Remembering

click image to enlarge Members of the 389th Bomb Group are from left, Hillard E. Johnmeyer Sr., pilot; Jack Pottle, flight engineer and gunner; Vincent Gonzalez, navigator, and Orlin Benedict, co-pilot. The group was reunited Tuesday night at Zeno's.

Bombers Reunite, Relive Life In WWII

It was a night of reminiscing and reliving the "good 0l' days," the days when Americans were patriots and knew what they were fighting for — the days of World War II.

Four members of the 2nd Air Division, 389th Bomb Crew, 567th Squadron were reunited Tuesday night after 15 years. For some it had been 40 years since they had seen each other. They met at Zeno's for dinner, but the night of memories and talking lasted into the wee hours of the night. "When I'm going down the street I don't have anyone else to talk to (about the war experience)," said reunion organizer Hillard E. Johnmeyer Sr., of Rolla, "but with these guys we can joke about it."

And joke they did. They didn't talk about the sad moments in their career. They talked mostly about the happy times. And there were many for this crew, which was together just under a year.

Besides Johnmeyer, the pilot, other crewmembers present were Orlin H. Benedict, co-pilot, from Wisconsin, Jack Pottle, flight engineer and gunner, from Denver, and Vincent Gonzalez, navigator, from Long Island, N.Y.

Members not present were Calvin Johnson, of Seattle; Ed Bamerck, of Mattydale, N.Y.; Bill Lattanzi, of Orange, Conn.; Lester Kobylarc, who lost his mind after the war and is in a mental hospital trying to forget it; Fred Basaran, who was killed in a second tour of duty, and Nevin Staley, who died of natural causes. "Just look at those names," Johnmeyer said fondly. "They're American, Spanish, Irish, Italian — one had a Persian religion — with these names I thought I'd never survive. But I soon found out these were picked people with high IQs. We got to be real close as a crew. There were moments when we would hug and cry and kiss together."

Although the memories shared with his comrades were happy at times, there were also very many sad moments. In fact, Johnmeyer said it wasn't until about 10 or 15 years ago that be could actually talk about what happened.

As bombers, this crew saw much action. Gonzalez estimates they flew about five missions and had two or three aborted missions. "I don't think any of us really realized what war was until we got over there (to Europe)," Gonzalez said. "On our first mission we didn't know what to expect."

The group of 10 men was formed in the United States. They trained for four months in the United States and Cuba before being stationed out of London. The men quickly formed into a close-knit family. "After a couple of drinks we were like brothers," Gonzalez said. "We figured we had to trust somebody, so it might as well be each other." "I'll never forget them," said Benedict. "If I passed one of them on the street today, I'd know who he was."

But Benedict agreed with the others that the reunions are more fun than being in the war. "Every time you made it back was a vivid memory," he said when asked to describe his most memorable experience.

Pottle remembers the friendship. "It was a different kind of war. We were patriotic and we felt it was the right thing to do. To show you how much, I was worried that the war would be over before I had a chance to do something."

Johnmeyer's most memorable experience was the time be was flying in formation and the gunner in the plane next to his was shot. The gunner's plane collided with the lead airplane and blew up. "We were right there," he said. "It's amazing we didn't go with it."

Of course, there were good times, too. "Every two weeks we'd get R&R (rest and relaxation) in London. And with our wings and the extra money we got we were idolized," Johnmeyer said. "We got everything free. We were idolized. It was like a country club." Johnmeyer said it was hard to get used to not being an idol when he returned from war.

Another favorite story of all the men is best told by Gonzalez. The setting is Cuba, where the men spent a lot of time training. "We had to fly 1,000 miles of over-water missions, so we flew to Cuba," he said. "Since my last name is Spanish, the commanding officer just assumed I could speak Spanish — which I can't. He told me to go in town and get a good deal on gin. Well, I went in and I convinced them that my parents were Spanish, Cuban. After that we never had any problems getting the best gin and the best deals. We used to go on weekly runs to Cuba for booze and say that it was part of our over-water missions."

A stranger enters the room. "I heard you guys flew B-24s (bombers) — so did I." "That's the strange thing about this war," Pottle said. "Everyone is family, even if you don't know them."

These guys held a 25 year reunion at the Carney Manor in Rolla and a 50 year reunion in Branson.

An Air Force colonel awards Jack Pottle his Purple Heart on Veterans Day 2006. The colonel holds the Citation with Jack and Rita Pottle on the right.

Jack Thomas Pottle

July 2, 1924 - October 14, 2007

Jack Thomas Pottle, the son of Thomas and Catherine Farrow Pottle, was born in Burnham, Missouri. He moved to Denver at age three—except for his military service, he would spend the next eighty years in the city. He grew up in north Denver’s Sunnyside neighborhood, attending Columbian and Beach Court Elementary Schools and Skinner Junior High. Jack was graduated from North High School in 1942.

From an early age, Jack evidenced a passion for education. His father was a shoe cobbler, with only an eighth grade education. However, his next door neighbor was a Princeton grad (“the first educated man I knew”), who mentored him and inspired his love of learning.

Following his high school graduation, Jack attended the University of Denver before entering the Army Air Corps at Fort Logan, Colorado in 1943. He served for the next two and a half years in the Eighth Air Force, ultimately as a Flight Engineer and Turret Gunner with a B-24 crew stationed in Hethel, England. Jack was injured in combat on April 7, 1945 on a mission over Dunneburg, Germany; he belatedly received his Purple Heart at the age of 82. He managed to be in London on VE Day—by “overstaying” a weekend pass. Jack was mustered out of the military in December 1945 at Lowry Field.

Jack returned to the University of Denver after the war, graduating in 1949 with a BA in History and an MA in Education. On June 20, 1948, he married Rita Whelan in a union that would last 59 years (not counting their six year courtship!) Jack and Rita had three children, Cathy, Connie and Jack, Jr., and six grand children.

And then there were his beloved Chicago Cubs, a team he followed closely in the papers and on television. He enjoyed the Rockies as well, sharing season tickets and a game day ritual with friends. It began with lunch or an early dinner at the Chop House (including mashed potatoes!), a walk past “his” brick in front of the stadium and arrival at his Coors Field seat prior to the start of batting practice. When the Rockies played his Cubs, however, there was no question where Jack’s true loyalties lay!

What Is A Vet?

He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day and making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel. He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang. He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back AT ALL. He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.

He is the parade - riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand. He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by. He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep. He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs. He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.

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