AFB in Okaloosa County, Florida. Three weeks after my birth, my mom brought us to California, where my dad joined us after being discharged from the service. My grandpa Hentges was a wonderful grandfather! He took us fishing, horseback riding, took us to the pizza parlor and gave us pennies to ride the mechanical horse! He even met us drive his work van (well, we got to steer the van while he worked the pedals, but to us we were driving)! He would also take us to lunch at the Chino Airport in California, where we’d watch the planes land and take off. It was so much fun! My father also took us to Chino Airport, and to the Planes of Fame Museum next door to see the B-17 ‘Piccadilly Lilly II’, the big plane like the one our grandpa flew. I have been able to share the same experience with my own kids. We now have a third-generation picture of my kids in front of the same B-17, ‘Piccadilly Lilly II’. My son liked the museum so much he asked to go again, and we took a group of his friends there for his birthday, many moons ago! My grandfather passed away on Father’s Day, 15 June 1980. I was only 8 years old. We were very close. I didn’t understand. I never had someone close to me die before. It’s hard to understand that there will be no more hugs, or fun trips, or even just the sound of his voice. I’ll never get to hear his story, in his own words. His story IS history. I want to give him and all the other men and women who served the honor, the respect, and the chance to perhaps find closure, to heal old wounds, or to find answers to the unknown fate of some of the others who served. To my grandfather James N. Hentges and ALL veterans: Thank you for your service, your love, your honor and dedication to preserving the freedoms of our great countries. May God watch over you and guide you, and may He bless each and every one of you. To those who gave all and made the ultimate sacrifice, please know we have not forgotten. We will continue to preserve history and share in the memories of your lives with future generations to come. Thank you for your service. May you forever rest in peace. Melanie Watson Add to this record. 2nd Lt. James Nicklos Hentges 338th Bomb Squadron 96th Bomb Group My grandfather Jim Hentges was a 2nd Lt./Flight Officer and bombardier in WWII. He was born on 9th December 1923 in LeMars, Iowa, and had two brothers and one sister. At some point during his childhood, his family to Orange County, California, where he graduated from Santa Ana High School. He enlisted with the US Army Air Corps on 11 December 1942, just two days after his 18th birthday, in Santa Ana, California. He did his preliminary training at the Santa Ana Army Air Base. His brother, William Hentges, Jr. joined the Navy and was a Seaman, 1st Class, assigned to an Amphibious Branch and stationed somewhere in the South Pacific. I am told that my grandfather completed his bombardier training at Deming Army Air Field, in Deming, New Mexico and graduated with the Class of 44-08. I was given two photos of my grandfather by my father and was told that the plane in the photos was a training aircraft assigned to the Ardmore Army Air Field, in Ardmore, Oklahoma, which was a four engine aircraft training base. Here is information I received about the aircraft that is reportedly the one in the photos my dad gave me (I don’t know if my grandfather was at any of the following locations during his training): Aircraft delivered to Cheyenne AAF, Wyoming on 23/02/1944 To Great Falls AAB in Montana on 26/02/1944 Back to Cheyenne on 02/03/1944 To 222 BU Ardmore on 30/08/1944 To 332 BU Ardmore on 19/06/1945 To 370 BU Sheppard AFB in Texas on 19/06/1945 Back to 332 BU in Ardmore on 26/02/1945 Sold to the Reconstruction Finance Corp. on 24/08/1945 and scrapped at Walnut Ridge AFB, Arkansas My grandfather told my dad that they flew their planes to England, stopping in Greenland to re-fuel. He said that was the quickest route to get there. On 2 October 1944, he was assigned to the 338th Bombardment Squadron, 96th Bombardment Group (Heavy), 3rd Bombardment Division, 45th Combat Bomb Wing, 8th Air Force and stationed at Snetterton Heath Air Field (AAF Stn: 138-ETG, RCL: BX-A), known as the ‘Snetterton Falcons’ and home to everyone’s favorite mascot, Lady Moe the donkey. I have been unable to locate information on his first 6 missions. But I do have some information on his 7th mission, which was his last. He was the bombardier on B-17G-90-BO, a Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress (airplane #43-38644, nicknamed “Green Weenie”). The winter of 1944-45 was the coldest on record in 54 years. Their target on 5 December 1944 was an ordnance plant located in Berlin, Germany. The weather was not good. With low clouds making visibility nearly impossible, and strong, changing wind gusts, it would be dangerous and difficult. Dangerous because they needed to fly lower and get under the clouds to get a good visual of their target, and, with the changing wind and weather, difficult to calculate the precise time to drop the bomb load on the specified target. Don’t forget the hours-long flight, the tiny, cramped spaces, and crews battling exhaustion and fatigue and having to wear electric suits that at times would malfunction and catch fire. Heated gloves, if removed to help a crewman in trouble or to pull a ripcord, could mean the loss of fingers due to frostbite. And hard, heavy metal helmets that moved all around and were a struggle to keep on, and that were supposed to help your protect your head in case a bomb hits and blasts apart the aircraft, but in reality were more like a big bullet because when the blast hit, the helmet flew off your head and shot through the aircraft, leaving nothing in its wake. Don’t forget the very important, big, bulky oxygen masks. The warplanes were not like the modern ones of today. They weren’t equipped with pressurized cabins. Those masks were a lifeline, and one little leak or a few too many minutes trying to outrun the enemy’s fire could cause you not to have enough oxygen left to complete your mission and get back to base. Dizziness, confusion, panic, and paranoia would then set in - almost always a death sentence for all aboard. No wonder the loss of life was so great. The odds kept stacking against them. With each new mission, the odds of being able to complete the mission and make it back to base uninjured and alive became slimmer. Based on eyewitness accounts and crew statements, my grandfather’s flight was at about 28,000 feet over their target when they started taking on lots of flak. I assume that most or all of their bomb-load was had already been dropped because somehow they were hit by flak that came in through the open bomb-bay doors and started a fire. I read that if planes were hit with full loads they would explode upon being struck, with no chance of survival. My grandfather told my dad that flak shrapnel went straight through the plane. It caused a small fire, but they quickly put it out. But by then they were also taking on enemy fire from three German ME-109s. That’s when they got hit. They lost one engine, then two. My grandfather said they were down to one engine when they bailed out. One eyewitness stated that my grandfather’s aircraft was able to shoot down one of the ME-109s before he lost sight of the plane and its crew. Eyewitness and crew reports agree that when first hit, the aircraft appeared to be out of control. But then the pilot, David Monroe, managed somehow to regain control of the aircraft and took it straight up into the thick, dark clouds. The same clouds that once caused them danger and difficulty now provided them safety and protection from the remaining two ME-109s. All ten crew members of my grandfather’s B-17 were able to bail out and land safely, with no one suffering from any major injuries. When asked months later, one crewman stated that the Green Weenie’s crash site was about 30 miles from Berlin, Germany. They were quickly captured by German soldiers southeast of Parchim, Germany, and taken to a POW camp called Stalag Luft 1- North 3, in Barth, Germany. Four days later, on 9 December 1944, my grandfather spent his 21st birthday (most likely in solitary confinement) awaiting interrogation by the Germans, as was customary for new prisoners. I have read that they could be in the interrogation rooms for a week to a month, or for some even longer. The Germans would try just about anything to get the men to talk. I recently read about the conditions of Stalag Luft 1, where my grandfather and his crew were held. There were only two latrines for 2,500 men. Toward the end of the war, they received only one bowl of soup (that was mostly water) and a piece of bread per day. Bunks, if they can be called that, were so low that you couldn’t sit up on them and were stacked four high. They were each furnished with a straw-stuffed bedroll. Maybe there was a thin blanket, but never a pillow. I read that POWs called them mortuary slabs, because that’s about what they looked like. My grandfather was one of the lucky ones since he was assigned to the officers’ section, the ‘better’ section. I can’t even begin to think what the other sections must have been like. The American commander of their barracks in the North 3 section was WWII fighter ace, Francis ‘Gabby’ Gabrowski. My grandfather told my dad he was in the same barracks with Gabby and that he was loud and arrogant as all hell! They were finally liberated by the Russians and released on 30 April 1945. He and his crew touched US soil on 2 June 1945. Most of them, like my grandfather, had jobs to do, families to raise, and just didn’t speak much of their time in the war. My grandpa married my grandmother, Helen Louise (Mitchell-St. Clair) Hentges in 1956. From a previous marriage, she had a son, my father (Michael St. Clair, born July 4, 1947), whom my grandfather raised as his own son. My dad never really knew his real dad, (Walter James St. Clair, also a WWII US Army Air Force veteran), because he and my grandma divorced soon after my dad was born. By the time I tracked him down, he had already passed away. My dad is an Air Force veteran as well, and served in Vietnam. I was born at Eglin AFB in Okaloosa County, Florida. Three weeks after my birth, my mom brought us to California, where my dad joined us after being discharged from the service. My grandpa Hentges was a wonderful grandfather! He took us fishing, horseback riding, took us to the pizza parlor and gave us pennies to ride the mechanical horse! He even met us drive his work van (well, we got to steer the van while he worked the pedals, but to us we were driving)! He would also take us to lunch at the Chino Airport in California, where we’d watch the planes land and take off. It was so much fun! My father also took us to Chino Airport, and to the Planes of Fame Museum next door to see the B-17 ‘Piccadilly Lilly II’, the big plane like the one our grandpa flew. I have been able to share the same experience with my own kids. We now have a third-generation picture of my kids in front of the same B-17, ‘Piccadilly Lilly II’. My son liked the museum so much he asked to go again, and we took a group of his friends there for his birthday, many moons ago! My grandfather passed away on Father’s Day, 15 June 1980. I was only 8 years old. We were very close. I didn’t understand. I never had someone close to me die before. It’s hard to understand that there will be no more hugs, or fun trips, or even just the sound of his voice. I’ll never get to hear his story, in his own words. His story IS history. I want to give him and all the other men and women who served the honor, the respect, and the chance to perhaps find closure, to heal old wounds, or to find answers to the unknown fate of some of the others who served. To my grandfather James N. Hentges and ALL veterans: Thank you for your service, your love, your honor and dedication to preserving the freedoms of our great countries. May God watch over you and guide you, and may He bless each and every one of you. To those who gave all and made the ultimate sacrifice, please know we have not forgotten. We will continue to preserve history and share in the memories of your lives with future generations to come. Thank you for your service. May you forever rest in peace. Melanie Watson Add to this record. Cpl. Francisco Xavier Jacques 338th Squadron 96th Bomb Group Francisco Jacques, my father, entered the military in Abilene, Texas on 18 August 18 1942. He was first trained for B-17 squadron service in Pyote, Texas at the Rattlesnake Base. He was then transferred for further training in Pocatello, Idaho before being transferred by train to New Jersey and then shipped on the Queen Elizabeth to England. He was stationed at Snetterton Heath base for the 8th Army Air Force, 96th Bomb Group, 338th Squadron. His discharge papers incorrectly state that he was in the 805th squadron. Francisco was a waist-gunner and was injured on his sixth mission over Germany. Anti-aircraft damaged the oxygen hoses, and his lungs were traumatized while waiting for the damaged B-17 to return to home base in England. He was hospitalized for a few weeks and then returned to duty on the ground crew. After 6th of June 1944, he served in Europe (France, Belgium, and Germany). He was at one time ranked as a sergeant, but he was reduced to corporal for some minor violation. In 1945 after the war, Francisco was shipped to New York on the Queen Mary, and he then made his way to Camp Fannin in Tyler, Texas where he was discharged on 5th of October 1945. Hiram Jacques Add to this record. Sgt. William Francis Brinley 338th Bomb Squadron 96th Bomb Group (H) William Brinley served with the US Air Force in WW2 flying with 96th Bomb Group. Bill was a waist gunner on B-17G 42-102475. During a mission over Germany on 27th of May 1944, B-17 41-102561 collided with his aircraft. Bill's B-17 broke in half at the radio room. Three members of his crew were able to deploy their parachutes. These three were captured and Bill was sent to Stalag Luft IV. It is possible that he partook in the forced march across Germany when Russian forces were advancing in early 1945. Bill ended up at Stalag 11B and was liberated by the British 7th Armoured Division. Add to this record. Sgt. William Francis Brinley 338th Bomb Squadron 96th Bomb Group (H) Bill Brinley enlisted on 3rd of October 1942 in the USAAF. After completing gunnery training, he was stationed at Snetterton, England with the 338th BS, 96th BG (H). He was a waist gunner on the B-17G #42-102475. On 27th of May 1944, while flying in formation, another B-17 was attempting to avoid flack when the two planes collided. Bill's B-17 split in two over Germany. He was able to exit the plane along with another crew member and deploy his parachute. He was captured and eventually taken to Stalag Luft IV. This is where he remained during the rest of the war. Daryll Morgan Add to this record. 1st Lt. Louis Rinehard Frey 338th Bomb Squadron 96th Bomb Group Louis Frey served with 338th Bomb Squadron. Maureen Frey Add to this record. SSgt. Earl Cornell "Sonny" Fahl 338th Bomb Squadron 96th Bomb Group Earl Fahl, Sonny, my fondly-remembered uncle, was born in 1924 and passed away in 1981. He lied about his age to enlist early and served as a B-17 tail gunner, arriving in England during the summer of 1943. These early days of the war were deadly for the heavy bombers. Usually without fighter escort, they were exposed to the full strength of the Luftwaffe in full daylight. If I recall correctly, his ship was shot up once so badly of France that they had to bail out shortly after returning across the Channel. Later in 1943, on 13th of December (my mother's, his sister's birthday), he was shot down again on a mission to Kiel, Germany. Enroute to the target their plane (a B-17F SN: 42-30602, named "Dry Run IV") was damaged by flak. On the return, a Ju-88 finished the job. The crash site was near Groningen, Netherlands. Unusually, the entire crew successfully bailed out. Sonny spent the remainder of the war as a POW in Stalag Luft XVII-B. After the war, he returned to live in St. Albans, Vermont. I'm told that he was able to meet with several of his former crew mates. Jeffry Stetson Add to this record. Recomended Reading. Available at discounted prices.

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