1st Lt. Andy Anderson - Pilot |
322nd Bomb Squadron, 91st Bomb Group |
A Distinguished Veteran |
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| Andy Anderson was assigned as a pilot to the 322nd Bomb Squadron, 91st HBG, and flew his first three missions in B-17 (specifications) “Wabash Cannonball”. On his 15th mission, to bomb the Ludwigshaven truck assembly plant in the Ruhr Valley, flak, then enemy fighters, damaged his plane, forcing the crew to bail out. He and three other crewmembers were rescued by the French Underground. During his subsequent escape through France he helped destroy bridges, railroads, and other strategic centers in an effort to impede the German retreat from the war front near the coast. He eventually escaped through Paris as it was being liberated, and returned to England, where he received a battlefield promotion from General Doolittle. He could no longer fly combat in Europe, so he returned to the United States and began ferrying different combat planes across the country. After the war he taught high school in Los Angeles for ten years, then became an administrator in inner city and urban schools for 23 years. He is the cousin of 352nd FG ace Alden Rigby, and they had lost contact with each other for over 60 years before the signing of the “Full House – Aces High” lithograph brought them back together. The following is his account of some combat and other flying adventures. |
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| Andy Anderson signing "Full House - Aces High" |
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| Little Friend |
 “Wednesday, August 30, 1944. Kiel, my 14th mission. Went to 9:15 squadron meeting. Told to go to briefing from there. No time for food. We led 4th element of lead group, 1st Combat Wing. Good assembly at 12,000 feet over the base, then climbed from the coast to the target. Were battered pretty hard by flak over the target – lost number 2 engine. Piece of flak cut the tendon in my forefinger so that I’ve never been able to straighten it, but it didn’t bleed much, so I tied a rag around it, and it healed. Couldn’t open the bomb bay doors over the target, so Malon hand cranked them down. Got them down just before ‘bombs away’, then hand cranked them up, cussing all the way. He slipped and lost his flak helmet out the open bomb bay doors. We bombed at 27,000 feet. Controls mushy at that altitude. Began throwing oil from number 2 engine and feathered it, then couldn’t keep up with the formation, so we sent our wing men on. We survived only because somehow a lone P-51 picked us up and flew off our wing until we were far enough on our way home to be fairly safe from German fighters. A long ride home. Heater went out with number 2 engine. Feet damn near frozen. Long, long ride home.” |
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| Coyote Hunting |
“July 26, 1945, I was given orders to pick up a P-38 at Burbank and fly it to Birmingham, Alabama. It was my first ferry trip in a P-38 and I was feeling pretty frisky. I’d instructed for a while in B-25s at Minter Field in Bakersfield, but I soon tired of that, so I asked for a transfer to the Ferry Command Headquarters in Long Beach. As soon as I got there they gave me a re-check in B-25s to be sure I knew what I was doing, then an instruments check to make sure my whit instrument card was honest. I was then given a brief familiarization with a P-38, my first time in one, then got orders to pick up a new ‘38 at the Lockheed, Burbank, and take it to Birmingham. I was delighted. I had a lot of time in ‘17s, and I had learned B-25s in Central Instructor’s school in San Antonio, but those planes were steady but stodgy, by my lights, not much fun to fly. Ferry command gave me access to all kinds of ‘fun to fly’ planes. I was a 21 year old, a 1st lieutenant a year or two ahead of time, just back from a B-17 bomb tour in Europe and raring to go. |
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| I climbed into that P-38, ran through the check-list, started the engines, and took off, having the time of my life. I did acrobatics all over the San Fernando Valley sky, mostly orange groves at that time, and then headed out over the desert to El Paso, which was my first refueling stop on the way to Birmingham. Halfway to El Paso, I saw a coyote, below, trotting along in a wash. I grew up as a sheep-man’s son in Utah, and I was not fond of coyotes, so I winged over, put down the flaps and went down to give that coyote a hard time. When they checked that P-38 out for me to pick it up they left the wing-tip tanks on it. I didn’t have enough experience to know that that was odd, and I somehow missed them on the check-list before I took off, so I took off on a little bit of gas that was in the wing-tip tanks and flew out over the desert. When I rolled over to go down after that coyote and got down right next to the ground, those wing-tip tanks ran out of gas. Thank God for Air Force training. I didn’t have time to think, but I automatically switched to the main tanks. The engines caught, I wiped away the sweat, and flew on, leaving the coyote to meander on his way by himself. That was an eventful trip for my first time in a P-38. When I got to Birmingham they gave me another P-38 that needed a modification that could only be done at Burbank, and sent me west with it. My first refueling stop was Dallas. I refueled and took off in a hurry. |
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 No air conditioning in those days, and the moist heat of Dallas was almost unbearable. The right tire blew on take-off, just as I reached take-off speed. I didn’t want to be in any place that hot for that long, so I didn’t land to have it replaced. I flew on to my next refueling stop, El Paso. I called in and reported that I had a bad tire and asked them to be ready to replace it. They evidently didn’t have much experience with tire problems, which pulled a plane off to the right or left as it landed, so as I came down the approach I saw a line-up of fire engines and ambulances on the right side of the runway, right where my blown tire would turn me. It’s the only time I remember using nasty language over the mike. I told them to get those blankety blank engines out of there in a hurry. I don’t remember what they did, ‘cause I landed the thing on its left wheel and held it long enough so that I didn’t ground loop and hit them. The major who was in the tower that day came down and said he’d never seen that done before, and congratulated me. I didn’t tell him I’d had practice in B-17s with blown tires that were a great deal more difficult to land than a P-38. I don’t remember how I got out of El Paso. I guess they replaced the tire and I flew out, but I remember being relieved once I got back to the BOQ in Long Beach that I hadn’t been stranded in a hospital in El Paso. I never had any other problems with a P-38 that I can remember. My log shows that I flew a number of them out of Burbank before I’d had enough and left the Air Force. I left one day, entered UCLA the next week, and began a new life.” |
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| Andy Anderson is one of our Rogue's Gallery members. |
| (Thanks are due Andy for providing photos and stories) |
