Witness to the Resistance by Virgal Sansing, 369th Fighter Squadron, 359th Fighter Group, 20 June 1944

Two weeks after the invasion of Northern France I was half-way through my tour flying P-51 Mustangs out of Wretham. I had returned from an uneventful escort mission, my 50th, when my operations officer was looking for pilots to fly a late mission. German troop trains were converging on Chateau Thierry, France.

We launched at 1715, arrived in the target area about 1830, and found numerous trains in the marshalling yards. We started strafing the rail yards. The claims for this mis¬sion were: three locomotives destroyed, nine damaged; three vehicles destroyed; eight rail cars destroyed, twenty-four damaged.

As I pulled up from a strafing run I was hit by ground fire. I was hit from the rear and my rear fuel tank and cool¬ant radiator were damaged and my radios destroyed. The cockpit filled with smoke and hot coolant so I set course for home and climbed to five thousand feet. I was about forty miles northeast of Paris when the fire got into the cockpit. I jettisoned the canopy and fell free. Training stressed wait¬ing as long as possible to open a parachute so as to avoid detection. I waited before pulling my ripcord and got quite a scare for I did not feel the parachute open. Needless to say I was greatly relieved when I saw that the canopy was fully deployed. I was over an area covered with pine trees. The dinghy (life raft) was open so I pulled it up around me before hitting the trees. The parachute hung up about twenty feet from the ground. I shook lose and hit the ground very hard and my face banged on my knees (two beautiful shiners were with me for a couple of weeks). I hid the parachute in some brush and started walking.

Tar papers covered buildings under the trees. This was a German ammunition storage, later bombed by our Air Force.

On the edge of the woods an elderly lady was working in a garden. My first impulse was to run away, but I decided to take a chance that she was friendly. Using gestures, we com¬municated that I was the one that had just parachuted. It was getting dark and she took me through some alleys to a small shed. In a very few minutes people arrived, all friendly. One man brought some eggs, indicating that I could eat them raw. It took a while to convince him I preferred them cooked.

I was moved to a house and stayed in the attic. This was to be my home for about a week after which I was moved down to a room. I was in the village of Puiseux-en-Retz for about 2 weeks and then moved to Soissons on bicycle. It was then I got a look at my accommodations on a farm that raised trout for restaurants (this accounted for the delicious trout sautéed in butter that I'd been enjoying).

The highway was filled with German military vehicles. Everything possible was sent toward the front. Trucks were equipped with a coke burning gas generator and it was obvious that they were grossly underpowered. There were aircraft spotters hanging on each vehicle and if an aircraft was spotted, the truck was parked and abandoned.

I was taken to a farm on the outskirts of Soissons with a barnyard enclosed by a high stone wall. Here I was introduced to calvados (I had to look this up, it's a kind of home-brewed apple brandy), and the "dos and don'ts" of farm wells. I was in the barnyard one after¬noon and started pumping an old-fashioned water pump and was about to get a drink of water when my host explained there were two wells: one shallow well for livestock and a deep well for people. I had the wrong well.

From here I moved into the coun¬try south of town and was allowed to move around outside. Here I began to see the plight of the Germans. Field kitchens set up along the highways never had enough food so the soldiers were begging. The French would give them nothing so they were going into the fields and gardens eating raw fruits and vegetables. At night the French were blowing up railroad tracks and scattering metal on the roads to punc¬ture tires. During the day our aircraft allowed little movement.

Again I moved farther south and joined two brothers, escapees from a German POW camp, who decided I needed a hair cut. So into town (Fere-en-Tardenois) we went.

The first stop was at a tavern full of German soldiers. We sat down at a long table with a number of French. I was nervous but when one of the French fellows pulled out a pistol and proudly displayed it I was flat scared. The Ger¬mans did not see it fortunately.

We then went to the barbershop. There was a German soldier in the chair “getting the works”: shave, haircut, facial, shine, and a good portion of very strong cologne. I was relieved to get my hair cut and get back to the country, to a French underground base camp. Here were weapons, ammunition, explosives, and other equipment. We spent days cleaning and caring for the equipment and nights harassing the Germans. Oc¬casionally we'd go into the fields and pick mushrooms (I still cannot figure out which are good and which are bad).

I also got introduced to "cuddling" for fish, wading along the banks feeling for holes where the fish stayed. I was very doubtful at first but it really works and we caught quite a few.

One afternoon a P-51 flew over, obviously in trouble. The pilot bailed out and we were able to find him and hide him before Germans arrived. His leg hit the tail of his airplane when he bailed and was pretty well beat up. We carried him to the base camp where a French doctor treated him and gave him crutches to get around on.

It was here someone passed around a bottle of calvados. I took a big swig and thought the top of my head would blow off. It was rougher than any moonshine I have tried. Unfortu¬nately, two of the French got carried away and stopped a German truck and tried to commandeer it. Sadly, the truck was loaded with German troops. They did not return.

Then there came a complete turnaround in German movements. Everyone headed back toward Germany. Soldiers were walking, riding bicycles, motorcycles, horses, cows, wagons, anything to get them home. Equipment was dumped from trucks to make room for personnel. The French Resistance was getting more aggressive every day.

Finally U.S. tanks roared into the village greeted with flowers, wine, and open arms. As best I can recall, it was the 5th Armored Divi¬sion. I identified myself and joined them for the next three days. When a pocket of Germans was found, they would bypass them and let the French do the mopping up.

The second night German reconnaissance dropped flares over us. Everyone was firing straight up. Needless to say everything that went up also came down. I crawled under the nearest tank and waited until the "hailstorm" was over.

The third day I made it to an evacuation hospital in Orleans and was told it would be two weeks before I could get to England. A pilot of a B-24 agreed to let me hitch a ride. The airplane had a floor built in the bomb bay and they hauled a load of flour so we had a white interior. As we got ready to depart the navigator got in the pilot's seat and the engi¬neer got in the co-pilot's seat. The pilot and co-pilot were in the back with me. They assured me everyone knew what they were doing and off we went. We circled numerous towns while the pilots took movies from the rear gunners positions.

In England I was debriefed by Intelligence, got paid, bought new uniforms, and returned to the States.

At the time I was careful not to learn names of the French villagers or locations in the event I was captured.

Dates, names, and places have become fuzzy with the passing of the years. But it was a great experience to see the operation of the French Under¬ground and the turning of the tide for the Germans. I can only say that once was enough.

P.S. I have visited France and met the people that took me in, some even came to the U.S.A. During the war my longest stay was with the Coigne family in Fere. Leon Coigne was in the French Army and was evacuated from Dunkirk to England. He parachuted back into France, was captured by Germans, escaped, worked his way to Spain, and returned to England. He again parachuted into France and was an active member of the Resistance. I have heard a lot of bad remarks about the French but those I met were courageous and loyal friends.

Virgal Sansing

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Virgal "Sandy" Sansing wrote "Witness to the Resistance" for the July 2006 issue of The Outer Circle, the newsletter of the 359th Fighter Group Association.

Virgal went on to serve in Korea and Vietnam. He retired in '73 with the rank of Colonel. Decorations include Legion of Merit, Distinguished Flying Cross, Air Force Commendation Medal, Purple Heart, and others. He flies/flew WW II aircraft with the Confederate Air Force in San Marcos, TX.

Photo of Virgal "Sandy" Sansing courtesy of Dr. Paul D. Bruns. Text and photo archived by Char Baldridge, Historian, 359th Fighter Group Association.

An Officer and a Gentleman

Howard Fogg: The officer…

The gentleman…


The pilot…

Summary of Action:

Captain Howard Fogg flew 76 missions and completed his combat tour with the Army Air Corp in September 1944. He was discharged from the Army in August 1945. Along with the ribbons he earned while with the 359th Fighter Group, Howard was awarded the Air Medal with three clusters and the Distinguished Flying Cross with one cluster.

Well respected for his leadership skills and his focused demeanor whether flying escort or strafing trains, Howard was also tasked with teaching young pilots how to fly, both in England and upon his return to the United States. During his combat tour his commanding officers relied on him to accurately and swiftly plot numerous missions. Many inquired whether he would take up a career flying commercial aircraft following the war, but that was not where his heart led him. Instead, he pursued his art, and decades later was regularly acknowledged as the world’s foremost railroad artist.

At the height of his artistic career, when the waiting list for one of his paintings was measured in years, Howard casually mentioned to his son Richard how honored he was to have been selected to fly at President Roosevelt’s interment. He had never spoken of this before and in his typical modest fashion, Howard said, “you could tell which plane was mine, it was the one slightly out of formation.”


But Howard rarely flew out of formation, either in his plane on that long-ago day in 1945, or throughout his life. He married the woman he loved. He and Margot raised three fine sons and sustained numerous life-long friendships. And Howard succeeded beyond his wildest dreams in the artistic career he first envisioned in 1938.

Excerpt from the History of the 359th Fighter Group, August 1944

HEADQUARTERS 359TH FIGHTER GROUP
Office of the Group Historian
APO 637 US Army
4 Sept 1944

History of the 359th Fighter Group, August 1944

In August of 1944, the 359th Fighter Group became, for all practical purposes, a new unit. Of the 86 pilots who had come to England 10 months before, two were casualties during the month, 20 finished their tours and only 15 were left on flying status. And these 15 were almost all so close to the end of their 300 hour combat time that the greatest care was exercised in rationing them to the 29 missions flown in 23 days so that squadron and group leaders would continue to be available.

The result of all this was that the experience level of the 359th Group, which at the beginning of summer had been near the top of the Command, now sank to an average of 116 hours, with 61 pilots having less than 100 hours.

The new men were eager and there were remarkable prospects among them, but they were also green and 12 were combat casualties, while another, Lieutenant Lawrence A. Bearden, was killed on a training flight on 10 August. With Captain Lancaster interned in Sweden and Captain Hawkinson lost strafing, that meant 15 casualties for the month. Against this the 359th could show a phenomenal strafing score, locomotive claims, for example, of 62-0-47, excellent bombing, and 21-1-12 in aircraft.

Landing contol checkered van directing P-51. Photo courtesy of Elsie Palicka, wife of Ed Palicka, 370th Fighter Squadron Photographer: Archived by Char Baldridge, Historian, 359th Fighter Group Association.

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This is an excerpt from the Monthly Narrative Histories of the 359th Fighter Group and included in Fogg in the Cockpit. Excerpts were selected from transcriptions of the original monthly narrative History of the 359th Fighter Group archived at HQ USAF Historical Research Center, Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama. The complete documents were transcribed by Char Baldridge, Historian, 359th Fighter Group Association, from reports filed from December 1943 through September 1945 by Maurice F. X. Donohue, 359th Fighter Group historian and combat intelligence officer.

Howard Fogg: Master Railroad Artist

Described for decades as the world’s foremost railroad artist, Howard Fogg’s fascination for railroading began early, and he sketched his first train when only four years old.

After graduating from Dartmouth College with honors in 1938 with a degree in English Literature, Howard attended the Chicago Institute of Fine Arts.

“Better Make Up Your Mind F. D. Or There’ll Be A Wreck”
February 24, 1940 cartoon by Howard Fogg
Courtesy of Richard Fogg

Appreciative of the many ironies in life and politics he hoped to pursue editorial cartooning, although he also painted, which is where his talent ultimately led him.

The Alaska Railroad was finished in 1923 and owned by the US government until 1985 when it was purchased by the state of Alaska. Mount McKinley looms in the background. 1978 oil painting by Howard Fogg. Image courtesy of Leanin’ Tree, Inc.