"When we get to Chungking, I'll throw you fellows the biggest party you ever had."
So said Jimmy Doolittle to the 79 other men who were to fly with him on his historic first strike against Japan. These 80 men shared a life-or-death experience, and were united in comradeship as only such an event has proven to bond men. Jimmy Doolittle loved the men who served with him on the Tokyo Raid, and he never forgot his promise.
One year after the Tokyo Raid, Jimmy Doolittle found himself in North Africa. He, along with a handful of veterans threw a small party in a farmhouse in order to mark the anniversary. The mini-reunion made headlines and generated some interest, but the men were too focused on where they were, and where the war was going, to concern themselves with the single mission they had flown a year prior.
After Japan finally surrendered in 1945, Jimmy Doolittle made it his personal goal to locate and reunite the men who had flown with him on that fateful mission. He felt a unique bond with those who had volunteered to follow him into the unknown. Certainly, Doolittle's commitment saved the post-war life of at least one Raider.
What follows is the saga of George Barr. All information was obtained from Carroll Glines, the official historian of the Doolittle Raiders, and is referenced from his book "The Doolittle Raid." George Barr had been one of eight men captured by the Japanese following the raid. In prison, his health steadily deteriorated into long bouts of unconsciousness. When the war ended, his cell door was opened, bathing him in light. Barr thought that he had died, and felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Voices called his name - they belonged to his buddies, who had likewise been detained by the Japanese. Maybe they were all dead? George Barr did not care. His mental and physical state had deteriorated to the point where he welcomed the thought of death. At least now he was with his buddies.
Barr had not perished. Instead, he was whisked away to a military hospital. He was semiconscious, drifting between reality and a dream world. At first he could neither stand nor feed himself. Barr was labeled as a "mentally disturbed patient," and placed in an empty room in a psychiatric ward.
The simple fact was that George Barr was one of thousands of injured veterans being funneled home. He had no uniform, identification, personal belongings or records. He could not even adequately say what unit he had served with or where he was from. Compounding the issue, Barr was an orphan who had drifted between foster homes as a child. Quite simply, George Barr was slipping through the cracks of a bureaucracy.
For months he drifted in and out of dreams, while being shuffled from one hospital to the next. One day he awoke, convinced that this was an elaborate trick by the Japanese. Here he was, placed in an empty room, in solitary confinement. Barr rose, exited his room and padded down the halls. It was a weekend and the ward was empty. Once again, George felt completely alone. He decided to kill himself.
Barr stabbed himself with a knife, but felt no pain. He wandered the halls, looking for something - anything, as means to end his life. Desperate - and feeling cheated - he ripped the electric wire out of a lamp, made a noose and attempted to hang himself. He crashed to the floor, alerting a crew of orderlies. Once again, George was placed in solitary confinement.
In a straightjacket, George Barr was transported to a military hospital near Clinton, Iowa. It was not until November, more than three months since his liberation from the Japanese, that someone finally found George Barr.
As orphans, George and his sister had no next of kin, bar a kind-hearted social worker named Mrs. Charles H. Towns who had unofficially adopted them. When the Towns received word that George had survived the war, they were elated, but unable to obtain further information. From Mrs. Towns' standpoint, it seemed as though George Barr had dropped off the face of the earth. Neither the military nor the Pentagon offered any information as to his whereabouts.
Mortified by dead-ends, her patience exhausted, and furious with the army, Mrs. Towns contacted the one person who may be able to help - Jimmy Doolittle, now a three-star general. A fire was suddenly lit, and Doolittle dropped everything to help find the last Raider.
Even as a general, Jimmy Doolittle was unable to locate George Barr, such was the depth to which his ambiguity had plunged. Mrs. Towns finally discovered his whereabouts, and Doolittle immediately flew to Iowa.
When General Doolittle arrived, he was appalled at Barr's condition. George had not seen a doctor, had no clothes and had not received his pay. Immediately following Doolittle's visit, Barr's condition improved - he was given a new uniform, promoted to first lieutenant, received back pay, and was placed under the care of a psychiatrist. Jimmy Doolittle never revealed what exactly he said to facilitate this abrupt turnaround, but given his fiery disposition and absolute intolerance toward incompetence, it is not difficult to hazard a guess.
In December 1946, George Barr married Marcine Anderson, a warmhearted and understanding person who gave him the care and love that had been missing in his life. With her help and that from others, George Barr regained a sense of normalcy (Doolittle Raid, 204).
With George Barr located, accounted for and on the road to recovery, Jimmy Doolittle's promise to his men could now be fulfilled.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
So said Jimmy Doolittle to the 79 other men who were to fly with him on his historic first strike against Japan. These 80 men shared a life-or-death experience, and were united in comradeship as only such an event has proven to bond men. Jimmy Doolittle loved the men who served with him on the Tokyo Raid, and he never forgot his promise.
One year after the Tokyo Raid, Jimmy Doolittle found himself in North Africa. He, along with a handful of veterans threw a small party in a farmhouse in order to mark the anniversary. The mini-reunion made headlines and generated some interest, but the men were too focused on where they were, and where the war was going, to concern themselves with the single mission they had flown a year prior.
After Japan finally surrendered in 1945, Jimmy Doolittle made it his personal goal to locate and reunite the men who had flown with him on that fateful mission. He felt a unique bond with those who had volunteered to follow him into the unknown. Certainly, Doolittle's commitment saved the post-war life of at least one Raider.
What follows is the saga of George Barr. All information was obtained from Carroll Glines, the official historian of the Doolittle Raiders, and is referenced from his book "The Doolittle Raid." George Barr had been one of eight men captured by the Japanese following the raid. In prison, his health steadily deteriorated into long bouts of unconsciousness. When the war ended, his cell door was opened, bathing him in light. Barr thought that he had died, and felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Voices called his name - they belonged to his buddies, who had likewise been detained by the Japanese. Maybe they were all dead? George Barr did not care. His mental and physical state had deteriorated to the point where he welcomed the thought of death. At least now he was with his buddies.
Barr had not perished. Instead, he was whisked away to a military hospital. He was semiconscious, drifting between reality and a dream world. At first he could neither stand nor feed himself. Barr was labeled as a "mentally disturbed patient," and placed in an empty room in a psychiatric ward.
The simple fact was that George Barr was one of thousands of injured veterans being funneled home. He had no uniform, identification, personal belongings or records. He could not even adequately say what unit he had served with or where he was from. Compounding the issue, Barr was an orphan who had drifted between foster homes as a child. Quite simply, George Barr was slipping through the cracks of a bureaucracy.
For months he drifted in and out of dreams, while being shuffled from one hospital to the next. One day he awoke, convinced that this was an elaborate trick by the Japanese. Here he was, placed in an empty room, in solitary confinement. Barr rose, exited his room and padded down the halls. It was a weekend and the ward was empty. Once again, George felt completely alone. He decided to kill himself.
Barr stabbed himself with a knife, but felt no pain. He wandered the halls, looking for something - anything, as means to end his life. Desperate - and feeling cheated - he ripped the electric wire out of a lamp, made a noose and attempted to hang himself. He crashed to the floor, alerting a crew of orderlies. Once again, George was placed in solitary confinement.
In a straightjacket, George Barr was transported to a military hospital near Clinton, Iowa. It was not until November, more than three months since his liberation from the Japanese, that someone finally found George Barr.
As orphans, George and his sister had no next of kin, bar a kind-hearted social worker named Mrs. Charles H. Towns who had unofficially adopted them. When the Towns received word that George had survived the war, they were elated, but unable to obtain further information. From Mrs. Towns' standpoint, it seemed as though George Barr had dropped off the face of the earth. Neither the military nor the Pentagon offered any information as to his whereabouts.
Mortified by dead-ends, her patience exhausted, and furious with the army, Mrs. Towns contacted the one person who may be able to help - Jimmy Doolittle, now a three-star general. A fire was suddenly lit, and Doolittle dropped everything to help find the last Raider.
Even as a general, Jimmy Doolittle was unable to locate George Barr, such was the depth to which his ambiguity had plunged. Mrs. Towns finally discovered his whereabouts, and Doolittle immediately flew to Iowa.
When General Doolittle arrived, he was appalled at Barr's condition. George had not seen a doctor, had no clothes and had not received his pay. Immediately following Doolittle's visit, Barr's condition improved - he was given a new uniform, promoted to first lieutenant, received back pay, and was placed under the care of a psychiatrist. Jimmy Doolittle never revealed what exactly he said to facilitate this abrupt turnaround, but given his fiery disposition and absolute intolerance toward incompetence, it is not difficult to hazard a guess.
In December 1946, George Barr married Marcine Anderson, a warmhearted and understanding person who gave him the care and love that had been missing in his life. With her help and that from others, George Barr regained a sense of normalcy (Doolittle Raid, 204).
With George Barr located, accounted for and on the road to recovery, Jimmy Doolittle's promise to his men could now be fulfilled.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
