Samuel Harry Glasser |
|
3 Sep 1923 - 9 July 2000 |
After a lengthy battle with heart disease, my father finally succumbed
to death. Like so few others, he died at peace and in a state of acceptance.
I would like to thank his doctors and the fine folks at the Delray
Medical Center and Hospice By The Sea for their wonderful care
and comfort in his waning days.
This tribute page was prepared several weeks before his passing in the
interest of putting a face on one of the many World War II warriors who
are going to their reward -- at the rate of about 1500 per day. Their effort,
more than any other single factor, was directly responsible for shaping
the world we live in today.
In the early days of World War II, Sam Glasser was your typical 18-year-old living in Miami. By day, he was an aircraft metalsmith, fabricating parts for the wings of Navy fighters. At night, he would sit on the curb and sing as a friend played guitar (to meet girls -- what else?!!). On December 2, 1942, three months after his 19th birthday, he enlisted in the US Army Air Corps at Camp Blanding. He took his basic training at Keesler, in Mississippi. (Whereas I spent my time at Keesler in an ugly green and white dorm on a part of the base known as the 'triangle', his time at the triangle was spent in a tent -- and there was no shortage of mud.) Next stop was radio school in Chicago, where he graduated in March 1943.
Sam Glasser was sent to England, assigned to the 1st Bombardment Div., 305th Bombardment Group (H), 365th Bombardment Squadron, as a radio operator-gunner aboard a B-17G called the "Outhouse Mouse." Here is a list of his missions:
1 Dec 1943 Solingen, Germany
11 Dec 1943 Emden, Germany
13 Dec 1943 Kiel, Germany
16 Dec 1943 Bremen, Germany
22 Dec 1943 Osnaburg, Germany
30 Dec 1943 Ludwigshaven, Germany
4 Jan 1944 Kiel, Germany
7 Jan 1944 Ludwigshaven, Germany
11 Jan 1944 Braunschweig, Germany
14 Jan 1944 Audingthum, France
29 Jan 1944 Frankfurt, Germany
30 Jan 1944 Braunschweig, Germany
3 Feb 1944 Wilhemshaven, Germany
4 Feb 1944 Frankfurt, Germany
22 Feb 1944 Ins, Denmark
24 Feb 1944 Schweinfurt, Germany
25 Feb 1944 Augsburg, Germany
6 Mar 1944 Berlin, Germany
9 Mar 1944 Berlin, Germany
20 Mar 1944 Leipzig, Germany
22 Mar 1944 Berlin, Germany
23 Mar 1944 Hamm, Germany
24 Mar 1944 Frankfurt, Germany
27 Mar 1944 La Rochelle, France
11 Apr 1944 northeast Germany
26 Apr 1944 Brunswick, Germany
27 Apr 1944 Pas-de-Calais, France
12 May 1944 Mersburg, Germany
Quite a list, isn't it? And all this before his 21st birthday.
As a young boy, my knowledge of World War II was confined to what I saw in the TV shows and movies of the late 50s. I knew my dad 'flew in the war' as did so many of my peers' fathers but didn't understand the full implications (which I suppose is not such a bad thing at that age). When I was about 8 or 10, I found a library book that had a picture of a World War II bomber formation, prominently showing the planes' contrails. I showed it to him and asked him, half-jokingly and not knowing what to expect, if it brought back some memories. His reaction was immediate: his expression changed from cheerful to stunned; the first time I had ever seen this look. He told me this is something he'd never forget.
It wasn't until I settled into adulthood that I finally had the time and opportunity to look into World War II in some depth in general and my father's wartime experiences in particular. My book research told me that there was a time when losses among ETO-based bomber crews were higher than that of ground troops. Once they made it past the flak they would be bounced by German fighters who would make a head-on pass, raking machine gun fire through the bombardier's Plexiglas nose all the way through the back of the plane. Teutonic ingenuity and efficiency at its finest.
The young men who had beaten two militaristic societies and saved the world from totalitarian domination returned home to try and pick up their lives where they left off...that is, those who came back. Sam Glasser separated in Indiana, married a nice Jewish girl from the Bronx, moved to Cleveland, had three kids, and spent the next 37 years as a salesman before retiring to his familiar haunts of southern Florida. Seems quite anticlimactic, doesn't it?
I have built this web page because I want to publicly thank my father for his bravery and contributions to my -- our -- freedom and share it with the world. Does he consider himself a hero? Probably not. He would be the first to tell you he was only doing his patriotic duty, just like everybody else. But consider this: as a Jew, had he been shot down and captured in German-held territory it would have meant a one-way ticket to a concentration camp. Can anybody from our generation fathom taking such a risk for a cause?
So dad, this one's for you. Thanks for a job well done!
While doing some cleaning, I found an undeveloped roll of film taken
with dad's trusty Argus C3. The first shows the young sergeant at the upper
turret. The lower is the obligatory shot of the engines over the countryside,
taken from the porthole. The picture at the top of this page is the (also obligatory) send-home photo...self
explanatory!
|
Sidebar #1:
One of the few war stories my father ever told me was when they were about to get jumped by a pack of Luftwaffe fighters. His formation was being escorted by P-51s. The pilot of "Hurry Home Honey" radioed his 'big friend' and said, "I'll be right back, fellas. I'm gonna go play with these boys." Looks like he played for keeps because he came back. The pilot of that plane was Richard "Bud" Peterson, who departed on his final mission just a month before dad, on 4 Jun 2000.
Click on the picture to access the web page describing this magnificent painting.
Click on the banner to get to Len's site for other fine WWII aviation art.
Click here for pictures of the currently-flying Hurry Home Honey P-51, as seen at the Gathering of Mustangs and Legends 2007!
Sidebar #2:
I went 'on holiday' to England and visited the site of dad's old airbase. To see pictures of my brief visit, click here.
Sidebar #3:
Several years ago, my dad handed me a letter and asked me if I would take care of it. It was from a Jeffrey Glasser, from Meare, England. I wrote to him and asked how I could be of service. He wrote back and said he wanted to know more about a 'Tech Sergeant Sam Glasser' whose name was on a war memorial. Since Glasser is such an uncommon name, he wanted to know if they were related. He went on to tell me that he is of German descent, etc. When I regained my composure, I wrote back and told him that I doubted we were related.
But that begs the question, why is my father, who is very much alive, on a memorial...? I learned in March 2001 that there was a second 'T/Sgt. Samuel Glasser' who was: 1) in the same bomb group (but in a different squadron) and 2) there around the same time. What are the chances?!?! Unfortunately, he wasn't as lucky as my dad.
Here are pictures of the memorial...
The name panel, with close-up of highlighted entry.
Other photos of the Cambridge American Cemetery at Coton,
England.
If you entered through this page, click on the icon below to see the whole site:
Header photo credit: http://www.aw-ghosts.org/aw-ghosts/hammer/planes/usa/b17g.html
World War II photos copyright Samuel H. Glasser; Cleveland, Ohio; c.1943,
2000. May not be used without permission.
Cambridge American Cemetery photos copyright Jeffrey M. Glasser; Somerset,
England; c.1997, 2000. May not be used without permission.