I’m taking a detour from parents’ interview to talk about miracles. The more I learn about my father in World War II, the most I realize how what a miracle it is that he survived and that he produced a family (all of us). I had a miracle this very week when the daughter of one of my father’s crew contacted me. She had Googled her father’s name and came upon the “My Father in the War” blog. (See post in December 2009 photograph). Her father, Sgt. Herman Lipkin, was the radio operator and left waist gunner.
After bailing out of the airplane and landing in a tree, her father badly damaged his leg (which he lost). Some people friendly with the Allies found him. She said, “The underground took him in the back of a truck, I believe. He was all covered up. As a matter of fact, he was blindfolded when they cut him down from the tree so as not to be able to reveal his whereabouts if he was captured and tortured. They took him to an air strip and begged them to take my father on the plane. They did, and he was taken to a hospital. He was sent back to the United States and was in a hospital for quite some time. You know, when I write his story to you, I can't believe that he survived. It doesn't even sound real...more like a movie.”
She also told me, “My dad was listed as MIA (missing in action) for months and his parents thought he was dead. There's a book called Evasion and Repatriation by Edi Selhaus. My dad's story is in there on pages 75-80.”
I plan to order the book on Amazon. What a small miracle the Internet has created. What are the chances of me hearing from the family of my father’s crew? It was so wonderful to connect with Herman Lipkin’s daughter, and after I read about her father in the book, I’m sure I’ll have more questions for her.
I can’t believe Dick Terrell survived either. He was on his 13th mission when his bomber was hit. According to the Geneva Convention (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geneva_Conventions) once a soldier was parachuting in the air from his plane, the enemy cannot shoot at him or try to kill him – so the Germans couldn’t shoot at him or his remaining crew as they fell through the air. My father landed in a tree as well, but was immediately rounded up by a German, who for some reason did not shoot him. He was transported to Germany and while in Berlin, waiting to be transferred to another train, the Army Air Corps bombed the train station. It was a close call. Once he made it to Barth, Germany, where he remained for 13 months, he lost 30 pounds from lack of food, and according to Red McCrocklin, the guards seemed to kill people at will. So you wonder why I say I believe in miracles? I am grateful we are all here today.
More of my parents’ interview to come.
