EDITOR'S NOTE: To honor the University of Arkansas alumni who have served the country in the armed forces, we hope you will enjoy this Memorial Day story about the life of alumnus James R. Williams, B.A.'50. 

By Cat Donnelly 

The late James Robert Williams, USAF (Ret.), from Brookland, Arkansas, was a decorated World War II veteran who flew 59 combat bombing missions for the Army Air Force. 

He took part in battles from the D-Day invasion to the Battle of the Bulge. After the war he attended and graduated from the University of Arkansas and was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Air Force Reserves. He was called to active duty and served in the Air Force from 1951-68, retiring with the rank of major. 

He was driven, in part, by his love of flying, but also shaped by the legacy of his homespun Arkansas grit, fortitude and faith. Williams grew up during the Depression era and chronicled the many little things that gave hope and inspiration to a 122-pound teenager as he aspired to go after more than he even thought was possible to achieve.  

EARLY YEARS IN ARKANSAS 

Williams was born in 1922 in his parent's home at the community of Brookland in Craighead County. He was the fourth of seven children. The place where Williams grew up in the Arkansas Delta still exists, but you'll have to imagine the smell of small town fresh air and life before the age of television, cell phones and big box stores to appreciate the man that emerged out of a life of poverty to accomplish all he did as an adult. 

World War I had been over for less than four years, and thousands of men were struggling to find their place in the peacetime era. The country was in the throes of Prohibition and mobsters got rich seemingly overnight running bootleg alcohol for their eager customers. 

Williams' father worked as a station agent/telegrapher for the Southwestern Railroad, known as the "Cotton Belt line," which ran from St. Louis to Dallas. The family lived in several cities and towns along the line depending on where the railroad needed him at any particular time. So the seven Williams children were born in six different places, the oldest three in Piggott, Dewitt and Rector. Both James and Emma Jane were born in Brookland. The youngest two were born in Anaston, Missouri, and Stuttgart. 

Some of William's oldest and fondest memories of his childhood were of the few times that he and his brother Byron got to spend at their maternal grandparents' small farm in Rector, just a few miles south of Piggott, in the summer. They sunk into soft feather beds and delighted in smoked hams and gooseberry pies. Ice boxes were not common, so the fresh milk, butter, buttermilk and other perishables were stored in the cupboard and chilled in water-tight crocks in the cool water of the well. All the water for the house was drawn from this well. 

His paternal grandparents lived in Piggott on a corner lot across from the flour mill and the telephone switchboard for the town, which was an operator's private residence. Grandfather Williams owned a broom factory that took up one end of their house.  

In 1927, the Great Flood devastated the Arkansas Delta and the family's front steps were washed away. The flood covered about 6,600 square miles with many places under water up to 30 feet deep. Much of Arkansas remained flooded through the spring and summer and into September. Farmlands were either under water, covered in sand or mud, or simply washed away. It was devastating for much of the area. 

Williams' dad lost his job with the railroad in 1929 when his father went across the street to the store just as a train inspector came through and noticed that he was not at his post. That's when the family returned to Piggott. 

Radio was in its infancy. Playtime for children was a do-it-yourself affair. If you wanted a toy, you made it or improvised with something you found. Entertainment was a book, or talking to people, or playing games like Tag, Blind Man's Bluff, or Ante-over. Other activities included wading in the creek, going fishing or sledding or ice skating, depending on the season. Williams was the family entertainment on many cold winter nights as he would perform improvised skits and short plays. 

THE GREAT DEPRESSION 

William's dad found a job with an oil dealer in Stuttgart, population 5,000, in the beginning of the Great Depression. The family was what you would call 'dirt poor.' In the summer of 1930, when Mrs. Williams was pregnant with her youngest child, they all piled in an acquaintance's Overland touring car and made the journey 150 miles south, which took all day. Roads were rough, and often unpaved. Maps were hard to find so travelers had to stop often to ask locals for directions and then be on the lookout for weather vanes or some other obscure landmark.  

Stuttgart was surrounded by rice fields because the flat, rich loam was ideal for this crop. To water the land, every rice farmer had his own pumping system powered by huge diesel engines that brought the artesian water gushing from the ground to be meted to the rice fields as they needed it. These huge engines played a low rhythm that lulled many children to sleep at night, even when it was impossibly hot and sticky. It was during this time that Williams, a mere eight years old, started selling newspapers in the streets and local pool hall to help the family make ends meet.  

The price of rice was so low during the height of the Depression, that a bushel of rice brought only $1.00, which would not pay the freight to transport it to market in Chicago. Rice was so cheap and plentiful, "that we would go to one of the mills and the men there would give us a large bag of unpolished rice free for the asking," Williams wrote. The local fresh water fish market would also give them the roe for free. Sometimes, farmers would let other families come in and gather vegetables and keep half of all they gathered. Between the free food and the vegetables the family grew and worked for, the Williamses were able to survive these trying times. 

The 1930s was a time when not everyone had indoor plumbing and even if a house was wired for electricity, the family might opt to not have the power turned on. The schools did not furnish paper, pencils, crayons or other school supplies and the same texts were used year after year to keep costs down for the families.  

Everyone in the family was expected to work at something, no matter how meager. Williams cleaned chicken coops or painted fences for a dime. If a tent show or a carnival came to town, they would all go see if they could earn a few nickels helping put the tents up, arranging chairs, feeding animals or whatever else was needed. 

During summers, the children would fill as many one-gallon buckets as they could with wild blackberries from the bayou and peddle them house to house for about 25 cents a bucket. During the winter months, the father and older boys would take a cross-cut saw to the same bayou to cut wood for the winter. Williams mowed lawns with a push mower for 50 cents for a day's work, and eventually worked in different stores and was even a photographer's apprentice. 

A loaf of bread sold for 10 cents, a pound of bacon for 15 cents, a quart of milk for 5 cents, and butter 10 cents per pound, but most families couldn't scrape up a lot of cash so the barter system for items and services flourished. Gasoline was only 15 cents a gallon, but that was out of the reach of most families, so cars were rarely seen on the roads. 

In 1933, Franklin D. Roosevelt initiated the Works Progress Administration, or WPA, to keep people from starving. People built roads, repaired bridges and built dams for $1 a day. Williams's father was a laborer on a gang working on roads around Arkansas County. Government surplus food like canned meats, fruit, juices, flour, corn meal, sugar and jelly was distributed to needy families. Soup kitchens served beans, bread, milk and coffee. An apple or orange was only given at Christmas along with nuts and a few pieces of hard candy, and one modest toy for each child. 

There were three banks in town, but after the stock market crash, two of them had to close their doors and the depositors lost all of their money. In 1936, Pretty Boy Floyd and two other men robbed the only bank left in town, the First National Bank. Floyd took a teller hostage, a lady Williams knew, but let her out of the car just outside of town.  

Williams was about 14 at the time and stopped for a grape Nehi at the Mafouz gas station that day when he noticed three men dressed in suits and hats, all strangers. As he walked back to town, he learned that he had just had a brush with Floyd and his associates. 

FINDING FLIGHT 

As a teenager, when school was out, Williams spent every moment he could at the airfield where barnstorming aircraft and the beginnings of a full-time air service were taking shape. He would go to the local golf course and shag balls or caddy for 50 cents for nine holes. 

One day an airplane swooped low and landed in the pasture next to the golf course. The pilot taxied his Curtis Robin near the fence that bordered the golf course, and the golfers and Williams went over to investigate. As the pilot, Barney Root, spoke to the adults, the gangly teenage Williams climbed into the rear seat of the airplane. The pilot took Williams for his first airplane ride, and Williams was hooked. 

Root was a 'barnstormer,' a pilot who flew around the country making a living by taking people for five-minute airplane rides for 50 cents. Any pasture big enough to set his Curtis Robin down was an airport for him. Even for experienced pilots, it was a risky profession: Root later lost his life when he hit a fence and power lines on a take-off in Texas.  

Later, Jesse Orville Dockery, moved to Stuttgart. At one time, he owned approximately 27 various types of airplanes. "Dock" was well known in the flying circles and was friends with other pilots such as Frank Tinker from Oklahoma, who has an Air Force base named after him. Tinker was a daredevil and once flew the full length of Bath House Row in Hot Springs at tree-top level. 

William O. "Monk" Miller, both a pilot and a master mechanic, worked for Dock and he taught Williams about caring for aircraft. He knew that Williams didn't have money but loved to fly, so Monk gave him his first helmet and goggle set. They would set out in a biplane in an open-air cockpit flying to Pine Bluff, Stuttgart or Little Rock. It was "seat-of-your pants" flying without radar, landing aids or beacons. They just flew low and slow, using the turn-and-bank indicator, artificial horizon, oil pressure, cylinder head temperature gauge, air speed, fuel level and the compass to find their way back.  

The Williams family were very active in the Southern Baptist church in Stuttgart where Williams played clarinet in the church orchestra. He also worked while going to high school and at the end of the '41 school year, he still needed one English credit and one elective to graduate. Because Williams started a job as an electrician's helper, two of his high school teachers each instructed him two nights a week. That freed Williams up to work his defense job at the Army Arsenal in Pine Bluff that was under construction and enabled him to graduate a year later in 1942. 

ENTERING WORLD WAR 

On Sunday, Dec. 7, 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. Williams knew that he would be sent to fight soon since he was eligible to be drafted. In September 1942, Williams received his notice from the draft board to report. Not wanting to be in the infantry, he quit his job, went to Little Rock and enlisted in the Army Air Force. He was at Camp Robinson and in uniform before the draft board could do anything about it. He was soon on a train to Greenville, Texas, for basic training. 

James Williams, at far right, with the crew of a B-26 Marauder during World War II.

Williams was sent to Sheppard Army Air Field in Wichita Falls, Texas, for aircraft mechanics school. Graduation earned him the rank of corporal and reassignment to the Glen L. Martin factory school in Maryland, where the Martin aircraft were built. Williams learned the B-26 from the ground up, following a plane through the plant from the time it was a pile of parts to its completion. Then he was sent to Air Gunnery School at Fort Myers, where he learned to shoot machine guns from the windows of a plane or from the open cockpit of an AT-6. 

Williams graduated just before Thanksgiving 1943 and was promoted to sergeant. With three stripes and silver aircrew wings, he was assigned to Lake Charles Army air Field, Louisiana, as a non-commissioned officer to begin training on the B-26. The B-26 Marauder carried a crew of seven originally: pilot, co-pilot, navigator, bombardier, radio operator/gunner, flight engineer/gunner, and armorer/tail gunner. This was reduced to six by training the bombardier to also do navigation. Williams was the engineer gunner assigned to the top turret. "I manned twin 50 caliber machine guns in a Martin electric turret, trained to identify all aircraft. I was able to track them, determining if they were making a pursuit curve, and attack posture on our aircraft or flight," said Williams. 

He boarded a train in Lake Charles in early March and reached Hunter Field, Georgia, near Savannah. He was assigned to a B-26 with a little more than 50 flying hours on it. He and the crew calibrated the instruments and prepared to leave for Europe.   

Several days and stops later they arrived in Marrakech, French Morocco, where they waited several more days for the right weather and other B-26s to arrive so that we could fly together from Africa to England.  

They finally got orders for England, so they loaded their guns and fueled up the tanks as well as an extra bomb bay tank. Their route took them close to the French coast, which was still held by the Germans. "To help protect ourselves, we flew in a loose 'box' or formation," said Williams. 

Once they landed at a Royal Air Force station in Wales in April 1944, they had entered the European Theater of Operations. The crew went to a Replacement Depot at Stone, then rode a train through Scotland to Northern Ireland to a base just outside of Belfast. "There we went through further training, especially in close formation flying, and some gunnery and bombing exercises," said Williams. Just before D-Day they were assigned to the 599th Bomber Squadron, 397th Bombardment Group (M), 45 miles northeast of London at Rivenhall.  

"We flew our first mission in the second wave on the afternoon of D-Day, June 6, 1944," said Williams. "We bombed the beaches and German troop emplacements just inland from the beaches." 

On the second mission, "we were baptized with fire from the German 'flak', 88mm anti-aircraft guns," said Williams. They had one engine shot out, but the level-headed pilot flew them back across the English Channel and landed them safely at the base.   

On about their 10th mission, on Aug. 4, 1944, they lost an engine again and were forced to abort, landing at a Royal Canadian Air Force strip, B-7, somewhere on the Cherbourg peninsula in Normandy. That night, the Luftwaffe came at them, and the perimeter ground anti-aircraft guns fought them off. 

"We could hear pieces of shrapnel hitting the roof of the tin-covered building we were sleeping in, with metal helmets on!" said Williams.   

They had to leave their plane there and hitch a ride on a stripped B-17 back to England. On Aug. 10, they lost another engine from enemy fire and landed back at Cherbourg.  

BOMBING MISSIONS IN FRANCE 

Other missions included attacks on the French town of St. Lo and Rouen, Chartres, Frankfort, and the bridges of France, including the mission against the bridge at Maison La Fitte. Complete records of the missions they flew were destroyed at the records depository, but they were known as the 'Bridge Busters' because of their ability to knock out highway and railroad bridges that were important to the German Wehrmacht. 

"We could put 36 bombers in the air on a normal mission and 42 on a maximum effort," said Williams. They also supported General Patton's 3rd Army. 

"We could 'lay the eggs' in a tight pattern anywhere they wanted them. After-mission strike photos proved this," said Williams. "We mauled rail yards and bridges so small they seemed insignificant, but they were important to the German war machine. We did this without hitting civilian areas, or churches. Several times we were called on to bomb Rheims, Chartres and other cities that had historical landmarks dating back to the 10th, 11th and 12th centuries. They were left standing, while the areas around them were flattened," he added.  

"Some of the missions were 'milk runs', that is, those on which the 'flak' was light, and no German fighters. Others were not. The Maison La Fitte bridge cost us six aircraft. The other heavy flak area was Chartres, France. We were hitting the rail marshalling yards that the Germans used. We hit that town three times in a row, and on one return home we counted 150 flak and bullet holes in our plane," said Williams.  

Wreckage of the airplane "Slightly Dangerous," which became fully dangerous during a landing in Englnd.

"We hit Chartres on June 17, 1944, ten days after I began flying missions. The name of the plane was 'Slightly Dangerous.' On that day, we returned to England with the left tire blown, hydraulic systems kaput and other problems. We flew around until we used up most of our fuel, then we went in. The pilot Marty set it down nice and easy and we yawed off the runway, headed for a B-17 parked off to our left. Marty cut the number 1 engine, gunned number 2, veered right into two brick buildings, tearing the first one down with the number 2 engine, and coming to rest against the second building. We were on fire, and scrambling to get out," said Williams.   

One of the brick buildings they hit was filled with bottles of nitrogen and a blade from one prop flew through the roof of the flight line fire station.  Everyone on the crew except Williams was awarded the Purple Heart for that day because all he had were two small scratches on his fingers.  Shortly after D-Day, they moved to south England, close to Christchurch. 

When the crew was in London in 1944, the Germans had developed the V-1 or 'Buzz Bomb.' It was a flying bomb that cruised about 300 mph at low altitudes, using a ram-jet engine that was programmed to quit at random somewhere over the English countryside or London. "When the engine quit, the bomb nosed down at about 45 degrees and exploded on contact, destroying anything it hit," said Williams.  

"The Royal Air Force had found out that they could fly alongside the V-1, tilt the wing of the bomb with a Spitfire wing, upsetting the gyro mechanism, and the V-1 would do a 180 degree turn and fly back out over the English Channel to explode there harmlessly if the 'Spit' could catch it in time. It was the only plane the British had that could catch it," said Williams.  

In late 1944 and early 1945, the Germans developed the V-2 which was used as a psychological weapon against the British people because you couldn't hear them coming. "The first knowledge that a V-2 was anywhere around, was the explosion as it hit. There was no defense from them," said Williams. 

BATTLE OF THE BULGE 

The crew's next move was to various places in France, near Avranches, then up to Dreux, then Peronne where they stayed from September of '44 until May of '45. They could reach the places they needed to hit easily from this location. 

They were in Peronne during the Battle of the Bulge and through one of the coldest winters in France. At one point during the Battle of the Bulge, everyone was on alert. "I pulled guard duty armed only with a 45-caliber automatic and bundled up with so many clothes that if I had been challenged, I would have been killed because I couldn't have reached my gun," said Williams. 

The winter of 1944 was hard because the snows were heavy and the crew was often forced to abort missions because of the weather. They desperately needed to provide close support for the ground troops who were rapidly advancing toward Germany and having a very tough time.  

Then in December, at the Battle of the Bulge, allied troops were pinned down at Bastogne, Belgium. For days, the crew couldn't get off the ground. On December 23, they finally were able to get 36 planes in the air. The mission was to knock out the bridge at Eiler, Belgium, to stop the German retreat and to pin them in, cut their supply lines and eradicate them.  

Ten of the group's planes never returned. "The Germans had made a last ditch, all-out effort to stop us. ME-109s and FW190s hit our group in force, plus anti-aircraft fire. Our crew was scheduled to fly another mission against the German forces that afternoon, but the mission was scrubbed because too many of our planes were damaged," said Williams. The 397th Bomb Group received a Distinguished Unit Citation for that day's performance. The crew then moved from Peronne to Venlo, Holland, their last base during the war. 

HOMEWARD BOUND ON V-E DAY 

One morning in early May, Williams received orders to go home. He hopped a plane to Paris, caught another plane to England and was on his way. He had completed 59 combat missions during his tour. Victory in Europe Day was officially declared when the Germans signed the surrender documents in Berlin on May 8, 1945. 

The German armies had surrendered on May 7, and Williams was in England the next day. London was a mad house. Williams heard Prime Minister Winston Churchill telling the British people that the war was over coming out over loud speakers on the streets of London. The lights were never allowed to come on during the war and this was the first time that the lights were on at night in a long time. 

"I had never seen the streets of London with lights on before that night. It was a beautiful sight. No cars could move. People were everywhere. They were blowing whistles, yelling, and a lot of huggin' and kissin' going on, too," said Williams. 

It took a few days for the paperwork and a load to be assembled for the ship and then Williams and 14,000 troops embarked from Glasgow, Scotland, about May 14, 1945, for New York. They were on a large steamer called the Ile de France. "Our bunks were six to eight high in every corner you could think of," said Williams. 

"We were fed two meals a day, for the five days we were at sea. We still ran a zig-zag course, because there were reportedly some U-boats, German submarines, still in the Atlantic that hadn't got the word or didn't believe that the war was over," said Williams. On the ship Williams was introduced to the GI bill and he pocketed the information for later. 

"Our arrival in the New York Harbor was late one evening, and we anchored somewhere in the harbor. There wasn't much sleep on board the Ile de France that night. I think I was on deck by 4 a.m. and watched the sunrise over the New Jersey shoreline," said Williams. 

"Shortly after daybreak, we could feel the ship moving, and could hear the tugs nudging the ship about with the hawser covers they wore on their prows. As we began to move up the channel toward the dock there was a sight to behold. Tug boats, yachts, small boats, large boats, boats with bands on them, streamers flying, horns blasting, people waving, tugs, fire boats shooting streams of water high into the air -- these were all around us. We were the returning heroes, returning from the battlefields, to receive the honor and accolades from the people," said Williams. 

The troops walked down the gangplanks as people were shouting and waving, and many were crying. "The Red Cross was there, to hand us a pint of cold milk, a snack and a smile and a "Welcome Home, GI!" for every blessed one of us. It was wonderful," said Williams. 

Ferries took them across the harbor to the New Jersey side where there were long trains to take them down to Camp Kilmer, New Jersey. "I'll never forget this sight. All along the tracks, in a very densely populated area, people were leaning out of their windows, waving flags, and waving their arms as we passed by. It was like this all the way to Camp Kilmer," said Williams. 

When they reached Camp Kilmer, the soldiers were introduced to the best and biggest chow line any of them had seen. "I can't even try to say now what was on it, but I do remember that it was scrumptious, with everything good to eat you can think of, literally from soup to nuts. All the food we could eat was ours. Go back for all you want, were our orders," said Williams. 

Later, at Camp Chaffee, Fort Smith, the returnees had a records check to see if they were eligible to be discharged. "The clerk studied my records and looked at me and said, 'The only thing that's keeping you in the Army is your desire to stay,'" said Williams. 

"In order to be discharged, one had to have accumulated a certain number of 'points,' about 85 or 86 as I recall. I had a total of 128. Every month of service was worth 1 point; each month overseas-2 points; Air Medal-5 points, each oak leaf clusters, the equivalent of 1 Air Medal-5 pts. (I had 10); each battle star-5 points. (I had 5). I had more than enough, so in 24 hours, I had my honorable discharge, $100 discharge money, plus my pay, a bus ticket in my hand for Stuttgart, and I was on my way home. Every discharged GI received $100 at time of discharges and $100 per month for the following two months. I was a technical sergeant at the time of my discharge," said Williams. 

TRIUMPHAL RETURN TO ARKANSAS 

After arriving home in May of 1945, Williams decided to use his GI bill to get a college education and enrolled at Arkansas Polytechnic College, a two-year school in Russellville. In late August, Williams enrolled to take courses toward a degree in architectural engineering. 

During his first semester at Tech, Williams met his future wife, Kerrol Griffin of Alma. She played the B flat bass tuba in the band; Williams played clarinet. They dated for the rest of the semester and around Christmas time, he asked her to marry him. They set the date for January, so that neither of them would miss any school. It was during this time that Williams bonded with his fiancée's father and was brought more fully into the Christian faith. 

They finished Tech in May of 1947 with associate degrees. The Williams' first child, Bari, was born the next month. In September the family moved to Fayetteville for Williams to work toward a bachelor's degree. The University of Arkansas was prepared for the returning veterans and had created three villages of trailers and refurbished barracks buildings into living quarters for veterans and their families. The Williams' lived in Terry Village, located about 200 yards from the Razorback Stadium. Their second child, James Alison, was born in June of 1949 in the local hospital. 

Williams commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Air Force Reserves in February 1949. Williams changed his major and finally graduated in May of 1950 with a Bachelor of Arts in commercial art and a double minor in German and math. 

Growing up a poor boy in Stuttgart, Williams never believed that he would have the opportunity to go to college. "I am grateful that I am a citizen of this wonderful country. Where else in the world would a person like me have an opportunity to better myself than in America?" asked Williams. 

After graduation from the U of A, the family moved to Little Rock, and Williams worked for the Arkansas Foundry Company until April 1951, when he received orders calling him to active duty in the Air Force. 

ACTIVE DUTY IN THE AIR FORCE 

After orientation at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Williams was sent to Biloxi for electronics officer training. The family lived in Alexandria, Louisiana, then overseas where they finally settled in government quarters in Munich, Germany, living later in Gauting, then Ramstein. Both children started school in Germany. During the Germany tour, the family got to travel to Rome, tour Belgium, Holland and Luxembourg and made some short trips around the German countryside. 

In July 1955, Williams was assigned to Eglin Air Force Base in Florida as an operational test officer, so the family boarded a ship back to the U.S. They moved to Valparaiso and he reported to Eglin to conduct environmental and operations tests on airborne navigation equipment. He was then sent to Alaska for a year.   

After returning to Eglin, Williams went to West Virginia as communications and electronics officer for Aircraft Control and Warning. He then received assignment to communications and electronics Staff School at Keesler Air Force Base at Biloxi, Mississippi, and was later transferred to Richards-Gebaur Air Force Base, near Kansas City, Missouri, where he was assigned duties as electronics counter-counter measures officer. He was responsible for ECCM activities at all AC&W Radar Squadrons located in the 29th Aerospace Division, covering Wyoming, Montana and the Dakotas. 

After two years, Williams ended up in California, where he retired from the United States Air Force as a major in 1968 and began a second career teaching with the Lompoc Unified School District, from which he retired in 1984. His later years were spent enjoying time with his wife, children and grandchildren and occasionally dabbling in painting. 

James R. Williams passed away Aug. 14, 2014, in Lompoc, California. He was survived by his wife Kerrol, their children Bari and Jimmy, and their grandchildren.