In Remembering Rose, Book 1 of my Mapleby Trilogy, the heroine, Rachel, learns about the cares and troubles of previous generations as she travels back through time. I did much the same last week and it has made me feel very humble.
On Apple TV at the moment there is a new mini series series being streamed. Based on the non-fiction book by Donald L Miller (always mention the writer!!!) Masters of the Air is based on the true story of America's 8th Air Force's 100th Bomb Group during World War 2. From 1943 to 1945 these young American soldiers, nicknamed the 'Bloody Hundred' on account of their immense losses, flew more than 8,500 missions over 22 months, losing 757 men, with 900 more becoming prisoners of war. Tom Hanks, who is an executive producer alongside Steven Speilberg and Gary Goetzman, insisted the story be told as it happened, with nothing made up. So every plane blown up, every pilot, gunner and navigator killed is a true account of the horror these men lived through. Of course there are the happier bits too, the friendships made, the acts of unbelievable bravery and loyalty, but despite this I could only watch one episode at a time instead of our normal back-to-back streaming.
The reason I felt like this, however, is not because of the actual story, although that is hard enough to watch, but because these brave airmen were stationed at Bomber Command in East Anglia in the UK, and that is where my parents were, and where they met and married.
The Americans flew the Boeing B17 Flying Fortress while the Brits flew Lancaster Bombers. My father, who was in his thirties, was a sergeant responsible for loading bombs onto the Lancasters, while my mother, as a young WAAF (Women's Auxiliary Air Force) was a driver. Her job was to take the pilots and their crews to the airfield for their bombing raids, and then return to collect them, always wondering how many planes would actually return. This tension is very well portrayed in the series.
What really got me, however, is remembering that my mother was only 19 when she joined the WAAF and learned to drive those unwieldy canvas covered army trucks that were such an ubiquitous sight on British roads when I was a child. She had 2 week's intensive driving instruction and then was out there on her own. Unlike the American's daytime raids portrayed in the series, the British bombers flew at night, so she had to negotiate country lanes with no signposts and tiny pinprick headlights because of the blackout rules. I remember, too, that my Father had a deformed finger where one of the bombs had slipped as it was being loaded.
When I was about 7 years old my parents returned to visit friends in the area and, while we were there, revisited the airfield, which by then was a waste of abandoned Nissen huts with a solitary caretaker. I can still remember walking down the cracked runway with grass sprouting through it so the visit must have made quite an impression. Of course I had no idea what memories it brought back to my parents, how many wasted lives they must have remembered while they were there.
Watching the series and remembering my life from 19 through to my early 20s, and remembering my children's lives, and the life my 18 and 21 year old granddaughters are enjoying today, I realise how much we owe to those brave young airmen and the ground crews who supported them, and how very, very lucky we are. Unlike so many war films, Masters of the Air is true, and I wish it could be mandatory watching although obviously that is not possible! My parents' reminiscences, including their memories of meeting the American pilots, was little more than a story from my childhood until, thanks to this TV series, I saw what they and countless others actually lived through and came out the other side still smiling. It is truly humbling.
