The People who live around You...

In my many travels around our Sun, I have never really achieved greatness, more approaching goodness, or acceptableness.  Meh, I’ve used the cards I was dealt, maybe not so well, but it is what it is.  But, for some strange reason, in all my averageness I have somehow been surrounded by greatness, in one form or another, from family to those I’ve bumped into.  This is one story of one of the greats.

So, in June, 1973, my father retired from the Air Force.  After a long and interesting career dealing with such weird things as Range Tracking Ships (where, one time in Miami he left a Cuban restaurant right before it rapidly disassembled due to conflicts with another Cuban restaurant (this was in the late 50's/early 60's so there might have been something else besides who had the best flan) and measuring radioactivity at Bikini Atoll, he selected Patrick Air Force Base (Formerly, way formerly, the Banana River Naval Air Station) south of Cape Canaveral (everyone knows where the Cape is, or should, even Bubbleheads, at least of the ballistic missile variety (Canaveral Port has a large turning pool for SSBNs so they can go practice BMing in their BN) in Florida as his last ‘post’ to be retired from.  So to Patrick our family went, and then to a rental condo in Indian Harbor Beach overlooking the Banana River just north of Mather’s Bridge (a swing bridge connecting the southern tip of Merritt Island (which separates the Banana River from the Indian River (which neither are really rivers, more estuaries, but hey, what’s in a name, right?) while the parents looked for permanent housing for our family.

A suitable house was finally found, in Satellite Beach, two blocks south of De Soto Avenue, just a tad south of Patrick AFB (especially if you count South Housing, which was a part of the base that wasn’t part of the base, but a separate section separated by unincorporated area south of the actual base-base (the part with the airfield, seaplane ramp (very useful later on for trailerable boats) and all the admin stuff and the Base Commander’s house (very important that the base commander be actually on the base, you’d think.) (The military spent a metric carp-ton of money renovating South Housing, and then some committee in Congress sold off South Housing and the new owners just plowed all those nice 60’s era houses down (that were recently refurbished and renovated) and are now replacing them with McMansions.  But the same time the military renovated South Housing they also renovated North Housing (which is actually on the base and also has the Base Commander’s house) and went to densepack condos so they were able to move all the base personnel actually on the base-base.  Weird.  But that seems to be my life.  Weird.)

And that is where, in Satellite Beach (try getting a 4^th grader to properly spell ‘Satellite’, it was a pain, ‘Indian Harbor’ though two words was much easier to spell) the Bean Family Robinson, so to speak, ended up, in late November/early December 1973, in a 4 bed, 2 bath house not too far from the beach, and surrounded by all sorts of weird people, you know, civilians.  Real civilian-civilians, people who never worked as a military contractor (like those civilians at Kwajalein) or had any connection with the military at all other than living near a military base.  Lots of people involved in NASA (one of the reason for the house being available was NASA downsizing in early 70’s as the Apollo program ground to a halt.  A friggin national tragedy that.  On the verge of 70% reusable capsule tech, safety program far exceeding shuttle system, and one step from nuclear engines and we go with the flying garbage scow.  Comment tragique (as Sarge would say.))  How weird, about the civilians thingy (it would help if I stayed on point, right? (Yes, Beans, right.))  Beans had not, for the previous 5 years at least (hey, Beans at one time was a kid!,) lived around actual civilian civilians, so he was a stranger in a strange land, at the tender age of 10 years old.

But, well, there were lots of retirees in the area.  I am sure you military types are familiar with that situation.  Bases, with their base hospitals, their base exchanges (think K-Mart store for the military families)(also known as a post exchange for Army types and whatever Navy types call theirs) and the base commissary (grocery store) and the package stores (booze selling locations, separated by officers and enlisted, if I remember) attract retirees who still have base privileges, so they can use those base privileges at such places like hospitals (where you wait and wait and wait) and the BX (where old retiree males can buy the most cheap and butt-ugly clothing, or used to back in the 70s and early 80s, I think they got better stuff now, maybe, don’t know, haven’t been there since I lost base privileges) and commissary food and most especially the booze from the package store(s).

And one of those retirees was living behind our new house, Mr. Leverette.  We could have called him “Col.” (and we tried to call him that, growing up as AF officer brats, it’s kind of instilled into one to use ranks no matter what) but he wanted to be called “Mr.” so that’s what we did.  Mr. Leverette and his wife, Frances.

A lovely couple they were, kindly people, kind of those quiet grandparents that you used to find everywhere in neighborhoods.  And Mr. Leverette had… stuff.  All types of stuff.  He had a huge collection of 0 Gauge (that would be the big trains with 3 rails instead of 2) Lionel trains from the 30’s to the 60’s, and he would pull out a car or locomotive and talk about them, but their house was full of a life’s collection of knick-knacks, so unfortunately we never got to see any of the trains running (sad face, very sad face.)

And he tinkered.  With all sorts of stuff.  Ever hear of a 30-speed bike?  Mr. Leverette made one, from a 3 speed cable-controlled hub with a 5 speed sprocket set on the rear wheel, and a 2 sprocket set at the pedals (5 speed rear sprocket and 2 speed front sprocket set from a 10 speed donor bike.)  You would start out in 1^st gear (hub) and run up through the 1^st 10 gears using the conventional 10-speed setup, then quickly downshift, switch to 2^nd gear (hub) and run up again, do the same with 3^rd gear (hub)…  That darned bike flew.  He let me use it a couple times to exercise one of my block neighbor’s Afghan hounds (I could pull away from those dogs on the straight-away, but downshifting to corner would slow me up enough they’d catch up.  I would tire before they would.  Neat dogs.

And there was a neat picture on his wall.  A painting of him, in USAAF flying gear, crush hat and all, looking all serious and regal.  For Mr. Leverette was that neat thing that every boy-kid in the 70’s wished they knew.  Mr. Leverette was a double-ace, and not only that, he aced+2 in his first combat (that would be 7 kills at one time)  Aaaaannd… He flew… The Lightning, the beautiful, gorgeous, downright heavenly Lockheed P-38 Lighting!  Man, how friggin cool, someone who actually flew against Krauts, a cold-handed double ace, and a P-38 Lightning pilot!

http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/wlleverette.htm

oh, look, a man and his plane, nice planesource: https://www.tigernet.com/forum/thread/Clemsons-Military-History-441660

One day I showed him my ham-fisted attempts at gluing a P-38 model together, I think it was a Revell P-38 kit, and he spent the afternoon going over every part of the actual plane with me (and fixing some of my mistakes.)  In 1976, he still knew the ins-and-outs of the Lightning like he was still flying one.  And when he saw that I had a Stuka kit, well, he told me about the day he shot down 7 Ju-87s.  He acted like it was an ordinary day at the office, or maybe changing a tire.

mine did not end up looking like this, more like one attacked by a glue monster
(and it wasn't the model Col. Leverette flew)

but in my mind’s eye, at night, with the lights off, it looked like this
(P-38F, the model of Lightning Col. Leverette flew)

this is Glacier Girl, rescued from the ice, photo, well, just because!
same P-38F as the one posing for the camera on the ramp
(can you really have too much photo of Lightning?  I think not!)

This led to many interesting afternoons listening to him talk about flying in the Mediterranean Theater of Operations, flying from Tunisia, North Africa and over the ocean and over Italy.  But he never talked about his kills after that one day.

He did talk about skimming the Med with his plane for fun.  About how the heat from the desert just wrecked the takeoff and landing ability of the plane.  How, when you’re high up, the afternoon sunlight is just spectacular as it lights the ocean and the land with color.  How the cool weather in Italy was a refreshing change from the desert, until it turned miserably wet AND cold as only Italy can (Korea has some of the same problems, but apparently Korea has them in spades (as the old saying goes.)) He also talked about a P-38 pilot who got shot down over the Alps and walked out, and how bad the USAAF flying boots were for walking in cold weather.  Supposedly it wasn’t him.  I always wondered.  Could never pin him down (damned pilots, shifty slickery cusses, all.)

But… I knew he was a hero, but remained clueless as to what he actually did for years and years and years.  And then I got curious and wandered down the search engines looking for the man behind the two engines (so to speak.)

From Col. Leverette’s page from Arlington National Cemetery:   http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/wlleverette.htm

Courtesy of Air Force Magazine

William Leverette, a Double Ace, Dies

Retired Colonel William L. Leverette, celebrated World War II ace, died April 7, 2003, in Beaverton, Oregon. He was 89.

Leverette was one of only two Americans in World War II to score seven victories in a single encounter with the enemy.

He was born in Palatka, Florida, on September 5, 1913, and received a degree in mechanical engineering from Clemson University and a masters in aeronautical engineering from Princeton. He entered the Army Air Corps in 1939 and earned his pilot wings in 1940.

As commander of the 37th Fighter Squadron, Leverette on October 9, 1943, led seven P-38s on a mission to protect Royal Navy warships in the Mediterranean. When he sighted a formation of 30 German Ju-87 Stuka dive bombers, Leverette sent three of his fighters to fly top cover while he and the other three closed on the Stukas. Each of the German aircraft had a gunner manning a flexible machine gun plus two wing-mounted guns.

Leverette, who had spent two years teaching fighter tactics and had more than 1,000 hours flying fighters, took out seven of the Stukas himself. His unit shot down another nine, plus a Ju-88, and most of the rest either headed for home or ended up in the sea.

For his leadership and individual performance in this action, Leverette received the Distinguished Service Cross.

He continued to down enemy aircraft in other actions, finally totaling 11 victory credits to become one of the top 20 aces in the Mediterranean theater.

During his military career, Leverette flew 45 different aircraft, from the BT-2 biplane to the F-104. He retired from the Air Force in 1965.

By John L. Frisbee, Contributing Editor
Seven Come Eleven

In the March "Valor," Bill Shomo was credited with being the only American to score seven victories in one mission. A sharp-eyed reader has named another who matched that feat.

On September 3, 1943, as the Allied invasion of Italy got underway, the Italians threw in the towel. Even so, there were to be many months of fighting before German troops were driven out of the peninsula in a bloody campaign that absorbed virtually all Allied military power in the Mediterranean.

While granting that Italy had first priority in the Med, Winston Churchill also had his eye on another prize--the Greek Dodecanese Islands lying off the southwest coast of Turkey in the Aegean Sea. They were garrisoned largely by Italian troops who, Churchill judged, would cooperate if the islands could be seized before the Germans took over. Capturing the islands, he thought, might bring neutral Turkey into the Alliance and open the Dardanelles and Bosporus as a short supply route to beleaguered Russia. But Allied forces in the eastern Med had been stripped to support the Italian campaign and to prepare for the Normandy invasion. About all that was left was a Royal Navy squadron of a dozen ships and a few RAF aircraft.

Churchill's plea for a minor diversion from Italy fell on nearly deaf American ears. Finally, General Eisenhower agreed to send some long-range P-38 fighters and a few cannon-carrying B-25s to help out. The 14th Fighter Group was moved from its base in Tunisia to Gambut 2, an RAF strip of sand near Tobruk, a few miles west of the Egyptian border. From that desert paradise they were to escort Royal Navy ships and to attack German convoys headed for the Greek islands.

The group's 37th Squadron was commanded by Major William L. Leverette, who had arrived in North Africa late in August. Leverette was not your average replacement. He had spent two years teaching fighter tactics in the States, had more than 1,000 hours in fighters, and was no stranger to the gunnery range.

On Oct. 9, Leverette led seven P-38s on a mission to protect Royal Navy warships near the island of Rhodes. As they reached the ships, a formation of some 30 Ju-87 Stuka dive bombers was sighted approaching from the west. Leverette dispatched one flight of three P-38s to fly top cover while his flight closed with the Stukas.

The Stuka was not a particularly nimble aircraft, but it wasn't to be approached casually, either, especially when encountered in wholesale lots. In addition to wing-mounted guns, it carried a rear gunner manning a flexible machine gun. And with so few hunters (Leverette's wingman was a new, nervous, slightly trigger-happy lad) attacking so many targets, conserving ammunition was the key: "Get in close and make every round count." What happened in the next few minutes is best described by Leverette himself in this debriefing account:

"We peeled off into the middle of them, and I got two almost before they knew we were there. The gunner in the first started to fire, but stopped as soon as I let go. We came back behind them and I got on the tail of another. His gunner stopped firing as soon as I opened up, and the pilot bailed out. My fourth was a 30-degree deflection shot from 200 yards. Then I gave a lone plane a burst of cannon and machine-gun fire from a 20-degree deflection. That finished him.

"I came in directly behind the sixth. His gunner opened up before I did, but I got him with my first shots. The plane nosed down a little, and I gave him a burst in the belly. I was closing fast and had started to go under him when he nosed almost straight down, his propeller shot off. I tried to dive under him, but didn't quite make it. My left prop cut two feet into his fuselage as he went down. My last hit was the best. I was closing on him from the right when he turned into me. I rolled into a steep bank to the left and got him while firing from an almost-inverted position."

While all this was going on, the leader of Leverette's second element downed five Stukas, and his wingman got three. After disposing of a Ju-88 that was escorting the dive bombers, the top-cover flight came down to drop another Stuka. A few got through to make their bomb runs; the rest either jettisoned, headed for home, or ended up in the sea.

For his combat leadership and individual performance, Leverette was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, this nation's second highest award for valor. But his combat career didn't stop there. The group soon returned to the Italian campaign where again, Leverette downed two Me- 109s and two, Me-110s for a total of 11 victories, ending his war as one of the top 20 aces in the Mediterranean theater.

 oh, and here he is, painting his 8^th kill
check out his list of decorations... Russian Order of Alexander Nevsky? whoa...
 (this was before it became a civil service award)

In looking for more information on ‘Mr.’ Leverette, I found this site, by a Luftwaffe officer who was the nephew of one of the pilots on the other side of the Lightnings that day.  It breaks down each individual kill with graphics and all sorts of ‘neat’ stuff, from Maj. Leverette’s after action report.  Have fun, you’ll be doing that hand-thingy thing pilots always do in the movies.  (The link also includes .jpgs of his actual AAR.  Coooool.)

 http://www.ww2wrecks.com/portfolio/dogfight-over-the-aegean-the-leverette-report-illustrated-p-38-lightnings-against-ju-87-stukas-on-9-october-1943/    

Only later, way later, like during research for this article, did I pay attention to the fact that he was the commander of the 37^th Fighter Squadron (Twin Engine) of the 14^th Fighter Group, from 29 September, 1943 to 27 April 1944.  Not just a hot-shot pilot, but the commander.

This is from a museum in Britain, how totally American (the patch, that is)!http://www.americanairmuseum.com/media/24516

From the historical write-up of the above patch:

The(37th Fighter) squadron converted to Lightnings in 1942. In February 1943 it was detached from its parent group and deployed to North Africa, where it was assigned to the 14th Fighter Group the following month. The 14th group had temporarily withdrawn from combat, with some of its men and planes being reassigned to the 1st and 82d Fighter Groups.

The squadron began combat operations in May, after being re-equipped with the P-38F and some P-38Gs. Already prior to the Axis defeat in Tunisia, the Northwest African Air Forces had begun preparations for the invasion of Sicily. The 37th flew dive-bombing missions during the Allied assault on Pantelleria. It helped prepare for and support the invasions of Sicily and Italy.

The unit became part of Fifteenth Air Force in November 1943, and moved to Triolo Airfield, Italy. It engaged primarily in escort work flying missions to cover bombers engaged in long-range operations against strategic objectives in Italy, France, Germany, Czechoslovakia, Austria, Hungary, Yugoslavia, Rumania, and Bulgaria. On 2 April 1944, the squadron earned a Distinguished Unit Citation for beating off attacks by enemy fighters while escorting bombers attacking ball-bearing and aircraft production facilities at Steyr, Austria, enabling the bombers to strike their targets.

Can’t get much clankier downstairs than that.  But he was such a mild-mannered old guy…

Now?  Now I regret not getting more time with him, getting him to tell me more stories.  I moved away in 1985.  Mrs. Leverette died in 1988 and he moved away to Oregon, to pass away in 2003.

A great man.  Quiet.  Smart.  Strong.  Devoted Father, Devoted Leader.  Especially a devoted teacher of other men and annoying neighborhood children.

Colonel William Lawrence Leverette, Ret.
11 Aerial Victories (7 Ju-87, 2 Bf-109, 2 Bf-110)
5-Sept-1913 to  4-Aug-2003
USAAF, USAF
He currently rests next to his wife in Section 66, Site 4242-A at Arlington National Cemetery.  

Maybe there is a reason for me to get to DC one of these days.