Aerial View Of Pratt Army Air Field - 1943

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New Signs At B-29 Memorial

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Bomb Groups Who Served

B-29 Info

Pratt Army Air Field 1943 Drawing

Go see these new signs honoring those who served at the Pratt Army Air Field in WW II.

Be There!

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Where: Pratt Airport - All Veterans Memorial
When: May 26th 2:00 P.M.
What: Special Tribute To George T. Chandler Including P-51 Flyover
Why: To Honor All Who Served

The Most Beautiful Sight In All The World

Caption: Capt Chandler's Aviation Cadet Graduation Picture 1942
This article was published in USAF Weapons Review Winter 2007 Issue:
Capt George Chandler
USAF retired
World War II Ace

Editor's Note: On 1 November 1943 the US 3rd Marine Division landed at Cape Torokina in Empress Augusta Bay on the island of Bougainville. The Allied landings were among the first actions in the Bougainville campaign of World War II—part of a broader Allied strategy aimed at isolating and surrounding the major Japanese base at Rabaul. The intent was to establish a beachhead on Bougainville, upon which an airfield could be built. Following the Allied landing, constant fighter cover was needed to protect the Allied invasion fleet and beachhead from attacks by the Japanese launched from Rabaul. On the 8th of November, Capt George Chandler was flying top cover in his P-38H named 'Barbara Ann IV'. While supporting the Marines, he engaged and killed two Japanese Zeros on a single pass. Captain Chandler finished the war as an Ace with five kills. On 28 Sep 2007, he was inducted into the American Combat Airman Hall of Fame. Capt Chandler's historic moment was captured in a painting by Roy Grinnell which was featured on the cover of the Fall 2007 edition of the USAF Weapons Review. Here is Captain Chandler's story in his own words.

“Cape Torokina and Empress Augusta Bay were so far from our staging base at Munda that we could not respond to attacks the Japanese launched against the invasion fleet and beachhead from Rabaul. We had to be there, on patrol, constantly.

The 339th Fighter Squadron was the only unit in the 13th Air Force equipped with P-38s at the time—the P-38Hs. The other Air Force squadrons were all equipped with P-39s or P-40s. So, it was our responsibility to provide the high cover. The squadron's mission was to maintain eight P-38s on high cover above the beachhead from the earliest light of dawn until after it was dark. Both the 70th Fighter Squadron of the 347th Group and the 44th Fighter Squadron of the 18th Fighter Group—each flying P-40s—were to have eight of its planes flying middle cover at all times. There were Marine and Navy squadrons involved also. We could see them in the sky, but we did not have good communications with them, so we were running out show and they were running theirs. Maybe there was liaison at higher command levels, but who was going to be there didn't filter down to the level of the pilots.

The squadron's code name at the time was Greyhound. On November 8, 1943, I was leading one of the flights, Greyhound-2. Major Hank Lawrence, the squadron commander, was Greyhound-1. Together, our two flights were assigned to take the first and third missions of the day.

Our first launches took place out of Munda at 0400, so we had to get up at about 0230. We had to climb out of Munda in the dark to be over the beachhead about 30 minutes before first light. When we got there, we just settled in at about 23 000 ft and flew great big circles with the power pulled way back. We just sipped away at our two 165-gallon belly tanks.

The P-38s didn't have good heaters and it was bitter cold up there. On the other hand, even at 0400, it was so hot on the ground that we couldn't stand to take off in fleece-lined jackets or fleece-lined flying boots. About the most anyone could stand to put on was a sweater. We took fleece-lined boots with us in the cockpit, but not the heavy jackets. We'd just shiver and shake while flying those big circles up there over Empress Augusta Bay.

The next rotation of eight P-38s had to be there before the first two flights could leave. Travel time was about 45 minutes from the patrol station to Munda. That added up to very long missions, over 5 hours apiece. After our early mission stormed back down to Munda, everyone headed for the outhouse and then grabbed something to eat. In the meantime, our airplanes were being refueled and readied for the later-afternoon mission.

The ground crews were doing everything they could to keep us on schedule for the third mission, but something happened during the second morning mission and our third mission had to depart early. When it came time to go, I hadn't been able to get all four of my airplanes fueled yet. Hank Lawrence's flight was ready to go. Hank and I were standing there, watching the fueling, looking at the clock, and Hank finally said, “I gotta go.” I told him, “I'll be up there just as soon as I can get there. I'll come storming up there. I might use extra fuel getting to you, but I'll be there.”

Greyhound-1 flight left, and I continued to stand over the ground crews. I had all three of my pilots standing on the wings of their P-38s, helping the two fueling trucks by managing extra hoses. We could fuel the tanks in one wing with the pilot handling the nozzle; one of the ground crewmen on the other wing filling those tanks; and the second ground crewman at the truck, managing the controls. The airplanes were not close enough together for talk, and there was there was a lot of noise, so my standard instruction was the pilot of the fully fueled airplane was to climb into his cockpit and get his straps on. That way, I'd know he was ready to go.

Finally, from my position on the wing of my P-38, I saw the fuel trucks pull away. I gave my pilots the hand signal, an overhead circular motion, to close their hatches and start their engines.

I went storming off the runway, and my flight was right behind me. I made a real fast 360 degree circuit over the base to let them join up, and then we went out on course. I was bending the throttles pretty hard to catch up to Greyhound-1 flight. About the time we were getting up over Kolombangara Island, I heard the fighter-control destroyer calling, “Greyhound-One, we have a very large plot of bogies coming down from Rabaul.” He gave Hank Lawrence a vector and called “Buster,” which meant go to maximum continuous power and intercept a big strike. At the same time, he was getting the P-40s and any Navy and Marine fighters that were on station set to defend the beachhead.

I pushed the button for my throat mike and told the controller that I was coming up there fast. But I couldn't hear any side tone in my headset. I checked all the connections in my headset and all my leads. Nothing. I turned around to my wingman and rocked my wings to pull him in closer. He could see me talking and pointing to my mouth, but he shook his head—No, he couldn't hear me. I went through the whole thing again and pulled on my oxygen mask to try the nose mike in it. I couldn't make anything talk. I could hear everything but I couldn't talk.

I wasn't skillful enough to tell my wingman how to communicate for me so I could report. I figured the controller could see me on his radar, that he would work it out and start talking to me, but nothing like that happened.

I figured out where I was and estimated where Hank Lawrence was heading—out over the water to intercept the attack from Rabaul. I didn't have a plotting board like the Navy pilots had. I had nothing, but cowboy arithmetic. I figured if I cranked in about 30 degrees left from where I was, I ought to meet Hank's flight about the time it met the Japanese formation.

The guys in my flight could hear what was going on: I knew they knew what the situation was. So, I came right up on my power, not quite to war-emergency power, but was up to full power. The way I did that was to straight up on the throttle so I could pull away from them. We were already up on the power, trying to catch up to Lawrence's flight, so they didn't have much left to catch me with. But I gave them the idea that they had to throttle up to full power. When I knew they had the idea, I throttled back a little so they could catch up and get back in formation.

We were climbing and on oxygen. Everything was going normally. We were by that time getting good altitude. Pretty soon, I could see a big flight of airplanes dead ahead of us. There were a lot of airplanes in the sky! I could see we were going to be getting into a big fight.

There were Val dive-bombers, Betty twin-engine medium-level bombers, and a lot of Zeros above the bombers. I later learned there were about 155 airplanes in that strike, and about 50 to 60 of them were Zeros.

I didn't dare get right in there with all those fighters. In a turning dogfight they'd have gotten us. I didn't know enough yet to cut through them at full throttle from a dive and to head-on through the bombers, trying to shoot them down. Meanwhile, maintaining so much speed that no Zero could possibly get us. Instead, the tactic I settled on was to get them from above, but stay out of a big turning dogfight. As we'd be turning into them, we'd be making a 6 o'clock attack and coming through the Zeros. Part of the idea was to break them up, make the Zeros break off. That way, when they got to the beachhead, the bombers would be relatively unprotected and the Zeros would be separated from them and milling around.

We were going out full bore, too fast to drop our belly tanks. When we got to the place where I could see what the timing had to be, I had to throttle back...throttle back to slow up my whole flight. I couldn't talk to them, but they'd figured that out and were watching me. When they saw my tanks come off, they dropped their tanks. When they saw me test-firing my guns to make sure I had all the switches on, they got the idea, and they all fired their guns. Everybody settled down. Then I came back up on the power to go for position.

We were not quite flying line-abreast formation, but we were spread out. My wingman, Lieutenant Robert Smith, was about 150 yards to my right and back a bit. On my left side, Lieutenant Carl Squires, my element leader, was also about 150 yards off and little behind me. His wingman was flying over to his left. This meant that any Zero pilot that wound up in front of us had to break early. If he stayed too long, I could get him. I might not get good deflection on him if he turned tightly, but, if the Zero broke a little late, Smitty, Carl, or Carl's wingman would get a shot. Going through the Zeros, we were going to make them turn—we were going to break up their party.

As we were going in, one of the most remarkable things happened. Hank Lawrence still didn't know I was coming. He was out there with four P-38s, intercepting the Japanese formation. He had the altitude advantage and had figured out about the same thing I'd figured out; attack from 6 o'clock high, right on through the Zeros, then pull up and do it again. The first I saw of Hank's flight, they were doing exactly that—what I was going to do. Hank never saw me come in until he had gone through them the first time. He looked back and saw four more P-38s coming through the Zeros. He hadn't even known we were out there.

We made these passes at the Zeros all the way to the beach—three slashing attacks in all. We didn't shoot down any airplanes, but we sure broke up their formation. With our P-38s coming through them all the time, those Zeros couldn't fly straight and level to keep up with the bombers. They were turning all the time, so the bombers got ahead of them. When they got to the beach, the P40s and Navy F-6F Hellcats worked them over good.

We came on down then to get into the big rolling dogfight. At this point, I looked down and saw two Zeros headed down at a 60 degree angle. Earlier, I thought the Zeros had had belly tanks on, but I realized they didn't need belly tanks, as close as they were to Rabaul. As I saw the two Zeros diving away, it finally dawned on me that they had bombs.

So there were two of them going down at a pretty steep angle. The rear fighter was on the left of the leader, back 50 to 70 yards. He looked like he was making an independent bomb run on a ship, not really flying formation on the leader.

I was above them with a lot of speed, in a very fortunate position. I was coming down with quite a bit of overtaking speed. I had maybe 50 miles per hour on them. I thought about that. If I didn't hit the rear fighter, I'd go past him and he'd be shooting at my rear end. I had to be awfully sure I hit him. I knew I wasn't going to have very long from the time I hit gun range until I had to decide to pull up or pass him.

I decided to try to get close and try for his canopy. Get close and, at the last second, give his a good big squirt in the canopy. If I didn't see the canopy come apart, I'd pull up.

That's what happened. I came down on the rear Zero and opened fire at about 200 ft from the vertical fin to the canopy. I don't think I fired more than a one-second burst. When I saw pieces of canopy go in every direction, I started to pull out to avoid a collision. That set me up on the leading Zero.

I figured the rear Zero's pilot was dead so I went after the leader and did the same thing. Canopy pieces flew and I pulled up. Without waiting to see if the lead Zero's pilot was dead, I pulled up at a very steep angle at full power. I still wanted to get into the fight above me. I didn't see any more of either one of those Zeros, but Lieutenant Tom Walker, who was in Hank Lawrence's flight saw the whole thing. He confirmed that the two of them hit the water.

When I went back up into the fight, I looked around, but I could not see any of the guys from my flight. I checked my fuel gauges and decided that I couldn't stand any more full-throttle operation if I wanted to make it home to Munda. I had been at full throttle since we dropped out tanks, and that seemed like a long, long time before.

The only thing bad about that mission was that, in that roiling, boiling fight over the beachhead, my flight got separated. When we got back, my element leader, Carl Squires, wasn't there. He was lost. I know Carl was still with us when we left the Zeros and got caught up in that big rolled-up fight with the P-40s and the Navy fighters, but we never found out what happened to him.

After the war, along about 1950 or 1951, I went to a country club stag party in Pratt, Kansas where I live. A bunch of guys were sitting around drinking and talking about the war and a fellow, as I remember it, an insurance agent, was telling us about how he was one of the Marines going ashore on Bougainville on November 8, 1943. He was talking about how there was a big air battle and how he was standing out on the deck of a ship, watching, when he looked up and saw two dive-bombers coming down. He could see those bombs. The planes were heading right square for his ship. He said he just knew the end of the world was there. And then he said, “I saw the most beautiful sight in all the world. I saw a P-38 come screaming down. I never saw one come so fast. He shot both of the bombers down into the water and went roaring back up into the fight.” When he said, “I sure would like to meet that guy,” I stuck out my hand and said, “You just met him. I was flying that airplane.”

Submitted by Friends of George T. Chandler

"Like A Bat Out of Hell..."

This article was originally published in the September 2005 WWII "Jungle" Air Force Newsletter.

(Caption: George T. Chandler sitting on the nose of his P-38 on Guadalcanal. The airplane is named for his sweetheart and wife-to-be Barbara Ann Slothower. Circa 1943)

I noticed in the Summer 2005 issue that you asked for stories and photographs. I named each of my aircraft Barbara Ann for my fiance. This was the fourth aircraft carrying that name, the first three were shot down when being flown by pilots other than me.

You will observe on the nose of the airplane are painted five Japanese flags for aerial victories and one flag for a Japanese destroyer. Rex Barber was flying #125 in early 1943 when he was one of the four P-38s and one Marine F4U that successfully strafed and sank a Japanese destroyer with only their machine guns and a 20 mm cannon. Rex pulled up a little too late on one of the strafing runs and left 4 feet of the right wing on the mast of the destroyer!

When Rex was rotated back to the United States, I was given airplane #125. The crew chief asked me if I wanted him to paint over the victory flags and I said, “no”, it was proper to keep the victory flags on his airplane and that I would do my best to shoot down five Zeros but I didn't think I would have a chance to get a destroyer.

On November 8,1943, our squadron commander, Hank Lawrence, led his 4 P-38s off Munda to be part of the aerial cover over Empress Augusta Bay on Bougainville where our troops were landing at that time. My flight of 4 was delayed by a breakdown of one of the fueling trucks so I was 10-15 minutes behind Hank Lawrence.

I finally got fueled and was perhaps10 minutes behind Hank and I could hear the radar fighter controller on the destroyer talking to Hank and vectoring him out to meet a big Japanese strike coming in from the ocean, so I turned and arrived at the intercept just a little after Hank started his attack on the flight of 50 Betty bombers and 50 dive bombers and 50 Zeros.

Our eight P-38s were attacking the escorting Zeros, later as I learned more of air combat over Rabaul, I realize now that we should have been attacking the bombers head on, but we were keeping the Zeros quarreling with us while the bombers went on in and were met by P-40s and the Marine Corsairs and the Navy F6Fs.

It was a big roiling, boiling bunch of airplanes over Empress Augusta Bay and in a very short time I found that I was all alone, separated from my flight. I saw two Zeros with bombs hanging underneath start diving towards our troop ships in Empress Augusta Bay. I had lots of speed and could easily overtake the diving Zeros but I sure did not want to run past the second Zero and have him shooting at me while I was attacking the first Zero so I figured I should get very close and shoot right into the cockpit and kill the pilot of the second Zero and then I would be safe attacking the first Zero, it worked just that way. I went past both Zeros, seeing the canopy of each Zero fly all to pieces from my gunfire and I was sure the pilot was killed but I never saw the airplanes explode in the air or burn or hit the water. However, I was fortunate that Tom Walker, Element leader for Hank Lawrence, later confirmed seeing the two Zeros hit the water.

About 1950, after moving to Pratt, Kansas and trying to get acquainted in business, I was at a country club stag and was seated across the table from a young man who was a life insurance salesman. At that age the opening questions to start a conversation were “where were you in the war?” And this young life insurance salesman said he was one of the invasion forces invading Bougainville at Empress Augusta Bay on November 8, 1943. Of course, this had me quite interested and I asked him to tell me what he was doing and what happened that day. He told me that there were two big infantry transports at anchor with about a thousand men on the deck of each one and they were climbing down the rope nets in the landing craft and going ashore.

He said he looked up and saw a big air battle overhead and said he was two dive bombers headed straight for the two ships. He said he knew that if those Japanese dive bombers hit the deck with a 500 pound bomb, they would all be dead. Then he said, “While I watched, I saw a P-38 come down “like a bat out of hell” and shoot both of them down. I was so thankful, that I wish there came a chance where I could shake that pilot's hand and thank him for saving my life.” I responded as I stood up and stuck out my hand and said, “You just met him, because I was flying that P-38”.

(Material furnished by Friends of George T. Chandler)

"Micky" Axton - First Woman That Flew B-29

An interview to remember: (courtesy of the Veterans History Project)

View her story.

More about Mildred Darlene Tuttle Axton:
“Miss Micky,” as she is known, is a veteran WWII WASP and engineering test pilot.

The WASPs were the first women in U.S. history to fly military aircraft. How extraordinary was it back in the 1940s for a young girl to learn how to fly and pay her own way to enlist and serve her nation, to put her life on the line and to do it without expecting anything in return? The WASP did so and they did it with honor, patriotism, sacrifice and commitment.

Mildred “Micky” Axton took her first airplane ride at age 11 and from that moment, became hooked on flying. She learned to fly in 1940 at Coffeyville Junior College in the Civil Pilot Training Program. In 1943, Mickey joined the Women’s Air Force Service Pilots (WASP) program. She flew the BT-13, AT-6 and UC-78 as a test pilot. In 1944, she was a crew member on a B-29.




After deactivation from the service, Boeing employed Micky in the Engineering Flight Test areas as a flight test crew member. From 1958 to 1969, she taught biology, aeronautics and debate at Wichita East High School in Kansas.

Micky is still active in “OX-5 Aviation Pioneers,” the “Confederate Air Force” and other organizations. Plus, she still flies when she has the chance and speaks to groups like Rotary on aviation history, WASP and World War II. Besides her talks, Micky helps Girl Scouts with their aviation badges and is also a spokesperson for the Minnesota World War II Veterans Memorial.
Where is she now?
See this article.

Interior Of WW II Machinists Building

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A remnant of the Pratt Army Air Field built in 1943.

Views Of WW II Machinists Building

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This structure at the Pratt Airport is scheduled to be demolished soon. It was built in 1943 as part of the Pratt Army Air Field.

"Killer" Kane

McCook Air Base commander -- Col. John R. 'Killer' Kane, hero of World War II
Walt Sehnert
Monday, November 13, 2006
In the Jan. 12, 1945 issue of the McCook Daily Gazette (the same issue that told about a Bob Hope USO show at the Air Base) there was a report on the appointment of Col. John "Killer" Kane, one of the most colorful and distinguished pilot-leaders of World War II, to be the new Commandant at the McCook Air Field.

John Kane was born in Texas, the son of a Baptist minister. After he graduated from Baylor University in 1928 he entered the Army Air Arm, receiving his commission and wings at Randolph Field, Texas. After his initial enlistment he entered the Army Reserves, but the lure of the military and flying was compelling. In 1935 he reentered active service at Barksdale Field, LA, where he eventually became Base Commander.

Early in World War II Kane became the Commander of the 98th Bomb Group's B-24 Liberators. He flew 43 combat missions in Europe, North Africa and the Middle East, logging more than 250 combat hours. The 98th Bomb Group was called the Pyramiders, and Kane's own daring operations earned him the title of "Killer" Kane by the German Luftwaffe intelligence reports.

On one mission Kane earned the Silver Star when his plane became separated from his formation and was attacked by an enemy pursuit plane. Kane was able to successfully maneuver his plane, even though tail and top turrets of his bomber became inoperative, through eight different attacks by the enemy fighter, who eventually ran out of ammunition. Kane's plane and crew returned to base with minimal damage.

"Killer" Kane was best known as the leader of one of the great air strikes of WW II---the massive air attack on the oil and gas refineries at Ploesti, Romania in Aug.1943.

The Nazi war machine was getting some 35% of its petroleum supplies from the seven refineries around Ploesti. Therefore, it was believed that a concentrated bombing on these facilities would have a major bearing on just how long the war would last.

It was the largest Air Task Force up to that date, involving some 178 B-24 planes from the 29th, 376th, 98th Air Groups from North Africa, as well as the 93rd, 44th, and 389th Groups, which had been stationed in England before being shipped to North Africa. It was also the longest raid (1,350 miles from base to target) up to that date.

The raid was planned on a Sunday to minimize the casualties of impressed workers who were forced to work in the refineries. It was a simple plan, surprise (approaching the target area at treetop altitude) and precision bombing. All seven refineries were to be hit simultaneously. The raid was considered a success. However, in spite of meticulous planning, things did not go as planned, leading Churchill to comment, "In war nothing ever goes according to plan except occasionally, and then by accident".

The enemy defense was much heavier than expected---some 400 enemy fighter planes, 230 antiaircraft guns, barrage balloons, and smudge pots. The lead navigator bomber was lost before the target was even reached. A towering formation of cumulus clouds over the mountains caused groups to become separated---some were as much as 29 minutes ahead of others. Kane's Group was one which had been detoured over the mountains to avoid the clouds and had gotten off course. By the time they arrived at the target area another group had already made one bombing run and the German fighters were out in full force. But Col. Kane was resolute. "Either we hit Ploesti or we'll die trying" was his comment just before taking off on the raid.

Kane led 41 of his B-24 Liberators straight "Into a scene that resembled the background of a medieval painting of hell". 15 planes were lost in the attack, three more as they left the target area. In all, 54 of the 178 planes were lost---500 men.

After Kane's crew had dropped its bombs it circled the area for some time, directing later Groups to the bomb site---until fuel was so low that they were forced to withdraw. They had not escaped unscathed. One motor knocked out, and the plane had incurred fatal damage from flak. The plane was demolished in a crash landing on Cyprus.

The mission, though flawed, was never-the-less a great success. In one respect, it probably will never be equaled. Five Congressional Medals of Honor (the nation's highest military honor) were awarded that day (including one to John "Killer" Kane)--- more than have ever been awarded for a single engagement in our nation's history.

Col. Kane was already a well known war hero by the time he took command of the McCook Air Base in January 1945. He was living at the Keystone Hotel with his wife and six year old son John Franklyn when a reporter caught up with him for an interview. The Gazette would have interviewed him at length about the Ploesti Raid, but he kept bringing the interview back to his work at the McCook Base. "A combat crew training base, such as McCook, is the last chapter in training, the preface to combat. If this chapter is weak the whole story falls apart", Col. Kane emphasized.

Both McCook Air Field and Col. Kane had made their name with B-24 Liberators. Kane loved the B-24, but stressed the fact that both he and McCook must now move on and embrace the B-29, which Gen. Arnold had predicted, would bring destruction to the Japanese in the Pacific Theater. Someone suggested that the Ploesti Raid would have been more successful if B-29s had been used. Col. Kane replied, "Couldn't have been made at low altitude, the B-29s are too big. It wouldn't have been considered with such an expensive aircraft. If they had made the raid they would have gone in at high altitude."

It didn't take Col. Kane long to be accustomed to his new role as Commander of the Air Base. He had brought with him, two officers and an enlisted man, who had served with him in the 98th in Africa and Europe, who helped make the transition easier. In McCook he was a no-nonsense, take charge CO. He was also a bit impatient.

One day, soon after he arrived, a B-29 slipped off the runway while making a landing, and had gotten hopelessly mired in the mud. Tractors had been hitched to the plane to pull, while the planes own engines were to assist in bringing the plane back on the runway. The crews had worked for some hours, with no success. The pilot was reluctant to apply too much power to the engines.

Finally, Killer Kane could take no more. He ordered yet another tractor to be hitched to the plane, then moved the reluctant pilot over to the co-pilot's seat, taking over the plane's controls himself. One more time he ordered the tractors to pull, and he applied what must have been full throttle to the plane's engines. The plane shuddered and shook, but inched its way back on the runway. Once more on hard surface the Col. shut down the plane's engines, turned the controls back over to the pilot and left the plane---back to his duties of running the base.

Col. Kane retired from the service in 1954, to take up residence on a farm in Arkansas. After the death of his second wife, Phyllis he moved to Pennsylvania in 1987, to be near his son. He was living in a VA Nursing Home in Pennsylvania when he died in 1996. He was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery.

Though Kane was a successful Commander at several Air Bases, including McCook, it is for the Ploesti Raid that he is most remembered.

In one of his last public statements, he wrote in a preface to a book about the raid, "I still recall the smoke, fire, and B-24s going down, like it was yesterday … Even now I get a lump in my throat when I think about what we went through. I didn't get the Medal of Honor. The 98th did."

Source: McCook Gazette 1/12/45, Dale Cotton McCook Air Base, Medal of Honor Web site

Note: Please support the efforts of the B-29 Museum Committee to build a "Bombers On The Prairie" Museum in Pratt to honor men like "Killer" Kane who served and trained in the midwest in WW II.

Air Plane Crash?

From: WIS News 10
Airplane crashes in Pelion, minor injuries only

Posted: May 4, 2008 04:13 PM

Updated: May 4, 2008 08:10 PM
LEXINGTON, SC (WIS) - Lexington County authorities say the two people on a plane which crashed in Pelion Sunday afternoon will be fine.

Major John Allard says the plane was trying to land at the Pelion airport, but the engine failed. It ended up crashing along Old Charleston Highway at around 4:20pm Sunday, according to FAA spokesperson Kathleen Gergen.

Allard says a flight instructor and student were both on the plane at the time, but both only had minor injuries.

Pelion Police Chief Chris Garner says one person was taken to the hospital by ambulance while another went in their personal vehicle.

Lexington County deputies secured the scene, and the Federal Aviation Administration is now investigating.

The two-seater S-12XL plane is built from a kit and is classified as experimental by the FAA. It's registered to Richard Adams of Pratt, Kansas.

However, the names of the people onboard the plane have not been released

Updated by Logan Smith

WW II Structures At Pratt Airport

Photos taken on 05/04/2008. (click each image to see enlarged version)
Concrete Building

Well Maintained B-29 Hanger

Inside Weathered Hanger

Weathered B-29 Hanger

Parachute Building

Mechanics Bldg



These structures were built in 1943 as part of the Pratt Army Air Field in WW II.

Richard Ferrin - 1927 - 2008

Richard Ferrin -- 1927-2008
(From Chicago Sun-Times and suntimes.com.)
BY ANDREW PATNER

Richard Ferrin was almost invisibly unassuming in daily life but he played the viola with a uniquely vibrant sound and had a generous streak, an insatiable curiosity, and a sly wit that made lasting impressions on hundreds of colleagues and students.

Mr. Ferrin, a member of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra for 39 years until his retirement in 2006, died at his home in Lincolnshire, north of Chicago, last Wednesday. He was 82, and had been in declining health for several years.

A native of Pratt, Kansas, Mr. Ferrin became an accomplished violist and violinist and played in both the viola and first violin sections of the CSO over the years. He held two degrees from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, N.Y., and was a student in Jascha Heifitz’s master class at the University of Southern California. His viola teachers included the giant of that instrument, William Primrose. Before joining the CSO in 1967 at the request of music director Jean Martinon, Mr. Ferrin had been principal viola of the Seattle Symphony and on the faculty of the University of Washington.

"I loved sitting in the section with him," said his frequent CSO stand partner Max Raimi. "His sound was so alive and he had a unique facility with his left hand that could produce a wonderful vibrato."

Always curious about the people, languages, and teaching and performance techniques of other cultures and countries, Mr. Ferrin studied at the Sibelius Academy in Helsinki, Finland, as a Sibelius scholar in 1957. His scholarship overlapped with the death of Sibelius himself at 91 and Mr. Ferrin attended the composer's state funeral in Helsinki. In 1962 Mr. Ferrin traveled on a university research grant to Leningrad, Moscow, Kiev, and Odessa in what was then the Soviet Union to observe string pedagogy there. In 1986 he was invited by the People's Republic of China to solo with the Shanghai Symphony and to give the first performances of Bartók's Viola Concerto with a Chinese orchestra. He returned in 1988 and 1990 to play the work with the Central Philharmonic of Beijing.

He personally sponsored four students from Shanghai to study with him at Roosevelt University in Chicago and in 1993 he went to South Africa to work with the African Youth Ensemble in Soweto. His project there was featured on ABC's World News Tonight.

As a member of Chicago Pro Musica he participated in many chamber music recordings and he produced his own records as well, including one of Bach cello suites and transcriptions with his CSO cellist colleague Richard Hirschl.

Although he had a quiet speaking voice and a formal accent that did not sound at all like Pratt, Kansas, Mr. Ferrin had a captivating smile, a love of wordplay, and a deadpan style of humor that he exhibited frequently in CSO rehearsals and at the members' luncheon table of The Cliff Dwellers, an arts club that for decades occupied the top floors of Orchestra Hall.

Max Raimi recalled, "Shortly after Dick retired, we were playing Borodin's Polovtsian Dances. When we got to the big Kismet tune, I saw Dick's unmistakable handwriting in the part, maybe from 25 years before. He had written, '"Take my hand, I'm stranger in paradise!" How much more interesting the sentiment becomes when you leave out the "a"'!"

Srdjan Majdov, a former employee at the CSO's Symphony Store, recalled "Mr. Ferrin's rather frequent and sometimes long visits to the store. He was overly modest about his own accomplishments and engaged in conversation with us about music without any inhibitions."

Acording to Max Raimi, at Mr. Ferrin's funeral in in Spring Grove in McHenry County Monday, an Episcopal priest told mourners that Mr. Ferrin in his last years "took to visiting his church at odd times, usually during the week, and would play his viola for hours at a time in the sanctuary. This priest would thank him, and Dick would wave him off: 'I'm doing it for God, not for you.'"

When ill health forced Mr. Ferrin's retirement he told his colleagues and friends that he was "heartbroken."

Survivors include his wife, Lieselotte, two daughters, Genevieve Noel and Vanessa Ferrin, a granddaughter, Emily Noel, and a sister, Carol Guenot.

Museum Opens Nagasaki Bombing Exhibit

Note: This is the first article of a continuing series that I will be posting about B-29-Museum related stories found on the 'net. By bringing awareness of this subject to the Pratt Community, I hope to encourage other individuals and organizations to get involved with our local B29 Museum "Bombers On The Prairie" Project.

Museum Opens Nagasaki Bombing Exhibit
May 1, 2008, From The Times, Frankfort Indiana
AUBURN, Ind. (AP) - A World War II veteran who served on the B-29 mission that dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki, killing about 74,000 people, said the bombing was justified because it helped end the war.

William Barney was the radar operator on the B-29 Bock's Car that dropped a plutonium bomb on Nagasaki on Aug. 9, 1945. During Sunday's opening of an exhibit on the mission at the World War II Victory Museum in Auburn, Ind., he said the mission forced the Japanese to surrender.

That, in turn, saved many soldiers' lives, the Columbia City, Ind., resident said.

'There would have been a lot more people killed. And we had it,' he said. 'They were whipped long before that. It just took something great to impress them.'

The Nagasaki bombing came three days after another Japanese city, Hiroshima, was destroyed by the first-ever atomic bombing, killing at least 140,000 people.

Japan surrendered on Aug. 15, 1945, bringing World War II to an end. However, in the decades since the bombings - the only use of atomic weapons in war - some critics have questioned whether the missions were necessary.

Barney said he agrees with military historians who contend the atomic bombings quickly ended the war and eliminated the need for an allied invasion of Japan. Those historians say an invasion would have caused a catastrophic number of Japanese and allied deaths.

Barney and other veterans attended Sunday's opening of the permanent display detailing the Nagasaki mission that includes artifacts, veterans' uniforms, letters sent home, pictures and even old rations.

The exhibit is the work of John Wassell, whose father and three uncles served in the war.

Wassell began collecting the items after the Smithsonian Institution scaled down a 1995 exhibit of the restored Enola Gay - the B-29 that dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima - following complaints by veterans that it focused too much on the damage and deaths.

Wassell said the incendiary bombs the United States used killed more civilians in Japan.

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On the Net: http://www.bryantimes.com/