The Berlin Candy Bomber
As earlier entries have stressed, what really captured the hearts of the Berliners were the people-to-people contacts and the unofficial generosity of the individual Americans and British participants. None of these were more famous -- nor nearly as influential -- as one American lieutenant, who has gone down in history as
The Berlin Candy Bomber
Lt. Gail Halvorsen joined the U.S. Army Air Corps during the Second World War and flew transport planes out of Natal, Brazil. A military professional, he was still flying transport planes in 1948 when the crisis in Berlin erupted. Although his squadron, which flew the new C-74 was not slated for transfer to Berlin, another squadron on the base equipped with the C-54 was given just a couple hours notice for deployment. When Halvorsen learned that a friend with with infant twins was due to deploy, he volunteered to take his place.
Halvorsen and his new squadron arrived in Berlin in early July. The Airlift was only a couple weeks old and the crews had been told the situation wouldn't last more than 25 days or so. In fact, the probability of some sort of diplomatic deal that would end the Airlift seemed so plausible that Halvorsen was anxious to see Hitler's famous capital from the ground before getting sent home to the States. So, one day, instead of sleeping, he hitch-hiked on another C-54 and flew to Berlin as a tourist.
One of the first questions was, "How many sacks of flour does each aircraft carry?" There had been some discussion about how many equivalent loaves of bread came across the fence with each aircraft. Were we really flying in fresh milk for the younger children? What about the other cargoes? How many tons? One question came right behind the other.
Then I received a lesson in priorities. They were interested in freedom more than flour. They fully recognized that between the two was a real relationship but they had already decided which was preeminent. I was astonished by the maturity and clarity that they exhibited in advising me of what their values were and what was of greatest importance to them in the circumstances.
One of the principle spokespersons was a little girl of about 12 years with wistful blue eyes. She wore a pair of trousers that looked as though they belonged to an older brother and a pair of shoes that had seen better days on someone half again her size. [She said]: "Almost every one of us here experienced the final battle for Berlin. After your bombers had killed some of our parents, brothers and sisters, we thought nothing could be worse. But that was before the final battle. From that time until the Americans, British and French came into the city we saw first hand the communist system. We've learned much more since that time. We don't need lectures on freedom. We can walk on both sides of the border. What you see speaks more strongly than words you hear or read."
[Gail Halvorsen. The Berlin Candy Bomber. Horizon Publishers. 1997, 98-99.]
The other thing that impressed Halvorsen was that the kids never asked him for anything -- unlike the kids he'd frequently encountered in Latin America. When he turned to go, he automatically reached into his pocket to see if he had something he could share with them. He found only two sticks of gum. Two sticks of gum and thirty kids? He feared a squabble, but tore each stick in half and gave half a stick to each of the four "translators." Not only was there no fighting, the wrappings were passed around and the kids sniffed them rapturously.
One look at their faces and Halvorsen crumbled. He promised to drop more candy from his aircraft the next day. This first led to delight and then skepticism as the kids realized they wouldn't be able to recognize his plane. He said he'd wiggle his wings first and demonstrated with his arms what he meant.
Back at base, however, Halvorsen rapidly realized he'd let himself get carried away. He couldn't just drop candy out of an aircraft still flying at 2000 feet and doing about 120 miles an hour as it came over the fence. Furthermore, his crew mates were convinced that they were going to get into all sorts of trouble and did not want to participate. Halvorsen solved the first problem by fashioning a couple of mini-parachutes out of spare handkerchiefs and the second by stubbornly overruling all objections. They made the first "candy drop" out of the flare chute and the kids were delirious with joy.
Of course, they couldn't leave it at that. Not only his own crew but other pilots and friends started leaving their rations and handkerchiefs on Halvorsen's bed. Again and again, they made candy drops as the crowd of kids beside the fence grew and grew. Growing too was the pile of mail delivered to Tempelhof addressed to "Uncle Wiggly Wings" and "The Candy Bomber" and the "Chocolate Pilot" and the like.
The inevitable happened. One day after a particularly large candy drop, a staff officer was waiting from Halvorsen after he returned from a flight from Berlin. The officer told him to report immediately to his squadron commander. Halvorsen knew he was in trouble. It turned out a newspaperman had snapped a picture of the previous day's drop and the tail-number of the aircraft could easily be read. As a result, his superiors knew what he'd been doing. As if this weren't bad enough, his squadron commander told him to report to General Tunner.
Lt. General Tunner was the overall Airlift commander and a man with a reputation of being a stiff disciplinarian with no sense of humor. His nickname was "Willy the Whip." To Halvorsen's amazement, far from being angry, Tunner was delighted. Tunner had the political savvy to see and seize upon the propaganda and psychological value of Halvorsen's actions. He recognized that the candy drops were great publicity for the USAF and would have huge popular appeal. Halvorsen gave a press conference in Frankfurt and was then sent back to U.S. on a PR tour. He appeared on the popular TV show "We the People" -- and almost instantly became a celebrity.
Here was a young man in uniform -- the kind of person hardly heard from in the years since the war -- who was a representative of the Airlift that had so captured America's imaginations, as well as a singular figure with a heartwarming story of his own to tell. He was earnest and humble. In a time of worry, he symbolized the possibility that war could be averted and reconciliation achieved. [Andrei Cherny. The Candy Bombers. G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2008, 385-386.]
Soon Halvorsen's photo and story were everywhere in the media, and the next thing he knew he'd been invited to dine with John Swersey, who turned out to be the chairman of the Confectioner's Association of America. While Swersey promised to collect candy donations from all the major manufacturers of candy, chocolate and gum in the U.S., his wife (a former Congresswoman from Arizona) promised to deliver a thousand parachutes a week. Swersey kept his word; an entire boxcar full of candy, chocolate and gun made its way across the Atlantic by ship to arrive at Rhein-Main airfield before Christmas.
As for the drops, these were no longer the job of Halvorsen alone. Various drop zones were identified on maps and any crew departing from Wiesbaden or Rhein-Main could pick up a box of sweets attached to a mini-parachute. Each participating plane was given a drop zone and the drops were factored into the air traffic controlling patterns. In fact, the candy drops had become an official operation. The official name of the Airlift itself was "Operation Vittles," and the candy drops became "Operation Little Vittles." When Halvorsen rotated out of Berlin in January 1949, he officially handed over "command" of Operation Little Vittles to a new "commander."
The Berlin Airlift is the subject of Bridge to Tomorrow, a trilogy of novels starting with Cold Peace.
Watch a video teaser here: Winning a War with Milk, Coal and Chocolate
The first battle of the Cold War is about to begin....
Berlin 1948. In the ruins of
Hitler’s capital, former RAF officers, a woman pilot, and the victim of Russian
brutality form an air ambulance company. But the West is on a collision course
with Stalin’s aggression and Berlin is about to become a flashpoint. World War
Three is only a misstep away. Buy Now
Berlin is under siege. More than two million civilians must be supplied by air -- or surrender to Stalin's oppression.
USAF Captain J.B. Baronowsky and RAF Flight
Lieutenant Kit Moran once risked their lives to drop high explosives on Berlin.
They are about to deliver milk, flour and children’s shoes instead. Meanwhile,
two women pilots are flying an air ambulance that carries malnourished and
abandoned children to freedom in the West. Until General Winter deploys on the
side of Russia. Buy now!
Based on historical events, award-winning and best-selling novelist Helena P. Schrader delivers an insightful, exciting and moving tale about how former enemies became friends in the face of Russian aggression — and how close the Berlin Airlift came to failing.
That is a fantastic story, needing to be remembered. Thanks, Professor.
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