The Tragedy of War

by Bob Laudie

War creates many strange and odd situations as I found out on my arrival in England in May, 1943. I was a Bombardier-Navigator on the six man crew of a Martin B-26 bomber named, "Little Lulu." We were "Marauder" men, as the bomber was called. It had other names: "The Widow Maker," "The Flying Coffin," and "The Flying Prostitute" (because it had no visible means of support due to it's small wing surface).

Twenty-nine crews of us left Barksdale Field, in Shreveport, Louisiana, the late afternoon of Sunday, May 2, 1943, for the long hot train trip to Savanna, Georgia. The train was old, humid, crowded and dirty, and the soot filled smoke from the engine fogged into the open windows. We finally arrived at our destination at noon, Tuesday the 4th, tired, sweaty, dirty and excited. We were off to new adventures and uncharted, unknown places. I had conned the engineer of the train to let me ride in the engine with him one day on the long trip which was fun, however.

We dubbed our assigned, brand spanking new Marauder, Little Lulu. Friday, May7th, we headed north to Presque Isle, Maine, and WAR. Little Lulu's crew did manage to stay in Time's Square, New York, for four days on the way because the crew made certain, or thought they saw saw a "cloud" over the hotel, and so better to wait a few days. We finally left New York and spent two days in Presque Isle while we waited for the weather to clear for the next leg of our long trek to England.

Sunday, May 16, we flew the few hour trip from Presque Isle to cold, snow covered Goose Bay, Labrador. After much scrutiny of films, maps and briefings, we departed for BWI, located on the glacier ice cap at the end of a long narrow Fjord in southern Greenland. Finally, the weather was right and we were cleared to fly over the ice cap and on to Meets Field Iceland. The last stop on our way to Harham, England was Prestwic, Scotland. Little Lulu's crew was sent on to Rovington, north of London for a week to become familiar with British communication systems and it was here I experienced by Tragedy of War.

One evening while exploring the local area, I happened on a festival of some kind with dancing and a small bar with chairs or stools next to the bar. Wanting to learn more about the activities in progress, I sat down next to a man in a British uniform and struck up a conversation with him. We exchanged the usual small talk that people engage in first meeting such as exchange of names and where you are from. I had expected a location in England from him so I was very surprised when he said he was from Poland. As we sat drinking our warm English mild and bitter beer, he continued his story. He was in the Polish Army when the German tanks rolled through and overran the Polish Army on September 1, 1939. He had been captured and conscripted into the German Army. In time, his unit was sent to North Africa with Rommel's divisions to fight against the British forces there as France and Great Britain declared war against Germany when Poland was attacked.

As his bottle was now empty, I bought both of us a new warm beer and urged him to continue. It was in North Africa in late 1942 and early 1943 that the Allied Forces finally defeated the German military and captured many of the units. My new beer drinking friend was on of those rounded up and in time offered to don a British Army uniform and fight against the Germans again.

He had fought against, with, and now against the German forces. I asked him if this had created a problem of loyalty for him as I guessed it would have. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a very worn, faded picture of a pretty young woman and a young baby. "This is my wife and baby-I have not seen them since I was captured in 1939 by the Germans," he answered in a soft voice. "I will fight in any military just to get this war over so I can return to my wife and daughter. That is my loyalty!"

I had no answer but I understood, and have wondered many times if he ever returned to His Loyalty.