Boyce B. Willis (Bill Willis) and his wife nicknamed "Dippy" were neighbors of ours in El Paso, Texas during WWII. Bill was stationed at Biggs Army Air Field in El Paso, Texas. He was a B-24 Tail Gunner, a combat veteran of many missions including the bombing of the Ploesti Oil Fields in Romania.
I was just a child 4-5 years old and Bill became my "hero". He took me to one of his formations at Biggs Field and took me out to the flight line & lifted me up into a B-24 and into the top turret gunner position one time. I remember how everything was cold, hard steel; the seat, a ring around gun and turret and how short I was that I couldn't see out through the turret.
In the formation when we were seated on a long bench beside a huge airplane hanger, Bill introduced me to one of his Army Air Force buddies and told me he was a real, live Indian. I recall them laughing when I asked his "Indian" friend "where is your bow and arrow."
Bill suffered from what we then called "shell shock" or "combat fatigue." Bill would often "nap" on our sofa when he and Dippy would come over and socialize with my parents. Many times he would have nighmares/flasbacks of his combat experiences and talk in his sleep. On a couple of occasions, I remember after playing in another room and popping my cap pistol while on the floor, being rushed by a wild-eyed Bill who was in turn being held back by my parents and Dippy. Bill, during his flashback naps while talking out loud, would often cry out to one of his B-24 crewmates who apparently had been mortally wounded during one of their missions. His crewmate's first name was "Gandy."
Bill was a real, genuine, tobacco-chewing Texas Cowboy and in my quest to imitate him, I'd sneak some of his DaysWork tobacco. Instead, Bill took me outside and stripped some bark of an old cedar tree and taught me how to chew that. He promised me that when I turned 16 years old, he'd buy me a whole case of chewing tobacco. I remembered that promise, but it didn't materialize on my 16th birthday, yet I wasn't disappointed.
Bill took me to the Plaza Theater in El Paso to see a couple of war movies when I was only 4 or 5 years old. As I recall, the movies were named "God is My Co-Pilot" and "On a Wing and a Prayer."
Once, after an inspection and formation at Biggs, Bill drove over to my dad's employment, where dad worked as a Mechanic, the 5 Points Garage in El Paso. Together, Bill in his uniform with all of his medals attached, crossed the street to 5 Points Bowling Alley, for a coffee break. As often was the case during WWII, MP's were walking their beats around town, and two of them approached Bill and said "Sergeant, you've sure got a lot of medals on your uniform." Bill replied, "yes, I sure do." One of them asked him, "Do you have orders for them?" and Bill replied in the affirmative and the MP asked him to show him the orders. Bill told the MP that the orders were not on his person, but that they were at home. Then the MP told Bill, "Then sergeant, take the medals off your uniform to which Bill responded by beginning to unbutton his Ike jacket, as if getting ready to fight, and telling the MP: "Soldier, if these medals come off, they'll come off the same way they went on, and that's the hard way" at which the MP backed off and said "Oh, that's ok sarge, we believe you."
When the first Atomic bomb was tested at Trinity Site in New Mexico, we felt the blast in El Paso and Bill and Dippy joined the rest of the tenants on the front porch of the apartment building we lived in. I remember Bill stating he believed the government had just tested a "secret weapon" and continued to maintain that believe the next day when the El Paso newspapers were claiming that an ammunition dump had exploded at Fort Bliss.
When I was about 10 years old, several years after WWII ended, we visited Bill and Dippy in or around Brady, Texas, where Bill worked as Texas Game Warden. Later on, my understanding was that Bill had become a Butcher in San Antonio. Shortly after Bill passed away in 2006, I located Dippy via the internet and we spoke briefly. She died soon thereafter, in 2008.
I was just a child 4-5 years old and Bill became my "hero". He took me to one of his formations at Biggs Field and took me out to the flight line & lifted me up into a B-24 and into the top turret gunner position one time. I remember how everything was cold, hard steel; the seat, a ring around gun and turret and how short I was that I couldn't see out through the turret.
In the formation when we were seated on a long bench beside a huge airplane hanger, Bill introduced me to one of his Army Air Force buddies and told me he was a real, live Indian. I recall them laughing when I asked his "Indian" friend "where is your bow and arrow."
Bill suffered from what we then called "shell shock" or "combat fatigue." Bill would often "nap" on our sofa when he and Dippy would come over and socialize with my parents. Many times he would have nighmares/flasbacks of his combat experiences and talk in his sleep. On a couple of occasions, I remember after playing in another room and popping my cap pistol while on the floor, being rushed by a wild-eyed Bill who was in turn being held back by my parents and Dippy. Bill, during his flashback naps while talking out loud, would often cry out to one of his B-24 crewmates who apparently had been mortally wounded during one of their missions. His crewmate's first name was "Gandy."
Bill was a real, genuine, tobacco-chewing Texas Cowboy and in my quest to imitate him, I'd sneak some of his DaysWork tobacco. Instead, Bill took me outside and stripped some bark of an old cedar tree and taught me how to chew that. He promised me that when I turned 16 years old, he'd buy me a whole case of chewing tobacco. I remembered that promise, but it didn't materialize on my 16th birthday, yet I wasn't disappointed.
Bill took me to the Plaza Theater in El Paso to see a couple of war movies when I was only 4 or 5 years old. As I recall, the movies were named "God is My Co-Pilot" and "On a Wing and a Prayer."
Once, after an inspection and formation at Biggs, Bill drove over to my dad's employment, where dad worked as a Mechanic, the 5 Points Garage in El Paso. Together, Bill in his uniform with all of his medals attached, crossed the street to 5 Points Bowling Alley, for a coffee break. As often was the case during WWII, MP's were walking their beats around town, and two of them approached Bill and said "Sergeant, you've sure got a lot of medals on your uniform." Bill replied, "yes, I sure do." One of them asked him, "Do you have orders for them?" and Bill replied in the affirmative and the MP asked him to show him the orders. Bill told the MP that the orders were not on his person, but that they were at home. Then the MP told Bill, "Then sergeant, take the medals off your uniform to which Bill responded by beginning to unbutton his Ike jacket, as if getting ready to fight, and telling the MP: "Soldier, if these medals come off, they'll come off the same way they went on, and that's the hard way" at which the MP backed off and said "Oh, that's ok sarge, we believe you."
When the first Atomic bomb was tested at Trinity Site in New Mexico, we felt the blast in El Paso and Bill and Dippy joined the rest of the tenants on the front porch of the apartment building we lived in. I remember Bill stating he believed the government had just tested a "secret weapon" and continued to maintain that believe the next day when the El Paso newspapers were claiming that an ammunition dump had exploded at Fort Bliss.
When I was about 10 years old, several years after WWII ended, we visited Bill and Dippy in or around Brady, Texas, where Bill worked as Texas Game Warden. Later on, my understanding was that Bill had become a Butcher in San Antonio. Shortly after Bill passed away in 2006, I located Dippy via the internet and we spoke briefly. She died soon thereafter, in 2008.
