Deke was with the 340th (486th) in Corsica for 56 missions, and with the 319th in the Pacific until the end of the war.
Deke was one of the original seven United States astronauts. He was named as one of the Mercury astronauts in April 1959. He made his first space flight as Apollo docking module pilot of the Apollo-Soyuz Test Project (ASTP) mission, July 15—24, 1975 — a joint space flight culminating in the first historical meeting in space between American astronauts and Soviet cosmonauts.
Dita was well known during her 13 months on Corsica. She was attractive and had a reputation for being able to swear and drink with the best of the men. She claimed that she “used to fly P-47s sitting on the pilot's lap.”
Years later, during the Nixon Administration she gained substantial notoriety as an International Telephone and Telegraph (ITT) lobbyist. She wrote a memo, dated June 25, 1971, that went a long way towards proving that in return for hefty campaign contributions ($400,000) to the GOP, the Justice Department dropped its antitrust suit against the corporation. Syndicated columnist Jack Anderson received this memo, in which Beard also wrote that President Nixon and Attorney General John Mitchell were two of the few who knew of this contribution.
W. Mark Felt, number 3 official in the FBI and later of Deep Throat fame, was given this memo to authenticate. In spite of the White House's attempts to cover up the issues, the FBI released its finding of authenticity. Felt perceived that the direct request from President Nixon to back off the finding of authenticity was nothing less than pressure from the White House to cover up the ITT—GOP connection, pressure which Felt later characterized as “in some ways a prelude to Watergate.” [Gentry, 2001, pp. 716-717; Woodward, 2005, pp. 37-39]
Dita Beard certainly stirred up the proverbial can of worms.1
As a young pilot in the Army Air Corps in World War II, Lt. Valenti flew 51 combat missions as the pilot-commander of a B-25 attack bomber with the 12th Air Force in Italy. Honors earned included a Distinguished Flying Cross and five Air Medals.
Jack led several lives after the war years. They included White House Special Assistant, movie industry leader, and author. He has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
He was shot down over the Mediterranean in 1943 and then spent 27 months in POW camps, escaping twice. He was recaptured both times.
In 1966 he became Under-Secretary of State and later Vice-President of I.B.M. Corporation.
Bombardier with the 488th Squadron. He flew 60 combat missions in the twin-tailed B-25.
He made literary history with the 1961 publication of his first novel, Catch-22, a book that has become an American classic. Told by an interviewer that he had never produced anything else as good as Catch-22, Heller famously responded, “Who has?”
He says, “The original 488th Squadron insignia was drawn by Alex Raymond, who drew and wrote the comic ‘Flash Gordon.’ The girl is Dale Arden, Flash Gordon's girlfriend in the comic strip. This is an actual aircraft decal that was to be placed on an aircraft. It was given to me as a gift by Gordon Ainsworth, crew chief, after the war.”
George with Dale Arden: 488th Squadron Insignia
In late April 1945 the 340th completed its final combat mission over enemy territory. Flying out of Rimini, Italy on the beautiful Adriatic Coast, the 340th saw the once powerful German Army in full retreat in Northern Italy following over two years of combat duty that commenced in Northern Africa. The war in Europe was soon to end.
As the years are drifting by, the ranks of these war mates of the 57 th Bomb Wing are thinning. The solid core of young, healthy, strong and dedicated men and women of the World War II era is now dealing with the tricks and traumas of aging. Joints ache and memories dim and the body will never again function as it did.
But take a look at those left as they, in their eighties and nineties, still prioritize their annual reunions. The eyes spark, smiles are quick, and mutual war remembrances abound. They are experiencing the entire swing of the pendulum of life — birth to death, war to peace, health to illness. Their lives helped to direct America's history. They have anchored its democratic freedoms. They were there for their country. And now, as they have always been, they are there, still, for each other.
Quick stepping, pop-eyed, and tuxedo-clothed Cody, his son's Boston Terrier, is George's devoted companion. Cody, with his short and widely spaced legs, possessively trots after, hops around, and sticks close as George heads for his La-Z-Boy.
This favored chair molds around George's familiar form, somewhat reminiscent of the intimate connection he had shared with his B-25 pilot's seat. In contrast, this La-Z-Boy is his long-time friend whose only function is to provide for his comfort and well-being. As he settles himself in, it is apparent that there are few subjects George would rather discuss than those WWII years. Their intensity would imprint upon him forever.
And now, so many years later, he eases in to his aging years with his beloved wife, Shirley, and the quick-witted Cody. His attentive eyes move about his small home office area. Tucked in an alcove and topped with models of aircraft sits his wooden desk and its chair. On the wall behind that chair is a mix of simply framed news articles and photos, most in black and white: grinning George leaning out of the cockpit of his first trainer; his aircrafts; his buddies; and most heart-wrenchingly, the stop-frame recorded death of his friend “Red” Reichard. An aerial photographer had caught Red's exploding plane plunging its terrified crew to their fiery deaths while spewing out a long, slightly arcing, plume of grey-white, deadly smoke. George, seconds removed and with the ability to do absolutely nothing, was an eyewitness from his own endangered cockpit. This man, his story, and this frozen image are always with George.
Another wall holds his shadowbox-framed leather bomber jacket and his medals. Brought out from a bedroom closet, and carefully unwrapped, is a large original 1945 painting of squadron mascot Dale Arden, girlfriend of comic strip-hero Flash Gordon, which was to have been the nose art for a B-25. While George is a modest soul, the rip-roaring, bomb riding, buck-naked Dale, holding back a lightning bolt high above her raven-haired head, is not. Hence, her home-in-the-closet.
Like Ishi, George is the last of his tribe. He talks of the past, enjoys the present, and touches on the future. Were it possible, his wish would be that his and Shirley's final resting place be near that of Bill Chapman and his wife, Charlotte, at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia, America's most treasured site for its defenders. However, choice of location on that hallowed ground is not an option. So when age, rather than enemy fire, dictates the time, his home's Fort Indian Town Gap National Cemetery, in Annville, Pennsylvania, will open its military arms and welcome its son-hero.
As I said at the beginning of this book, the events and effects of WWII are still vivid in my mind. I remember the planes and the missions. I remember sleeping on the ground, the same poor food every day, using my helmet to take a bath in the cold weather, the continual loss of friends, flying long missions over Europe, the big Mt. Vesuvius eruption, and the German attack on Corsica that destroyed most of our airplanes and killed 22 (219 casualties).
And when the war was over I remember the relief and joy that glowed on everyone's face. In fact, people were jubilant. There were people who cried for joy and those that cried for their lost relatives and friends (me too). I lost my original bombardier and a cousin and a lot of friends made during my long combat tour. It was relief and sadness all mixed in together.
But mostly, I remember my friends, my crewmates, and the great dedication and friendships we enjoyed.
I am surprised at being among the last of these men standing. I am being allowed to bid a respectful and loving farewell to each of these brave, honorable, and dedicated men, these friends and brothers with whom I am forever bonded.
And that, of course, includes you, Joe.
George saluting at Arlington National Cemetery.
