raids over Italy and France from his base in North Africa as very routine. He wrote, 'There were no remarkable memories. One day ran into the next with briefing, bombing runs, critique groups, recreation and reading and writing mail' and although Eddie didn't say so, an observant reader of his diary pointed out that 'one could add, 'cooking eggs and drinking.'' From his journal, one can easily discern that he was an eager flyer. He recorded his 60th mission on May 24, 1944. Grounded because of ear problems the next day, Dayhuff wrote on the 28th, 'Doc ungrounded me. I talked Eckard into putting me on this afternoon's mission in place of Mitchell.' After the war, Ed and Harry returned to Ogden and established Rusty's Drive-In (named for Ed's daughter born in 1944). This remained an Ogden landmark through the 1960s. Ed joined the reserves and was recalled to active duty during the Korean War. As a reservist, he flew communications equipment into China in 1972 for the historic visit of President Nixon, which resulted in the establishment of diplomatic relations between the U.S. and China. William G. deMik, 111 On August 6, 1941, in downtown Los Angeles, I was sworn in as a private in the U.S. Army Air Corps and within a few minutes was on a train going south to Fort MacArthur in San Pedro where I was outfitted with uniforms, given shots, an I.Q. test as well as aptitude tests. In about a week's time, I was on a troop train destined for Jefferson Barracks in Missouri where I received basic training and then was assigned to Communications School at Scott Field, Illinois, across the Mississippi River from St. Louis. Ostensibly, I was to become a radio operator on an Air Corps plane. I was not prepared for Army life. One of the things which I found hardest to get used to was the profanity used by the men with whom I would be so closely associated. And for how long, I had no idea. Scott Field was the only place I was stationed where I found it necessary to wear the John L. Sullivans that had been issued (long two-piece underwear). Boy was it cold. Having come from California, I guess I noticed it more than most. It was while I was at Scott Field that the attack on Pearl Harbor took place. A few of my buddies and I were in St. Louis attending a movie. The projectionist stopped the film and the manager of the theater came on stage to announce the attack and said that all military personnel were ordered back to their stations. The National Emergency had now escalated into a full blown war. Our training was stepped up and before we graduated, we were shipped west on another troop train to join a fighter squadron from Mitchell Field, N.Y. Now I knew a fighter plane did not include a radio operator in the crew which consisted of only the pilot (more later on radio operators). We located the first sergeant of the 8th Fighter Control Squadron of the 8th Fighter Group and became a part of the outfit. This union took place at Hamilton Field, California, where we lived in a large hangar until our troop ship was outfitted for our trip to who knows where. In about two weeks time, during which we made several trips into San Francisco, we were loaded onto trucks for transportation to the pier in San Francisco where we boarded the 'MAUI' an old banana boat of World War I vintage, which belonged to the Mattson Steamship Lines. As we walked up the gang plank, we were each given a gas mask and a World War I helmet, the kind that Sergeant York wore in the movie of the same name, but no gun. We descended into the hold, and I was assigned a cot with three other cots on top of mine. They were stacked so close that I couldn't lie on my side because my shoulders were too wide. Lying on my back, the cot above me, when occupied was only three inches from my nose. I was unable to sleep so I went up on deck where I spent the night. Early the next morning, we sailed for ports unknown and before we got out of sight of the Golden Gate Bridge, I was seasick. I was to spend the next three weeks on this 'tub', sleeping on deck, unless a squall would send me below. We were still in the dark as to where we were going. Rumors were having us go to Alaska or the Aleutians; but as the weather got warmer and we discarded our woolen uniforms for suntans, we knew it wasn't Alaska, but somewhere in the South Pacific. 22 Shortly after sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge, our ship joined up with a number of other ships to form a convoy escorted by a U.S. Destroyer and an Australian Corvette. During daylight hours, a PBY flying boat would circle over the convoy keeping a close lookout for enemy submarines. After a couple days of sailing, the destroyer turned back and left only the Corvette to send us to our destination. The flying boat also deserted us at this time. The convoy would sail on a stated course for a certain length of time, when it would change course or 'zigzag' as they called it, thus making it difficult for any enemy submarine to chart our course and lay in wait for a good shot at us. We did have a submarine alert, at which time each ship in the convoy took evasive action and sailed in a different direction. The escort, in the meantime, sailed around seeking the sub. After a thorough search, the convoy was reassembled; and we were on our way again, thankful that none of the ships had been attacked but a bit reluctant to go to sleep that night. When we were finally in sight of land, we were told that we were off the coast of Australia; and the next day we sailed up a river and docked at Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. Upon debarking, we were loaded onto trucks and taken to what the Aussies called an airdrome called Archerfield. Here, we received some more training in radio communications between air and ground. In a few weeks, we boarded a train and traveled to Townsville in the northern part of Queensland. Here we were outfitted with all the gear necessary to set up a Fighter Control Headquarters. We were issued 45 caliber pistols for the Non-Coms and M-1 rifles for the privates. With the issue of these weapons, it looked to me like things were getting serious. I didn't realize how serious until one night there was a raid by a Japanese bomber. Japanese planes had bombed Darwin on the Northern Coast of Australia, but they had never come so far south as Townsville until now. This, then, was my baptism of fire. The target was a Dutch ship docking in the harbor which was being loaded with men and equipment being prepared for shipment to Port Moresby in New Guinea. Needless to say the Australians were getting pretty nervous. It was about this time that the Battle of the Coral Sea took place. A Japanese invasion force was steaming toward Australia and this victory by the allies took some of the pressure off Australia and allowed us to set up a base at Port Moresby, New Guinea. We had a saying 'Here today, gone to Moresby.' After a few months duty in Port Moresby, our group was returned to Australia to be outfitted with a new airplane. We had been using the P-39 and were now to be issued a new twin fuselage plane called the P-38 or Lightening. Upon coming back to Australia, we were taken off the drug quinine and shortly afterwards I came down with malaria. After about two weeks in the hospital, I was returned to my squadron for duty. After several more weeks of training as well as some R & R (rest and relaxation), we once again boarded a ship called the SS Jacob, a Dutch ship which took us back again to New Guinea, this time to a place called Milne Bay. Here we set up a new Fighter Sector Headquarters. A new drug had been invented to replace quinine called Atabrine. We took a tablet each day; and it had a side effect of making you look like you had yellow jaundice. The yellow came off on our white T-shirts. I had now been overseas for a year and held the rank of staff sergeant. In the meantime, an OCS (Officer Candidates School) had been established in Brisbane, and I made application to attend. I was called before an Officer's Review Board and was accepted. Several of us from the 8th Fighter Group were flown in a C-47 across the Coral Sea landing in Brisbane on July 5, 1944. I was enrolled in the Air Corps Administration class of OCS. The soldiering part of the training wasn't too difficult for me because I had four years of R.O.T.C. in school as well as five years experience in the Utah National Guard. I was often called upon to demonstrate the manual of arms with the M-1 rifle. Commanding a platoon in close order drill was also not new to me. I didn't know how I was doing in my class work, however, and it was a constant worry. By the end of the three-months training, approximately half of the original enrollment had washed out. Those who were left were each asked to stand and give an extemporaneous talk before the class. It was sad to see how some of these men were unnerved by this experience. When my turn came, I was naturally nervous but felt I gave a creditable talk. To this day, I feel that because of the experiences I had had in church, in my youth, in giving two and a half minute talks, I was able to stand before my OCS class and its instructors and impress them enough that upon graduation, I received my second lieutenant's bars and was assigned as an OCS instructor in Air Corps Administration, while my classmates were re-assigned to the 5th Air Force and returned to the combat zone. It still amazes me that one day I was a frightened cadet wondering if I would graduate, and a week later I was teaching classes in which I had sat, so recently. I taught three classes at OCS, after which time I had accumulated enough points and was rotated back to the States. My trip back was much more enjoyable because of several factors. I was coming back as an officer 23