Ira's Citation for the Distinguished Flying Cross

Today is the six-month anniversary of my Dad's death. I am still working to accept that I am not going to see or speak with him again save in my memory, and maybe in dreams.

Meanwhile, I recently received a photocopy of his citation for the Distinguished Flying Cross, after requesting a copy from the National Archives. The bottom of the page is burned; there was a huge fire at the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis back in 1973. But the text remains clear. It reads:

"Wellins, Ira, 1st Lieutenant, AC (Air Corps), 11 June 1945.

"For extraordinary achievement while serving as Special Purpose Navigator of a B-17 airplane on bombing missions over enemy territory from 6 October 1944 to 18 April 1945. On these occasions Lieutenant Wellins exhibited consummate skill and attention to detail in the execution of assigned tasks. The navigational proficency demonstrated by this officer in attaining a high degree of timing and coordination in all phases of these attacks contributed materially to the successful bombardment of enemy installations. The courage, coolness, and skill displayed by Lieutenant Wellins on these operations reflect the highest credit upon himself and the Armed Forces of the United States."

...Yet, though I cannot see thee more,
'Tis still a comfort to have seen;
And though thy transient life is o'er,
'Tis sweet to think that thou hast been;
To think a soul so near divine,
Within a form so angel fair,
United to a heart like thine,
Has gladdened once our humble sphere.

— Anne Brontë, A Reminiscence

Ira's WWII Memoirs - full text now on the web

I have loaded the file onto the web via Google. Clicking this link http://sites.google.com/site/irawellinsmemoirs/ira-wellins-memoirs-of-wwii will take you to a website where you can click on the document and read it.

2022 update. These memoirs, while heartfelt when written, were written some 40 years after the events and have, upon further digging into official records, been revealed as... often factually inaccurate, to the point where I'm really unable to vouch for any of it. Ira's own CONTEMPORANEOUS handwritten record of his missions, recorded in the flyleaf of a pharmacy textbook he apparently took with him to England, exactly match the official record of his service as recorded in meticulous detail on the website of his unit. My father was always truthful, so I am forced to conclude that the memoirs offer a fascinating peek into how, over several decades, our memories of past events can be muddied with others' anecdotes, things we may have read in newspapers or heard from colleagues, dreams, and a soupcon of wishful thinking. 

A Letter Home, May 13 1945

Editor's note: Some of the language in this letter (referring to Germans as "Jerry", for example) reflect the strong feelings that prevailed then, only weeks after the war had ended. Over time, Ira's feelings about his role in the war and the suffering of innocent civilians would undergo a change.

Sunday, May 13, 1945
Polebrook Army Air Field
England

Dear Folks,

I spent a very interesting day Friday. I worked from 5 a.m. Friday until 1 a.m. Saturday - 20 solid hours - but on a very good cause. We flew down to Linz, Austria to repatriate prisoners of war. We landed at a Nazi airfield in Austria to pick up 30 French POWs who had been released after 5 years in a Jerry prison camp and flew them to an airfield in France. We must have seemed like angels to them, the way they fell all over themselves trying to be helpful and expressing their gratitude. It's a long story, though.

Before we took off from here, we were sprayed all over with DDT - an anti-louse powder - as most of them had lice and there's' a typhus epidemic in the Reich and Austria. The plane was also sprayed, so we were well protected.

I flew as navigator; we only flew a skeleton crew to leave more room for the POWs. There were Capt. Wilcox, Lt. Leibrock, Sgts. Speaker and Usherwood, and myself as the entire crew (normally B-17s had 10 crew-ed.). We flew at very low altitude, touring the German cities on the way down and seeing the damage we had done at close range. In fact, we buzzed the pants off of Germany.

It's almost beyond belief, the destruction we saw. Almost all the cities are just heaps of burned-out wreckage and rubble. We saw Aachen, Koblentz, Wiesbaden, Frankfurt, Nuremburg, and on the way back Stuttgart, to mention a few of the larger cities. They are just KAPUT as the Germans say it, dead cities. Aachen is the only one in any condition at all. Where their former inhabitants live I don't know - or care.

We flew so low we stampeded half the cows in Germany. The kids are incorrigible - we saw them throwing stones at us as we roared over. It's laughable but serious. It shows how they hate us. I reciprocate in full measure.

We spent an hour souvenir hunting on this Austrian airfield. They've got all kinds of Jerry planes parked there. Messerschmitts, Focke-Wulfs, Junkers, Heinkels. I poked around them all, but all souvenirs had already been stripped from them.

It's a funny thing, but my high school French came in very handy on this trip. None of the former prisoners could speak English, so I had to act as interpreter for the crew and I don't like to brag but we got along fine, altho I must have given them plenty of cause to smile the way I mangled the French language. I never thought the little French I learned 8 years ago would come in so handy.

I had a few packs of chewing gum which I distributed among them, and they went crazy over it. They strutted around with big smiles on their faces, their jaws going a mile a minute.

Most of them had never been close to an airplane before, much less ride in one, and their awe-struck behavior when they were led out to the B-17 was something to see. One of them asked me in very slow French where they were going. When I replied, "Nous vous prenons a France" [We take you to France], they became almost hysterical with joy. In a moment, with that one sentence, they changed from beaten, starved slaves into happy human beings; they became men again. As if a dam had been let loose, they plied me with all kinds of questions: where in France were they going? How long would it take? Was there food in France? How was France now? Was Paris destroyed, was this town and that town bombed? I guess their happiness inspired me because I remembered more French than I ever thought I knew - this after 8 years! They were staggered when I told them in 3 hours they would be in Orleans, over 600 miles away. "C'est fantastique!" they muttered.

I was in the bombardier's position for the take-off, and there were ten POWs in the nose with me - the nose usually holds two or three - so I couldn't move around much. I just sat up in the plexiglass front of the nose and did map reading pilotage, which was all that was possible as I couldn't reach my instruments. They kept pointing out the windows and chattering like excited children at a picnic. I kept passing them slips of paper telling them points of interest.

Soon we approached the Rhine River above Strasbourg, which at that point was the border between Germany and France. When we were over it, we all sang the Marseillaise, the national anthem of France.

In another hour we were over our destination and landed at the Chateaudun airdrome, west of Orleans. When they were all out, each one came by and shook hands with us and thanked us very much for the "happiest day of their lives."

We took off right away and landed back at Polebrook, our base, about 11:15 pm. After changing clothes and washing up and having supper, we were deloused again and got to bed (around 1 a.m.), dead tired but with deep satisfaction. We had been out 20 hours, 13.5 of them in the air, and so I slept until noon the next day and spent the rest of the day relaxing and not doing a darn thing except going to the movies.

I still haven't told you about the Flak home and the wonderful time I had there, but that will have to wait for the next letter, as this one is long enough.

All my love. I'm fine.

Your Son,

Ira

Resolution by the Rhode Island State Senate

To read the text of the resolution expressing sympathy on the passing of Ira Wellins, go to
http://www.rilin.state.ri.us/billtext09/senatetext09/s0787.htm

Ricca's eulogy

My Grandpa was the ultimate kid at heart. Many of my memories of him involve silly faces, funny jokes and anything and everything sweet.

On a trip to Hershey, Pennsylvania. we all went on the factory tour to see how chocolate is made. At the end of the tour there was a bin of Hershey Kisses samples. We all took more than one, and I may have even taken a handful, but Grandpa dipped both arms in the bin and pulled out as many as he could carry. I remember feeling proud because my Grandpa took what he wanted the way a kid might, but, even better, he shared them with us because he was a loving grandfather.

How lucky I was to have a grandparent who could so sincerely share in childhood joys.

Ira's Letter from the Big Sail

Here's my transcription of a handwritten letter Dad sent me during his voyage on Al Bensusan's boat through the open Atlantic. Clearly, it was written prior to the sailors' encounter with a major storm at sea. The letter vividly reflects his love for adventure, for seafaring, and for the natural world.

(Caps reflect his own usage .)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wed. May 14, 1986

THE SAILING TRIP - LV. FLA. SUN MAY 11 AT DAWN.

CAST OF CHARACTERS- CAPT. AL BENSUSAN, BILL REVKIN , SAM ROUSLIN, AND IRA WELLINS

Dear Nancy,

I'm writing during my great sailing trip (from Southport, No. Carolina right now). It has been exciting. We left from a place about 60 mi. north of Palm Beach, intending to spend one day on the inland waterway, sailing north to Cape Canaveral and exiting to the open ocean at that point. To our great disappointment, we found that a seaway lock vital to that exit was closed for repairs, so we had to stay inland most of the next day to reach the Ponce DeLeon exit near New Smyrna, Fla.

However, it was not a total loss, as the INDIAN RIVER (which is the INLAND waterway in that area) is very interesting with GREAT BLUE HERONS, EGRETS, DOLPHINS, MOBILE HOME CITIES FOR THE ELDERLY WITH CANALS FOR STREETS SO ALL CAN HAVE A BOAT MOORED IN THEIR DRIVEWAY? BOATWAY?? ALSO MANATEES IN SOME AREAS - AND WE SAW THEM ALL.

At about 5 pm we sailed thru the Ponce DeLeon exit into the open Atlantic, feeling like we'd been freed, the gates flung open and our 30-foot nonesuch the Zinzindorf bucked, rolled, yawed, pitched, and fought her (all boats are female - wonder why?) way through the broad rollers and headed east to intercept the Gulf Stream about 60 miles off the coast, then turn northard (actually NNE) to take advantage of the approximate 2-knot current flowing north.

My first night at sea - only a thin sliver of the waxing crescent moon to shed the faintest light to detract from the blackness, with the mast waving a long bony finger at the brilliant masses of stars, the dim red glow of the compass and instruments providing the only other light. As we each stand our 3-hour watch, we don our raingear (raining or not, as you can't leave the helm if it should blow (spray) or rain) and put on our lifeline and snap it to a line running the length of the boat, as going overboard at night is almost certain death as the blackness is too intense to find anybody. The alternative - a life jacket with flashlight, whistle, and flares - is too bulky.

There is an eerie beauty to the sight of a raingeared man at the wheel peering through the blackness for the lights of other boats, holding a red flashlight to read instruments and watching the compass, with the splendor of the stars as background as you come up the companionway to relieve. Of course, you have to hold on as the boat rolls and pitches on the broad swells and heels to the wind hitting the vast mains'l. Taking a turn at the helm on the open ocean is mainly monitoring the instruments and being on lookout for other vessels, as our automatic pilot holds to any pre-set course.

The next morning I awoke at 5:30 (went to bed at 2 am), threw some clothes on and went up on deck as it started to get light. We were rolling along at 6.5 knots all alone with nothing in sight from horizon to horizon. However during the morning we saw a few freighters far off, then nothing. Then 2 small birds - storm petrels - showed up and were with us all day - they are funny, swooping down on the water and running over the surface with wings outspread, but we couldn't see what they caught.

About 11 am a school of 4-6 porpoises showed up, arcing gracefully through the water and started playing around the bow for about 10 minutes. Al was asleep below so missed the show. He didn't quite believe us when we told him about it. However we were given a repeat performance in the p.m. which Al saw. We also saw numerous flying fish and one was found dead on the deck the next morning - evidently could not get itself back in the water.

Have to go now for a shower and change of clothes - then we're going to a restaurant. More later. In the meantime, lots of love and kisses from your Dad.