The following is a guest post by writer Susan Terrell, if you are interested in guest posting on our site please read the guidelines here.
As 2009 ends, I thought it appropriate to post an excerpt from the book I’m working on in honor of one of the inspiring aviators I have had the privilege to write about – Ernie Bankey Jr. He passed away this year … yet another of a generation who fought so bravely for this country in WWII. We are losing them and their stories. They need to be treasured and passed on to future generations for the lessons and inspiration to be found within them.
It was an honor to spend a day listening to this man recall his exceptional military flying life. Humble, funny, inspiring; both he and his dear wife Ginny are two people I will not soon forget. She passed away this year also, not long after Ernie. They shared 60+ years of marriage, life and love.
It is fair to say that Ernie’s life and career was driven by one overwhelming wish: to fly.
“George Was Always With Me” ~ Susan Terrell (copyright 2009)
Picture a P-38 winging its way back to base in England from Dublin, Ireland during WWII. The pilot – after being in combat for only two months; flying a plane equipped with new, clean belly tanks for its important mission – is Lieutenant Ernie Bankey. What was this task, this memory that would stand as clear and meaningful and hold a place with this pilot as one of the most important of his distinguished career as a WWII Ace and honored aviator?
It was a milk run.
The plane’s new clean belly tanks were full of cold, fresh milk. Having heard it was available in Dublin; knowing what it would mean to men drinking only the powdered version for far too long, it was typical of Ernie Bankey to appoint himself the task of supplying the real thing.
It is also typical of Ernie Bankey that as he made his final approach to land at the air base in England, the sight of a snaking line-up of men with their canteens in hand – there because word had gotten out that Ol’ Ernie went to get them fresh milk – touched him. It is telling and says much about the man also, that this was one of the first stories he wanted to share about his experiences in WWII.
The little boy whose passion for flying as a child stemmed from inspiration offered by the exciting barnstormers of the day; watching the planes zoom around the pylons at the Cleveland Air Races on summer visits to his Aunt; and of course the adventurous inspiration offered a young boy by the amazing achievement of Charles Lindbergh’s flight to Paris – grew into a man who can count as one of his life’s most memorable visions the experience of flying 50-60 feet above the water, breaking out of overcast skies returning to base from a successful mission … and seeing before him the magnificent White Cliffs of Dover. He grew into a man who in his career flew 110 sorties during WWII; logged over 350 combat hours in the P-38 and 150 hours in the P-51 Mustang; was site commander at Vandenberg Air Force Base for the first military ICBM launch into the Pacific; and will admit he was brave enough after flying in his first jet to come home and tell his wife Ginny that he’d just found something better than sex (and lived to fly another day.)
He’ll refer to himself as a “bull-headed German”, but spend any time talking with him and the image is of a kind, focused, intelligent and experienced man with a healthy sense of humor and perspective who is proud of his life, career and family. The foundational drive for all that he accomplished in his life, was his passion for flying and his desire to become a pilot.
Ernie joined the Army Air Corps April 1, 1941. To do so, he needed to be single. And here lies an important instance where his love of flying had to take precedence over other things in his life – because as much as he loved to fly, Ernie also dearly loved his “Ginny”.
Her given name is Lillian, but as Ernie says, “I couldn’t quite wrap myself around calling her that. I kind of have my own vocabulary I make up. And well … they call Missouri Mules “Jenny’s.” They’re kind of stubborn you know? I reckoned maybe calling Lillian “Ginny” was as close to calling her stubborn as I was gonna get without being hit over the head. The name just kind of stuck.”
Ernie Bankey, and the then “Lillian,” met as young children in Sunday school in Toledo, Ohio. Ernie squirted her with a water pistol and Lillian hated him. Ernie thought she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Sixty-five years of marriage later, Ernie confidently expresses the opinion that hate is more times than not the beginning of love. It certainly was for the two of them. Ernie had to forego marrying her when he wanted to in order to pursue his first love in life – flying. She loved him enough – to wait. Four children, decades of traveling the world together and a full and inspirational life shared between them now, Ginny admits he was worth waiting for.
And then there is George. Ernie credits George for allowing him to sit at a table and share his stories, 60 years after his horrendous experiences in a war that took the lives of millions. Some might argue it was Ernie’s exceptional skill as an aviator that allowed him to survive; his drive and “can-do” attitude. Some might say he was simply extraordinarily lucky. But Ernie insists it was George – George said he could do it. George said it would be okay. And so it was.
Ernie says George was ultimately responsible for the success of another of the flying experiences that he’s most proud of, this one coming after the war was over. This adventure had Ernie getting into a B-17, a plane he’d never flown before, and undertaking another successful but highly unorthodox “self-assigned” mission. His cover was a champagne run to France, required for the troops’ “the war is over” celebratory purposes. His actual intent? To visit a POW processing camp called Lucky Strike, and look for his friend “Red” Brock who had been shot down over Berlin and taken prisoner by the Germans.
Ernie talked a Tech Sergeant Engineer proficient in B-17’s into joining him on the flight, although Ernie wasn’t concerned about flying the big bomber – an airplane is an airplane in his words; he just needed somebody along to fill him in on the details that were important. So after picking up the cover cargo of 15 cases of champagne in Nice, they headed for Camp Lucky Strike in Janville, France. Once there, Major to Major, Ernie convinced the officer in charge to let him see the POW registration book. Glancing through he found his friends’ name, as well as that of a B-17 pilot who had been in his cadet class.
The reunion in Red Brocks’ tent between the two pilot friends was a tearful one. And it only took one ask of his friend, for him to agree to fly back with Ernie to England and catch a boat home from there. They searched for and cheerfully found their cadet classmate. They then headed for the plane and the flight back to the base in England.
But once again, word had gotten around about “what Ernie had done.” Rumor had quickly spread that there was a Major in camp with a plane who was flying back to England. Ernie sat in the cockpit and watched as men kept coming and coming and coming, “We’d taken on I guess about 15 extra men – I was afraid to count – and I started shouting to Sarg to close the doors. Even I knew we had too much weight on board; I knew that even though I wasn’t a B-17 pilot!” Once the doors finally got shut, Ernie had the men move forward in the plane to get the weight off the tail. Building up airspeed and ultimately flying the plane like the fighters he was used to and not a bomber he wasn’t (much to the chagrin of the tech Sergeant) Ernie got them all safely off the ground. Once they got airborne however, he remembers the Sergeant turning to him and saying, “Sir? You mind if I say I never want to fly with you again?” Ernie recalls laughing at him and replying, “No Sarg, I can understand”
Ernie says that mission and the milk run, were two of the “good things” from the war. “They help to balance out the bad things in my way of thinkin’. But of course they never really can.”
Ernie was known for his bravery and his assertive approach as a pilot. There were many “bad” things, for such is the nature of war. As a fighter pilot, it was Ernie’s job to escort and provide cover for the bomber groups to and from their targets. This was always done in a hand-off sequence, with fighter groups taking over from one another at designated locations, as the bombers had longer range than the fighter planes. Once released from escort of a bomber group, Ernie inevitably was drawn to go see what train or convoy he could wreck havoc on. He was good at that. He’s credited with the destruction of dozens of locomotives; this on top of his impressive record of being a Double Ace with 10 and a half air-destroyed, one probable, five ground-destroyed and five ground-damaged enemy aircraft.
For Ernie it was always about damaging the equipment and doing as much harm to the enemies’ support and supply lines as possible. He couldn’t – and didn’t – let his mind dwell on the fact that there were also human beings involved. He will talk briefly about the realities of the bad things if you ask him; but his voice will loose its enthusiasm; sadness and hesitancy will set in and you can see that you have asked his mind to go somewhere where it would rather not dwell. “In aerial combat, if someone would ask me after, how many kills? I’d say negative – how many “aircraft”?” Ernie was brought up with and believed in “thou shalt not kill.” In his way of thinking, to not bring to mind the man, just the machine, was the only attitude he could have and still do what sadly it was his job to do.
Ernie Bankey did his job for his country bravely. Ernie’s distinguished career in the military included many honors for his heroic service. In his office is a case including the Distinguished Service Cross, the Silver Star, the Distinguished Flying Cross with Cluster, Air Medal with Nine Clusters, and the French Croix De Guerre with Palm.
The ever-present George was indeed Ernie’s guiding hand throughout his life. He credits George for his survival, and for always giving him strength. Ernie will describe himself as planner and a doer – in the end crediting George for giving him the ability to “do” in all the ways he has so successfully over the years.
So what of this mysterious George? Who is George and why has he been such a strong yet seemingly mysterious and hidden character in the story of Ernie Bankey? Well Ernie is at heart a respectful man; he doesn’t like to ruffle feathers, and as previously mentioned he has a habit of making up his own vocabulary as a way to refer to things sometimes. You see, it’s like this: Ernie Bankey saw a movie a number of years back with George Burns playing in the starring role. Seemed appropriate to Ernie when he was telling a story about his life and felt it might be a better way to get people to see some light who might not otherwise be open to it … to give the name George to whom Ernie feels he owes his life – God.
Very nice excerpt of my beloved grandfather’s military career. Only one correction, he (like all the rest of us) was a “hard-headed deutschmen” we are German, not Dutch. His accent was always bad, but we loved him anyway =)