Back in the early 1940s, it was almost unfathomable for the collective imagination to conceive of African-American and female pilots, particularly lending their talents to the battle of World War II. And yet, at roughly the same time, programs were developed by the U.S. military that made that seeming improbability a reality.
Elder James H. Brown, one of the prestigious Tuskegee Airmen (the corps of African-American pilots who participated in World War II), and Jane Tedeschi, a former member of the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASP) corps, are products of such programs. They challenged the popular stereotypes of the times that promoted the belief that neither black men nor women were fit to be pilots.
While their paths never crossed during the war, Tedeschi had always wanted to meet one of the brave Tuskegee Airmen, some of whom were stationed near the base where she served, and whose exploits she admired.
Tedeschi just recently got to do just that, bonding with Brown for the first time over their unique places in American history. I had the honor and privilege of interviewing them both about their amazing military careers.
A hero and a heroine meet
On May 17, through a partnership between the Brookdale senior living community where Tedeschi resides, and Wish of a Lifetime, an organization that fosters appreciation for seniors by fulfilling life-enriching requests, Jane got her decades-old wish. Sixty-eight years after the end of World War II, Jane, now 93, and Elder, 87, finally had the chance to connect. The result? Mutual appreciation and thanks.
Jane said that the meeting with Elder was “wonderful.” She discovered that the women who were in her ferry command, the group of pilots tasked to deliver planes, had delivered planes specifically to his group in Alabama.
“We had heard so much about the Tuskegee Airmen and I always respected what they did,” Tedeschi told theGrio. “Although I was stationed not far from them, in Salem, Alabama, pretty close to Mobile, I never had reason to land on their field, but I had heard about them from our pilot. I admired them for their flying capabilities and their fierce determination. They intended to fly and they did.” This is a determination she and Brown shared in the face of cultural opposition.
For Elder, their meeting was also an opportunity to reflect. “I always wondered who brought the airplanes to the base of operations. It was a pleasure and an honor to finally meet the people who did the job,” Brown said. “Jane brought up our trainer planes, the AT-60s, to Alabama. Those women didn’t get any credit for what they did.”
Through talking deeply on that day in Colorado, where Elder and Jane both live today, the details of their parallel paths emerged.
The makings of a WASP: Jane’s Story
Tedeschi’s love of airplanes began when she was about ten years old, after her grandmother took her to see the film Wings (1927). Despite the fact that her decision to learn to fly was not a popular choice for a young lady at that time, her mother, a college graduate and a suffragist, supported her “all the way.” In her early 20’s, Jane earned her pilot’s license.
In 1942, just as the country found itself with a deficit of pilots for the war effort, an experimental program was created to train women to fly military planes so male pilots could be released overseas for combat duty. In 1944, over 1000 women, who were civilian volunteers, graduated from the WASP training program. Jane Tedeschi was one of them.
These women tested planes and learned to fly all types of military aircraft, such as B-29 bombers, and ferried planes to both military bases and departure points all across the country.
“I was in the training command, so I got to do a lot of things,” Jane reminisced “We were required to do some acrobatics in order to see that the plane we were flying had been repaired. The men just had to fly straight and level, but not us! Here we were, women pilots, who they said couldn’t fly, yet we flew on a field that was still under construction, and all three elements of [our] training took place on the same field. The men never did that; they had a separate field for their training. And, we managed not to run into each other.”
Ignoring naysayers, becoming a female pilot
On the subject of naysayers, Jane quipped, “I never really worried too much if somebody thought I couldn’t fly, because I knew I could. I was already a pilot in civilian life, but they told me that they would teach me to fly ‘the army way,’ and I think it paid off a little bit.”
While the WASP group expected to become part of the military proper during their service, the program was canceled after just two years. It wasn’t granted military status until the 1970s. Jane last flew in 1945, then decided to dedicate time to her family; but, she is proud of her accomplishments.
“I just wanted to fly and I happened to be at a point in history when the world needed what I had to offer,” Tedeschi said. “And talk to any of us pilots. Almost everyone would have said that we just loved to fly.”
In 2009 the surviving members of the WASP program, about 300 at the time, were granted the Congressional Gold Medal by President Obama.
Flying while black: a Tuskegee Airman’s story
Elder James H. Brown, of Denver, Colorado, found early inspiration in Spanky Roberts, one of the first African-American military pilots and a member of the famous Tuskegee Airmen, who was accepted into the Army Air Corp in 1941.
“Spanky’s mother actually taught me in school, and I saw him when he came home after graduation. Maybe it was the uniform and all of the excitement, but the idea of what he was doing thrilled me,” Brown told theGrio. Before 1940, African-Americans were barred from flying for the U.S. military; thus, those early pilots were true role models.
At nineteen, Brown volunteered for the army. Elder began his training at the Tuskegee Field in Alabama in 1945.
The Tuskegee Airmen, originally referred to as the 332nd Fighter Group, were the first African-American pilots in the U.S. military. There were some 900 men in the program, and about 450 of the airmen flew missions overseas. Brown recounted bitterly that the training program was “a joke,” because the instructors did not want to teach black men. Not to be discouraged, Elder says he was a fast learner. “Explain it to me one time and then turn your back. I’m going do whatever it is you showed me,” he said.
“I cannot explain to you what a joy it was for me to be able to fly,” Brown continued, “because at that time they didn’t think that we could do it. Don’t tell me what I can’t do. I am going to try anyway and when I do, I’m going to do the best job I can. I proved them wrong.”
A Tuskegee airman’s bravado
Elder’s skills, along with those of all the Tuskegee Airmen, did indeed prove them wrong. “The white squadrons were turning down jobs and we were accepting whatever we could,” he explained. “Whenever we could become operational, we looked forward to it. And whenever we’d go up, we’d come back just like we went up. Full squadron, we never lost very many pilots.”
And talk about bravery! Or was it bravado? Whatever the quality, Brown had it in spades.
“And I’d fly into anything. I wasn’t afraid, never was,” he said. “I had four 50-calibers on each wing. I didn’t fear anything. I’d fly right into them. Can you imagine a squadron of over 100 fighter planes coming at you, and we are a little over 20 planes? But I had confidence in the potential of our operational mechanics. If they told me the plane was alright, I’d go. I didn’t argue. When they told us our job, I got on my airplane and went.”
How many planes did he take out of commission?
“I don’t know how many aircrafts I shot down. We weren’t concerned with how many. If I was on the tail of another fighter, and I gave him a burst of 50s and saw smoke coming from his airplane, I’d peel over and look for another one. I knew he wasn’t going very far.”
Setting the Red Tails record straight
Elder feels fortunate to have been able to do what he loved — and do it well. “I was in seventh heaven when I was flying. I felt good each time I was up there because my job was to keep any fighter aircraft off my lead man’s way, and if he had a clear shot at what he was shooting at, he didn’t have any problems. I was a wingman, there to give him my full attention and be careful about who got on his tail, that was it.”
Those were great times. Yet, with all the talk of the Red Tails, especially in light of the recent film, Elder was eager to set something straight about the Tuskegee Airmen history.
“They talk about the Red Tails, but we only had one squadron of Red Tails,” Brown clarified. Many do not realize that the Tuskegee Airmen corps was composed of many different squadrons. “I was in the 301st Fighter Squadron. Every one of our planes were yellow nosed with yellow stripes our tails. You heard about that sinking of the German Destroyer? That was done by the 301st, which was a yellow nose. Nobody knows it!”
Loving the military, despising discrimination
Brown speaks highly of the camaraderie he was able to experience as a member of the U.S. military.
“You don’t know what it’s like when you run with a bunch of guys that have one directive in life, to back each other and help, and those guys were there,” Elder said.
Still, he does not feel as though our country gave them the credit they deserved. “I got recognition from my commanders, my flight leaders, and my fellow comrades, and that’s all I got. The country gave us nothing.”
Elder made it to the rank of First Lieutenant, and could have gone farther, but grew weary of the doubts of people in command about his abilities. “I was tired of the handshakes and smiles,” Elder said. “They were quick with that, and they thought they had put it over on us, and they had, on a lot of guys. I didn’t care for it, and they never kept their word. That’s why I left. I still had to ride the back of the bus, I still wasn’t welcome in their restaurants, and my hometown was still divided. It didn’t make sense,” Brown said of the racism he faced at home even after serving his country.
Brown makes another connection
After seven years in the military, Elder put in for early retirement from the armed forces. He eventually obtained a private sector position with the Boeing Company.
“I couldn’t get jobs in my profession after college,” he told theGrio, “but I was thankful for Boeing because they said, ‘You did a job that few people wanted, and an excellent job. Whatever you want to do in our company, you can do it.’” He was offered a position as a technical illustrator with the company, before moving on to the Northrop Grumman Corporation, which specializes in security operations, some of which involved high-tech airplanes.
Does he ever miss flying? Brown laughed. “Nah! Been there, done that!”
But Elder was moved by another recent encounter. “At the meeting with Jane there was a guy who had been a belly gunner. He told me that whenever he saw us, he knew he was going to get home. He said, ‘Because of you guys, I am here to witness this day.’ After all these years… to meet someone from a bomber crew who said that — can you image?”
A love of flying unites unlikely comrades
Jane Tedeschi and Elder James H. Brown are two very special people united by many things, including fierce determination and a love of flying. Going into their interviews, I assumed that as minorities in the military, they must have felt like kindred spirits because of that reason alone, but I was wrong. Their respect and mutual admiration was more based on the skills they each shared and the similarity of the services they provided during a time of great national need. They were there for each other — without even knowing each other — and there for our country.
Their history, and the deepening of our national history their new friendship provides, are both things we can all be thankful for this Memorial Day weekend.
Suzanne Rust is a writer, lifestyle expert, on-air talent, and a native New Yorker. Follow her on Twitter at @SuzanneRust.