I was born May 29, 1925 in Nanty Glo, Pa. As a child I became so gravely ill that the doctor told my parents I wouldn't live through the night. They made a vow that if I lived I would become a priest. Keeping that vow, they sent me to Benedictine High School in Cleveland Ohio to prepare for the priesthood. In May 1943 at the end of my junior year, I went home for the summer and immediately went to Johnstown to enlist in the Air Force. I was an 18 year-old GUNG-HO kid afraid the war would end before I got into it and also, I didn't want to be a priest. That August I was notified to report to Johnstown. My parents always believed I was drafted.
We left by train for Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania. I remember John Spontak ( Spoony) from Mundys Corner being on the train with me. He was a nice guy, always joking, and he sort of watched over me. I also remember losing my high school ring on that train. After spending only a few days in Mechanicsburg, I was sent to Miami Beach, Florida for basic training. I don't remember where "Spoony" was sent.
I took an exam for the flight training program and scored high but failed the test for pilot because of poor depth perception. My high score in math placed me in the bombardier/navigator school. Someone decided there were enough navigators and the school was closed. I was sent to Dickinson College in Carlisle, Pennsylvania for four months. They closed that school and I was sent to gunnery school in Tallahassee, Florida where I spent 3 -4 months. We learned how to take a 50- caliber gun apart in the dark and how to shoot skeet while riding in a truck. We also did parachute jumping from a tower and then had to jump from a plane at 4000 feet. I was so scared; the jump Master Sgt. Almost had to push me out. I jumped on my own and I did it correctly by landing on both feet, thus avoiding injury. That was our one and only jump.
I was then sent to McCook Air Force Base in Nebraska. I was assigned to a B-29, 20th Air Force, 9th Bomb Group and because of my size, smallest in a crew of eleven, they made me the tail gunner. We trained for bomb runs, taking out targets on the ground and shooting our guns. On leaving McCook to fly to San Francisco, our pilot asked if we'd like to see the Grand Canyon. It was an amazing sight to see!
On to Cannon Air Force Base in Clovis, New Mexico where we washed and readied our plane. I got very sick and landed in the hospital. The crew went on to Hawaii and days later I was flown there and hooked up with them. We were only in Hawaii for a few days but it was long enough for our Flight Engineer ( a small Italian guy) to take a jeep parked in front of headquarters, drive it to the air base and load it into the bomb bay of our plane. To this day, I still don't know how he did that.
We flew to Tinian in the Mariana Islands, our base for all our missions. We'd hop in the jeep and scout the caves on the island for souvenirs. I found a Japanese flag and a Samurai sword which I later took home. While walking through a cemetery where Marines that had invaded the island were killed then buried, I came upon a wooden cross marked with the name Henry Paleccsar. The Palencsar family lived just three houses away from mine on Hill Street in nanty Glo. This was a very sad and complete surprise to me. I took a photo of the grave and marker and sent it to his mother. He was probably only about 18 years old.
A tour of duty consisted of 35 missions. As tail gunner, I was about 20-25 feet away and pretty isolated from the rest of the crew. Flying to Tokyo on our very first mission, the pilot yelled "Hey Mike, any flak back there?" I looked around and yelled back" Hell no, there's nothing but black puffs of smoke." No one ever told me that flak was black puffs of smoke. On many missions after that, some of the crew couldn't resist jaggin' me with "Hey Mike, any flak back there?" On Tinian Island there was a cliff at the end of the airstrip which was long enough for take off but one of our B-29s didn't make it. Ten crew members were killed, one survived. We were pretty shook up but never found out exactly what happened.
To relieve tension, we would often play practical jokes on each other. One weekend we were getting ready to go to a USO dance. While my good buddy Larry Selby was taking a shower, I rigged up a bucket filled with water above the door he'd have to come out. When he opened the door, the bucket tilted and soaked him. I thought he'd be in his underwear and was totally shocked to see that he was fully dressed ( shirt, tie, suit, shoes...the works). I ran and he ran after me. I'm sure if he had caught me, he'd have killed me!
We flew many missions to Japan (Tokyo, Osaka, and Hiroshima). We flew night missions in the Sea of Japan. On one mission flying at 30,000 feet, the weather was so bad we were practically flying at ground zero. As a result, we missed our targets, so the pilot said, "Okay, if 30,000 feet is ineffective, we'll try 4,000 feet." On another mission we were bombing cities along the coast line. The lead plan missed missed the target so naturally all the planes missed the target. At our return briefing the Missions Officer announced "Tomorrow night you're gonna' starve 'cause you killed all the fish in the bay!"
Each mission lasted 12-18 hours. We didn't have much opposition, very few fighter planes and very little flak. I had four 50-caliber machine guns and one twenty millimeter cannon which all fired together. On one mission I spotted a Japanese fighter plane, fired at it and thought I shot it down because of a trail of smoke. Since no one else saw it, it was listed as a possible as there had to be a witness to get credit. On another mission, a Japanese fighter plane dropped a phosphorous bomb targeting our plane fortunately it missed...we never lost a crew member. The fast good lookin' P-51s out of Iwo Jima escorted us to our targets and back to the base. I never saw any Japanese Zeros but by then the war was coming to an end and the Japanese were concentrating on air power they had on Okinawa.
The name of our first B-29 was "The Live Wire." Our second B-29 was named (by the pilots) "Behind the Eight Ball." Painted on the nose of the plan was an eight ball with a Japanese guy behind it. After our tour of duty (35 missions), we were scheduled to go back to Hawaii by boat. I got sick, so the rest of the crew shipped out and left me behind. Two days later, they put me on a plane and I beat the crew to Hawaii. Then I was flown to California while the crew was still enroute on the boat. I never saw then again until after the war when five of us got together. Some of us kept in touch for many years. Larry Selby and I saw each other every year until his death in 1990.
I was sent to Mather Air Force Base in California. A buddy and I decided to go into San Francisco. While we were there, the announcement came that the war was over. The whole city went wild, everyone was hugging, kissing, and passing bottles around. It was CRAZY! The date was August 14, 1945.
I was discharged a Sergeant from the Air Force in October 1945 and immediately started my senior year at Nanty Glo High School. I didn't have time to purchase civilian clothes so my first day I showed up wearing my uniform which went over really big with the girls. I graduated in May, 1946. I didn't want to go to college. My Dad gave me an ultimatum: "Go to college or work in the coal mines." I'll never forget my first day in the mines with my Dad who was a stickler about not cussing or swearing...ever! I couldn't believe what my ears were hearing, language like I'd never heard before. It only took three months in the mines to convince me to go to college.
After two years in electrical engineering at Jr. Pitt, I transferred to Indiana State Teachers College. While attending a children's picnic, I found the kids so lovable, I decided I wanted to be a teacher. I graduated from Indiana in 1949, spent one year in Detroit, and started teaching in Nanty Glo in 1950. I taught math for 16 years, was elementary principal for 19 years and retired in 1985. On the day of my retirement, I stood at the cafeteria door, as was my habit everyday, greeting the children. The last little girl in line looked up at me and said,"Mr. Soyka, please don't retire." I was so choked up I couldn't speak. I wouldn't trade those years for anything! Katie Berdomas and I were married June 1, 1952. We have five children; four boys and one girl, 13 grandchildren and five great-grandchildren. "It's been a wonderful life." ---------Interview by Helena (Soyka) Dropcho, October 2008.
A Closing Thought
Life is a great big canvas; throw all the paint on it you can.---Danny Kaye (1913-1987)
