Don and Dean in the Philippines

First, a bit of Larson history to help set the stage…

Our tale begins in 1870 in a remote area in northern Denmark, where a young man of 21 years had a vision of moving to a far-away land that resembled his hometown with its lack of mountains, abundance of cold winters, and rural farmland setting.¹  Where better to go than Tescott, Kansas? ²

¹Other reasons for emigrating may include A) not being born the first son (i.e., no inheritance), B) to avoid military conscription, or C) maybe he knew a guy.

²Regarding Tescott:  A) Thomas Eugene Scott, aka T.E. Scott, founded the town in 1886 while herding sheep across the Midwest, B) Stars FILL the sky at night from horizon to horizon – it is beautiful.

While establishing the family farm, the Bank of Tescott and the Tescott Methodist Church, building two houses, learning English and helping other Danes make their way to Kansas, Chris found time to raise a family of  towhead children.  He was 50 years old by the time his eighth child was born.  All the children spoke only English except for a few curse words, which they learned from friends and relatives.  At age 58 Chris succumbed to tuberculosis.

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After Chris Larson died, his wife May and the children kept the farm in good shape.  Ten years later, May married an Irishman with a white mustache and later moved to a nearby town, leaving the Larson home to her oldest living boy, Ralph.

Ralph enjoyed the company of his siblings so much that he found a wife (Neva), who gave him ten silly towheads of his own.  He taught his daughters not to curse and his sons where to curse.  Tescott was now filled with lots of cousins on lots of farms ready to get into lots of trouble.  Ralph was a good role model of trouble having had damaged his spine in a motorcycle accident early in life.  That and falling off the roof while repairing shingles may have led to his early death in 1947.

The six Larson boys had plenty to keep them busy during WWII:  The oldest, Lambert, did electrical work on the atom bomb project, Bob was a flight instructor for the War Training Service, Chris served the Army in the China-Burma-India theater, Don joined the Army Air Corps as a fighter pilot in the Philippines, Dean served as a fighter pilot in the Philippines, and the youngest, Oscar, attended Kansas State College (now KSU) until his father Ralph died and then he took over working the farm.  Of the two daughters who lived to adulthood, the oldest, May, married a Boeing Aircraft worker and the youngest, Trudy, married a fighter pilot who served in the Aleutian Islands.

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And now to the main story…

Donald Lyle Larson was born in Tescott, Kansas on August 28, 1917.  There he grew up, attended school, and excelled in sports.  He shared his brothers’ love of greasy hair products and was good friends with his sister, Trudy.  But his mind seemed to be somewhere else.

In February 1941, at age 23 during his junior year at Kansas Wesleyan in Salina, he enlisted in the Army Air Corps at Ft Riley.  Probably wanting to fly like his older brother, see the world, and feeling that a war with Germany was imminent, Don would surely have plenty of time for a wife and family when he returned to Kansas.  His brothers joined too.

Brother Bob was not in the military, but having had taken flying lessons since 1936 and earning his instructor’s rating and commercial license in 1941, became a flight instructor instead.  He taught several men how to fly but was not given enough time to teach each as well as he would have wanted.  The War Training Service allowed him to teach one pilot to fly and fight reasonably well and the others just enough to be able to follow the leader.  Bob carried this regret his entire life.

Meanwhile, in April 1941, after training as a flying cadet in Glendale, California, Don was sent to Moffett Airfield in Sunnyvale, California for basic flight training and then on to Stockton Field, California for advanced courses.  Upon graduation in September 1941, he was assigned to the 28th Bombardment Squadron at Clark Field, Philippines.

The 28th Aero Squadron was established in 1917 at Camp Kelly, San Antonio, Texas (later Kelly AFB), just after the United States' entry into World War I.  Following the war, the squadron was re-activated and reassigned to Clark Field, Philippine Islands, 60 miles northwest of Manila in 1922.  Reacting to the rising tensions with the Japanese Empire in 1940, the US War Department evaluated the defenses of the Philippines, finding them to be abysmal (Oct 1940 RAINBOW 5 War Plan).  They ordered the Army to reinforce Clark to better defend the islands against possible Japanese aggression.  By early 1941, as part of this effort, the 28th Bombardment Squadron deployed to Clark with new Douglas B-18 Bolos.

The B-18 Bolo’s combat deficiencies were already well known to the Army Air Corps.  In range, in speed, in bomb load, and particularly in defensive armor and armament, the Bolo’s design came up short.  It is a rare example of an aircraft being introduced in to the service that was already obsolete.  Experts conceded that the aircraft was totally unsuited in the long-range bombing role for which it had originally been intended.  To send crews out in such a plane against a well armed, determined foe would have been nothing short of suicidal.  What a great way to enter a war.

Many servicemen reported life at Clark Field as ideal prior to the war.  Along with brief duty hours, the men enjoyed swimming, golf, tennis and social activities.  But in September 1941, things became more serious.  More and varied defense equipment arrived at the base, the men dug foxholes, duty hours were extended, and the 28th Bombardment Squadron joined other squadrons to become the 19th Bomb Group. By December 1941, the 28th, with Don and its B-18 Bolos, was fully operational at Clark Field.

As part of the Pearl Harbor attack on 7 December 1941, the Japanese decided to also direct their bombers from nearby Formosa (now Taiwan) to strike Clark Field and other targets in the Philippines.  But bad weather in Formosa delayed bombers and fighter planes for many hours. That and the international date line made the official attack date 8 December 1941.  Japanese pilots probably could not believe their luck.  The Japanese high command had been convinced that the Americans at Clark Field, having heard the news of Pearl Harbor, would be waiting to repel them.  Instead, everything and everyone on the base was a sitting duck.  Gen MacArthur was the commander-in-chief of the Philippines defenses and he and his subordinates totally misunderstood the situation and what they should do.  This happened in spite of timely guidance and directions from Gen George Marshall in Washington, DC.  (Some speculate that MacArthur actually had a brief nervous breakdown at the time.  He could not believe that a Japanese attack before April 1942 was possible.)

During the raid, most of the 28th squadron's aircraft were demolished in place.  (Apparently the B-18 Bolo was particularly ineffective in combat if it were destroyed on the tarmac.)  Most of the soldiers were eating lunch when the bombers arrived.  Pilots scrambled to their planes, but it was too late.  A second wave of Mitsubishi Zeros followed, machine-gunning the field.  Within a single hour, buildings were leveled, fires were raging and over 200 soldiers were dead or wounded.  With the squadron's aircraft destroyed, the men of the squadron’s ground echelon (including Lt Larson) were immediately pressed into service as ground infantry under V Interceptor Command.  By Christmas Eve of 1941, the 28th had evacuated Clark Field and went to Bataan.  The squadron bivouacked (i.e., remained in a temporary camp without cover) approximately two miles east of Corregidor Island.

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On the Move

Five days later, the 28th received orders to travel to the nearby port of Mariveles.  During its journey to the port, men of the squadron witnessed the Japanese air force attempting to bomb nearby Corregidor.  Arriving at the port, they were instructed to board the inter-island steamer, S.S. Mayon.  About 9:00 p.m. that evening, the ship sailed from the port.  One soldier, Tom Mitzos, made a clever observation about their destination, “The amazing thing about being in the service is that you were never told where you were going. All you could do was guess or accept the rumor that made the most sense. I can safely say that 100% of the time we were wrong in our destination selections.”  They traveled all night, and at daylight anchored off the island of Mindoro in an attempt to avoid enemy naval forces.

However, the area was not a secure sanctuary because a Japanese patrol bomber spotted the S.S. Mayon and attempted to bomb it.  The plane dropped six bombs without making a serious hit on the ship.  At nightfall, the ship once again initiated its journey southward.  The next morning, it anchored in a small cove on the island of Negros for protection.  There was an enormous amount of debris (including life preservers) floating on the water.  It was later learned that the Japanese had sunk the S.S. Mayon’s sister ship, the S.S. Panay during the attack.  That night, the 28th sailed once more and arrived the next morning at the port of Bugo, on the island of Mindanao.

At Bugo, the men of the 28th were issued old WWI British Lee-Enfield rifles fully coated with Cosmoline, a rust preventative.  After cleaning the waxy substance off their rifles, they rested overnight at a small nearby town, Malaybalay.  It began to dawn on the soldiers that they were no longer airmen but rather infantry.  The following day, the men embarked on buses and were transported farther southward by bus to Carmen Ferry on the Pulangi River.  They were now approximately forty miles from the city of Davao, in an area where the Japanese armed forces were entrenched.  The 28th had orders to guard the port area of Carmen Ferry and patrol the Pulangi River.

Knowing that the news of the Philippine invasion would spread quickly, Don found some time to contact his parents.  Ralph and Neva received a cable that he was okay in February 1942.

Months later, on 16 April 1942, the 28th Bomb Squadron was ordered north to Maramag, Mindanao to the planned site of a secret US airfield.  However, this portion of the RAINBOW 5 Plan (the plan to better defend the Philippines) was never implemented due to the inattention of MacArthur’s headquarters and the December 1941 Japanese air strikes.

About two weeks later, on 7 May 1942, the 28th, along with servicemen from other air corps sister units, were ordered to travel to an area in northern Mindanao known as Alanib.  Everyone turned in their rifles and was issued shovels and dry food rations.  Then the entire group started on a 23-kilometer hike to another area in the center of Mindanao named Bosok, an area inaccessible by truck.  The group's assignment was to prepare entrenchments for Filipino troops (guerillas) to guard a back trail that could have permitted the landing of Japanese forces on Mindanao.

The American force was within one kilometer of its destination at Bosok when suddenly they were ambushed by a Japanese patrol.  Apparently the Japanese infiltration had already begun.  Fortunately, there were few casualties during the encounter.  Having only shovels and no weapons, the entire force backtracked toward Alanib while the Japanese patrol pursued them.  Upon arrival at Alanib, the men came across U.S. Army trucks.  Yes!  Regrettably, the drivers of the trucks informed them that all of the Armed Forces in the Philippine Islands had been ordered to surrender as of that day.  Terrific.

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Prisoners of War

So the ground echelon of the 28th surrendered to the Japanese as ordered on 10 May 1942.  Japanese trucks appeared, then loaded and transported the men of the 28th to Maramag and then on to Camp Casisang outside Malaybalay.

The camp had been a training center for the 101st Infantry Regiment of the Philippine Army.  Upon arrival, American and Filipino troops were divided into two separate camps.  In order to serve as a lesson, one afternoon Japanese guards assembled all the prisoners together to witness the execution of two Filipino soldiers captured after escaping from the camp.  The point was made clearly.

Prisoners spent the first few weeks cleaning and repairing the buildings and latrine facilities.  The ‘facilities’ consisted of simple trenches about three feet wide and six to ten feet deep and covered with a wooden platform with holes every five feet.  As the trenches filled, prisoners dug new ones and used the dirt to fill the old ones.

Many soldiers considered the food adequate although certainly reduced from their accustomed rations.  It consisted primarily of rice, beans, canned fish and various greens.  Water was a scarce commodity and the prisoners were limited to one canteen of water per day for all purposes.

Lt Larson remained as prisoners at Camp Casisang for about five months until 18 October 1942, when the camp closed.  The POWs were then transferred to Davao Penal Colony (Philippine Military Prisoner Camp #2).

In terms of food and medicine, conditions at Davao immediately deteriorated with the arrival of Don and 1,000 POWs.  Prisoners starting off in better health were soon reduced by illness, debilitation and lack of proper diet.  Although there was plenty of quinine in camp, 99 percent of the prisoners had malaria.  Their diet consisted of rice for breakfast and small amounts of camotes (i.e., sweet potatoes) for lunch and dinner.  Although rice paddies took up about two-thirds of the area and other parts of the farm produced a variety of tropical fruits and vegetables, prisoners remained hungry because much of the food production was shipped to Japanese garrisons elsewhere in the Philippines. Fortunately, a shipment of Red Cross food packages in February 1943 saved many lives.

Another bonus of Red Cross visits was the distribution of “capture cards,” postcards from soldiers that notified kin of incarceration.  During the first year, April 1942 to April 1943, contrary to the rules of the Geneva Convention, POWs in the Philippine Islands were not allowed to send any mail out of the camps.  The last letter Don’s parents received about his whereabouts arrived in Kansas on 25 April 1942.  Two soldiers sent word that Don was at Carmen Ferry on the island of Mindanao.  Ralph and Neva had to wait over a year to finally see their son’s handwriting.  On 6 September 1943, they received his capture card from Davao Penal Colony.  Don noted that he was well and getting plenty of exercise.  Boy, was he.

Men and officers were assigned various work details such as lumbering, planting rice, plowing, collecting fruits, coffee and other crops, as well as making repairs and building defense works.  Since 29 February 1944, some prisoners (650 officers and enlistees) had worked on building a nearby Japanese airfield at Lasang.  Another 100 had similarly worked on another airfield south of Davao City.  Don helped to build one of these airfields.  However the enterprise was not hugely successful, as daily air raids by USAAF bombers (B-17Es) continued to undo any progress they were making in the construction.  POWs cheered whenever the bombing raids came.  A large USAAF attack on 10 August drove the Japanese to take action.  It was time to get the POWs and themselves out of the war zone.

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Hell aboard Hellships

So on 19 August 1944, the Japanese marched 750 POWs (most from Davao), for six hours, with no food or water, shoeless, and tied together at the waist, to a pier to wait to be shuttled out to an old large ship anchored off shore.  The dilapidated ship had no name on it but rather had just the number “86” painted on each side of the hull (it would later be identified as the Tateishi Maru, a Japanese Army transport ship).

The men crowded into the foul and steamy cargo holds of the ship so tightly that the only way they could make enough room for everyone was by sitting down in between each other's legs.  They also had to sleep this way, by taking turns and supporting each other.  The POWs set sail from Lasang in Davao Gulf on 20 August 1944.  The ship took a very circuitous and zigzagging route in part to confuse US Navy Intelligence about where they were going and also to avoid USAAF bombing attacks, so they did not arrive at their interim destination, Zamboanga, until late in the afternoon of 5 September 1944.  It had been a most unpleasant and arduous voyage.  There, they remained aboard for two more days.

The men had suffered deplorable conditions on the ship.  Their rations never exceeded more than four or five tablespoons of water or rice each day.  They were so thirsty that many prisoners tried to trade their ration of rice for a ration of water, but it was never accepted.  Even more devastating was the lack of air.  Each time the freighter came under attack, guards covered the holds with heavy canvas tarps, sealing each compartment and suffocating the men.  The removal of the tarp revived most of the prisoners, but it took time for all to completely recover.

Zamboanga Harbor under attack by 5th Air Force

Each day, B-25 bombers of the 5th Air Force bombed the harbor at Zamboanga City, but never hit their ship.  This photo, taken on 28 October 1944, shows the harbor where Ship 86 had docked.  However, the prisoners had no idea of where they were until several POWs, who went topside to empty latrine cans, returned to tell them.  “By this time the men were all very dirty, [and] many suffering from heat rash and frequent blackouts," recalled 1st Lt John Morrett.  “The Japanese allowed the men up on the deck to run twice through a hose sprinkling salt water.”  Morrett continued, “It was hardly a bath but helped considerably.”

At about the same time, Japanese soldiers had also arrived at Zamboanga aboard Shinyo Maru.  Then the POWs were ordered to transfer to the Shinyo Maru, which had tied up alongside the “86.”  These Japanese soldiers oversaw US prisoners’ transfer to the Shinyo Maru, and then the soldiers themselves boarded the "86," all during a violently heavy thunderstorm.  This shuffling was done in order to deceive the local guerrillas, who had been monitoring and then informing the US intelligence of the Japanese vessels' movement.

Originally built as the Clan MacKay in Glasgow, Scotland in 1894 and eventually sold to Greece in 1937, the 312 foot long, 2,600 ton Shinyo Maru was an antiquated freighter pressed into Japanese service after its capture at Shanghai in 1941.

Approximately 250 POWs were assigned the forward hold, and 500 to the aft hold.  The Japanese were in the process of organizing a convoy (C-076), including Shinyo Maru, No. 2 Eiyo Maru (a tanker), and three other ships.  Auxiliary gunboat Kiso Maru and sub-chaser No. 55 in turn would escort these five ships.  The convoy departed Zamboanga on 7 September and began steaming along the west coast of Mindanao Island.

Earlier, on 14 August 1944, American intelligence intercepted a Japanese message noting that Shinyo Maru was to unload the rice and cement currently in her holds at Zamboanga, Mindanao and unload the remaining goods at Manila, Luzon, both in the Philippine Islands.  As further messages were decoded, the Americans followed Shinyo Maru's movements as she sailed in Philippine waters.  A message intercepted at 0200 hours on 7 September noted that she was to sail that morning as part of convoy C-076 to Manila with "750 troops" on board.

Intelligence failure, as later revealed in December 1944, led to an disastrous incident for the Americans:  the "750 troops" were in fact “750 American troop POWs,” who had been used as forced laborers at several Japanese Prison camps.  They had been packed into the cargo holds of Shinyo Maru for several weeks, suffering in the hot and dark holds and given only few opportunities topside.

At 1637 hours (4:37 p.m.) on 7 September, US Navy submarine, USS Paddle, sighted the convoy off Sindangan Point, about 100 nautical miles northeast of Zamboanga.  At 1651, USS Paddle fired four torpedoes at Eiyo Maru, and two torpedoes at Shinyo Maru.  Eiyo Maru changed course and ran herself aground in shallow water off Sindangan Point.  Shinyo Maru was hit and blew apart.

Aboard Shinyo Maru, the hatches were torn off with an explosion, and the guards began killing the POWs by throwing hand grenades into the holds and strafing the machine guns.  They heard a big explosion, saw a flash, and everything turned orange-red.  But it was not certain whether the torpedo or grenade exploded first.  The first torpedo stuck forward of the bridge and the next hit between the after hold and the rear super-structure and exploded.  Probably an explosion of the boiler split the stern section apart, and within a few seconds, 500 men were under the water surface.

An intercepted message dated 10 September 1944 gave US Intelligence the confirmation that 150 Japanese Army personnel were killed from this sinking, but at the same time, the sudden influx of American POWs arriving on the beaches of Mindanao and received by local resistance fighters hinted that Shinyo Maru might had been carrying US troops.  Lieutenant Commander E. H. Nowell, commanding officer of USS Paddle, later noted that his attack was "…probably the attack in which U.S. POWs were killed or had swum ashore."  Further analysis on the sinking of Shinyo Maru concluded that she was indeed carrying 750 American POWs at the time, of which 688 perished.

Out of Don’s 28th Bombardment Squadron, 293 airmen and 22 officers were killed and only 17 airmen and 3 officers survived.  Most died in the explosion or drowned in the ship.  Nearly all of those who escaped the ship's sinking were either shot by the guards or drowned on their way to shore.  About 30 POWs who swam to near Eiyo Maru were rescued, but they were all shot that night.  One POW, however, hid in the anchor bay, climbed down the anchor chain, and swam to the shore.

The following morning, Filipino civilians found the wreckage and bodies of POWs on the beach.  They searched along the beach and rescued 82 POWs (one died later on).  The remaining 81 were taken to guerrilla hideouts.  They contacted Australia by radio, and on the night of 29 September, the submarine USS Narwhal surfaced in Sindangan Bay, successfully rescuing all remaining POWs.

On 28 October 1944, the War Department notified Ralph and Neva that their son was “one of the passengers on a Japanese freighter that was destroyed at sea.”  But without definite information, they did not change his prisoner-of-war status.  Confirmation instead came on 19 February 1945 when the War Department announced that 2nd Lt Donald Lyle Larson was listed as “lost when the sinking occurred.”

Less than five years after enlisting, Don was killed in action.  Exactly six months later and six hundred miles north, Don’s brother would join him on the list of those killed in action.

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Dean DeWitt Larson
 

Unlike Don, Dean started his family before getting drafted and going off to war.  Born in 1920 and three years Don’s junior, Dean married at age 20 and by age 23 had earned his silver wings as a 2nd Lieutenant after completing his Advanced 2-Engine flight training course at La Junta Army Air Field, Colorado. He had graduated from being an Aviation Cadet flying the AT-24 airplane (a modified version of the B-25 medium bomber). Then it was on to specialized operational training.

In the fall of 1944, Dean had completed his flight training program and had received orders to travel to the Pacific theatre of war.  These treks could be very time consuming.  He would likely have taken a train to San Francisco and then ship out on a multi-week voyage to the war zone.  The route could easily consume a month or so, and like other soldiers in the war, he probably did not know his final destination while sailing across the Pacific.

Dean had orders to join the 312th Bombardment Group, the Roarin' A-20s, flying the Douglas A-20 Havoc light bomber (see clever insignia above).  Unlike other bombers that had a co-pilot, navigator and bombardier, the A-20 was crewed by a single pilot and one or two gunners.

In 1943, the 312th Bombardment Group began operations in New Guinea, flying patrol and escort missions with P-40s, but by February 1944 they transitioned to A-20s.  Until November 1944, they primarily attacked airfields, troop concentrations, gun positions, bridges, and warehouses on the northern and western coasts of New Guinea, and they also supported amphibious operations on that island and in Palau.  In November 1944, the 312th initiated a progression of moves to several airfields in the Philippines, as Gen MacArthur's "island campaign" had recently shifted focus to the Philippines and away from New Guinea.  The 312th would then provide support for US ground troops by striking Japanese airfields and transportation facilities in the Philippines.

Dean arrived soon after the Philippines mission began.  However, it may be that his ship actually arrived at the unit's old home base in Hollandia, New Guinea, because the 312th's move to the Philippines was a bit chaotic.  Nevertheless, Lt Larson joined up with his unit in the Philippines on 24 December 1944 and went into battle immediately.

In his book, Wreaking Havoc:  A Year in an A-20, Joseph Rutter wrote, "The great majority of the 312th Bomb Group's missions were low-level bombing and strafing jobs.  We flew to and from the target at low altitude - between one thousand and two thousand feet - unless adverse weather conditions dictated otherwise.  Much of the flying was over water and jungle areas that posed no threat from enemy ground fire and our low altitude precluded enemy fighter attacks from below.  For these reasons, the regular 312th crews consisted of just the pilot and top-turret gunner."

But as the pilots flew at treetop level looking around for airfields, installations and targets of opportunity, they would sometimes come across haystacks in the middle of fields.  They looked perfectly harmless until flames erupted from the antiaircraft guns camouflaged by the haystacks.  One pilot reported the Japanese positioning gunners in church bell towers as well.

During Dean's time in theatre, the 312th Bombardment Group operated from three different airfields on three Philippine islands: (1) Tanauan Airfield on the island of Leyte, (2) San Jose Airfield on the island of Mindoro, and (3) Mangaldan Airfield on the island of Luzon.

The map below contrasts assignments of the two Larson brothers (Don in blue, Dean in yellow).  Although they were not in the Philippines at the same time, their separate paths overlapped. 

While stationed at Tanauan Airfield, on 7 January 1945, the 312th took part in the largest light and medium bomber raid yet seen in the South West Pacific, contributing 80 aircraft to an attack on none other than Clark Field (then held by the Japanese).

How ironic that brother Don was initially assigned to Clark but was forced to abandon the airfield when Japanese bombers attacked at the outbreak of the war in the Pacific.  This was similar to that original attack by the Japanese, the American raid came in two waves: Twenty A-20s from the 312th attacked in an initial low-level strafing and bombing run, followed by a second wave of sixty aircraft.

This mission highlighted the urgent need to move US airfields northward, because, as the Japanese forces rapidly retreated, Americans in their A-20s had to fly long distances to reach the island of Luzon.

Within weeks, the 312th moved their operations north to San Jose Airfield on the island of Mindoro, staying only until their next base was ready.  (Recall that brother Don anchored off Mindoro during his escape voyage to Mindanao on the SS Mayon in early 1942.)

In February 1945, the group finally moved onto the main island of Luzon, to the crowded airfield at Mangaldan.  The base supported fighter and bomber aircraft as well as a Marine unit.

The 312th, along with other units then provided air support for the Battle for Manila (3 Feb - 3 March 1945).  On 1 March 1945, 18 Japanese Betty bombers attacked Mangaldan, dropping nine tons of bombs, starting six fires, and large explosions.  Damage was considerable.  A second airstrike occurred the next day too.

Then on 7 March 1945, only ten weeks following his arrival in the Philippines, Lt Dean Larson died in a strafing mission when his plane crashed near Lake Taal (Lipa airfield), on the southwest part of Luzon, Philippines on 7 March 1945.  Along with a Purple Heart, Dean’s wife Lola received a letter from the 312th BG's new commanding officer, Lt Col Selmon “Jim” Wells:

It is with my deepest sympathy that I write you of the death of your husband, Dean, in an airplane crash March 7.  Dean was flying on a combat mission near Lipa, which is on the island of Luzon.  During the low-level attack on the enemy positions, another plane collided with one in which Dean was flying.  Both planes crashed and the crews were killed instantly.  As our ground troops move into the area, they will undoubtedly notify us as to whether they were able to recover the bodies and where they were buried.  As soon as we receive word, I will notify you.

I know that this has been a tragic blow to you and we share your personal loss in every possible way.  Dean was an outstanding officer in every respect, performing his duties in an excellent manner, and always eager to do more than his share of combat flying.  He was extremely well liked by both officers and men and had made many good friends in his squadron.  You may well be proud of the splendid record Dean has left behind and of the courageous manner in which he has fought and died for his country.

I send you the deep and sincere sympathy of every officer and man in the group.  If there is any way in which I may be of help to you I hope that you will write us.

(Wells was later promoted to Major General, having logged over 12,000 hours of flying time as a command pilot with over 700 hours of combat time and hundreds of missions in three wars.)

Lt Larson’s body arrived from overseas and his funeral was held in October.  Lola, who had given birth to their second child in July just a few months after Dean's death, was devastated.

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Letter from Don Larson

Glendale, California

April 5, 1941

Dear Mrs. Stirn:

I’m very sorry I haven’t gotten around to writing you to thank you for the handkerchiefs you left for me before I departed for California.  Though I am very late in doing it, I hope you will accept my thanks for them now.

This life of a flying cadet in the Army Air corps is no easy one.  We have to get up at 5:10 every morning, dress in five minutes and stand Reveille at 5:15.  We then have thirty minutes to shave, clean up, make our bunks, dust, and sweep the floor around our lockers.  We eat breakfast at 5:50.  After breakfast we get our flying equipment and report on the flight line at 6:45.  We fly until 11:45 and then come back to the post for chow at 12.  We then go to ground school 1 o’clock until 5.  Our courses in ground school consist of mathematics, navigation, maps, Meteorology, aircraft structure and maintenance, theory of flight and engines.  After ground school is over we report back to the post and dress in our uniforms for dinner at 6.  We have “quiet hour” at 8:30 and light-outs at 9:30.  After dinner our time is our own until lights-out, but we are not allowed to leave the post.  Most of the boys spend their evening by studying or writing letters.

The only time we have open post is on the weekends.  We are then allowed to leave from Saturday noon until Sunday evening at 8 o’clock.  Most of us go into Los Angeles for the weekend to relax and forget about flying for the time being.

The most common method of punishment they have here is by the “gig system or ramp duty.”  Every time we don’t have our bunk made up just so, or if they find a little dust on our mirror we are fined two “gigs.”  At the end of the week if we have over 5 “gigs” we are confined to the post for the weekend.  For every “gig” over 8 during one week we are to walk the ramp one hour, also if we made a mistake on our “flight form” which we fill out after every flight we make, we also get an hour of ramp duty.  I have been lucky so far.  I haven’t been “gigged in” for a weekend or had to do any ramp duty.

From the sound of my letter so far you would think that this is a bad place to be, but on the contrary it is really a swell place and I love the work.  Our post is what used to be a ritzy nightclub.  It is a very nice Spanish built building with a nice lawn and palm trees around it.

We have a large recreation room with a ping pong table and other games in it.  In back we have a swimming pool, volleyball and tennis court.  The Los Angeles River runs right across the corner of the post.  On the other side is the Grand Central Air Terminal, which we operate from.  It is a very large flying field with 4,000-foot mountains on two sides.

The Royal Air Force has a base here where they are training American boys for the Great Britain Air Force.  Nine of their boys left here for England last week.

This field was the starting point for all the National Cross Country Air Races several years ago.  The Curtis-Wright Technical Institute is also situated here.  It is one of the largest aircraft schools in the United States for training aircraft workers.  Wallace Beery has a plane he keeps in the hangar next to ours.  He took off the other day just ahead of me.  Edgar Bergen also has a ship here with a picture of Charlie McCarthy painted on the side of it.

Our course of training here consists of 60 hours.  I now have 33 hours.  Most of the boys here in my class are from Kansas.  From here go to basic training, probably either at Moffat Field at San Francisco or Randolph Field, Texas.  My instructor is the flight commander of our outfit.  He is a corky little fellow from Nebraska and best pilot I ever saw.  I sure get along swell with him.  He promised me that as soon as I got my chandelles and lazy eights down a little better he would give me a full course in acrobatics.  I have already had stalls, tailspins, loops, chandelles and snap rolls.  He used to teach acrobatics at Randolph Field.

Mom and I was grieved to learn of the death of Mr. Stirn.  I wish to extend my greatest regrets and sympathy.  It does seem like a very cruel world sometimes but I think most all of us can take on the chin all it has to dish out and still not stay down.

How is everything in Tescott?  I hope all the boys haven’t been taken by the draft yet.

With Best Regards,

Don Larson