JAMES H.MUNDY, Aviation Cadet Class 43-G graduated from Spence Field Moultrie, Ga., in August, 1943. After RTO in P-40's at Sarasota, our group was headed by bus for Miami embarkation when it struck a glancing blow off the rear corner of an "Explosives" truck. After a short leave to cure the assorted painful, but not too serious, injuries, group was successful in reaching Congaree, S.C. where the 406th Group was being formed.

I drew the 514th Squadron, and we had fun with the P-39's for couple of months until the razor back arrived. The first jug looked like a single engine C-47 after flying the pee-wee P-39. It didn't take long to adjust, and soon we were doing innovative things like instrument flying three successive layers of overcast to 20 thousand - the entire Group at once.

The second squadron gave more thrill than the Coney Island rollercoasters. We didn't practice that again.

In early 1944 the group was in action from Ashford, Kent, learning the meaning of automatic rough as we flew the Channel to view France and some points north. On some B-26 escort missions, we developed deep respect for those unfortunates who were battered by the 88's as we flew top cover. Mostly, though, we dropped the 500 pounders on assorted trains, marshalling yards, assorted trucks and sometimes what appeared to be well-pinpointed empty fields. Those turned out to be the launching sites of the soon-to-arrive buzz bombs.

Ashford was well situated to observe the buzz bombs, since one pattern led directly down the runway enroute from the Channel to London. One thrilling day the group was marshalled for takeoff, and we could see one of the throbbers approaching and being overtaken by assorted RAF fighters. You guessed it - they put out the light and the resultant glide trajectory was toward the center of about 20 windmilling jugs that had neither time nor space to move. Somehow it performed a great snap-roll at the last moment, jumped over the shivering hardware, and exploded in a field, shaking our eyeballs. We completed the mission, but don't ask me where we went or what we did after that attention-getter.

The 406th moved to France after the big day, and we continued doing our thing on shorter, but more frequent, missions. In September, I found out you don't get a Purple Heart for a broken leg occasioned by driving a liberated English motorcycle into a jeep during the black-out. It did put me back in the States though, after a forgotten number of missions and the Air Medal with six clusters.

Back on flight pay in the spring of 1945, I built up a lot of jug time as Squadron Operations Officer at Goldsboro, N.C., teaching fighter tactics to RTU replacements.

Following the two memorable dates in 1945, I transitioned to Linz, Austria, where I continued to enjoy the jug hours without angry puffs of black and white threatening to put dents in the aircraft.

Demobbed as a Captain in early, 1947, I took on the equally rewarding job of raising the two kids and getting on with the almost-forgotten civilian pursuits. In 1948 I joined the Port Authority of New York in the Newark Airport Operations Unit when they undertook the development and operation of the three New York Metropolitan area airports. A delightful and rewarding work experience continues up to the present time. In 1961 I became Chief of the Unit as the aviation industry started its transition into the jet age. Newark International Airport has grown from less than a million to nearly 10 million yearly passengers.

The Operations Unit's major function was the control and coordination of all airfield activity as we began a 15-year expansion program. The entire runway and taxiway areas were rebuilt and expanded, in addition to building three modern terminals in a centralized area that will meet continued expansion for the foreseeable future. While continuing to handle the normal and expanding traffic, all this was performed without traffic disruption and without an aircraft accident or serious incident due to field construction or maintenance.