Dateline: Sunday, 24 December 1944
Location: Station 367, King's Cliffe, England
Participants: Personnel of the 20th. Fighter Group and Support Units
and villagers of King's Cliffe

� � � The 20th. Fighter Group, flying 'A' and 'B' Groups (led by "Gus" Gustke and Maj. Bob Meyer) were assigned to cover 1st. AD Groups attacking Merzhausen airfield, an important base north of Frankfurt. Cover was given from Brussels to the target and then back to the coast; however, no enemy aircraft were intercepted. Weather conditions being adverse around King's Cliffe on their return, the Group was diverted to Wormingford base for the 55th. Fighter Group.

      Meanwhile, in King's Cliffe village, the young boys and eight men were preparing to visit the 20th's base, for an 8p.m. carol service in the base cinema. Wives and mothers were busy starching and ironing surplices and cassocks. In one particular household, an excited choir boy dragged the heavy tin bath in from the outhouse (no modern convienences in thatched cottages then) for a bath in front of the fire. He had already received a wrapped present from his 55th. Fighter Squadron pilot friend, Lt. Wallace E. 'Lucky' Lowman, who sent it down in the laundry Jeep (the boy's mother attended to Lowman's laundry as she once had Col. Harold Rau's.

� � � All was well when the Chevrolet open-back truck picked up the All Saints King's Cliffe Church Choir at 7:30p.m. The padre sat up front beside the driver - don't they always! The by now dense fog clung to everything around. We traced up Park Street, under the railway arch, for the long climb up the hill to the base. The truck slowed on approach to the western side of the base, and was recognized by the sentry who shouted "OK Mac" and "Merry Christmas, folks". In the distance a Merlin sputtered into life, coughed and finally burst into it's own sweet song - the mechanics didn't rest because there was a war to be fought, Christmas Eve or no Christmas Eve. The fighters had to be pilot-readied, fuelled and armed.

The King's Cliffe choir at Christmas time.

� � � Then the choir formed into pairs, boys at the front. The eldest man was Harry Dixon, the local coal merchant, who was in his seventies; the youngest boy was Bill Sharpe at 10 1/2. Upon entry into the cinema the organ swelled into "O, Come All 'Ye Faithful"...smiles and little waves were exchanged between the congregation and the choir...men in best uniforms rubbed their shoulders with others in fatigues...officers in best 'Pinks'. Red Cross girls and MPs, drivers and clerks, pilots and crew chiefs. This was their special time when thoughts of home, family and loved ones and peace were abundant. This was their special time when peace on earth and good will towards all men were the common aims of all present. As the carol ended the padre requested the congregation remain seated but such was the occassion that many had to remain standing due to an excess of personnel to chairs.

Bill Davidson, 20th. FG Organist, first row (behind organ.) Note Christmas Trees and decorations in background.

� � � Within the lavish decorations on the Christmas tree, radio-men had rigged the speakers and to one snall 10 1/2 year old boy the talking Christmas tree was beyond comprehension. Every time the padre's voice intoned the words "I am the Spirit of Christmas" that small boy's reaction was one of amazement. Technology was one subject not taught at King's Cliffe school - the Christmas tree was magic, this was the special Christmas feeling, the feeling that stays even as one grows older, something really extra-special.

� � � Although the prayers that evening escape my memory I shall never forget the singing because it was certainly the sweetest I have ever heard. Men had tears in their eyes, but I didn't know why - I'd never seen my dad cry and, anyway, men didn't cry! Free men cry, however, because they cry for peace, they cry for their loved ones, they cry when that special feeling is there.

� � � At the end of the service a Sergeant approached me. I only knew him as a maintenance man on the 77th. Fighter Squadron. He took my hand and led me to his barracks. Opening his foot locker he withdrew a large box which was wrapped in glossy red, blue and yellow paper and handed it to me. (It was the following morning before I discovered that it conatined O'Henry and Hersey chocolate bars and an ORANGE and BANANA!!) "For you, Bill, a Merry Christmas. Don't open it until tomorrow, OK?".

� � � I was then returned to the mess hall where hot mince pies and somthing stronger than punch was being served; as before, the boys had 'pop'! Around 10:30p.m. the truck returned to collect us. Reluctantly, we climbed aboard to "Thanks alot, kids, folks, have a really nice Christmas, we won't ever forget this". We waved under the shrouded light and replied "Merry Christmas".

� � � Arriving home I found a friend of my parents who was from the 20th. Fighter Group. He had told them that the biggest ever raid by the Eighth had been carried out that day and that it was "one helluva' special day for them all in the 8th, Air Force." So it might well have been, but to a small boy it was somethin' special too; the only occasion ever that the King's Cliffe Church Choir had sung to the 20th. Fighter Group on Christmas Eve. It would never occur again for in the following year Nazism was crushed and peace returned at last.

� � � By October, 1945 the tail-enders of the 20th. FG left Station 367 and in the heart of a small boy something dear had gone. Forty years later, however, the 20th. and its veterans are still something special to me. I'm a "Friend of the Eighth" and I still believe in "talking Christmas trees!!!"