Lt. Col. John T. Nelson
A World War II Romance Story, Italy 1944
A World War II Romance Story, Italy 1944
Near matching the tension of an aerial dogfight, Mac and I were racing down a very steep and dangerously
narrow mountain trail like road in an Army Air Force jeep. The vehicle lights in pursuit we could surmise
were Army military police. The father and mother of our love interests had just told us the town we were
again visiting was now placed off-limits by the US Army. They had assisted in hiding us and our jeep as
we dealt with this new dilemma. We had no intention of being taken alive for a crime of love in a town
recently placed off-limits by the US Army.
We had, in British Spitfires, fought the battles of Anzio and Monte Cassino and were now in the long
range P-51 Mustangs flying, many times getting caught alone, missions into Germany, France, and the
many Balkan countries. "Live Today - Die Tomorrow" was ever present. Mac and I treasured our romance
with Anita and Annette. We had, weeks earlier, visited the town to give away or trade our rations of
cigarettes, nylons, and candy for fresh eggs, wine, and those things so precious at that time. We also had
made many friends of all ages there. Our love interests were two daughters of the Italian town's Chief of
Police. We had visited and romanced with them many times before the Army off-limited the rather small
mountaintop town. I remember the father barbequing on a small wood fire for us what he called a beef
steak off a pig. It sure tasted much better than our long steady diet of canned K-rations and bad tasting
early variety powdered eggs and potatoes.
Mac dated the older daughter and I, the younger. I believe thoughts of a lifetime encounter romance
involving families was involved. It certainly was not a romance based solely on passion, although we had
spent a part of this evening in the daughter's bedroom. The father and mother had hidden us under their
daughter's bed while the Military Police searched for us. From the beginning, Mac and I had accepted the
ever present chaperoning of the father, mother, and grandmother.
On this day, our jeep had been safely hidden behind a hill some distance from the house. When the MPs
finished their search of the house, Mac and I departed for home base. Our pursuers must have been
waiting in hiding because the chase started almost immediately. I had grown up from age 15 driving farm
tractors, racing old cars, and driving logging trucks and such in the Idaho Rocky Mountains. I must admit
this challenge was met with some enthusiasm. I remember, we raced down the mountain for perhaps four
miles before the headlights of the pursuing vehicle seemed to disappear down the mountainside.
I've regretted not going back to, perhaps, help in case they had crashed on the dangerous road. However,
the war was continuing at a deadly pace and Mac and I already had enough to deal with.
We continued to see the girls whenever possible. I was later told the town declared a day of mourning
after I failed to return from a strafing mission in German occupied Yugoslavia. Of my squadron's twelve
pilots on that mission, my buddy Moon and I were shot down. I had crashed among the Germans I was
strafing. He had parachuted after his battle damaged aircraft caught fire. After escaping into the mountain
brush, some freedom fighters assisted in the start of my near 30 day trek avoiding German capture. With
a non-bending knee from the plane crash, I walked westward toward Italy. I once stood in a forced labor
driven truck. Just as we were about to depart, very angry Germans in vehicles came rushing toward us.
As I pulled back into the crowd, they departed with their truck and several civilian prisoners. I could have
been identified for the German $50,000.00 pilot capture award. My civilian dress, which by the Geneva
war rules could have brought a firing squad, had saved me again.
Moon and I would days later meet up in a mountain hideout with Chetnik freedom fighters. Almost
immediately, another continuous day and night mountain trek started as we dodged bullets and mortar
shells from the country's civil war fighters. We then spent days on the run with a near barefoot, practically
unarmed rag-tag army with a U.S. dot-dash radio that brought a rescue plane.
Moon and I helped select the mountainside landing spot on which a tree encounter damaged a wing and
caused a leaking gas tank. We were flown to Italy. Lady luck had eventually assisted my journey back
across the 500 miles of mountains and the Adriatic Sea. After debriefing and delousing, I flew and fought
again with my 307th Mustang Squadron.
Mac had been shot up and had gone down in the Adriatic Sea to be rescued, near death, by a fisherman.
I visited with Annette again but was soon moved on in the war effort. I later met up with Mac in the
Korean War. After the war, Moon would die in a jet fighter crash.
narrow mountain trail like road in an Army Air Force jeep. The vehicle lights in pursuit we could surmise
were Army military police. The father and mother of our love interests had just told us the town we were
again visiting was now placed off-limits by the US Army. They had assisted in hiding us and our jeep as
we dealt with this new dilemma. We had no intention of being taken alive for a crime of love in a town
recently placed off-limits by the US Army.
We had, in British Spitfires, fought the battles of Anzio and Monte Cassino and were now in the long
range P-51 Mustangs flying, many times getting caught alone, missions into Germany, France, and the
many Balkan countries. "Live Today - Die Tomorrow" was ever present. Mac and I treasured our romance
with Anita and Annette. We had, weeks earlier, visited the town to give away or trade our rations of
cigarettes, nylons, and candy for fresh eggs, wine, and those things so precious at that time. We also had
made many friends of all ages there. Our love interests were two daughters of the Italian town's Chief of
Police. We had visited and romanced with them many times before the Army off-limited the rather small
mountaintop town. I remember the father barbequing on a small wood fire for us what he called a beef
steak off a pig. It sure tasted much better than our long steady diet of canned K-rations and bad tasting
early variety powdered eggs and potatoes.
Mac dated the older daughter and I, the younger. I believe thoughts of a lifetime encounter romance
involving families was involved. It certainly was not a romance based solely on passion, although we had
spent a part of this evening in the daughter's bedroom. The father and mother had hidden us under their
daughter's bed while the Military Police searched for us. From the beginning, Mac and I had accepted the
ever present chaperoning of the father, mother, and grandmother.
On this day, our jeep had been safely hidden behind a hill some distance from the house. When the MPs
finished their search of the house, Mac and I departed for home base. Our pursuers must have been
waiting in hiding because the chase started almost immediately. I had grown up from age 15 driving farm
tractors, racing old cars, and driving logging trucks and such in the Idaho Rocky Mountains. I must admit
this challenge was met with some enthusiasm. I remember, we raced down the mountain for perhaps four
miles before the headlights of the pursuing vehicle seemed to disappear down the mountainside.
I've regretted not going back to, perhaps, help in case they had crashed on the dangerous road. However,
the war was continuing at a deadly pace and Mac and I already had enough to deal with.
We continued to see the girls whenever possible. I was later told the town declared a day of mourning
after I failed to return from a strafing mission in German occupied Yugoslavia. Of my squadron's twelve
pilots on that mission, my buddy Moon and I were shot down. I had crashed among the Germans I was
strafing. He had parachuted after his battle damaged aircraft caught fire. After escaping into the mountain
brush, some freedom fighters assisted in the start of my near 30 day trek avoiding German capture. With
a non-bending knee from the plane crash, I walked westward toward Italy. I once stood in a forced labor
driven truck. Just as we were about to depart, very angry Germans in vehicles came rushing toward us.
As I pulled back into the crowd, they departed with their truck and several civilian prisoners. I could have
been identified for the German $50,000.00 pilot capture award. My civilian dress, which by the Geneva
war rules could have brought a firing squad, had saved me again.
Moon and I would days later meet up in a mountain hideout with Chetnik freedom fighters. Almost
immediately, another continuous day and night mountain trek started as we dodged bullets and mortar
shells from the country's civil war fighters. We then spent days on the run with a near barefoot, practically
unarmed rag-tag army with a U.S. dot-dash radio that brought a rescue plane.
Moon and I helped select the mountainside landing spot on which a tree encounter damaged a wing and
caused a leaking gas tank. We were flown to Italy. Lady luck had eventually assisted my journey back
across the 500 miles of mountains and the Adriatic Sea. After debriefing and delousing, I flew and fought
again with my 307th Mustang Squadron.
Mac had been shot up and had gone down in the Adriatic Sea to be rescued, near death, by a fisherman.
I visited with Annette again but was soon moved on in the war effort. I later met up with Mac in the
Korean War. After the war, Moon would die in a jet fighter crash.
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