Following August’s reprise of the August 1945 atomic bombings that ended World War II, I’m devoting this month’s retrospective to the sudden onset of peace. With a very personal view. It's excerpted from my 2023 history August 1945: When the Shooting Stopped. Far as I know, it's the only one-volume account of global events in that world-shaping month.
==
Beverly Jean Barrett was a princess on the Pendleton, Oregon, Round-Up court in September 1945. A 25-year-old green-eyed brunette, she rode a large sorrel horse called Jimmy who enjoyed ice cream cones and the occasional hamburger. During the week-long rodeo, she and her friends became acquainted with some naval aviators who attended the event with all the innovative enthusiasm of Frederick Wakeman’s wartime novel, Shore Leave.
Beverly explained, “The ’45 event was the first full-scale rodeo since the war, and a lot of boys were home from the service. It was and is the major event in Umatilla County every year, and my family had been involved since it began in 1910.”
On the first day – Wednesday, September 12 – the queen and court rode into the arena, waving to the crowd in the grandstand, and went to the box seats. Beverly recalled, “We were just sitting down when I heard a sudden, loud noise. I turned around just in time to see a fighter plane swooping down into the arena and pulling up on the other side. There were American flags all around the top row, so I don’t know how the pilot missed any of the poles. He was very low.”
That was just the beginning. The miscreant aviator was about 50 air miles off track from NAS Pasco, Washington, across the Columbia River. Pasco was home to part of a light carrier air group and Composite Squadron 82, which had completed a combat tour aboard the escort carrier USS Anzio (CVE-57) in March. Lieutenant Commander F.A. Green’s unit, with FM-2 Wildcats and TBM-3 Avengers, was recycling for another deployment when the war ended. But flying continued with instrument practice and rocket firing.
Aside from their end-of-war exuberance, the Navy fliers probably relished the opportunity to upstage their khaki counterparts. Pendleton Army Airfield was home of the B-25 group that provided the Doolittle Raiders in 1942 and continued as an operational training and maintenance facility. Shortly after Pearl Harbor, then-Major Curtis LeMay briefly flew from Pendleton.
The blue intruders made themselves known to Umatilla County. Wildcats buzzed tractors in fields and cars on highways– allegedly running an Oregon State trooper off the road. Local legend related the tale of an Avenger that executed a mock torpedo attack against fishing boats on the reservoir south of town–with bomb bay doors open. Finally enough was enough. Some high-decibel phone calls were made, and Pasco grounded the errant tailhookers.
Nobody complained–the Navy men were stranded for the duration of Round-Up. Beverly Barrett explained, “They were definitely ready to party. They sort of attached themselves to us, though the court had escorts as well as a chaperone. I had already met Jack Tillman when he was a flight cadet. I had seen him in his dress uniform, leaning against a light pole, and I remember thinking, ‘Hmmm…how did I miss that?’”
Tillman had already encountered the Pasco fliers downtown, where they carried a 20mm ammunition case filled with ice and beer.
Beverly continued, “One evening the Round-Up court was at the country club for an event. The fliers from Pasco were there in dress blues,
because some of them had met other local girls. It got to be late and we decided to go to dinner, and I got up to leave. Then somebody asked, ‘Where’s Mac?’
“Mack was a short, stocky young man. I never did know the full names
of any of the fliers because they came and went so much. But we all knew Mack. Finally somebody found him out behind the club house, asleep under a tree with the club’s big Saint Bernard. Mack had drunk about 12 Alexander cocktails and apparently crawled through the sprinklers on the green, because his blues were ruined from water and grass stains.
I’ve often wondered if Mack or any of those other fliers remember that night. But I certainly do!
