WWII pilot and former Fresno State student remembers days flying far from the Valley

By Donna Taketa
The Collegian

Trembling slightly, hands page through a thick volume titled, “303rd Bombardment Group, Hell’s Angels.” The book opens to the black and white photo of a man dressed in flight gear surrounded by snow.

“Does he look anything like me?” asks William S. McLeod Jr., a World War II Veteran and former Fresno State student. He blinks behind his glasses then lets out a laugh. The photo was taken 60 years ago, and McLeod no longer resembles the youthful pilot of yesteryear.

“It was cold,” he said, laughing again. “But we had heated flying suits that we wore under our flight suits… plugged in just like you’d plug in an extension cord, so actually we were quite comfortable, at least I was.”

By “we” McLeod refers to his nine-man crew, of which he was the aircraft commander. During the course of WWII, McLeod participated in 36 deep penetration missions with the 358th Bomb Squadron 303rd Bomb Group, of the 8th Air Force. Flying into Nazi Germany to destroy factories and oil refineries was its objective.

“He commanded respect, which was very necessary, and he was a good officer,” former bombardier and friend, Duke O’Donnell, said of McLeod, who was 20 years old at the time. “He treated us fairly and looked out for us and I admired him for his decisiveness and intelligence.”

It was 1944 when McLeod was called to active duty, thereby suspending his studies at Texas A&M College. It was only after the war that McLeod relocated to the Central Valley and attended Fresno State. At that time the campus was located where Fresno City College is now.

“It was a long time ago wasn’t it?” McLeod said. “The classes were all business-oriented because by that time I had forgotten about aeronautical engineering.”

Although not a Fresno State graduate, McLeod still enjoys the football and parks cars before the games to raise money for Fresno Youth Charities.

Although long retired from the service as a Lieutenant Colonel, the 81- year-old McLeod is in no way divorced from the military, nor is he inclined to stay at home and spend his days watching television.

Two months ago McLeod attended his bomb group’s annual reunion in Dayton, Ohio. He is preparing for the Veteran’s Day parade with the 8th Air Force Historical Society, and McLeod meets weekly with about 30 fellow veterans at the memorial building in Clovis to share their stories.

“I’m so busy with things. That’s how to stay going: get busy, keep involved, make appointments into the future,” he said. “That’s how I’ll make it to 82.” He laughs again.

The memoir project at the Veteran’s Memorial is directed by Janice Stevens, who is compiling the stories for publication next year. She has known McLeod for many years.

“It's critical that veterans share their experiences,” Stevens said. “Our history tends to disappear in whitewashed textbooks. Without personal history from those who served, those who lived it, the history will be gone.”

McLeod has already written a book, spurred by his Scottish heritage and interest in genealogy.

“I think this is an effort to let the young people of today, and those that are coming along, to know what their grandparents and their great grandparents did during the war,” McLeod said. “What they did to try and preserve freedom and give them the freedom they now enjoy.”

It was 1942 when an 18-year-old McLeod volunteered to join the Air Force Reserve Corps. WWII had started a year before, but McLeod wouldn’t be called to active duty for another two years. In the meantime, the Texas native attended Texas A&M College to study aeronautical engineering.

His studies were cut short during his junior year, and McLeod began a year of flight training.

McLeod explained that in those times officers weren’t required to have a degree.

McLeod received his wings and Second Lieutenant’s commission on April 15, 1944. He learned to fly a B-17, and in November of 1944 McLeod was shipped to England.

Hardest was leaving his wife, “the love of my life.” They would correspond religiously by letter throughout his time overseas.

McLeod pauses and is distracted by his diminutive black dog, Roger. The barking canine is “very protective” and has proven to be a loyal companion since the passing of McLeod’s wife last year.

McLeod describes people in the military as sharing a strong sense of fellowship.
“There was a camaraderie that you really don’t find in the civilian work force,” McLeod said. “I mean you make friends, but you never seem to be as close.”

He and his crew got along well, even though McLeod did not participate in the selection of the men. They were assigned by the Air Force.

“Everyone of us came from a different state,” McLeod said. “It spread out any risk that might happen if the airplane went down.”

None of McLeod’s men were killed in action, although in one incident his bombardier, O’Donnell, sustained an injury and was later awarded the Purple Heart.

“We got along right away,” O’Donnell said. “We kind of had too, because our lives depended on it.”

McLeod only knows of one close friend who died in the war.

“Once you got over to combat, then you didn’t want to make many friends, the idea being they might be killed and it’d tear you up,” he said.

In retrospect, McLeod counts himself as lucky. While on a week’s respite after his 25th mission, a different crew took up McLeod’s plane. It was shot down over the North Sea and only one survived.

“I thank the Lord there was only one Purple Heart on our crew,” McLeod said.

The scenario that led up to the decoration was an experience no more harrowing than any other. Flying at 25,000 feet they were always within range of enemy artillery.

The group’s missions were called “deep penetration” because they often lasted seven to nine hours and involved flying from their base in England into Germany. According to McLeod, the strategy was for American forces to bomb during the day and for British forces to bomb at night. It was called daylight strategic bombing.

“When I say strategic, we weren’t going after the tanks or the troops. We were going after the factories that built the tanks, the oil refineries that processed the oil, the steel mills that make the munitions, things of that nature,” McLeod recalled. “This was to try to throw havoc to the Germans and to shorten the war.”

He thinks it was a successful strategy judging by the damage sustained by some German cities. At the time he didn’t fret about civilian casualties.

“It didn’t bother me at all, and you want to know why? The civilians were in the bomb shelters, or they should have been. It was just a target to me.”

Just as the American planes flying in formation over Germany were targets to the enemy artillery below.
The heavy firepower was called “flack.” It was impossible to anticipate where the bullets would materialize.

“I’d see those black puffs coming, and the closer they got to me, the scareder I got,” McLeod said. “That was true of everything, there wasn’t anyone who wasn’t scared.”

Forever branded into bombardier O’Donnell’s memory is the recollection of flying towards an eruption of firepower.

“Seeing it up ahead was a spectacle I’ll never forget,” O’Donnell said. “I was so scared, yet I couldn’t help but thinking it was such an awesome sight. It took my breath away.”

Such displays of firepower are often shown in WWII movies. However, McLeod doesn’t think most films are very representative of the war. In his opinion, the best is Band of Brothers because of the camaraderie it depicts.

The camaraderie is what McLeod misses most about the service. However, at the Veteran’s Center he has a chance to connect with other veterans.

“Many veterans have never shared their experiences until joining the group,” Stevens, the director of the group, said. “A camaraderie has developed with these men who relate well to each other and their experiences.”

Of McLeod, Stevens has observed that he is “rather humble about his accomplishments, but he is a leader, quick to involve others and encourage them to share their stories.”

During a recent meeting, a man shared a story of a dishonest officer he knew of. He hesitated before sharing the name, and McLeod teased, “it’s declassified.” This provoked laughter among the 30 others in the room.

Possessing a keen memory, McLeod often peppers his anecdotes with dates and technical details.

While flying humanitarian missions after the war, McLeod saw Paris, Casablanca, Egypt, Athens, and Rome among others. But it was England by far that he most enjoyed.

“For one thing the British speak English,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a beautiful country and the people are so friendly, and still are today. They thank us every time we go back for what we did to help save them.”

Victory-in-Europe Day, May 8, 1945, found McLeod in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. He was a passenger on a convoy headed home.

“We still had to maintain convoy discipline; no lights or anything, just in case German submarines didn’t get the word that that war was over,” McLeod said.

He arrived safely and was reunited with his wife. After several years living in Germany, they settled in Fresno in 1951. McLeod attended Fresno State, taking a number of business classes. He worked with his father in the cotton business and eventually became a stockbroker for Merrill Lynch.

Together he and his wife had four children. He has three grandchildren on which he digresses.

“I’m bragging a little,” he says sheepishly after showing off a framed photo that was a birthday present.

While flipping through the Might and Flight book, the phone rings.

It’s Duke O’Donnell, calling to wish McLeod a happy birthday.

They shoot the breeze, reminiscing on old times.

“You’ll be 81 when?” McLeod asks his friend who’s calling from Arkansas. “Next May? Ahh, you’re just a kid!”

And he laughs.

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