Front and center in this photo is my uncle, my godfather and my friend Alfred Philo Howard, Jr (1922-2013). A P-51 pilot, he was shot down during an attack on a German airbase. Actually, I should say he shot up. He told me he was trained to fly as fast as he could during the attack. As soon as his motor was hit, he pulled back on the stick hard, driving his plane skyward. The speed allowed him to climb high enough so that when he bailed out, his chute had time to open, at least partially. He was knocked unconscious upon landing. According to my mother, the first thing he saw when he woke up was a gray-haired farmer in a WWI greatcoat holding an old rifle on him. The farmer was kicking his boot, saying, “Zon, vor you de var ist ovah.” Uncle Philo was liberated from his POW camp a year later by none other than General George Smith Patton, Jr. who promptly excused himself by riding off in his open jeep, shouting, “Sorry, boys, but I’ve got to go kill me some Nazis,” meaning the SS troops who had earlier that day threatened to kill all the American prisoners. Uncle Philo returned to Texas to become a husband, father, insurance salesman, sportsman and my beloved uncle.
Sperry Eugene Hunt, December 2019