“Recognized today as post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD, during the Second World War, some made light of the condition or viewed it as a sign of weakness.” 

By Rona Simmons

WHEN AMERICA entered the Second World War, thousands of young men jumped at the chance to fly for their country. The volunteers for the U.S. Army Air Corps had grown up in the long shadows of World War One aces, the barnstormers and stunt fliers of the 1920s, and daredevils like Charles Lindbergh whose solo flight across the Atlantic in his single-engine monoplane, Spirit of St. Louis, captured the public’s imagination. Even in 1941, aviation was still seen as a glamorous, exciting and dangerous adventure.

And then there were the movies with Hollywood’s portrayal of the conflicted and tormented wartime flyer. One of the earliest films about wartime flying was Howard Hughes’ 1930 production Hell’s Angels. Famous for its stunningly realistic First World War dogfight sequences, it portrayed a love triangle between two Royal Flying Corps (RFC) pilots and the beautiful Helen, played by blonde bombshell Jean Harlow. The Dawn Patrol, released that same year, painted a more realistic portrait of the war and what it meant to fly in combat. It dealt openly with how pilots, again from the RFC, turned to nights of heavy drinking to manage the stress of combat. Yet none of this seemed to diminish the enthusiasm of the young recruits.

Tens of thousands of men served during the Second World War as pilots or crew on Army Air Corps bombers. Of the Eighth Air Force’s renowned 100th Bomb Group and its 4,700 airmen, nearly 60 per cent (2,700) completed their required missions and returned home without fanfare, took off their uniforms and moved on with their lives. Another 20 per cent (1,000) were shot down and captured, serving out the war in prisoner-of-war camps. A total of 17 per cent (800) were killed in action. The rest, three per cent (160), a small but not insignificant number of men, did not or could not finish their tours of duty. They were transferred from their roles on aircrews or otherwise removed from flying status, with an “XFR” or “RFS” respectively, on their records.

Some were removed from action because of physical injuries, whether the result of combat or an accident on the ground. Lt. Albert Wynkoop, for example, a copilot with the Group’s 350th Bomb Squadron, suffered a ruptured eardrum on his second mission. He was removed from flying status and returned to the U.S. for treatment. And John Devich, a tech sergeant and top turret gunner also with the 350th, was riding his bicycle one evening at the Eighth’s Thorpe Abbotts air station when he crashed into a ditch and broke his arm.

Also, not uncommon or unexpected, some airmen complained of debilitating ailments while flying, including chronic cases of headaches, dizziness, nausea or apoxia (altitude sickness). The station’s medical staff might easily diagnose these common conditions; other ailments defied clinical diagnosis. These were often deemed “nervous conditions.”

The men had their own terms for them. “Flak happy” was one, as were “Focke-Wulf jitters,” “shell shock” and “battle fatigue.” Recognized today as post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD, during the Second World War, some made light of the condition or viewed it as a sign of weakness. Many claimed it could not happen to them and referred derisively to the rest homes where exhausted aircrews were sent for time away from the battle as “flak houses.”

The stress of flying day after day into the face of the Luftwaffe and through skies black with flak was too much for those suffering from PTSD — whether officers or enlisted men. Some went willingly to ground crew assignments or administrative positions, some filed protests.

And some looked in vain for support from their fellow crewmen, men who had flown beside them and might have witnessed a decline in their proficiencies or their enthusiasm. Indeed, those who suffered often lost weight, suffered sleepless nights or became sullen and withdrawn. While it was easy for many to write these men off as cowards or shirkers, and somehow less honorable than those who struggled through, most were little more than boys, some were still in their teens. Yet what we asked of them was unfathomable.

After the war, many airmen carried the RFS designations with them, allowing it to eat away at them for weeks, months, and for some a lifetime. Fortunately, most recovered, some remaining in the military for the rest of their careers. A number even returned to the skies.

Now, 80 years after the war, with projects like the Library of Congress’ Veterans History Project, veterans are finding a multitude of opportunities to tell their stories and to remember the men with whom they served.

Lt. Robert Wegrzynek, a pilot with the 350th Bomb Squadron, was removed from flying status after 10 missions. He died in 2001, but a former fellow pilot, Lt. Charles Gutekunst, remembered Wegrzynek in an interview with the Veterans History Project.

Gutekunst commented that Wegrzynek was “an outstanding leader and exceptional pilot.”

The tribute is echoed in telephone interviews in the late 1990s of crew-members of former Lt. Harry Bethea, a pilot with the 418th Bomb Squadron. They honored his memory by remembering his skills as a pilot and refusing to say anything about the circumstances in which Bethea was removed from flying status. Instead, they returned again and again to say only “he went home early.”

Although Wegrzynek and Bethea and the others who were removed from flying status might not have forgiven themselves, their band of brothers did. They rallied around them and remembered the best of both. So, it behooves us all to take another look at the men standing behind the hero on the screen or in a book’s pages and recognize them for their contribution.

About the Author — Rona Simmons is the author of the upcoming book A Gathering of Men, a novel about a B-17 pilot who is removed from flying status during the Second World War. She is Georgia-based writer who specializes in historical fiction. Her website is www.ronasimmons.com. She can also be found on Facebook (ronasimmons.author), Twitter (@rona_simmons) or on LinkedIn (rona-simmons). A Gathering of Men will be available for order in February, 2022.

Sources

Aircrew interviews by Harry E. Bethea and Rona Simmons, 1990.

American Air Museum in Britain, https://www.americanairmuseum.com/media

LeStrange, Richard. Century Bombers: The Story of the Bloody Hundredth. Diss, Norfolk: 100th Bomb Group Memorial Museum, 1997.

Craven, Wesley Frank, and James Lea Cates, eds. Men in Planes. The Army Air Forces in World War II. Washington, DC: United States Air Force, 1983.

Miller, Donald L. Masters of the Air: America’s Bomber Boys Who Fought the Air War Against Nazi Germany. New York City, NY: Simon and Schuster, 2007.

The 100th Bomb Group Foundation. https://100thbg.com.

Veterans History Project. https://www.loc.gov/vets.