The Bluffton news. [volume], May 03, 1945, Image 7

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THURSDAY, MAY 3, 1945
CHAPTER IV- En route to New York
Scott is stopped by police who mistake
him for a bandit. He carries the mail
for Uncis Sam in order to gain more
flying time, and gets married.
CHAPTER V: The wai edges closer
and he is farther than ever from combat
duty. He has been told he Is too old
for combat flying, and after December 7.
1941. he begins writing Generals all over
the country for a chance to fly a fighter
plane.
CHAPTER VI: Scott solos a Flying
Fortress for the first time and makes
twenty practice landings. He leaves for
India from a Florida point
CHAPTER VII: Easter Sunday in Af
rica. They fly along the Arabian coast
and land at Karachi. India, covering
12,000 miles in eight days.
CHAPTER VIII: Col. Haynes orders
the group to report st a base in Eastern
Assam, on the India-Burma border.
CHAPTER IX: Burma is falling into
the hands of the Japs. Flying over
bombed and burned Chinese towns they
land at Schwebo. Scott meets General
Stilwell and his party.
CHAPTER X: Scott’s group carries
refugees out of Burma, heavily overload*
Ing the planes. He pays a visit to Gen.
Chennault and tells him he is a fighter
pilot and not a ferry pilot and is prom*
ised the next P-40 that arrives from
Africa.
CHAPTER XI: Open season on Japs—
the big adventure is near. Scott gets
his first Jap—an army bomber on the
ground. He burns up some Jap trucks
and a fuel dump.
CHAPTER XH: Scott goes on some
strafing missions with his "Old Ex
terminator." as he has now nicknamed
his Kittyhawk. and cuts a Jap battalion
to bits.
CHAPTER XIII: The AVG are told
they are to be inducted into the U. S.
army. Scott returns to India and con
tinues his single ship raids on the Japs.
He is now known back in the States as
"the one man air force.”
CHAPTER XIV: Col. Haynes is moved
to China to Head the bomber command
under Gen. Chennault and Sco|t la left
alone as commanding officer of the Ferry
Command. Scott is ordered to report to
Gen. Chennault in Kunming, China, as
commanding officer of the 23rd Fighter
Group.
CHAPTER XV: Col. Scott is ordered
to proceed to the Kweilin area to take
charge of fighter operations.
CHAPTER XVI: He intercepts a flight
of Jap planes and downs a bomber.
His tank is empty but be succeeds to
landing it dry.
CHAPTER XVII: In which Scott tells
about his friend. Major "Tex" Hill, to
whom he owes his life. Maj. Alison is
hit and tries to land his crippled bomber
at night
CHAPTER XVIII
So Johnny glided to the field wijji
his missing engine, and then we
heard him say that he couldn’t make
the field and was going to sit down
in the river. The moon made it
fairly bright, but even at that I knew
that Johnny had to be mighty good
and very lucky. Then I wondered
whether or not he was wounded.
Silhouetted against the light from
the three bombers he had shot down,
his fighter looked awfully low. He
skimmed over the Chinese junks on
the river, and I saw the splash as
the P-40, with its wheels up, hit the
Siang Kiang. Down on the ground
they heard his engine give one more
dying gasp, as with a surge of power
—probably from full gun and a prop
in low pitch—it lifted him over the
last of the masts of the junks and
let him level off to skid across the
surface of the river.
We came in and landed now, for
the ground crew had gotten the
smudge-pot boundary lights set out
to mark the runway as well as the
bomb craters. We gathered togeth
er fast with the boys who had stayed
on the ground, and talked about the
great battle. I remember Tex Hill
shaking his head and saying, “I’m
afraid Johnny didn’t make it. Dog
gone, he was a good boy.’’ We all
felt a sinking in our hearts. We
waited and we kihd of prayed too.
I sent Captain Wang, our salvage
man, out to see if he could get any
news of Major Alison. We made our
reports out and kept waiting on the
alert. Just when we had really
given up hope, we heard the sound
of sharp explosions. All of us ran
out of the alert shack, to see the
strangest sight that we ever saw,
even in China.
A procession had entered the field.
The Chinese sentry had passed the
crowd of people and was himself
holding his thumb in the air calling
“Ding-hao—ding-hao.” In the midst
of the procession and surrounded by
children shooting Chinese firecrack
ers in celebration, was a sedan chair
carried on the backs of the villagers
of Hengyang. And Johnny Alison
was in the sedan chair—smiling.
While we cheered too and some of
us even got some firecrackers from
the kids and shot them off, we
helped Johnny out and heard his
story. He’d hit the river like a
feather-bed, he said, and had swum
ashore, having to kick off his good
American shoes to make it. As he
crawled up the bank of the river the
Chinese had rushed uron, him, think­
GOD IS MY
COPILOT
Col. Robert L.Scott
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER 1: Scott’x early experiencet
with glidera and airplanea. He goes to
FL McPheraon and enlists in the regular
army as a private.
CHAPTER H: Scott wins the West
Point competitive exam and gets a fur*
lough before reporting. He is graduated
as. a second lieutenant of infantry and
goes to Europe, which he tours on a
motorcycle. He sells his motorcycle and
arrives at Randolph Field. Texas
CHAPTER III: Scott makes his first
solo flight. Drives 1.300 miles to Georgia
over every week-end to see his girl. Scott
is now graduated from Kelly Field and
has wihgs pinned on his chest. Ordered
to report to Hawaii but wanting to get
married he lays his plight before the
General and is ordered to report at
Mitchel Field. N. Y.. Instead.
VJ-NAJ. RtLEASt
ing he was a Jap out of one of the
bombers. Johnny said it looked as
if they were going to cut him up,
until he remembered the one word
of Chinese that he’d picked up. He
yelled this—one that sounded like
“Merugay,” which means “Ameri
can.” And when they read the Chi
nese sign that each of us carried on
the back of his flying suit, which
asks aid and protection for the
American who has come to help
China fight, they realized who he
was. Just the man who had shot
down the three enemy ships. And
from then on he was the hero of the
town.
Johnny Alison had a couple of
burns on his hands and legs where
some bits of the Japs’ explosive bul
lets had hit him. He’d been slightly
cut on the forehead when, on land
ing in the river, his head had hit
the heavy metal of the gun-sight.
But the scar that would leave would
be a common one after the war, for
every fighter pilot flies along with
his head just inches behind that
hunk of steel that contains the lights
and prisms of the modern gun
sights. Just the slightest accident
and it is out there to split your head.
I asked Johnny why in hell he
went so close to the bomber forma
tion, and he grinned and said, “I
was scared I’d miss one of them.”
Our salvage crew worked and
worked at the job of raising the P-40
from the bottom of the Siang-Kiang.
But with the fourteen-foot depth and
the swift current, they had more
than modern engineering with the
limitations of our floating equipment
could accomplish. Under Captain
Wang—Chinese-American and in our
Army—they floated barges out to
the spot and tried to tow it ashore
with lines. Then they lowered steel
drums, tied them to the ship, tried
to pump the water from the sub
merged drums and thus float the
P-40—but everything failed.
During all the work of the Amer
icans with windlass and block-and
tackle, the Chinese villagers, who
had offered their services long be
fore, smiled and stood by. We asked
ourselves: What in hell could the
Chinese coolies and rivermen do if
we, with our general knowledge and
advanced civilization, couldn’t raise
the ship? We went on and failed
for three days, and then to the per
sistent Chinese we said, “Okay, go
ahead.”
We watched them float raft after
raft of long thick bamboo poles to
the buoy that now marked the spot
where Johnny’s fighter had sunk
Mentally we set down the raising
of the ship as impossible and got
ready to mark it off the list. But
the Chinese went on cheerfully with
their work. I saw them pull them
selves down into the river with
ropes tied to the fighter, taking with
them an eighteen-foot length of bam
boo. They would slide this under
the wing of the ship and lash it into
place with grass rope. Hundreds of
times they did this, until a perfect
mat of bamboo was under the entire
wing of the little P-40. Then they
lashed the mat to the fuselage and
started another row under the wing.
Through it all we smiled at the wast
ed effort, and I heard men say, “Oh
well, there are lots of Chinese any
way. Let them work.”
But towards the second day’s
close, I began to wonder, and that
evening as darkness settled over the
river I went out to watch their tire
less labor. Suddenly there was a
movement among the rivermen to
tighten the four cables that tied the
fighter to the barge, and I saw the
canopy and the prop of Johnny’s
fighter ship rise above the surface of
the river. Involuntarily I cheered,
and I felt a lump in my throat as
if I had swallowed something as
I tried to talk to the officer with
me I felt my lip tremble with emo
tion. But the Chinese never cheered
or got excited they remained as
stoical as ever. They seemed to
know that they were going to be suc
cessful, and had merely been wait
ing for the crazy Americans to quit
playing around with all the strange
gadgets.
They had floated the 9100 pounds
of P-40, and now they towed it to
shore. Our salvage crew put the
wheels down in the water, and with
the aid of about a hundred coolies
the ship was pulled up the river
bank and then out to the field. We
counted eleven bullet holes through
the engine and in the cockpit. Next
day the ground crews began the
w’ork of repair. Days had to pass
before an engine from another dam
aged fighter could be installed, and
more time had to go by before
w’e got it completely worked over.
But in the end it flew again in com
bat against the Japanese—thanks to
the bravery of a gallant officer, the
labor of good mechanics, and the
unswerving patience and devotion of
those brave Chinese coolies and riv
ermen who had never heard of the
word “impossible.”
When I first went to China I think
I imagined in my short stay that I
Would gradually change the simple
Chinese. I used to rant and rave
about this and that, and try to show
the houseboys better and more ef
ficient ways to do things. But they
never changed, and finally I real
ized that they were changing me.
Now in raising this ship they had
used a method three thousand years
old. I have read since how they had
employed it in Burma, long years
before, when the great temple bell
weighing over thirty tons was
thrown into the deep lake to save it
from the heathen. When the heath
en had occupied the land and had
himself been beaten in due time,
pruuauiy uie
wuiuq
ai»S
itself, they had come back to the
lake, these Chinese, and with bam
boo poles had raised the thirty tons
of metal.
During my stay in China I have
watched the Chinese being bombed,
and have seen them go out and pick
their dead from among the ruins of
their cities. Then wait bravely for
the Jap to come again, while they
went on scratching out a road with
their bare hands, stoically working
and watching for material to come
over that road with which to fight
the enemy. Waiting patiently, as
though they knew that some day
they would have a chance to fight
the Japanese who have tried to ex
terminate them.
I’ve seen a Chinese woman run
into a bomb crater, pull the dismem
bered pieces of her child together,
and wipe the dirt from the face of
her dead husband, a look of misery
on her face. Then, when she saw
me staring, she stood there and
smiled. When I glanced at General
Chennault with a question on my
face, he said, “Don’t interpret that
wrong now, Scotty. She’s showing
you she can still smile, no matter
what happens.”
Even with the small fighter and
bomber force that we now had in
China, the people had taken a new
lease on life. Every time we had an
air battle over Hengyang they would
capture another town along the
Yangtse or near the lakes around
Nanchang. I think we realized then,
as General Chennault had realized
for a long time, that all these people
needed was a chance, with air sup
port for their ground armies and
modern equipment for their soldiers.
Our small force had put new life
into them. They had plaques em
broidered in commemoration of the
battles that we fought. These would
sometimes represent the American
eagle holding the flags of America,
Britain, Russia, and China. In Chi
nese characters would be a poetic
account of the battle that the pilot
or the squadron had fought. As we
drove along the roads in our jeeps
to the field for the alert of the “Jia
bao,” the little children would hold
their thumbs up and call again and
again, “Ding-hao.”
More and more we asked our-
“My armament sergeant and the
crew chief of the fighter.”
selves, “What couldn’t we do with
plenty of equipment for the Chinese
ground armies, and us over their
heads with adequate air support?”
Would the day ever come when we
could make an attack with a force
that was a credit to the greatest
country in the world? Towards the
middle of August, as our pilots died
in the old ships that we had, we
had begun to doubt it.
For no, we didn’t win all the time.
Sometimes we lost, even when we
traded one for ten. We lost because
the Jap could replace his lost
planes we could not. It was more
than losing ships—sometimes our pi
lots died in the unequal battles.
One day in August, Johnny Alison
was leading six P-40’s to intercept
a larger number of Japanese com
ing in against Hengyang from both
Hankow and Canton. When inter
ception was made, the Japs had
fifty-three planes. They were in
three, waves, so of course Johnny
didn’t get them all together and let
them take shots at his little force.
He circled in the sun, waiting for
the opportunity to strike, and get
away with all his ships. Then it
came. He dove through nine of
them, and his six planes shot down
four of the enemy. In his second
attack, after diving away and climb
ing back into the sun, he sent four
of his six down against them and
then came on with the other two,
just in case the enemy should follow
the small attacking force out of the
familiar “circling movement” that
the Jap with his ever superior num
bers always went into.
The little force of fighters knocked
down another Zero. But one of the
P-40’s was in trouble. Johnny said
later that he had seen the enemy
ship's following the Forty, but
thought the closest one was another
P-40. Too late he realized the error
and went to help the pilot, whom he
knew by then to be a boy named
Lee Minor. The Zero rode the
American fighter’s tail and shot it
down with cannon, and the P-40
burned. Johnny watched for a chute
to open, but nothing happened.
As we drove out along the high
way that afternoon—Baumler and
Alison, Jack Belden of Life maga
zine and I—we were hoping by some
fluke that Minor had bailed out and
that Johnny had failed to see him
do it, but we suspected that we were
merely being optimistic. The far
ther we drove down the road to the
South, towards the battle area of the
morning, the more we expected what
we found. Finally we saw it.
Four Chinese coolies were walking
towards the nearest village, carry
ing an object lashed to poles, and
carrying it in the old way of the
East, with the poles over their shoul
ders. The thing they were carrying
was wrapped in grass matting, but
I saw the bare feet sticking out. We
stopped the jeep and called to the
Qooliefi* Jack. S£112.n_s^oke t_Q them
THE BLUFFTON NEWS, BLVFFTC N, OHIO
in vninesc aiiu iuu*. uie cover, iium
the face. It was Lieutenant Minor,
and of course he was dead. His ship
in exploding had evidently thrown
him out and opened his chute, but
the explosion had killed him. He
had definitely not crashed with the
ship, for there was hardly a mark
on his body.
Wrapping Minor in his parachute,
we took fiim back in a rickety Chi
nese bus that we commandeered.
We knew we’d miss Minor and men
like him. He’d been one of the up
and-coming younger pilots, and had
already shot down one Japanese
plane.
We took Minor’s body to the Cath
olic mission across the river, and
bought one of the old, ancient-look
ing Chinese coffins, made out of
wood about six inches thick, with
corners that turned up like a pagoda
roof they must weigh two hundred
pounds. We put Minor’s body in
side and held a simple service for
you have to work fast in tempera
tures of a hundred and eight, when
the humidity is just about a hundred.
Then we filled the casket with quick
lime, sealed it up on our brother
officer, covered it with ten layers of
heavy bricks to protect it from rob
bers and rats, and left it there to
wait for the next transport to Kun
ming.
The headquarters in Yunnan is the
burial ground for all of our pilots
killed fighting against the Japanese.
There on the plateau in Yunnan is
the only memorial ground the 23rd
Fighter Group will ever have. Our
pilots lie beneath a gray slate slab
from the earth of Yunnan, under the
wings of the Chinese and the Amer
ican Air Forces. They lie there in
the shadow of a little Buddhist tem
ple which for all practical purposes
is the Christian temple of our God.
Captain A. J. Baumler was the
best operations officer I ever saw.
He could go out and shoot down
Japs all day, then come in and read
the combat reports of twenty pilots,
digest them all, and write out the
most comprehensive report in the
world—one that would give higher
headquarters a ringside picture of
the fight that had taken place.
“Ajax” was from New Jersey. He
had fought for nearly two years with
the Loyalists in Spain, and had shot
down seven Messerschmitts and
Fiats in that war when he became
an ace in the 23rd Group he was the
first man in the war who had shot
down German, Italian, and Japa
nese aircraft. Ever since America
had entered the war he had led a
hectic existence. Months before De
cember 7th, he had left America
from California to join the AVG and
General Chennault, as a Lieutenant
in the Air Corps. He had been
stopped in Hawaii for a month and
then had received permission to con
tinue on.
NOTICE OF THE TRANSFER OF PUBLIC
MONIES FROM THE GENERAL FUND
TO THE ROAD AND BRIDGE FUND
Notice is hereby given that on the 20th day
of April, 1945, the Township Trustees of
Bath Township, Allen County, Ohio, filed
their petition in the Common Pleas Court
of said County praying therein for authority
to transfer Five Thousand Dollars (35,000.00)
now in the General Fund of said Townsjiip
to the Road and Bridge
Hhip. The reason for
being fully net out in s
Said petition will bp..
Court on the 9th day a
o'clock, P. M.
The State of Ohio. Allen
Estate of Elisabeth Tsc
D. W. Bixler, of 118
Ohio, has been appoint
Administrator of the
Tschanti, late of Aller
May. 1945, at 1:30
JOSEPH
IOWERY
S L. MASON
of Bath Township
mty, Ohio
Driver, Clerk
rnship Trustees
FRANK
H. E. I
CHARLI
Trustees
Allen Cc
Paul S.
Bath To
’OINTMENT
County, as.
antx. Deceased.
Kibler St., Bluffton,
and qualified as
•state of Elizabeth
NOTICE OF AP
County, Ohio, de­
April, 1945.
P. SMITH.
Probate Judge
Dated this 13th day o
RAYMC
•OINTMENT
NOTICE OF At
THE STATE OF OHIO
Allen County, ss.
Estate of James Art!
Leland Diller of 113 i
Ohio, has been apjtoi
Administrator of the e
Hauenstein late of Aljei
ceased.
Dated this 18th day
.ir Hauenstein, De­
Main St.. Bluffton,
and qualified as
te of James Arthur
County, Ohio, de-
Anril, 1945.
Raymond P. Smith
Probate Judge
SWIFT & CO
COLUMBlfs GROVE
DAILY MARKET
HOGS— /I S
160 to 400 1460
400 up ...
................
SOWS .............
STAGS ........... ... 1300
Mcunlu,
1435
1385
1350
COWS—
Good ........... ... 900 105C
Cutters .... ... 650 850
Canners ... ,... 550 650
Calves ............. 1600
Spring Lambs 1550
Ewes, Good .. ... 650 700
Ewes, Thin .. ... 400 500
THE A. C.&Y.
RAILROAD NEEDS
BRAKEMEJ^
B0ILT5WAKERS
MACHINISTS
CAR REPAIRMEN
SECTIONMEN
TELEGRAPH OPERATORS
BRIDGE AND BUILDING
CARPENTERS
meet WMC requirements,
are full wartime jobs and
possibilities for postwar
Must
These
good
work,
and unemployment benefits.
Call at the nearest A. C. & Y.
station and the agent will give
you complete information.
Liberal railroad retirement
The Akron, Canton &
Youngstown Railroad Co.
Comes May month of May
Queens and late spring frosts
and a new sugar stamp
peace rumors that persist
fast time and some new red
and blue points and politics get
ting under way early this year
and top news flash of the week was
a ham that appeared on the block at
Bigler’s Saturday—some of the cash
customers almost passed out and
others well nigh got hysterics and
everybody scraped together what red
points they had and that ham dis
appeared like a snowball on 4th of
July but no one was excited
about those pound cartons of butter
stacked up in the showcase—when it
comes to spending scarce red points,
looks as if steaks get the nod—and
margarine will pinch hit for butter
even if it isn’t colored and all’s
quiet on the political front with the
deadline for municipal candidates’
filing at hand—where’s the old time
spirit that made grandpappy take his
politics and his voting straight—
never scratched a ballot—but now
adays they can’t even fill the ticket
how come, we’d like to know—
after all it’s just as important to get
out the candidates now as to get out
the vote later why worry about
getting out the vote in November if
we don’t get out the candidates in
May and fishing hitting a slump
Sunday—anglers say it’s because of
a falling barometer and we hope
by the time you read this that peace
will be
and
and
than a rumor.
more
This
Fund of said Town
Ihe desired change
ad petition.
[afaJgMWMMr- said
manpower shortage is
of the old timers back
war
some
putting
in the harness—for instances there’s
Med Murray than whom there is
none whomer when it comes to hang
ing wallpaper. He’s on the job this
spring putting on paper for a Lima
concern. Yes, Med’s 77, but you
would never suspect it when you see
him wield a paste brush.
Mayor Howe, who announced his
candidacy for another term the first
of the week has not missed a coun
cil meeting in more than nine years,
which we believe establishes an all
time record. He has attended every
meeting since he first became identi
fied with the town administration as
member of the council in January,
1936 and if he keeps up his present
pace by next December he will have
Practise
rounded out a decade—10 years—of
perfect attendance. He served as
member of the council until Novenv
ber, 1938 when he filled the vacancy
left by the resignation of the late J.
Norman King. He was subsequently
elected mayor in 1939, 1941 and 1943.
Two flappers passing the Bluffton
News office Tuesday when the follow
ing bit of gossip floated thru the
open doorway: “Yeah—he’s a good
egg, but it ain’t Easter”.
History repeats itself—with minor
variations, to be sure—and the pres
ent peace conference has an inter
esting counterpart in some age-yel
lowed press sheets promoting inter
national peace after the First World
War presented by Miss Alice Ludwig
of Poplar street who was engaged in
publicity work at that time. The
theme is almost identical with that
of the present San Francisco meet
ing, with one important exception
that Russia, now in the forefront of
the peace promotion conference
at that time portrayed as the
shevik menace to civilization.
was
bol-
the
Albert Benroth, caretaker of
town clock was on the job Sunday
morning when Bluffton officially
changed from slow to fast time.
Altho most of the clocks about town
were advanced an hour, before mid
night, the town clock continued on
slow time until the appointed hour—
3 o’clock when it made the one hour
jump.
Another chapter was added last
week end
gan some
Barbara
freshman,
Mrs. Floyd Pannabecker on College
road. The two Hayes and Panna
becker families, engaged in mission
work in China before the war, lived
for a time as next door neighbors.
They had not met since living in the
Far East.
to a friendship which be
years ago in China when
Hayes, Oberlin College
visited at the home of
The Bluffton News follows the
boys to all sorts of places these days.
Latest is that it reached Okinawa
three days after the start of 'the in
vasion, according to word from Rich
ard Gratz, son of Mr. and Mrs. Chris
Gratz. The News of March 1 was
in Okinawa on April 4, he said.
And speaking of fast transporta
tion the Sidney Hauensteins who
wrote a letter to their son S. Sgt. Nel
son Hauenstein of the Air Transport
Command stationed at Casablanca,
North Africa on Sunday of last week
45 MEN WANTED
The urgent need of truck tires and tubes by
our armed forces is on the increase.
Industry must produce a still greater quan
tity of truck tires and tubes.
Truck tires and tubes have a high priority,
also a high manpower priority, and are very
essential.
If you are not now engagedjjijessential war
work come in and talk itToy^r with our Per
sonnel Man, Mr. Capell.
Cooper Corporation
Findlay,/Ohio
ALL HIRING THROUGH U. S. E. S.
Standard Size 8 1-2 11 Inches
500 Sheets..
(No Broken Packages)
Bluffton News Office
PAGE
ing Papci
4Cc
--9
received a reply this week on Tues
day—nine days later. Their daugh
ter, Barbara, enroute from Lisbon,
Portugal to Beirut, Syria, w’here she
will teach in a mission school, stop
ped at Casablanca recently and spent
several days with her brother.
When you read about those hard
driving Yanks with Patton’s army
that has been going places in Ger
many, you will be interested to
know that Laverne Huber, son of
Mr. and Mrs. Waldo Huber, is one of
the men driving the tanks that have
been hanging up military speed rec
ords.
And from the other side of the
w^rld comes word from Pfc. Melvin
Nusbaum, son of Mr. and Mrs. Jacob
Nusbaum of Bluffton, who was one
of the Yanks who helped liberate
Americans held by the Japs in the
infamous Santo Tomas prison camp
in the Philippines near Manila. All
were hungry, especially children who
sought every morsel of food, includ
ing that intended for garbage.
Among the liberated prisoners pass
ing by in a truck was one who re
sembled David Kliewer, former Bluff
ton man in the marine air corps cap
tured early in the war. Last word
from Kliewer, however, was that he
is being held a prisoner in Japan.
Comes a letter from the Oliver
Lochers down in Ft. Worth, Florida,
who used to live in
shovel coal all winter
of us. Now that’s a
past, they say. Fact
outlay for fuel last winter amounted
to $5 for wood for their fire place.
And of all things—we found out
where these Florida natives go for a
vacation. Living right in the midst
of the nation’s top vacation spot with
seaside resorts and ocean fishing at
their door, doesn’t mean a thing.
When they want to relax and forget
all about Yankee winter tourists they
travel north to the Carolina moun
tain resorts.
Bluffton and
like the rest
thing of the
is their total
Top ranking surprise of the week
occurred at Swan Stonehill’s on East
Elm street Tuesday morning at 1:30
o’clock when their son Pvt. James
Stonehill recently liberated from a
German prison camp arrived home
totally unexpected, got into the house
through a rear door and announced
his presence by switching on the
lights in their upstairs bedroom.
His parents received word a week
ago that he had been freed from the
prison camp but they had no inkling
that their son was in this country.