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        | Chapter 14 -  Epilogue 
 My release from active duty precipitated a flurry of decision making. Living quarters and
        location, return to college; where and in what profession, what sort of job would Doris
        look for, how could we contribute to the care of Doris mother and my father, could
        we afford a car, civilian clothes for me and a myriad of other mundane decisions. We
        decided to take over and renovate my fathers apartment, as he was now alone,
        assuming the financial burden he would then live with us. Housing was in extremely short
        supply with under the table profiteering rampant. After flirting with the idea of going to
        Dental school I decided to return to engineering college in Brooklyn the GI bill and
        complete my mechanical engineering degree as soon as possible by taking summer courses to
        accelerate the process. I stayed in a hybrid outfit of army and civilian clothes for many
        months and gradually reconverted. Doris obtained a job as a greeting card artist making
        use of her art background and developed a successful career in that field for many years.
        We did get on old 1938 Dodge automobile which I maintained, either on the street or by
        removing components, wrapping them and taking them to one of my engineering labs for
        disassembly. It was a most happy and productive period of our lives. Our lovely daughter
        was born in 1950 and we moved to suburbia for our first house and second car. My father
        had died in 1948. I remained with the Air Force reserve flying single engine aircraft once
        a month until I realized that I could not maintain my proficiency on that schedule. I
        switched my assignment to research and development since I now had an engineering degree
        and experience.
 
 In 1953 the darkness of the McCarthy anti communist period swept thru the country and I
        was badgered by the FBI because my oldest brother was a Abraham Lincoln brigade Veteran of
        the Spanish Civil War of 1936 to 1939. The five years he had served in the US Air Force
        was ignored. Also his injury requiring hospitalization in a VA hospital. My loyalty was
        questioned and it required a trial and a wait of 18 months before the restoration of my
        top secret clearance necessary for employment at my level. The experience was a difficult
        one for the entire family and remains with us still.
 
 Shortly before I had been called to active duty during the Korean War but released after 3
        months to complete my masters degree. Life was getting more complicated, much more
        so then the simple life and death decisions of WWII . These stressful days were becoming
        hazier and hazier in my mind as time passed. A chance meeting in downtown Brooklyn with
        Flym, the engineer of my first crew, shot down on their third mission over Mersberg,
        Germany reminded me of the intensity of those days.
 
 Occasionally, Buggsy and I would meet for a nostalgic evening. My engineering career
        continued thru the 1950s at Fairchild Space and Defense Systems and climaxed with my
        responsibility for the design and development of a Satellite mapping system used for
        targeting China and Russia.
 
 We also did much traveling, hiking and camping and finally built a summer lakeside cabin
        in the Adirondack mountains of New York state in 1959-61. In 1962 I was appointed Field
        Engineering Manager for Fairchild based in Palo Alto, California. This was a critical
        turning point in our lives. After two years and another security risk go around this time
        with the CIA, I resigned. I found that so long as I remained in contact with my brother I
        would be subject to this type of harassment in the reconnaissance business. In order to
        achieve a measure of financial independence I secured an executive management position
        with a small company with stock options as part of the arrangement. That would pay off
        with the companies growth. After a hectic three year interval in which my contribution to
        the companies growth was vital I was able to cash my options and start another exciting
        phase of my life. With Doriss blessing and encouragement I now went back to college
        while doing part time consulting and secured a Masters degree in Geology. This mid life
        change enabled me to be active professionally in a field that I had developed a strong
        interest in while designing mapping systems. These systems not only could find targets for
        missile systems but also made it possible to evaluate the earths surface for peace time
        mineral potential. At the same time I was active in mineral exploration, Doris, I and
        Margaret were busy building a large home for ourselves - another unforgettable experience
        for our memory book.
 
 In 1975 while on a consulting trip to Spain and Norway I was able to revisit the old 305
        Bomb Group base at Chelvaston, England. It had just been shut down but all the facilities
        were still in place. Walking out on the runways and climbing into the tower brought back
        memories of the early morning takeoffs, the roar of the engines, the lucky and unlucky
        squadron mates, the crackups, the tensions and much more.
 
 I learned that while excavating for house foundations on the field the builders had
        unearthed fifty caliber ammunition. Which one of us had been carrying it?
 
 I was besieged by a large group of 12 and 13 year old children of American GIs
        stationed nearly. The questions came thick and fast when they discovered I had flown
        missions from the field 30 years ago. I wondered what the future had in store for them.
        Luckily they were young enough to have missed the just ended Vietnam war.
 
 Strangely enough I had gone through the 1960s paying little attention to the Vietnam war
        until I discovered my daughter was strongly agitating against it, sitting on railroad
        tracks and even spending a day in jail with many of her classmates for doing so. It was a
        far cry from my generationss response to World War II. After thinking about it I
        approved of her sentiments, and supported her views against the draft and involuntary
        service in a highly unpopular war. I sympathized with the young men being drafted and
        those who elected to accept jail instead or fled to Canada.
 
 The 1970s meant more exploration for Doris and me, visiting all of the states and
        adding to our antique, Indian basket and mineral fossil collections when we werent
        busy improving our property. I continued woodcarving, teaching woodcarving and showing at
        the state fair; 1982 was a banner year, three first place carvings in different
        categories. Doris now has her own workshop; collecting old jewelry, beads, all of which
        ended up as colorful and creative jewelry assemblages.
 
 In the eighties and approaching my sixtieth birthday I decided that the time was now to
        live one of my long time dreams; back-packing and hiking mountains around the world. Doris
        decided to sit out the overseas trips. I went to New York, then the British Isles,
        Scotland and the western highlands;  Germany, Austria, Italy, Yugoslavia, Turkey,
        Iran, Hongkong, India and Japan were my destinations. Shorter trips to Australia, New
        Zealand, Iceland and Northwest territory followed. The last two with my daughter whose job
        as a high school special education teacher gave her free summers. Shes an ideal
        traveling companion; these days leading not following. Im proud of her.
 
 Doris enjoys the journals and photography after we get back. the photography was also used
        for travel lectures at Senior Centers.
 
 Even after fifty years my get togethers with Buggsy still touch on the `there we were at
        thirty thousand feet. On occasion I let my mind drift back to the our youth and the
        excitement days and their meaning. Those of us who participated in combat missions and
        survived do not regret the experience. The thousand plane raids required the best from all
        of us and in most cases we gave it; 26000 paid the ultimate price 28,000 suffered the
        rigors of the prisoner of war camps 9000 aircraft were shot down. What a waste of high
        quality human potential.
 
 Doris and I emerged from the war considerably more mature than our first meeting at the
        Fairplay social in 1943. We entered peace time living confident that we could handle what
        life had to offer and that we could cope with any adversity and go on - and have. We can
        still find the dew on a flower, a birdcall, an antique find, or a sunset exciting and look
        forward to more of the same.
 
 My feelings about my participation in WWII are mixed; on the one hand, I had no choice
        since the romanticism and idealism of youth had to be satisfied to save the world from
        fascism was paramount. On the other hand dictators, hunger, poverty, genocide still exist
        and will not be eliminated by warfare; thats a given. The dancing on the point of a
        pin will continue as long as the desire for power and wealth is a driving force in the
        human equation of life.
 
 No, our WWII experiences was not the high point of our lives but surviving them has made
        it possible to appreciate the value of the intervening years. I still act as a guide in my
        Air Force uniform which I can still fit into! When one of the last flyable B-17s
        makes is annual pilgrimage to the local Bay Area Airports. "What was it like up
        there?" "My father was a gunner hes gone now", "How many bombs
        did you carry?" "How many in a crew?" " Did you ever have to bail
        out?" Each question brings a little twinge and Im back at the 305th , at 25,000
        feet, rubbernecking, cursing the leadship, "drop those bombs, damn it."
          "Boy, that flaks heavy."
 
 I am proud to have been there, Would I do it again? I dont know!
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 50 years later, and it still fits! |  
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 Ray, Doris, and Margaret |  
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