and instead of trying to sleep in bunk beds, I shared a stateroom with three other officers. We were sailing, not on a banana boat, but on another Mattson ship, the Lurline. I didn't have to line up for chow but had certain times assigned to me when I would go to the dining room and sit at a table with clean linen and silverware. This was a whole new world for me as far as the military was concerned and seemed like a different war entirely. Instead of three weeks on board as was the case when I shipped overseas on the 'Maui,' it was a matter of only eight days on the 'Lurline', from Brisbane, Australia, to beautiful San Francisco. To sail under the Golden Gate Bridge again, this time coming home, was a great feeling; and this time I wasn't seasick. After we had docked, we were taken to Angel Island for medical inspection. We were assigned living quarters until arrangements could be made for our various destinations, mine, being Ogden for a leave of absence. We dressed up and took the ferry to San Francisco and really celebrated our return, walking up and down Market Street and buying the ribbons and clusters that we were entitled to. My luggage and I were shipped by troop train to Fort Douglas in Salt Lake City. Then I was taken to the Bamberger Depot for the last leg of my trip to Ogden. The Bamberger hadn't changed any since we used to ride it to Lagoon in my youth, but I know I had. I called my Dad at work from the station, and he came and picked me up. We drove home for a great reunion, thankful to be home alive and well. I didn't have to report to my new station in San Antonio for three weeks so was able to spend Christmas and New Years with family and friends. The majority of the officers at San Antonio that I was teaching had never been overseas, and I was wearing six overseas stripes and still a second lieutenant while most of them outranked me and were still very GI. After a few months of this 'chicken outfit', I asked my CO for re-assignment even if it meant going back overseas again. I was assigned as assistant officer's club officer and eventually promoted to club officer and given my Silver Bar, a promotion to first lieutenant. The Officer's Club was a cushy assignment. We had a golf course, swimming pool, slot machines, bar and a dance every Saturday night with a big Army dance band and a buffet every Sunday. I had some good non-coms who ran the club for me and did the book work as well. All I had to do was sign my name to the reports. Being an officer at a Cadet Center as large as S.A.A.C.C. had for me a comical aspect, particularly when walking the streets of downtown San Antonio. When the cadets were off duty, they would converge on the city of San Antonio and each time I passed a cadet on the street, he would salute. In returning their salutes, it seemed my arm was going up and down continually and caused me to almost laugh out loud. While stationed in San Antonio, VE Day happened in Europe. A few months later the atomic bomb was dropped on Japan and the war ended in the Pacific also. I received my separation orders with gasoline coupons for my trip back to Ogden. After arriving back home, I put on my civilian clothes, but felt so strange, even conspicuous, in them, that I wore my uniform until my terminal leave was up, something like four weeks. It seemed like everyone else was still in uniform. Calvin R. Dittmore Calvin Dittmore served in the Army Air Corps and attained the rank of corporal. He received a GooB Conduct Medal, American Theater Service Medal and a World War II Victory Medal. He was an airplane and engine mechanic and worked and crewed a P-47 aircraft at Dover AFB, Delaware. This was the final training for the pilots before they were shipped overseas. He graduated from Uniontown Senior High School, Pennsylvania in June 1943 and was called and inducted into the Army, July 20, 1943, at Fort George G. Meade, in Maryland. He took his basic training with the pilots at Greensboro, North Carolina, in 1943 and then was shipped to Goldsboro, North Carolina, for aircraft machine school. He then was shipped to Dover, Delaware, and assigned to work on the P-47 aircraft, then on to Farmingdale, New York to a factory school for the P-47 aircraft. He was also in Willow Run, Michigan, for R-48000 engine school. He spent the rest of the time at Dover Air Base working on a crew for the P-47 aircraft and training the pilots for the final phase before they left overseas. He was discharged 21 February 1946. 24 Merlin J. Dye Merlin Dye attended Weber College in 1941 in the machine shop. He went to Hill Air Force Base and finished that training. He served in the Army Air Corps in World War II for three years and three months. He received his basic training at McClellan Air Force Base in California and then went to Denver for specialized training in photography. He served as a camera maintenance man and took photos of statistical areas. After Merlin completed his tour of duty of three years and three months, he came back to Weber State College in 1946 and received a certificate of completion in industrial technology. He was then hired at Hill Air Force Base and worked there for thirty-four years. Merlin enjoyed his time at Weber College and feels that he was able to have a good job because of that education. V. Ross Ekins As a fighter pilot in the Army Air Corps from January 1942 through May 1945, Ross flew P-40s and P-47s against the Japanese in India-China-Burma Theatres. He was stationed in the jungle for 18 months of this time. As a member of the 90th squadron of the 80th Fighter Group, he flew over 110 combat missions. He earned the Air Medal, Distinguished Flying Cross, the WWII Victory Medal, and was discharged with the rank of lieutenant. Kenneth Fredrick Fahncke Ken Fahncke was a tail gunner in a B-17 when he was assigned to participate in the Schweinfurt-Regensburg raids to bomb German factories on August 17, 1943. This is the story of what he experienced after bailing out of his damaged airplane over enemy lines; being hidden by the Belgian and French underground; and his harrowing experiences until his repatriation in November of 1943. Over France or Belgium on our way to Schweinfurt, the fighters hit us. Our late take off got us caught in German fighters galore. At this time we didn't have our own fighter support and had plenty of fighter opposition. Our first attack came in straight on my tail. When I thought he was getting in range, I pulled the triggers on my guns. They didn't work. They seemed jammed and I didn't get them going. The planes kept on coming in, and soon the slugs were slamming home. Shortly afterward with a pass from ten o'clock high (straight ahead is twelve o'clock) the junction box on the ball turret was shot out, rendering it useless. Richards (the ball turret gunner) had no electricity. So he hand-cranked it to where he got out. I was hit by bits and pieces and I thought my muscles were weakened so Richards took over in the tail and got the guns going. I went to the waist and checked my wounds. They weren't as bad as I'd thought so I took over Swartz's waist gun. Swartz had gone to help Sailer in the radio room since he had taken one in the middle. The attacks must have slowed down at this time. We made it in to the target, dropped the bombs, and made our hit. I guess we really rolled the ball bearings around Schweinfurt that day. But on our way home, after fighting our way in on three engines and dropping our eggs at the proper place, we were attacked again. I shot at a few of them with no scores. I don't remember any more hits. We could no longer stay in formation. Soon we were the target for all the fighters, and had another engine set on fire. I was rather surprised when the order to abandon ship came over the intercom. Swartz was first to leave the plane through the waist escape hatch. I remember Richards coming from the tail and he or John Whitley got the escape hatch open and they bailed out together. Then I saw Berry, the engineer, taking his own life in his hands to come back to be sure we got the warning. Perhaps it was he that is responsible for radio man, Sailer, getting out OK. Anyhow, Berry followed me and Sailer followed him out. I never saw either again until I got back to Atlantic City where Sailer showed up. I do remember that I took off my fur helmet and carefully laid it beside the escape hatch before I rolled out. It wasn't as bad as I had expected after the first flip or so. There was no sensation of falling at all. I delayed my chute opening as we had been told to wait and not open our chute right away. For one thine, it 25