"A TALE OF A RED TAIL"

By Al Sharpe

My wife and I were shopping in Rico Calarese’s Supermarket and as we went through the check-out line, a voice said: “You look mighty like a tail gunner to me.” Startled, I looked up and saw a black gentleman, about my age, in the adjoining line.

“You can be only one of two men sir,” I answered. Kindly turn around so I can see if your tail is red.” “You got me,” he said. “I was a pilot in the 332nd, and I believe you were glad to see me that day over Yugoslavia.”

This was a strange coincidence after all these years. We were pleased to see each other again. There was only one squadron of African-American pilots in the Air Force during WW II. They were the “Red Tails” of the 332nd based in Italy. They were the only squadron of P-51’s we ever got help from when we were on daily resupply drop missions in the area around Zagreb. They were always a welcome sight.

On this one particular mission, he had helped remove the pollution (enemy fighters) coming in on us. After rescuing us he pulled in directly behind us and took a good look at me in the tail gun turret. He claimed that at six feet one inches tall, I was the most packed-in gunner he had ever seen and that he could never forget the look on my face when I realized we were still alive.

He told me that he had crashed his aircraft while landing at his home base after that mission and had to spend some time in the hospital. He had returned to active duty in 1952. We discovered that we now live only eight miles from each other.

Footnotes: “They Flew By Night” by Col. Robert W. Fish, page 280 (A letter from Al Sharpe)