‘It was summer & there was war all over the world.’
A matter-of-fact line at the start of the remarkably humble & dramatic book, Serenade to the Big Bird by Bert Stiles, about his brief but stressful career as a co-pilot in a B-17 bomber during WWII, albeit for less than a year, but what a hectic year!
‘All I knew about war I got through books and movies and magazine articles.... It wasn’t in my blood, it was all in my mind.’
I was moved by Bert’s spare & honest writing style, like a confessional letter he might have written home to his Dad, to spare his Mom from any heartache. Incredible that he could still write under such traumatic conditions while flying 2 to 3 missions per week, usually on consecutive days. And not knowing whether he’d ever come back to home base, again, dead or alive. In 1944, Bert was stationed in England & assigned to the 401st Bomb Squadron, 91st Bomb Group at Bassingbourn in Cambridgeshire, about 4 miles from the small town of Royston.
I can’t imagine his stress levels compounded by the lack of sufficient sleep, which might have only been alleviated by his habitual need to write, in a serious attempt to understand the world at war.
Especially when B-17 crews were down-sized from 10 guys to 9 & the number of required missions was increased from 25 to 35 & the fact that heavy bombers were expectantly lost every day; it’s no wonder so many guys were stressed beyond their youthful ability to cope with combat fatigue & what they off-handedly referred to themselves as ‘flak happy’.
As you read this book you get to know Bert as a person & not just another random airman obscured by history, although I wonder if I liked Bert & his book all the more because I know what happened to him after he finished telling me the story of his young & adventurous life. But I think not, because when someone shares their life on so many different levels, it’s impossible to forget them, especially when you find some commonality on a very personal level, something discreetly identifiable, like a shared secret between friends. Much like the book’s dedication Bert made to the memory of his friend, Mac, which becomes all the more poignant after reading about their bond of friendship with such a deep emotional connection, for however brief a time.
Maybe I was moved to tears on more than one page by his compassion for the world at large & the recognition of some uncertain solution thereby with his passion for economics, or being equally honest about his faults as well as his fearlessness to be utterly self-aware, or in agreement with his collective dreams, in order to contribute something to the world, after the end of the war. And in unison with the sober picture of Bert in his military uniform, on page 8 as a plaintive reminder of intimacy that puts a face to the voice of reason in the midst of chaos. Like Bert, I struggled to understand the senselessness of war & why nobody could figure out how to end the conflict & prevent the incalculable loss of life, or exactly who decided their fate w/regard to his subsequent daily missions.
Maybe, I was moved to tears because I knew how much longer the war would actually last & acknowledged his anxiety in retrospect that there wasn’t anything I could do or say or write in a return letter, to help Bert & save him from his own despondency, in a downward spiral of sadness & depression, both figuratively & literally.
Maybe I liked Bert & his book so much more because we both aspired to be writers in our own unique way & I was encouraged by his tenacity & motivated by his discipline when I found that Bert had barricaded himself in his fraternity house while at Colorado College in the summer of 1941, to diligently write 27 short stories. So, Bert was already a published writer of stories & essays while he flew B-17s over Europe during the war & then later when he flew fighters, as a pilot in a P-51 Mustang.
I’m systemically inspired by his short yet productive life & overall heroic achievements, still deeply saddened by the fact that he died so young, at 24; as another misfortunate & careless statistic randomly dictated by Lady Luck, which haplessly curtailed any plans he had hoped to pursue, after the war. Bert will definitely be missed, yet left a legacy of some classified portion of his soul for us to always remember.
I like Bert & enjoyed his book, Serenade to the Big Bird, published posthumously after the war in 1947, presumably in England, as the first printing in America was 5 years later, in 1952. I would also like to read some of his ‘stories & essays’ in the 3 books edited by Robert F. Cooper; Midnight Serenade, Serenade to the World from 30,000 & The Final Serenade. Also, the book about Bert’s life by Mr. Cooper, called Serenade to the Blue Lady.
I will fondly remember Bert lying in a grassy meadow between missions, feeding candy bars to hungry horses & friendly kids, or imagine him trying to sing forgotten lyrics to a favorite song, or virtually struggle with him in the cockpit to keep the wing-tips of his B-17 from touching the other bombers on both sides, in close formation; when forced to fly straight through a belligerent blast of flak from enemy guns below, while he prays for Lady Luck to shield his fellow airmen from a spray of bullets from enemy fighters, as hundreds of B-17 bombers with the same deadly payload dropped their robotic bombs on an unfamiliar target far below the scattered clouds. Bert says, maybe, the war will end tomorrow, or not, just take me back to England safe & sound, so I can write another letter home & get more sack time before my next mission, tomorrow, probably.
‘What I wanted to do tomorrow was ski down Baldy up at Sun Valley, or wade out into the surf at Santa Monica, and get all knocked out in the waves, and come in and lie in the sun all afternoon.’
Me too, Bert! But, good-bye for now & rest in peace, buddy!
Book review by Jack Dunsmoor, author of the book, OK2BG.