'Laughter and Tears'

His artistic skills quickly became so popular that a fellow pilot encouraged Rarey to start a sketchbook journal of his squadron’s activities, a habit he continued throughout his time in the 379th Fighter Squadron. The letters and sketches focus mostly on humorous aspects of daily life through training and deployment, and talk of home, his wife, Betty Lou, and their newborn son Damon.

Rarey was on the older side for a fighter pilot—27—and nicknamed “Dad” by his squadron mates. Beloved and respected by his crew and squadron, he was often found painting individualized art on their P–47 Thunderbolts. He flew 63 missions, including bomber escort, strafing, and dive-bombing without aborting a single one, and was killed in action in France just a few days after D-Day.

His family compiled his sketches, letters, and commentary from surviving members of his squadron in a book, Laughter and Tears, a selection of which are shown here.

“In the afternoon we went down to the hangars, about three-quarters of a mile from the barracks, for our first flight instruction. Each instructor has five students that he instructs through the whole period. After a few minutes of instruction regarding controls, he took us up one at a time. I happened to be the first of our five, so I hardly knew what to expect. It was quite a surprise when immediately after take-off, he yelled back, it’s all yours. After several gruesome moments of experimentation with trial and error (mostly error) the ship finally leveled off at about 500 feet and I felt for the first time that we were out of the tree tops.”

“We flew this morning and the air was smoother than it has been so far. Got above the clouds for the first time. God, it was beautiful. Trouble is, you are so damn busy up there that there is no time to dwell on these beautiful phenomena. We did stalls today and shot a few landings. To the amazement of both instructor and myself I managed to land with a minimum of the bounding about that is so frowned upon here. It’s a lot of fun but the details are confusing. ‘S funny, all my life I’ve avoided routine, ordered procedure and mental discipline, and these are the very qualities that are most important in a good flyer. I think I’m sort of catching on—but occasionally I fall off the sled.”

“The flying yesterday and today was about the same—consistently mediocer (God, how do you spell that?). When the whole world beneath you looks like a patchwork quilt, it’s a little difficult to know just where you are and what direction you are flying in relation to the airport. You must also be continually aware of what direction the wind is in. Now for a guy who invariably comes out of subways in the wrong direction and can’t even navigate himself through Greenwich Village without getting lost, this can be tough! What a business! My instructor closed the throttle on me at 500 feet over some fields and woods and told me to set it down—‘forced landing.’ I finally landed but there were some mighty worried pine trees around there.”

“It’ll be good to live like a human being instead of doubling for the brains of a goddamn airplane.”

“We returned from a show over France the other day to find out that our field was socked in, so Gerry Major and I landed at a B–17 base nearby…Those lanky old boys in the 17s treated us like kings. They claim the most beautiful sight in the world is those little Thunderbolts hovering around them.”

“We flew over seven hours today and topped it off with one of our extra special knock down drag out ruff and tuff volley ball games…These boys are unique, casual easygoing, magnificent!”

“I didn’t write about Kitts—I don’t know why. We were shooting up trains in France. They were loaded with tanks and armored cars and there was quite a bit of flak. A hunk of the damned stuff hit Kitts’ ship and it just didn’t get him back. He tried to hit the silk but didn’t make it. That’s all.”

“I don’t care for this war. I want you and Damon and the life of our own choosing. I want to worry about the bills—ho ho!—and mow the lawn and make kites and stuff for the demon and his friends. I want to see you and kiss you every day of my life…So let’s get this war over–okay?” —George Rarey’s last letter, June 26, 1944

Emma Quedzuweit is a tailwheel-endorsed and seaplane-rated private pilot and historical researcher.