The annual Air Expo is presented by Wings of the North—along with many generous sponsors and volunteers—“to preserve and present aviation history.”

Stop by to greet Cliff and his buddies at the 8th Air Force table in the exhibition tent. Ask questions of the vets and listen to their stories. They are the living history of our country. And Cliff will have with him signed copies of his book—both hardcover and paperback.

Memorial Day began as Decoration Day, enacted near the day of reunification after the Civil War to honor soldiers who died in that war. Memorial Day was expanded after World War I to honor dead Americans from all wars, and became a federal holiday in 1971.

Cliff Digre continues to remember his crew members and friends who lost their lives during World War II. He is also grateful that his own life was inexplicably spared.

The co-pilot on the William T. “Robbie” Robertson crew was Cliff Henrickson, a native of Jasper, IN. In his book, Into Life’s School: My World War II Memories, Digre devotes pages 44 and 111-117 to describing Hendrickson and the formation of The Cliff Hendrickson Crew on which Digre was to be the radio operator. Digre writes, “Cliff had been a P-51 pilot in the Canadian Air Force before joining the US Army Air Corps and training in B-17s. He had a striking resemblance to the famous movie star, Clark Gable. He even had the same groomed Gable mustache. He was often mistaken for Gable, and Cliff enjoyed every minute of it, especially the attention from women.”

On December 19, 1944, Hendrickson’s crew expected to fly together to bomb the designated target, Gemünd, Germany. However, in the middle of the night, “someone in operations decided that Hendrickson should fly as the pilot for a new crew on their very first mission.”

The flight took off in dense fog with nineteen other planes. After completing the mission, the returning planes were diverted to southern England due to persistent poor weather. Pilot Robertson flew back to England and was in radio contact with Hendrickson until “Cliff’s plane descended into the clouds and out of sight.” Digre learned later that day that Hendrickson “had crashed into a grove of trees near Oxford and that all nine aboard had been killed.”

Before heading home from the war, Digre visited Hendrickson’s grave in Cambridge. In 1998, while researching information for his book, Digre learned more about Hendrickson’s fatal crash. “The accident report concluded the accident was caused by a combination of weather conditions and pilot error.” And in an ironic twist of fate visited upon three men who shared the same first name—Clifford—the sole survivor of the crash was Clifford Heinrich!

Cliff Digre admits to pondering the fate that “stepped in and took me off that aircraft and mission sometime during the night of December 19, 1944. Now I wonder, had I been on that aircraft, would the one survivor have been Clifford Digre? Probably not!”

Cliff requested assignment to the Army Air Corps and got it. He explains on page 9 that the “Army Air Corps was part of the Army. It later was referred to as the Army Air Force. In 1947, it became its own branch of the military known as the United States Air Force (USAF).”

Chapter 2 begins on page 9 with the title Into Life’s School—Induction and Basic Training—and the entry below: “My 28 months, 25 days, and 29 minutes in the military started with induction at the Federal Building in downtown Minneapolis at 9:30 a.m. on May 11, 1943.

“After a brief ‘Raise your right hand’ swearing-in ceremony at the Federal Building, we boarded Army trucks for the short ride out to Fort Snelling. Even though I had lived in Minneapolis for some time and often driven by Fort Snelling, I had never before seen the barracks, the mess halls, the drill fields, etc., so now seeing this, and seeing men marching in formation made it real—‘You’re in the Army now; you are Serial Number 37561701.’ It was off with our civilian clothes and into Army uniforms.

“I then became Private Clifford B. Digre—37561701.”

“My good friend since radio school, George Larson, a 100% Norwegian from Oregon City, Oregon, decided it would take him 10 or 12 days of round-trip travel time leaving very little time at home, so George came to Minnesota with me. George was a very congenial person, fun to be with, and he fit in great with the Hendricks’ Norwegians.

“Our train ride to Minneapolis was miserable. The hot, humid weather of Florida was with us all the way. To make it even worse, the train was a combination troop and milk train, stopping at every podunk town en route. It was more than a two-day ride to Chicago with a several-hour layover before another ten-hour ride to Minneapolis, and a night in Minneapolis before the four-hour bus ride to Canby where my sister Clara and her husband, Carvell, met us. The traveling time was not pleasant. By the time we got to Hendricks, we both had had enough, and George was glad he had decided not to go home to Oregon.

“Our days in Hendricks were relaxing, nothing super exciting, activities such as picnics by the lake—one with Clara and Carvell and another with my sister Pearl.

Clara and Carvell were always there to pick me up when I returned to Hendricks for leave. They picked me up in either Canby or Marshall. In this picture, I was on leave before going overseas. Standing left to right are: Carvell, Clara, me, my mother, my sister Pearl, and my dog Spot whom I’d had since I was six years old; he lived to be nineteen.

“George and I rowed Carvell’s big heavy wooden fishing boat across the lake. Each afternoon it was coffee time with mother and Pearl in the back yard, playing with my dog, Spot—just small-town pleasures.

George Larson and I having coffee in our back yard with my sister Pearl and mother, Carrie Digre.

“One hot, hot afternoon A. P. Johnson, Carvell’s dad, cornered us on Main Street. He said with all the young men in the service it was hard to get farm help, and asked if we would come out to one of his farms and shock grain. In four solid hot hours, A. P., George, and I shocked a big field of oats. A. P. gave each of us a $5 bill—enough for a few beers out at Bohemian Hall the following Sunday night.

“Much of the time was spent visiting with and saying goodbyes to friends and relatives. My final goodbye with Mother was hard, knowing that in a month or so I would likely be in combat. I couldn’t help but wonder—would I ever be home again?”

Protecting our freedom from tyrannical governments has relied on the sacrifice and valor of generations of service men and women, including those who served in World War II. As people read Cliff Digre’s book Into Life’s School: My World War II Memories, some write to share their thoughts and thanks. Used by permission are comments (below) written by Doris (and Paul) from Cottage Grove, MN, who purchased Cliff’s book at the Minnesota History Center on Memorial Day.

“By the time I finished, I felt I knew your entire crew and cried for those who died….Yes, you are the ‘greatest generation’ for your bravery and heroism in keeping us free. You are all great Americans along with all our brave men who have served in the military in past wars and those serving today….You have had a very full and interesting life!”

The memorial to the 457th Bomb Group stands at the main entrance to the air base near Peterborough, England, on the Great North Road, Highway A1.

The airport’s address is: 1550 45th Avenue, St. Cloud, MN, 56304. Daily ground tours cost $15 per family. Children under age 8 who are accompanied by a paying adult and WWII veterans are admitted at no charge. Flights in the restored bomber are also available. 

The plane—EAA B-17G Flying Fortress “Aluminum Overcast”—was donated in 1983 to the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA). “Since that time, an extensive program of restoration and preservation was undertaken to ensure Aluminum Overcast would be a living reminder of World War II aviation for many years to come. The restoration took more than 10 years and thousands of hours by dedicated staff and volunteers at EAA Oshkosh, Wisconsin, headquarters. Much more information about the B-17 is available at the web site b17.org” (quoted from the eaa.org web site).

Above is the poster for the Flying Fortress event July 10-12 in St. Cloud, Minnesota.

On page 70, the author describes the September 12, 1944 mission to Ruhland, Germany. When they were 30 to 40 minutes from the target, they were hit by “light but accurate flak. When we passed the flak pocket, Robbie called for an oxygen check starting with: tail gunner—OK, waist gunner—OK, ball turret—OK, radio operator—OK, but then no answer from top turret. Earl’s intercom had been intermittent so Robbie asked that he turn the turret if he was OK. Still no response, so copilot Cliff Hendrickson left his seat and went back to Earl. He was still standing upright in his turret position, but when Hendrickson gave a slight tug on his trousers, he slumped down. He was completely unconscious; when Cliff saw the severed oxygen hose, he knew what had happened. Cliff, with Elmer Mankin’s (the navigator) help , brought him up to the nose. They loosened his clothing and put him on pure oxygen. While Elmer was working on Earl, we were struck by a fierce fighter attack consisting of an estimated fifty fighters (ME-109s and FW-190s) as well as new jet-propelled fighters. At one instant I saw three B-17s hit and going down end over end in flames, and from those three planes I saw only three parachutes open. It was a horrible sight, one I’ll never forget. Our group lost a total of twenty-eight men that day, either killed or missing in action.

“When we returned to Glatton, we were given priority landing and medics met our plane. Immediately, they put Earl on a respirator and rushed him by ambulance to the nearest hospital. Later that evening they reported to us that he was dead. Earl was one super person and an extremely capable engineer. He knew his aircraft. On occasion he would make suggestions regarding the engines to Robbie and Robbie listened. He was good and had the utmost respect from all of the crew members. Earl was the “Pop” to our crew—the oldest at age 28. Earl’s hometown was Romney, Indiana. Earl, I’ll forever remember you.

“We are off to a rough start—yesterday Carbery was injured by flak; today Earl was killed. What’s ahead? You never know.”