B-17 Plexiglass nose detail: Where navigator and bombardier sat––most vulnerable area on plane and able to see the flak coming right at them.

Frank Gartz’s classification has come through on 1/4/1944. He’s been assigned to be a be a navigator.

Stephen Ambrose in his book, The Wild Blue, about B-24 airmen, states:

“After mental and physical exams, the men who passed were asked to list a preference: pilot, navigator, or bombardier. Those who put down pilot—a vast majority—figured you needed a top score to quality, but in fact, the AAF [Army Air Force] took its navigators from those who scored best.” 

Here’s the official form letter sent to each Air Force cadet’s family after the assignment of navigator was made. (A different form letter was sent for each position assigned on the plane):

On this same date, January 4, 1944, Frank wrote to my parents, and to his Dad, announcing his classification (I’m grouping all these letters into one post as they all deal with his new position.)

Based on Ambrose’s quote above, perhaps that’s why Frank was told, “You’re too intelligent to be a pilot!”  In typical modest fashion, Frank doesn’t buy it, as you’ll see in his letter below.

Of course, every position in a World War II bomber required intelligence and brain work, but the job of navigator was probably the most cerebral, requiring lots of number crunching to get the crew safely to and back from the bombing site.

According to this letter, Frank also put down “Pilot” as first choice. Of course, it sounds the most glamorous, but his scores told the decision-makers: this boy was needed as a navigator.

On the same date, January 4, 1944, Frank wrote to my parents, and to his Dad, announcing his classification (I’m grouping all these letters into one post as they all deal with hiBased on

Ambrose’s quote above, perhaps that’s why Frank was told, “You’re too intelligent to be a pilot!” In typical modest fashion, Frank doesn’t buy it, as you’ll see in his letter below.

Of course, every position in a World War II bomber required intelligence and brain work, but the job of navigator was probably the most cerebral, requiring lots of number crunching to get the crew safely to and back from the bombing site.

According to this letter, Frank also put down Pilot as first choice. Of course, it sounds the most glamorous, but his scores told the decision-makers: this boy was needed as a navigator.

The “glass enclosed office” Frank refers to in his letter is the plexiglass nose at the front of the plane, the most exposed section. (see photo). He also wants my Dad and Mom to keep a secret from his mother about the dangers of being navigator. Read on to find out what they were:

Letter #1

(Note: This letter was misdated 12-4-43, a common mistake at the beginning of a new year.)

1-4-44

Dear Fred and Lill,

Thanks ever so much for the well needed $5.00 it was the best present a soldier could get as we never have too much money especially in my rank.  I was classified yesterday and received my collar wings and U.S. also a pair of wings for my cap, approximately the size of the sketch on the top of the page (see original letter for sketch).

Well they say I’m too intelligent to be a pilot but I don’t believe them.  Nevertheless they made a Navigator out of me and gave the highest job of the Air Crew to your humble brother. I’ve got to take them there and bring them back.  Most likely Will has told you this already but I’m going to repeat it because I’m sort of proud of what they made me.  It’s going to take a lot of work and sweat before I’m through but if I don’t make it I’ll go down fighting.

Don’t tell Mom but there are more Navigators bumped off than pilots or bombardiers because of their position in the ship. Oh well. I have a better view than the rest.  Just think—a glass enclosed office to do all my thinking (gee if I only know how).

Well you can tell the boys down at the plant that National Die Casting Co [where my Dad worked] products are on the best ship we got.  They use the oxygen regulator on the B17F.  There’s a B17 in the hospital courtyard which has been in service and I looked inside to see what I could find.  Lo and behold I see an oxygen regulator so my interest goes way up and I go to the other side of the ship and there is the label National Die Casting Co.—Chicago, Ill.  So I say to myself—write Fred and tell him about it.

I don’t think I’ll be in California very long for there’s good rumor that the Navigators will go to Ellington Field near Houston, Texas for their pre flight training. Perhaps my next letter will come from there. Today, to further the rumor, the Pilots and Bombardiers signed the payroll but not the Navigators.  This practically fixes in our minds that they want to pay us at our next station. We’ll know more of this rumor when it happens.

I was headed for the show tonight but changed my mind when I saw the line waiting. I got in line anyway.  Remember Lillian Weigman—well I got a swell surprise today. She sent me a box of goodies and I haven’t written to her in over a month. See what a heel I am (Grrrrrrr). I wrote a letter to her and one to Harvey Duck’s sister and now one to you. I guess I’ll have to head for the show more often.

I started writing a letter to Dad but never finished it so I guess I had better head back to the barracks and do my duty to humanity. Please explain to Will that I wanted to be a pilot but they had other ideas for me and tell him I’ll work hard to get through it with a good record. I know that he wanted me to do what fate wouldn’t leave [allow] him but fate has also stopped me and I took the next best turn. I hope to see you folks in about 6-8 mos. When I graduate??  Until then you will hear no more about my worries only that I’m getting along fine.

I’ll write all my troubles to you and not to Mom. You will understand this as they start. Tell Mom that I’m getting in a good branch and that I won’t regret it. You have a glib tongue and I know you can do it. I’m going to sign off now but remember what I write to you is not for publication.  Show this to Will and if he is a good boy let him see what I write but it does not get to Mom’s ears. I hope you will write to me and confirm this. Until then I remain as ever.

Love, Frank

Humor now…

WRIT BY HAND

Letter #2: Addressed to Frank’s dad

(Undated, but must be 1/4 or 1/5 1944)

Dear Dad,

I haven’t written to you personally for a long time though every letter I write home is just as much to you as to Mom and sometimes even to Will.  Anyway I thought I’d be different this time.

I’ve been classified a Navigator which is the highest classification of the three and takes higher grades in the tests to get.  Also one thing that I don’t like about it is that it takes a lot of responsibility to handle it.  Up to 12 men depend on you for guidance over long distances and expect you to get them there and back. Imagine leaving the U.S. in a big bomber and finding your way to a little island in the Pacific. It’s a hard thing to do.

The Boeing Model 307 Stratoliner was the first commercial transport aircraft to enter service with a pressurized cabin.

All the men on the ship have a 45 automatic strapped on to them and they know how to use it. Stories have come back of men killing the navigator in excitement and being lost in their flight. Well don’t let it bother you because I’m going to do it OK and won’t have much trouble or I won’t go all the way through with it.

The navigator’s course will be valuable to me after the war because they [navigators] will have to guide the big strato-liners which will be a real good job.  Well maybe I’ll get a chance to do these things if I stay on the ball and get through O.K.

Well I’m getting tired now and I guess I’ll turn in now so till I write again.

Love to all

Your son

Frank

XXXXX

Original Letters

First, to Fred and Lil (my parents). Below that, the letter to Frank’s dad (my grandfather, Josef Gartz).