Most of our area WWII veterans have passed away so here’s my tribute to a pair of unsung heroes. Yes, it’s to me and my old friend Roy D. Byrd of Centrahoma. Our biggest supporter in our efforts to shoot down and kill the dreaded Nazi’s Jap airplanes was our own Letha Mae Moore. That’s one reason she is featured on this page. She was but one of my many World War II heroes. At least in my own mind of that long ago era. Yes, we received excellent training to fight this war. Right there in Centrahoma.

Our military training was given at the Centrahoma School auditorium on Friday nights. The Friday Night Movies of Centrahoma. The movies were (more frequent) after the miracle of electricity reached the auditorium. There was no longer any need for people, such as Leon Kidwell, to park his Cord Van just outside the auditorium and park one rear wheel on the generator drive-wheels to the generator to run the generator.

Yes, we watched attentively the great WWII propaganda films and other WWII John Wayne movies. Movies that inspired us to fight in this war, but also how to fight. And if we lacked incentive and vigor that was before the movie filmed by the US government (so they say) of the sadistic Jap troops tossing helpless Chinese infants up in the air and catching them on their bayonets. We all booed and jeered, and it greatly increased our will to fight. Roy and I both chose to serve in the Army Air Corps.

Somehow, we were able to buy flying goggles and caps over at Hudson’s Big Country Store. Hudson’s was the biggest store in the world. So Letha said. She didn’t get a cap and as a woman was ineligible to fight alongside Me, Roy and our subordinate, Troy Byrd. When not actually airborne but in the classroom, we tried to dedicate as much time as possible to sketching action shots of us, the Americans shooting down the dreaded Nazi ME-109. I wanted to know how to spell Messerschmidt, so I copied it out of the Daily Oklahoman. I inadvertently learned the word.

Our somewhat unpatriotic teacher (old lady Williams) (she was 19) interfered in our war effort and asked me what I thought I was doing, and I told her I was knocking down Messerschmidt’s . “OK” she said. “Bet you can’t spell it.” Why would she say such a thing? A few days earlier she had swatted me with a paddle for “cheating” (she said) on a spelling test. But I had her this time. I wrote the word down and handed it to her. Didn’t hear much out of her for a while. I did not say to her, “Bet you can’t spell it” back to her. But wanted to.

Featured in the picture accompanying this “war” story are Letha Mae Moore, a kid named Albert and me, the WWII ace himself. Albert was the son of the Superintendent of Schools there in Centrahoma. Mr. Horn owned a small herd of goats complete with a harness and a cart. Albert, his boy required some baby sitting and it turned out we were willing to ride him around as long as we did the driving and bossing and stuff. Worked out pretty well. Between war missions I went along and helped Letha with our “Charge.” The main reason Mr. Horn had goats was to supply goat milk for his other son, an infant that couldn’t drink cow milk. The extra goats and cart were just an unexpected blessing of wartime, I guess.

Roy and I got shot down a time or two but were always able to parachute out and return to our battle stations before the next recess. But sort of like it says in Luke: “A prophet is not honored in his own country.” So, you might say that Roy and I did it out of patriotism.

I hope all of you have a good week and remember to go to your church next Sunday. And let me say here I enjoy hearing from you.

Wayne Bullard, DPh cwaynebullard@gmail.com