Sgt Ralph Ramos, 18 yrs, Tail Gunner
Sgt Danny Jenks, 19 yrs, Ball Turret Gunner
Danny Jenks and I were sightseeing in Luton, Bedfordshire, the nearby town to our Aerodrome at Cheddington where we were assigned as Gunners on a B-24 Liberator.
It’s September 1944 and chilly outside, so we dash into a photo shop. The proprietor is a charming lady named Pat Gilmore, assisted by her teenage son, Tony. Beyond ‘charming’, Patricia was beautiful and young, say late thirties, early forties. Her son was quite mature for his age, no more than seventeen. Both were grateful to the American forces contributing to the war effort and demonstrated it so genuinely.
We hit it off swell and she offers us a home-cooked meal, thinking we weren’t fed very well. Next day, Danny and I took her up on the invite and were amazed and delighted at the ‘spread’ at dinner-time. But when we learned that they had used up most of their monthly rations, we felt so very embarrassed and quite guilty. Nonetheless, we were tactful and grateful.
We then planned ‘Operation Gilmore’.
It so happens that, upon return from a combat mission, it was the practice in all the 8th Air Force for each crew member to receive a shot of bourbon whiskey. Jimmy Marchello, Wes Crowther and Stan Dombrosky, the other Sergeants on our crew, didn’t drink, so we saved all we could in whatever container was available, and in no time, we had a quart of good ole Kentucky bourbon. Now our Mess Sergeant was not only from Kentucky, but he disliked Scotch whiskey … which was all he could get in town. Soooo … Wheeler-dealers from New York, the enterprising Jenks-Ramos, traded our stash of bourbon, not once, but several times. I can’t remember the Sergeant’s name, but I remember he was no ‘pushover’. To trade for scarce items, he would insist on an extra pint or two. We haggled somewhat, but in the end, the months of October, November and December, Pat Gilmore and son Tony ate fresh eggs (not powdered), ham, beef, fresh vegetables, and other assorted food that was not even on their ration books! AND … on Thanksgiving Day they celebrated, as all Yanks were doing in the UK; with a good-size hunk of turkey!!
I said goodbye to our wonderful friends in February 1945 upon completion of the required missions and didn’t return until 1957 when I was Captain, Navigator/Bombadier on a B-47 bomber. Tony was married and had a charming young son; Pat had aged somewhat, but was happy with the post-war return of her husband from the RAF and her son Jerry from the British Navy. Regrettably, from around 1960, we lost contact with them. But their faces, their personalities, their warmth, their love, will always remain in my heart.
by Major Rafael E (Ralph) Ramos (Retired) - Tailgunner
36th BS Squadron, 8th Air Force
This article is from the Spring 2017 issue of Confound and Destroy
