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Most of us who flew in bombers in the war will vividly remember the events that went into the physical and mental preparation for a bombing mission. Only those who flew those missions will remember that strong inward desire to somehow avoid being awakened on that morning when we must once again prepare ourselves for the unknown knowing full well that this day may be the last he would ever experience.
The night before:
Usually we had advance warning that a mission was pending. If the weather was good and if we were not on leave we could expect that notice would be posted in the afternoon or evening of the day before our group was to participate in a bombing raid.
A typed notice that listed the crews that were to fly the next day was placed in the Club and in the Squadron headquarters. Each of us nervously searched that list for our crew name. There was no indication as to where this mission would lead us or the time of the morning that we would be awakened.
After the mission notice was posted, the atmosphere in the Club and squadron area changed radically. The joviality of the evening was gone as everyone became conscious of the meaning of this coming event. Some who could sleep would immediately retreat to their bunks and try to get much needed rest for the coming difficult day. Other's who could not sleep, would write letters, read, play cards, or anything that would help to make the time go by more swiftly. Newly arrived crews, who might be flying their first mission, would be looking forward to the event with great trepidation. Those of us who had been there before could scarcely control our desire to "get on with it". After all, the sooner we could complete our required number of missions the sooner we'd be going home. We could not choose the target or the time so we just took our chances and hoped that this target would be a "milk run"
I usually stayed up till about 10:00 PM. There was always the hope that I would suddenly be overcome by sleep. Why did time pass so slowly? There were times when I passed out and slept like a rock but most mission nights were spent in a very restless, fitful sleep. The expression "sweating it out" must have originated with airmen. Some airmen, when awakened the morning of a mission, would literally be in a cold sweat. No one said a word when one of his buddies arose in the semi-light of the early morning with sweat glistening on his torso. We understood.
At 3h30 A rough hand on my shoulder and a flashlight in my face and a gruff "Wake up, sir. Briefing at 0430 hours" Lights were not turned on in deference to the sleeping crews that were not flying on that day.”
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