W.J. GAY

A TRUE AMERICAN HERO

This is the story of W.J. Gay, a true American hero - a hero on the gridiron, a war hero in the sky, and a hero to his family. 

W.J. was born in Dublin on the last day of July in 1923 to Aaron Lee Gay and Myrtice Hamilton Gay.  William James, or simply just “W.J.,” attended school in Dublin and was an outstanding husky, 150- pound,  all-district tackle candidate on the “Green Hurricane” football team in 1940.  After high school, W.J. went to work for the Atlantic Ice & Coal Co.

Gay enlisted in the Army Air Corps just after the beginning of World War II.  He was assigned to basic training in Miami, Florida.  After training in Panama City, Florida and Salt Lake City, Utah, Gay was promoted to Sergeant in 1943 and then to Staff Sergeant a few months later.

In the late spring of 1943, Gay was assigned as a gunner aboard a B-17 Bomber “The Thundermug” based in Dalhart Field, Texas.  In just a matter of weeks, Gay’s world turned into a nightmare. On the evening of July 4, 1943, Captain Buford Bevins and his eight man crew took on nighttime practice bombing run. W.J., who was assigned as the plane’s tail gunner, was basically along for the ride in that there were no German planes to shoot at.   

The fireworks supposedly over with, it was all quiet until thirty minutes after midnight.  As the bomber approached Boise City, Oklahoma it was off course, way off course.  The substitute navigator gave the “bombs away” command as the plane was over the target which was designated as a square - lighted on all four corners.   No other crew member noticed the last remnant of sleepy town’s dimming lights. Actually, what the navigator  saw was the Cimarron County Courthouse Square, its four corners also marked with lights  The first bomb hit a garage. Two more bombs landed in a street.  The Baptist Church was also a victim of an errant bomb.  Boise City’s frantic air raid warden phoned the FBI to report the bombing.  The man in charge of the city’s lights pulled the switch to throw the targets into total darkness.  Navigator William Bicker called off the raid thinking that a bomb had inadvertently destroyed the bombing range lights.  

When the sun came up, townsfolk ventured out to survey the damage.  Six bombs, luckily carrying a minimal amount of explosives, were dropped on Boise City.  Army Air Corps officials were red-faced and beyond livid.  The crew was issued an ultimatum:  Go immediately to Europe for air combat duty or face a court martial for their humiliating blunder, the only time in history when bombs were dropped on the Continental United States.  The crew went their separate ways.  Many B-17s carried the infamous name of the beleaguered bomber into the last two years of the war.

Gay chose a dangerous assignment with the US 8th Air Force.  A tail gunner had a life expectancy of only four missions or normally two weeks.  To complete his service, a crew member had to participate in 25 missions, more than six times the average chance of being killed.

W.J. Gay arrived in England in September 1943 and was eventually assigned to the crew of the “Daring Doris” of the 333rd bomb squadron of the 94th Bomb Group.   Gay was aboard on what would be Captain William Cely’s final mission on March 8, 1944. Cely, a highly decorated and career pilot, is honored in the National Air and Space Museum.  After Captain Cely and Staff Sgt. Gay completed their service, the “Daring Doris” was destroyed in a mid-air collision on September 11, 1944. 

 

GAY, FOURTH FROM LEFT HOLDS UP CAPTAIN CELY AFTER A SUCCESSFUL MISSION

   

     Before he was twenty-one years of age, Gay defied the deadly odds by completing his 25th and “going home”           mission.  (Below, Sergeant Gay is on the far left.)

He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for      shooting down two German fighter planes.  He served as a tail gunner on 16 missions and as a waist gunner on the remaining 9 flights.  Each bomber had two waist gunners who stood opposite each other firing through open doors.  Their mission was made even more dangerous because of the bone-chilling cold air and little if any cover from enemy fire.  Waist gunners wore heavy  electrically heated suits.  They were  responsible for checking the aircraft for damage and assisting the flight engineer to locate and repair damage to the aircraft necessary.

Gay gave the credit for his survival to his fellow crew members and his pilots who got his plane out of many “hot spots.”   He stated, “The romantic side of the war is not found in the flying fortress on a mission over enemy territory.”

“The one idea is a job to do.  Do it quickly. Get back home.  We all wanted to finish up and come back home.” unabashedly proclaimed.

Of his first downing of any enemy fighter, Gay recalled, “We were flying in the tail end position of the squadron in the formation. We made our bomb run and dropped our bombs without any trouble.  But on the way back over the Zuider Zee, fifteen or twenty Messerschmidt 109 fighters made a sneak attack on us out of the sun.  One ME came in a little high at six o’clock   We couldn’t see too well because of the vapor trails.  At about 150 yards from our Fort, the German pilot bailed out. The ball turret gunner and the left waist gunner also knocked down one a piece that day.” 

Gay’s second kill came two days later over Bremen, Germany,  which was in the heart of the German industrial district.  Gay flew two missions over Berlin and participated in the Battle of Central Germany.

His twenty-fifth mission done, W.J. Gay anxiously returned home.  He married the beautiful Anna Bell “Ann” Soto of Arizona and had four daughters, Joan, Dian  Barbra,  and Carol.   Gay drove trucks but was most well known as the owner and operator of Rockdale Grocery on U.S. Highway 80 West.  W.J. Gay served as commander of the local chapter of the A.M.V.E.T.S. in the early 1960s.  His wife Ann was always by his side during his term. 

Ann Gay died a week before Christmas 1981.  Just five days later, W.J. Gay was coming out of his store escorting his little granddaughters,  Marla and Melanie Brantley,  when a drunk driver killed them all in horrific twist of fate.  On a personal note, the Gays were my next door neighbors for a dozen years.  Forty years after their deaths, that terrible moment still haunts me. Don’t remember how W.J. Gay died.  Instead remember how he lived his life, the life of a wonderful father, friend, neighbor, and a hero in the sky in a world war, long, long ago.